Incredible String Band - First Girl I Loved This song is really nice and sweet and if you like oxygen what is wrong with you you should like it. Too. 1967.
Get this entire anthology by John Fahey. Freaking nuts how great this man is! Guitar extraordinaire. Part 1 Part 2 Thanks dude one and dude two.
Happy belated birthday to the blog. It is now one-year-old and a few days. It's called "a success," achieved through me and some other people (not Beth because she likes bad music and incidentally a quitter with a failure to commit to excellence) having the first greatest music preferences and also being heinously fantastic writers. With the coagulation of those two qualities, GANGSTER LEGS was born and has both caused and endured suffering in 371 days.
If 2009 is any indication of future trends, 2010 should be terrible in the widest sense of all that is awful or could ever be so. Happy new year.
When I listen to the Pulp Fiction soundtrack I like it. I said to myself, I like this. Here is some more stuff from The Tornadoes. They were around in the 60s in some place not in the USA but who cares USA! USA! USA!
All my friends are going places and seeing stuff and I'm like hey guys just stay in the good old US of A you ain't got to leave for no thing got it all right here. Fuck travel. Traveling is for idiots.
This band is getting a lot of huff considering they've written three songs. Girl bands are soooo cool though. (soooo cool sends you to some write-up from impose magazine.) This is coasting. Brooklyn something?
That's all I guess. Oh Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros have a new song. Its ehhhhh. Same band as the so hipfamous Home. I played it with my girl duo in a basement last week, feeling real edgy and grimy.
1. Get kicked out of a library at 8:20 AM during finals week because it does not open until 8:30. Nothing screams go back to bed and fail calculus like kicking someone out of a library.
2. Fall on your ass not once but twice in a row down a 5 degree hill immediately after number 1 occurs. Try to do it in a public place in front of a building with many windows. Try to be on the phone with your mother who is telling you what a bitter person you are...for your age.
3. Make tasty green tea in dining hall. It turns out very, very brown.
4. Say hello to someone and hear them respond, "Hey, [then very very hushed under their breath] bitch."
5. Go back to dining hall to get some delicious food. There is none. Get rice and put some pasta sauce on it. Fucking like it. Take it into the library and for the first time in three years nod your head as another member of the Gestapo tells you you have to eat that over there by the door. In the corner. Alone.
5. Hallucinate.
6. Stab yourself in the face with your car keys. So it looks like a tiger clawed half your face. And eye.
7. Establish new forum for people to whine about how hard it is to be so great and motivated all the time: www.woe-is-me.blogspot.com
8. Unplug your fridge and stock with instant soup to be eaten at your convenience. Uncooked. Also this is a great party trick. All your friends--this is something I would do hypothetically if I had visitors. Or friends--will put their beers and schnapps in the little fridge and the drinks will never, ever get cold. Little box of disappointment.
Keep your voices down and your heads held high soldiers.
I don't even know what the actual name of the song is. What She Say? What You Say? What Did You Say? What Did She Say? Whatcha Say?
Here is the song from which the other song takes the sample. It sucks. The only reason it is good is because you have to wait ten minutes through a shit song then all of a sudden it gets awesome. This happens around the 3:00 mark, lasts for 20 seconds then the song blows again.
Today in History (my personal favorites): Today Ulysses was ruled "not obscene," the 13th amendment ratified, "Lamb Chop on Broadway" premiered, Don King and French magician Jean-Eugene Robert-Houdin were born, Hugo Chavez elected, and Abraham Lincoln appointed Salmon P. Chase chief justice o...f the United States of America. (Sources: AARP, Library of Congress, History Channel)
I get a lot of music from my favorite person: The Internet. Such eclectic and diverse taste The Internet has!
I love soup. I love all kinds of soup. Right now I am eating a Thai Vegetable soup. It is vegan. I am not a vegan but I stopped eating dairy because it makes me vom or have a crippling stomach ache. For the rest of the day. I will not tolerate lactose.
These are the best songs I found this week (mostly all from Unpiano and RCRDLBL):
Phil and the Osophers Possible new favorite today band. From Crook Land? I have no clue. Buzzzzy.
Check out "Uses Of A Man." You can download it there. This is the next song I will play so much in two days I will hate it for two days and then come back to it groveling.
Cloud Nothings 18-year-old from Cleveland. I wonder if he is single. "Hey Cool Kid"
Tuxedomoon This song is from 78 and it is what everyone in tight pants and a scowl wants to sound like.
THEE OH SEES! New album: Dog Poison. Whoa! These two are my favorite songs:
The River Rushes (To Screw MD Over) Good opener to the 23 minute album. Yes, it is an album. It has 10 songs. Play it two or three times in a row and it makes a normal length album.
And what is weirder is that I have been listening to this album on repeat for the past few days and when I looked down at the seat of my car today before I sat on it and on the seat was this very CD. With a little note that said "I highly recommend this," or something cute like that. But how cool is that? Five minutes later I deduced who the anonymous gifter was. This was the coolest present maybe anyone has ever given me. Probably because this is one of my top ten favorite bands and also because I guess this person didn't even know that so maybe it wasn't a thought-out thing but who even cares it was such a great surprise. How cool is that. Sometimes I am not in a bad mood after all.
(To be fair, this album has been a much needed break. I only listen to the Smashing Pumpkins and Swan Lake these days.)
This is my desktop wallpaper. Ouch! I need to change it right now. It is a tiled image of this little thing I found on the Burton website five years ago and SAVED.
Ma$e is so cool. He is such a cool rapper. A lot of the lyrics in this song aren't going to make a lot of sense to you. That's okay. Ma$e.
1. I spilled laundry detergent everywhere and if someone gets hurt I will forever be the asshole that cleaned it up half-assedly.
2. Poetry?
3. I start my performance art piece of applying new temporary tattoos every day. I've got sea creatures, William Blake, Cassat, dinos, cowboys, Nordic Gods, kitties, and two patriotic kinds. So far I have United We Stand with an Eagle on my left forearm. A kitty would look good. This piece is a commentary on society. All of it.
I sang this song at something called "Evening Prayer" (EP) at my high school. It was on Tuesday nights and people went there to have god supervise holding hands. That was date night. Obviously I was never invited. Anyways I performed this song with some dudes and I fucked up the first verse because I was nervous. I think I made people cry. I do it everyday. Above is the image I got when I googled "calendar." Great day!
So you want a fight J-Chrome? No thanks. I guess your song was probably better. You win this time. Next time...still uncertain.
Loving the visual dictionary and word of the day lately. My favorites? Obviously (visually) I was looking up dog pictures and I scoobied upon dog ear collar. Then I found the jabot. Great find! In terms of actual words sans pictures I enjoy nudnik.
Main Entry: nud·nik
Function: noun
Etymology: Yiddish nudnik, from nudyen to bore, from Polish nudzić, from nuda boredom
Date: 1947: a person who is a bore or nuisance
It is pronounced: NOOOOOOOOD-nik.
Shluv that. It looks like I punched a mirror my knuckles are so nasty. Instead I just rubbed them against splintered wood all weekend. Why? It doesn't matter why.
I hate Halloween. I hate kids and I hate tricks and I like savory things more than sweet things. October 31st is my worst nightmare. Not because it is spooky. Because it is a pain in the ass. If I am going to dress up like a freak I will do it on my own time. I don't need society to give me one day a year when it is suddenly okay for me to show my true colors. Last year I was Cindy McCain. So obviously herein lies the crux of my holiday dilemma. I am brilliant at choosing costumes but I just hate the holiday. As is life.
I hate Halloween movies, Halloween colors, but most of all I hate pets in costume. Why? Because I love it so much and I know I should hate it because it is wrong to dress up one's cat or dog and that really pisses me off. Look at that pet in costume. It fucking hates you. In summation: You can be the jackass that you yearn to be all year long and dress up like a giant baby or a gargantuan skankbrains but leave your pet out of it. My fridge smelled like rotting cheese--not sure why--so I cleaned it with tons of bleach. The bleach is what makes me so angry.
ARG! Big Boi is so good. Listen to his voice? Do you hear that? This is classified as "feeling so good, inspirational hip-hop now sound." It is that melodic ding ding and gospel cooing that creates a goose down landing strip when you reach the jump off. I will listen to it and maybe take it home.
Electric Light Orchestra had it all. They had the chicks, the dicks, the licks and without a doubt the hair. Their hair was downright dirty. I bet they substituted strands of their own hair for the horse hair on their violins which gave their twang that extra special... well... twang.
Why should those 1980's bands enjoy the moniker "Hair Bands" when the previous generation had much more substantive follicles dangling from their noggins? Admittedly, the "Hair Bands" had some crazy shit going on. The main difference between the two styles is a matter of authenticity. Dudes before the 80's didn't have hairspray, they just had the bed they slept in the night before and a lack of contemporary standards of hygiene. Those two powerful forces and the subsequent build up of scalp juice produced, at least for ELO, a force majeure. We might call it nappy. But to them, nappy hair was a trophy to be revered.
I love mail. I send it all the time. I never get it. Unless it is some kind of fucking notice usually printed on pink paper and I hate it. Maybe I should take other people's mail. Why not? I want your bills, your packages, your love letters. Ooh, my hands are dry. It must be long hat season.
We be true poplar on the world wide net. Actually it may be discounted due to the fact that the author is my BFF but whatever. Check out her blog. It is about how she thinks she is so pretty and also a championer of vagina power or something. I just like it because every once in a while she writes about me. I only read things about myself or books I have a feeling were written about me. The Pockets Full of Luck author and I have many things in common. Here is one: we both only look at pictures of ourselves. And that, my friend, is that.
1984 was a great year but I wasn't alive yet so I guess I am 4 years late learning the lesson Whodini has been trying to teach me. Friends. How many of us have them? Well, not me but that isn't the only part of the song that twangs my heartstrings. It is the part about relationships. That's right. The advice is that couples should be friends BEFORE they do it. Whatever it is. So now I must take a moment to indulge in thoughts and thinking. Do people need to be friends before they engage in romantics? I couldn't care less; dig those synths!!!! This song is captivating, making me realize I have no friends and I love 1980s hip-hop music. Are these two sentiments correlated?
And you are phat (Post-Hormonal And Tingly). When you have reached a certain weight, you start to walk slow.
It's not that people wouldn't like to fondle your jelly donuts. Au Contraire. Everyone wants to lube you up and rub you down with grape preserves. It's not the unattractiveness of those that are morbidly obese, its the fact that they take so damn long to get from point A to point B.
I would be a playa playa if bed-ridden fat girls could access their genitals. The cold sad truth is that they can't. There's too much chub in the way.
The overweight of America are left abstinent not by choice and not because of a lack of sexual demand (I am living proof that there is plenty of that). The forced sexual attrition is because of debility. The people can't mate. So why the fuck are we so damn fat?
I think it's the lasting vestiges of the Fat Boys. This was a gluttonous 80's rap group that influenced the impressionable youth of America.
Eric Clapton and I have a conversation. He seems distraught. I am there to comfort him. It is Wednesday.
Q: Do you want to see me crawl across the floor to you?
A: Yes, but only if you feel like it.
Q: Do you want to hear me beg you to take me back?
A: Ugh, in writing.
Statement and plead: I don't want to fade away. Give me one more day please.
A: (Silence because I am dumbfounded because I feel so many emotions and I need to think.)
It is interesting how humans can be so tormented by something as stupid as falling in love. Do you know what I would compare it to? Being possessed. Like scary, like in horror movies. Essentially romances are horrific.
this week is the festival of la merce in barcelona. loosely translates as the patron saint of barcelona, who apparently had an affinity for estrella damm beer and dubstep. instant winner with event names like "jazz, dragons and sustainability."
custom of choice: CORREFOCS. think fire breathing pigeon parades, fire crackers, children dressed in hamas scarves and safety goggles. CORREFOCS. invented in the past 30 years during the post-Franco period, set up officially in 1977 after a commission's investigation of remaining cultural traditions not wiped out by Franco.
I saw Fiasco play a few days ago. I have a crush on the drummer. His name is Julian. I think he's 12 but what a cutie. Anyways, they have a lot of catchy songs and are very nice live. Very charismatic and other complementary things. I interviewed them too but I haven't gotten around to transcribing it so I can't post it, get off my back.
Here is a new song from Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson. What a stupid name for a band. What a great song. Here is how I would describe it: winning $4 off of a scratch card. It's good. Not that good, but pretty fucking good.
Growing up I thought Neil Diamond to be such an innocuous fellow. My family drove through thirty-eight states in a 1978 Vogue listening to nothing but Simon and Garfunkel, Matthew Wilder and Neil Diamond. I know all of the songs to all of those artist's albums. But Neil... well... he received special attention.
Which is why I am surprised that I had never heard of this song -
I would never have guessed that Neil had ever "bogarted a joint" or "sparked a spliff" or "got-dizzee on whirly gigz". I am fine with our prez puffin and passin but not... Neil.
The fucked up part is that now that my mental image of him is besmirched, all of his lyrics now seem like innuendo for sex, drugs and coco pebbles.
And when people at highly populated sports arenas yell "SO GOOD, SO GOOD, SO GOOD!!" Just pour a gob of goddamn lemon puree on my migraine.
Rawwwwr I live in America and I think I can do whatever the hell I want because the dinosaurs are friggin extinct so I'm going to start a band and then rename it A-Frames.
Also, everyone is wetting themselves because the fellow from Grizzly Bear [ed drone] did a mix for a designer's [jeremy laing] fashion week runway show. Well good. They should be.
Rhyme wave incoming. Wimple Winch is just four guys [men] from Liverpool that made music in the 1960s. They are pretty good and sometimes I make dandelion crowns when I listen to them. I dream in tie-dye now but all I can see are red foxes.
Fucking Robert Plant playing soccer in his underwear or something.
Friday I went to an alpaca farm. It was okay, I guess. I wish there were kitten farms and the kittens slept in tiny red barns at night so the wolves wouldn't eat them. Or Northern Saw-Whet owl farms (you know, the tiny owls you can pluck out of trees). Also it would be cool if delicious cheeseburgers grew on trees. I love everybody!
i've recently become enamored with la blogotheque's "concerts a emporter" series. i wouldn't mind stumbling upon a gypsy beirut xxxxplosion. feast your pretty eyes on the tallest man on earth's set shot in new york:
Seriously. I was walking down the hall of this building, back towards the table where my stuff was lying waiting for me to waste my time perusing my sticker collection or inventing obligations to bolster my schedule when this little dude pops out of nowhere asking if I was lost. "No," I said. "You aren't?" "No. My stuff is right over there." "Well, you certainly look lost." What the fuck. Unfortunately that was not the end of our encounter because my middle finger had just been sliced open. I was playing with a piece of very sharp grass and I needed a bandage. I saw someone less irritating out of the corner of my eye. "Excuse me, may I please have a band-aid?" "It won't stick," the fucking elf interjects. "Why not?" I ask. "They are the generic brand." Jesus Christ. The worst part was when I got the band-aids from the lady in the white coat and went to the bathroom to cleanse the wound and affix the bandage. It didn't stick. It's kind of coming off right now. Could anything be worse than being proven wrong by someone who in movements immediately previous just irked you? Possibly this is the time to put things in perspective.
Jaylib is really divine and takes my mind off of every other person who sits around pretending to read the New Yorker. I pretend to pretend to read the New Yorker. Twice removal cancels it out. I closely examine the cartoons and slap down the magazine after 30 seconds exasperatedly and make some kind of ignoramus claim.
I can't help but love the library. All libraries. Even the most hideous library of all, my college library. I spend so much time there because when you aren't looking I huff the moldy book smell and it keeps me going. Besides that, I go for the fast internet. The internet at my house is so slow. But the best part of the library is that it exemplifies the dialectic. The quintessential library dialectic is this: The fast internet and the masses of elderly people. It makes me crazy! I love that shit. Oh, and people in the library do not get how to be quiet. It is as if the loudest people are drawn like a moth to a flame into the reading rooms. "Excuse me, where is the elusive trashcan?" One geriatric inquires at the top of his lungs. These people have been around for so long on the planet they just spit beautiful knowledge and metaphors like "the elusive trashcan." Like he needed to throw something away. NO. He was telling the library, for all to hear, the key to some part of existence. I honestly would spend all my time in the library and often I do which accounts for how unusually pale I am. Now you know.
Enough about the library (never enough) let's talk about making mixes for driving. As my brother says, there is no better way to piss someone off than by listening to the first 10 seconds of a song 100 times to get the mix just right. So find a closet, lock yourself in, and don't open the door until you are ready to tell the world you have a new mix. Or put on headphones rude-o.
This is definitely going on one of the mixes. Duh duh duh DEL.
This is what broke feels like: I opened my wallet while driving today to find some Claritin because I was sneezing all over the steering wheel. There was a fucking spider building a nest. In my wallet. That's how often I open my wallet...never. It's a great place to settle down.
This is what being a hobo feels like: I had my freaking dog with me in the car and it was too hot to leave her in the car so I fashioned a leash out of a 20-foot rope and she dragged me down Main St. We went into a store to find my friend and were immediately kicked out. Bitches can't handle having my bitch in their fancy clothing stores. I hope my poochie rubbed her stenchy all over the clothes.
This is what being a creative genius feels like: I sanded the ugly Sector 9 paint job off of my longboard two years ago and never repainted it. This all changed last night. I made four separate puppy stencils, snookered some spray paint from the four corners of the earth and am now in the process of covering the belly of my board in PUPPIES! White, gold, purple, and grey.
Check out this account of the epic naval battle reenactment in Queens, NY last week. Unbelievable, and the photos by Bryan Derballa aren't half bad either.
As I creeped Bryan's site I found a new Sweet Tooth Nelson music video! What luck!
Last night my friend said when she was little she always wanted to make pie because Snow White made it look like the easiest dessert to bake.
Male cuddlefish are about 1/4 the size of females. They look HEE-LAH-REE-US when they court their fishy bitches. This is unrelated but my new favorite video.
Buffy Sainte-Marie - He's A Keeper of The Fire
This song has all the allure of a flaming beverage when drinking that sort of thing seems like the best and most daring idea you have ever had.
Very, very first thing before I start my poem. If you are in or out and about Brooklyn today and you do not see the FREE Del Tha Funky Show at the Waterfront no one will ever hold your hand or skip down a sidewalk with you again. Del is my hip-hop hero and he is playing a beautiful venue if you can call it that for free get there early stay late don't bother getting jigs because you are going to want to remember this in crystal clear clarity. Check that out - puppies snugglin! Awwwwraahhh.
When I was 12 I was in a bike gang. I lived above a garage and road my bike everywhere with the four other girls I lived with. The height of my rebellion. I would see my parents in passing on Main St. and they'd yell after me on my bike. This continued for three or so summers. They're still my best friends and we still ride bikes like we could take on cars.
I cooked two very nice poached eggs this morning. I hate cooking and I'd eat cereal everyday if it meant I could avoid it but I saw the movie inspired by Julia Child (who is the only cook worth watching cook, especially in this video about chickens) and it made me get up and poach eggs. Inspiration is just down the street. I'm over it already. My brother likes to cook and he literally talks like this and the only audible thing he says over the stove is usually "this spicy."
I bought my mom two tickets to see Leo Kottke for her birthday. What a nice daughter I am. If you haven't heard his two albums with Mike Gordon GO GO GO!
My fridge at home is a chalk board and my brother and mother have been having ghost fights via it. The last one from my brother (whose spelling is less than stunning) was "Look! There is diareaaahhhhh on the ceiling." My mom: "That's been there for years. If you saw it, clean it up." His capitalization is also study-worthy.
Mom: "Be nice [flourish underlining and heart to cease the written battle]."
Brother: "But, i don't know How."
Hmmm, I wonder. Actually I have no time to wonder because today I must nurse the most artistic sunburn of the new millennium that my best friend is at fault for because she can't figure out how to apply sunblock to my literally see-through skin. I'm not kidding. I am also not an albino but that's not to say people haven't told me that I look like I am in the heat of the moment. Well guess what, suckers? I am going to have infant baby skin when I am 60 and you're going to look like you're 60 and enjoyed your life. Now whose laughing? I am. I AM. But my dog also has a poopie butt today so that is so funny. I also found out that she likes blueberries. One for me, one for you little dog. She ate so many and I'm wondering if she is going to ralph blue all over the floor today. Only tiiiime will tell. The other thing I have to do today is learn how to play Carly Simon's "You're So Vain" so I can replace the lyrics whenever I want about anything. What a song, what a lady. What ridiculous.
Quintessential simple summer song for August when everything is tying itself up like a doily and you are clawing at the last bits of sun and freedom. [via]
I love Aimee Mann. It was the first big girl concert I saw...with my parents but whatever my parents know how to rock so it was still ill. When I learned how to play guitar in middle school I did so by learning almost every Aimee Mann song off of I'm With Stupid and Bachelor No. 2. A while back she did a Daytrotter Sesh for her newest album @#%&*! Smilers (SuperEgo, 2008). Check out and download "31 Today" and "Phoenix" at the very least. Or just get the album.
The best part of this video is when she puts her face on the cat. I don't say things like this because people that say things like this deserve to be conked in the dome but I have a total girl crush on her. She is 50 years old. Spectacular! Only she can sing songs about addiction, heartbreaks, suicide, and sad in the tone of POP.
Doesn't the guy in the song sound like Kermit the Frog? AHHHIIIII LOVE IT.
And P.S. I know I am the only one on the ferry boat with a trash bag full of my clothes but I don't have a suitcase so stop giving me that "get out of my way hobo hipster bitch" glare. Because I will not. Get out of your way, that is. The man talking over the intercom sounds like a gurgling robo-captain. The life vests are in the silver boxes to your left and right. Sir, please swallow whatever is in your throat and guide this vessel homeward as swiftly as possible.
Also some great news: GANGSTER LEGS is getting a realer better website in a few weeks. Keep checking.
I really love dogs and I talk about them all the time. When I'm not talking about them it is because I am restraining myself and simply thinking about them. Arf.
I love to watch art videos of dogs. In case you forgot this is my favorite dog music video. In regards to the dogs above wearing the patent designer rain gear, I would just like to take a moment to mention that my little dog also has a raincoat. It is yellow and shiny. She dons it in foul conditions and rips it off deep in the forest where I must go and find it after every storm. This is why it is yellow; it makes it easier to find because she hides it in very tricky places. She used to have little boots but she tore those ditties off long ago. She is too independent to be confined in protective garments. She does like her snow romper though. It looks like a jester suit because it is all fleece blocks of different colors. It protects her fur from getting snowball clumps. She doesn't like getting those because then we stick her in the bathroom until she melts and like I said, she does not like to be confined.
Ugh, so like if you can't already tell I am so infatuated with unpiano. It is a music blog run by Jesse Pollock and Mark Kaiser. It is definitely my top favorite right now. They just don't pick bad music. They fail at sucking. I just do not believe I know of a better music blog than this one at the moment. Also they're like artists and shit which is so hip/now/babeshow. Ugh.
Here are my favorites from unpiano from the summer:
Oh come on, you know how much I love Thee Oh Sees. They never disappoint. And Shaq is snuggling that monster beast panda! Great news he is wearing a bib because those things harbor disease like nobody's business.
FOURTH POST...thank me there isn't a fourth. But I've got some more great news: they are coming to New York this October! Seat belts! Pump the breaks! I'm flipping out!
When I was little I wrote my first graphic novel about a stripe. I was into cupcakecute writing then, like I am now, and called the character "Stripey." I have never been good at spelling and this was an authentic handmade book so Stripey was spelled Stripy the whole tale and no changes were ever made. That is a metaphor for my life that actually happened.
If you can't play outside waste all your time here and here. The leftover time spend here and there. But really, your eyes will hurt.
I am writing my next book about how all my friendships last one week or less. Want to be in it? The time commitment is minimal to nonexistent and I swear it'll be exciting for you. Why does everyone want to be remembered? And if you don't, what the hell is wrong with you exactly.
This is the kind of song that makes your chest feel really heavy with some emotion. For me it is usually a mix of hope and rusted anticipation or anxiety for something I think can happen if everything goes perfectly.
Funk futureheads Love in Stockholm brought their seven-piece battalion unit to Brooklyn's Public Assembly on Wednesday, 7/29. Frontman Charlie Rockwell spit tales of Allston (every Bostonian's beloved oasis of dive bars, bed bugs, and red solo cup debri), and made tributes to the middle east with a cover of Outkast's "Bombs Over Baghdad." Keep an eye peeled for LIS's siege of all corners of the northeast.
Last night I attended my first ever boxing match(es). In honor of that I will present to you three songs today. All great, all quite different from each other. BUT FIRST a video of a wolf pup. Also Vivian Girls/These are Powers tonight for free at The Whitney.
So, even thought my rainbow dolphin temporary tattoo has faded, I still consider myself an expert on all things gay and all things Sam Amidon (See: BrooklynVegan). On that note, I would like to bring to your attention these two videos:
(for the sake of this post, don't pay attention to his witty banter and explanation of the song. Please?)
My first reaction was, R. Kelly, please go pee on a minor or something and leave our beloved Sam Amidon alone, especially after seeing Amidon play this song to close his set, provoking a heart-string tugging sing-a-long. However, after extensive research, I found that, in fact, AMIDON covered R. Kelly. Oh god. This now presents a dilemma. Somehow it makes Amidon seem hip and now. Yet if it were the other way around I could expertly roll my eyes and cross my arms like I practice in the mirror every night, and then tout the ironic goodness of R. Kelly covering indiehipshit music when I play it for my friends off my Macbook Pro, all the while keeping a cool and collected distance, only appreciating the song for how funny it is when pop stars discover indie music, and not for it being an enjoyable song. Ugh. Does that make me seem like an asshole? BrooklynVegan commentors? Please chime in here.
Posts
