It’s September, 2nd 2010… or 9-02-10! Get it, get it!? Good, cause it’ll never, ever happen again in your lifetime bud. So live it up, David Silver style! Or go celebrate over at dlisted.

Magic Kids - Memphis (2010) [True Panther] // Grade: B -

Memphis natives Magic Kids have released their appropriately names debut LP Memphis. This is a band that’s manifesto is to spread happiness to the world, tread on the side of love not evil, and that bad music is the stuff which makes you sad. Their name is inspired by the early 90s movie poster of “Magic Kid” (with clouds, Christmas tree, kid in karate split, clown, red convertible and featuring tag line “dreams are just wishes…coming true”) but is a flick the band has never seen. They don’t want to ruin the illusion of the so terrible it’s awesome poster and who can blame them. The movie is probably crap. The members of Magic Kids seem to be genuinely happy people, which is a refreshing change from the blank emotions of some hipster bands floating around. They even have slumber parties after every show. No wonder Magic Kids creates music that is so spunky and upbeat. It’s so sugary sweet it almost gives you a toothache.

Memphis is an album full of modern day pop oldies with a twee edge. They do a superb job of mixing the sunny disposition of early 60s pop but instead of basing songs around simplistic repeating melodies they take it to grand places. A mixture of instruments are used (horns, strings, oboes, synths, drums, guitars) to create these epic crescendoing instrumentals that are cause for celebration as the joyful lyrics like “you were always on my mind and you stayed in my pocket all the time”, “there’s no candy sweeter than my baby”, and “it’s so good to be with you” are chirpily belted out (with exuberant back up vocals to boot). The previously released single “Hey Boy” apparently took seven months to record and definitely is a phenomenal track, but then the LP took only two months.

Regardless of the short time frame, Magic Kids have created grandiose pop tracks that you just can’t sit still during (especially track “Superball”). I hate to say they’ve reinvented old fashioned pop for a modern era (because I’m sure they’re not the only band out there making great pop music) but with tracks “Good To Be”, “Cry With Me Baby”, and “Candy” you can hear the doo wop influences intertwined in their extravagant, superbly produced instrumentals. The layers are just as complex as some ethereal shoegaze stuff that the ear has a lot to listen to and doesn’t just get soaked in sugar. They break up the pure sunshine tracks with “Skateland” (featuring more rock heavy guitars), and reflective yearning slower tracks “Hideout” and “Summer”.

Memphis is a perfect album to bring anyone out of the summer’s over funk and perk spirits up for the changing season. Magic Kids are touring throughout the fall and I’m sure they put on an awesome show, so check them out if you get the chance!

Das Racist are getting down with Mad Decent on September 14th for a brand new mix called Sit Down, Man. The new mix will feature production from Boi-1da, Scoop Deville, Diplo, Dame Grease, El-P and more! Check out the above teaser clip by Nicolas Heller and get fuckin’ excited bro!

Speaking of Das Racist and mixes have you downloaded Shut Up, Dude yet? No!?!? Ar eyou out of your mind? Shit’s one of the tightest Hip Hop Releases of 2010, no joke!

Bastard Priest - Under the Hammer of Destruction (2010) [Pulverised] // Grade: A

About fucking time. I like my death metal like I like my meatballs. Ground flesh, blood and with a kick. I want to feel blood running down my cheek when I bite into my death metal. Göteborg can kiss my meatball-laden ass. Stockholms län’s modern death revival is mincing up some fucking brutal death metal akin to Possessed and Death’s early work. If you fiend for the best, do not miss Bastard Priest’s new album Under the Hammer of Destruction. These dudes have come a long way from the gritty and compressed sound of their 2008 demo, Merciless Insane Death. Expect old school breaks, decrepit vocals and lighting-beckoning riffs.

I swear to God, “Blasphemy from Hell” and “Visions of Doom” alone will sell you on this album. Super simple and yet highly-effective deliverance of death metal. Seriously, it’s not that hard to put a good album together. The formula is simple. Blast beats, reverb in the vocals, riffs and deep breaks. Then all you need are some easily-repeated lyrics. Take “Evil Pain” for example. I don’t think Matt Mendoza even mutters anything besides “Evil Pain” for the entire three minutes. That doesn’t mean Under the Hammer of Destruction is predictable though. Akin to their influences like, Repulsion and Autopsy, Bastard Priest knows how to mix it up just enough to keep the listener engaged. With eleven tracks and 35 minutes to do so, Bastard Priest keeps you in tune.

In what I think is the best song on the album, “Power of Death” screams an homage to Chuck Schuldiner’s greatest work. Just listen to it and tell me you’re not fighting the urge to drum on your desk. Many hits follow, including “Chuck”, “Merciless Insane Death” and “En Hälsning från Helvetet”, a Bombanfall cover. How epic is that track? Damn. Under the Hammer of Destruction might be one of the better death metal albums of 2011. For a while, the Germans have been ruling the world and now, maybe it’s time for a Stockholms län revival. If I could open a death metal meatball bar at some point in my life, I’d get Bastard Priest to play the opening party!

This past weekend we, at  the Мишка Echo Park store, got a visit from tennis pro Vince Spadea. He strolled down to the shop to pick up a couple of pieces, well polos to be exact, to rock on the court. It is great to see that our brand is reaching not only musicians but athletes as well. Vince has played against some the best of the best including Rafael Nadal, Roger Federer, Andy Roddick, Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi. He currently trains celebrities, among them Gwens Stefani’s husband and former Bush frontman, Gavin Rossdale

The menace of tennis who is notable for his staggering comeback in 2005 to rise to an ATP rank of 18, also does more than just play Tennis. Dude  likes to freestyle, earning himself the title of  “ATP Rapper” and is also currently pursuing some fashion projects.  If you are like me and enjoy tennis do yourself a favor and check out Vince’s autobiography Break Point: The Secret Diary of a Pro Tennis Player, an uncompromising look at the ins and outs and personalities associated with being a pro tennis player.

Мишка LA
1547 Echo Park Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90026
213-536-4234

ECW legend, Axl Rotten once said “All wrestlers wanna be rock stars, and all rock stars wanna be wrestlers.” I think that’s a fair assessment which brings us to the topic of my post on drawing some similarities between professional wrestling and Pop music.

In a very personal sense, 2010 has been a wonderful year for music. When I’m not slaving away at a 9-5 or burning the midnight oil as a freelance music journalist, I’m a pro wrestling manager. I’ve done this for nearly a decade, which means that I really love it, and also given that I’m writing this and not on national television, will be content to spend a career working elementary schools, carnivals, VFW halls and festivals for small paydays and the fleeting glory of D-List celebrity. This also means that I have spent many hours studying and observing this fantastic carny business, and much of the way that I understand the world is colored by understanding why people like Hulk Hogan, The Rock, Goldberg, “Superstar” Billy Graham, Ric Flair and “Macho Man” Randy Savage were superstars and are eternally part of the pop cultural lexicon, why other stars are close, and why many will get close, or never get there at all.

Many in the blogosphere and beyond appear especially shocked, angsty and appalled by the latest stream of pop idols, especially in their over-gimmicked, pre-packaged nature as the recording industry attempts to combat low record sales with a new phalanx of hitmakers who mirror proven concepts in music and society. Given that this is true, there are many lessons and parallels now that can now be drawn from the world of pro wrestling to pop music. Much of why 2010 has been so successful and entertaining to me can be understood by pulling back the curtain a tiny bit to pro wrestling, and giving you, the reader certain tenets of our industry that have yet again been applied to pop domination.

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1. Pro Wrestling is 90% Presentation and 10% Ability

In the early 1970′s professional wrestling was a business that was doing well, but not doing the tremendous box office numbers of the “WWF Attitude Era” of the late 1990s. However, literally based on physique and look alone, “Superstar” Billy Graham changed everything. Billy Graham was a supremely tanned, bleach blonde  who wore tie dye and rose colored shades at all times, and cut promos for his upcoming matches by using a palaver culled largely from Muhammad Ali, Gorgeous George, pimps and street corner hustlers.

There was nothing original at all about him, except this was the first time pro wrestling had ever seen it used as a drawing tool. Graham’s success was also based off of a physique enhanced by anabolic steroids which, of course, in the 1970s, society didn’t realize the inherent problems in this, but man, did he look great.

Ke$ha: All sizzle, no steak. But you can’t turn your eyes away.

At no point have I spoken a word about his matches. They were presentable, but not technical masterpieces of great agility and skill. However, based on his presence, presentation and ability to cause a stir, he got you in the door, and was a solid draw and money earner for the WWF, AWA and other major territories in the 1970s.

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2. If You Must Have a Gimmick, Make it Believable, Believe In It, and the People Will Believe In You

Terry Bollea is one of the greatest liars of my lifetime. This man, in the guise of Hulk Hogan told me that if I merely trained, said my prayers and took my vitamins, I could bodyslam Andre the Giant, ward off terrorism, racism, sexism, communism, imperialism, elitism and yes, the Canadian Earthquake and Akeem the African Dream, whatever they represented (fear of 400 pound men squashing democracy and the American way with splashes? I’m still not sure about that one…).

Of course, outside the ring, we learned that prayers, training and vitamins were really a code name for water based steroid Winstrol, and that eventually, you have to become evil and become an angry street thug, spray paint tags on people and championship belts, and embrace gang culture. But that’s besides the point.

If you look the part, play the role and mirror something society desperately needs to believe in, people will absolutely follow.

We’re all waiting for this kid to get a heroin or coke addiction. Admit it. Then we can all admit our love for him, right?

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3. Wrestling Is Cyclical

What was old is always new again. Hulk Hogan, meet John Cena. Hogan waved a flag, Cena salutes the people. Both blonde, square jawed, barrel chested and presented as the All-American ideal. The Rock, meet The Miz. The Rock, a cool, charismatic customer and movie star with mega hip appeal and a unique blend of style and culture.

The Miz is Mike Mizanin from MTV’s Real World  and Road Rules, presented as a cool, charismatic customer with mega hip appeal and a unique blend of style and culture. Goldberg, a tattooed brooder, Steve Austin, an anti-hero. Today, there’s Randy Orton, tattooed, brooding anti-hero. Cyclical.

I don’t know about all of you, but would they not make the greatest Tag Team pair of all time?

Wrestlers always want to be rock stars, and rock stars always want to be wrestlers. Sometimes if we look at a bodyslam and a catchphrase as more than just a bodyslam and a catchphrase, the world can make so much more sense.

Nite Jewel - Am I Real EP (2010) [Gloriette] // Grade: A-

Listening to Nite Jewel feels like being caught up in a pillow fight. The bedroom lights are dimmed as fluffy smacks catch you off-guard, tangling your hair over your eyes and obscuring your view. The scene unfolds slowly, the air above calm in waiting for your next move.

From full-length Good Evening, Nite Jewel emerged in paleness, offering tranquil dance melodies shifting under a bedroom disco ball. The act’s recently released Am I Real? EP finds Nite Jewel gripped to the same ideals, but projecting their sounds with a newfound boldness. The former grit and buzz of their production has vanished, replaced by smooth, slow-burning synth funk. Ramona Gonzales’s warbles and quiet wails remain built on repetition and ambiance, though this time we hear a greater attention to tunefulness and a smattering of straightforward vocal melody lines.

Nite Jewel work well (perhaps, better) in the space of an EP. Six songs forces them to put their most focused selections forward, and we’re left with one solid track after another. The ordering of the tracks seem tirelessly considered, beginning with the atmospheric “Another Horizon” in which Gonzales’s voice simultaneously provides both the upfront and backing vocal sounds. Her voice comes forth like a wounded bird; delicate, tentative, calling out with immediacy. “We Want Our Things” takes a step away from the disco beat lines, picking up the sounds of synthpop before transitioning into a glittery, grinding interlude. Over moments of clear vocal melody, a more structured Nite Jewel begins to come into view, setting the stage on which spectacular closer and title track “Am I Real?” plays out as a fully developed composition of smooth jazz tones supporting a powerhouse display of vocals from Gonzales that leave the impression of capable lyricism and sublime mood-setting.

Am I Real? is a testament to the idea of hearing a band in their early days, and that unshakable feeling of excitement in your gut, knowing that yeah right now they’re rough around the edges, but there’s something really special here and down the line they are going to shine. Congratulations Nite Jewel, you’ve made the leap from interesting, to shining.

Hello there. My heart is racing. I have sworn to never-again defend late-era Metallica to anybody ever forever and recent events are trying the steel of my resolve. I must resist—I will resist—and move on. As always, Crook finds a way to get the water boiling with his fantastic Choice is Yours. For the record: I have made the same promise to myself regarding Trent Reznor and Primus. You either like them or you don’t, and I am fine with either.

Let me tell you what I’m not fine with. I am not fine with you not thinking that the currently hanging ‘This Fear You May Know‘ show by Sacramento’s very own Skinner Davis is anything but an epic and brutal odyssey through the pulsing bowels of all that is awesome and unholy in all this wretched land. Forever.

I had chance to check this show out a week ago, and my mind is still blown. I am reading this through a brainstain on my monitor. That is how blown my mind is. My business partner and I were so shocked and fucking awed, that we—for some reason—decided to send Skinner this text from the gallery floor. He has it. Probably pinned to his bedroom wall. With all the others:

Skinner is no newcomer to the Mishkaverse…as a matter of fact, a fantastic painting of his hangs in the Echo Park store, last I checked. He is awesome. And we all know that. But this…this is something….else.

The colors. The lines. The scope. The fucking IDEAS that are present in this man’s work are just. fucking. incredible. I feel so lucky to have gotten my nose as close as possible to these paintings without touching them, and if you’re anywhere near San Francisco, I would highly recommend that you go check this amazing show out. It is at Whitewalls. (here are more tight-crop detail shots from me)

What else does this week bring us? As if that’s not enough. Oh nothing…just the hugely colossally epic release of Gargamel’s standard-size Deathra. Gargamel often takes it on the nose for being too ‘cute’; their idea of kaiju does just happen to be more streamlined and polished than many other companies out there. That said, this thing is terrifying. Never mind the all-seeing eye of Zolnak. Never mind the leathery bat wings of the night. This thing has two thumbs on each hand.

Two Thumbs. Just like the little one. And the teeth. OMG the teeth.

I am so excited about this toy…so excited that I’m doing my best to look at it as little as possible. I want it to terrify me. I want to walk by it and be completely grossed out. I want it to give me goosebumps. And it is. It is.

Last but not least, I spent this weekend huffing dog farts and putting together this little video for you. Well, I actaully made it for Skinner and laid it’s bloody carcass at his swollen feet in hopes that he would be pleased. A token of my thanks for making such hideously righteous scarescapes. But! I figured I’d share it with you too…he’s sucked all the magic out of it…the soul is gone, sorry…but you are of course free to sit here for a few minutes and chew on the fat that’s left over.

Until.

There’s a god damn heatwave afoot here in New England. The sun scorching us nerds, casting us back into the dungeons from whence we came. What the fuck is a fanboy supposed to do in the face of such unrelenting Sun Hate? Easy, yo. Check out Near Mint Condition! Shameless plug, ahoy. Welcome to the weekly column where I give the weekly rundown of what I’m looking forward to in the world of comic books. Or more than likely, watch as I grouse like a bitch about the same five things I dislike in the comic book world.

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Scarlet #2
Scarlet’s subtitle should be “See motherfucker, Brian Michael Bendis can still write.” The first issue came out a couple of months ago, and the combined effort of Bendis and Maleev was nothing short of a boner-inducing wunderkind. There was a stretch of time when Brian Michael Bendis owned my nerd soul. Between Goldfish, his bullshit on Sam & Twitch, Daredevil, Powers, and Ultimate Spidey, I would fawn over him with unreserved enthusiasm. Eventually though, his strongest assest, his god damn writing ability, became (to me, alright?) his undoing. Some straight up Oedipal shit.

Why?

‘Cause the dude got something barely short of thrown into control of the entire Marvel Universe. That’s probably a wildly inaccurate claim. Whatever. And all that talent got diluted across ninety titles, and like his talent, my love for him was slowly diluted until it faded away.

Scarlet reminds me of why I love the guy.
And when he’s on his game, he’s better than roughly 95% of us wannabe writers.

Synergy. The retardedly cool concept that something can come together to become better than the sum of its parts. That’s fucking Scarlet. The story itself is cool, though perhaps a bit rote. The world’s fucked up, only one hot alt-chick can save it. The art itself is fucking gorgeous. The dialogue is beyond what feels like the Stock Campy Bullshit that Bendis pumps into the thirty-three Avengers titles he writes. You mash the Hot Chick With Guns and the Gorgeous Artwork and the Witty But Not Pressing Dialogue together, and you have a comic that I am genuinely, genuinely excited to read.

Even if you’re super-duper dissatisfied with Bendis, if you ever loved the dude at all, this is going to be an express trip in the wayback machine.

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Shadowland #3
Speaking of Bendis, one of the characters he used to lull my weeping fanboy heart into his clutches was Daredevil. I know I’ve rode Matty Murdock’s bedeviled jock throughout many a column here, but I can’t help it. Who doesn’t love watching someone as they’ve swooned into terminal descent? We’re all standing near the point of impact, hoping to get some existential guts splattered across that.

You can’t do better than Murdock’s crushed-soul.

I have to say this though, I prefer mainland Daredevil way over Shadowland. And while I dig on Shadowland, it loses a bit of the interpersonal edge that I’ve dug about Daredevil. It’s an action movie, not a detective story. And that’s cool, freal. It’s a preference thing.

But kick it over to Shadowland to watch as a man who has been pushed over the railing and into his own darkness finally combusts. The only sadness I feel is that I know whatever sort of fate Murdock meets will ultimately be mitigated by the engines of the industry. Someday he’ll be reformed, back, ready to rock. Push that out of mind and watch as shit gets real, if you can.

It’s an action movie starring one of the best characters Marvel has had to offer. Unblemished by what I would argue are editorial mandates to fit into movies, and other bullshit, a list of All-Star writers have orchestrated the collapse of the Man Without Fear.

Here’s our chance to watch him splat.

Read the rest of this entry »

Soft Metals - The Cold World Melts EP (2010) [Captured Tracks] // Grade: B+

Soft Metals have garnered quite a bit of hype and love from the internet recently, even here, on this very blog. Now with their first official release, the debut EP The Cold War Melts sees the duo try to live up to that blog pressure with five tracks that run through a dark club land of Italo disco and cold wave to brooding late night dance floors and housey synth fueled nostalgia for a night out at club that never really existed.

The Cold War Melts starts with the brilliant “Love or Music”, a track full of grooving drum machine claps and slow achingly retro synths stances, when the vocal hits it’s drenched in all that echo and reverb you’d expect from an Italo disco track from ’83 but it’s got a surprising dynamism that stops it from being too spacey and brings the pop element in with a vengeance, properly nice. To go from there would take something impressive and track two manages it with the EPs title track which bursts into life with dark and throbbing synths that beat out a rhythm that the Predator would stalk you to, it’s a great dance floor tune all acid squelches, posing in the dark, lasers painting lines though smoke and after work execs chatting on phones the size of bricks.

By the third track the late night, trip out on the dance floor vibe is firmly established and you can settle into the pop hooks and epic female vocals drifting serenely over everything. Then we hit up what I find most annoying on albums (and especially EPs), the instrumental track. And sure it’s nice enough and would maybe be fine on a release with more songs but I just can’t help feel instrumentals are included as filler, especially when the rest of the songs have such a pop sensibility about them. The final track “Another Goodbye” brings things back with a glacial New Order via Patrick Cowley feel, slow and seductive with vocals like a valium dosed 1983 Madonna.

This is the sort of release that can be enjoyed via headphones on a rain soaked day as much as on the dance floor of a smoke filled club. The EP’s heavy Italo sound will I’m sure draw obvious comparisons to Johnny Jewel’s recent work. But what sets this apart from Glass Candy, Chromatics and Desire is that Jewel has never worked with a vocalist as confidant as Patricia Furpurse nor released 5 tracks quite as dancefloor ready as these.

Fans familiar with Soft Metals will have no doubt heard these five tracks via their soundcloud and Myspace page for quite some time now but they’re a band that’s very much deserving a wider audience and an official vinyl release. So while I enjoyed this EP quite a bit, I’m at the point where I’m dying to hear newer material my ears haven’t yet fully devoured. But for the rest of you who will undoubtedly first be introduced to Soft Metals via this EP you’ll find a dark, imposing and even epic release that once over will have you where I’m already at… eagerly awaiting what’s next.