Another brand of white collar criminals have been making international news lately over the hacking of extremely high-profile security mainframes, such as Sony Pictures, the CIA, and the U.S. Senate, exposing gaping fractures in their systems. After felling the virtually nonexistent safety precautions, the computer specialists released over 1,000,000 email addresses and passwords along with bank account info, pushing the faces of these conglomerates in their own excrement and shaking their finger.

Mentioned briefly in Caffeine Powered’s mid-june installment of Press Start!,  LulzSec, shorthand for Lulz Security, is a group of cyber-brainiacs that were able, quite effortlessly I might add, to weasel their way into the database. Finding that Sony, in particular, had left their user’s private information in raw text format (rtf) a freely readable extension without any sort of encryption in case of an attack made it no great task to release all of their client’s information costing them millions of dollars in business, lawsuits, etc.

The full story of LulzSec’s upsurge is located here for you to read. But for now let’s enjoy the fruits of their labor with a well-composed video, thanks to jorg piringer, presenting each of the 25727 passcodes in elegant, helevetica typeface. One password is displayed per single frame, that means when you see a password that lingers on the screen for more than a split-second, multiple people, sometimes even a couple hundred, were using the same password.

Hopefully the Lulz crew isn’t disbanded too soon by the powers that be. Check out their twitter for updated internet terrorism breakthroughs. Over the past few months they’ve bestowed upon us a healthy paranoia leaving citizens weary as to the trustworthiness of the companies that “watch over” our personal information. This video also acts as a visual wordbank of what not to make your password. You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve got to go change my login information from godisgood7 to sexi69.

Mark this date. Friday, July 1st, our absolute favorite weekly shit show out in L.A., Check Yo Ponytail, will be ushering in an entirely new act to the CYP roster. Blonde Redhead, the seasoned alternative rock virtuosos will be performing a sweeping set of fragile-art-pop and noisy-ass guitar songs for an adoring west coast audience at the Echoplex. The versatility of these indie rock elders is matched by few of their contemporaries, as the band has been at it since ’93, and has yet to become stagnant or settle on a single sound. Having knowledge of the trio’s live reputation, as well as their penchant for the epic, I think you’re going to want to check the thing out.

Never content to settle on just a solid headliner, the folks behind Check Yo Ponytail have locked down the leather-clad garage warriors, Bass Drum of Death, as the opening act on the 1st of July. If the band’s name hadn’t already given it away, these bros are pretty brutal. BDoD produce the type of scuzzy guitar jams that make you want to lace up your Converse, and go punch a dude in the head… I suppose if you’re a relatively passive rock n’ roll fan, you could get away with lacing up your sneaks and just dancing around too.  Weirdo Canadian art rockers, The Luyas, will also be performing in one of the opening slots prior to the headliners taking the stage.

The show is coming up in just a couple of days, so round up your cronies, and get ready to space out with Blonde Redhead. I can’t think of a better way to pregame our nation’s birthday, so you really have no excuse to stay at home on Friday. Pick up your tickets, and don’t miss this thing.

Friday, July 1st, 9pm
The Echoplex
1154 Glendale Blvd
Los Angeles, CA
$25 Advance Tix | 18+

SBTKRT – S/T (2011) [Young Turks] // Grade: B

When selecting a moniker, producer SBTKRT (pronounced subtract) went the way of  MGMT, and chose an alias that might be described as confusing or a bit cumbersome. Luckily for the listener, the clunky nature of the masked-man’s name, is in no way reflected in the streamlined production on his eponymous debut LP. While it might be hard to pigeon-hole the sound found on the self-titled effort as Dub-Step, Two-Step, Funky, or any other electronic buzz-genre that comes to mind, it should be the last subject on your mind by the close of the record… You’ll probably just want to play the thing over again.

In a press statement referring to the recording of the new album, SBTRKT claimed that “This release is the culmination of a longer period of constant writing and collaboration, tracks on previous EPs were written as singular pieces. This record is much more of a whole project, more representative of my thoughts and ideas as an artist and each track was completed with the aim to be coherent together.” Countless artists have made this claim over time, but it seems that few ever seem to actually follow through on the promise. This London-based producer, however, actually makes good on the premise he laid out above, and does so in an unmistakable fashion all his own.

There is a common production style and tone that rings true throughout the entirety of this debut album, which skillfully skates the line between glitched-out spaz disco, and smooth blue-eyed RnB. While I wouldn’t know how to precisely describe this sound (as displayed by the barrage of goofy adjectives I pummeled you with in the previous sentence), SBTKRT has stumbled onto a signature vibe that never once wavers as the album unfolds itself. One might be tempted to compare the content here to early work churned out by the British nerds Hot-Chip , but this stuff is far less self-aware or self-deprecating, and all the better for it. SBTKRT is too busy helping people get down to poke fun at himself.

I’d be remiss if I also didn’t mention the various vocalists who moonlight on a number of tracks throughout the record. The handful of singers employed by the producer will probably go unheralded in the grand scheme of things, but really shouldn’t be overlooked. The soft-spoken crooner Sampha submits four workmanlike performances when all is said and done, and eventually separates himself as the obvious choice for SBTRKT’s second-in-command. ”Something Goes Right” features the guy’s vocal stylings, and functions as a modern take on the Herbert classic “Something isn’t Right“ in many respects. While the song title may appear contradictory on paper, I think you’ll find that the overall sentiment and tone of the pair mirror each other. Each song could represent a plotted point on the trajectory of a tumultuous romantic relationship.

At first glance, the African mask iconography employed by SBTRKT, who is actually named Aaron Jerome, might conjure up flashes of the abrasive home recordings of Mike Sniper’s Blank Dogs. Upon listening to the record, you’ll find the two artists share little in common, aside from their respective uniqueness when approaching the production of music. The debut record from SBTRKT places him on an Island, genre-wise, that you’ll probably want to travel out to at some point.

Having gone to a New York Mets game last week, and them actually winning, a rush of inspiration hit me upside the head. I needed to cook up a High Five in celebration of America’s beloved pastime, baseball. The start of the game had been delayed for 2 hours due to rain and in order to keep the already, half-empty stadium from becoming a barren arena of discouragement, the JumboTron played a documentary about the renowned 1986 Mets season complete with insightful interviews and noteworthy highlights. A section of the doc addressed rituals and pre-game superstitions among the players in hopes of metaphysically bettering their performance during the game. There it was, I was to consolidate the most bizarre player by player customs in the history of the sport into one list, making known a ballplayers’ constant struggle to harness his chi and ward off bad juju.

Baseball and voodoo have an interconnectedness that surpasses any of the other sports. Since I can remember, with my father being a die-hard fan of the seemingly hopeless Boston Red Sox (until 2004 of course), I’ve heard of curses, luck charms, and even been told to leave the living room because I was fucking up a team’s vibes. Fans and players alike seemed to hold idiosyncratic theories that a certain thing or set of conditions could sway a game one way or another. Going above and beyond your average rally cap or the strapping and unstrapping of one’s gloves before stepping up to the plate, this is a series of the absolute strangest beliefs and practices to ever graze the dugout.

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5. Jason Giambi

The tale of the golden thong. When Giambi’s going cold he slips into something a little less comfortable to spice things up a bit. The 40 year-old pro enjoys prancing around the infield in a shiny g-string and if it turns his luck around, then I say good for him.

Apparently multiple teammates have shared the thong, passing it around from one perspiring ass-crack to the next. Winning first, hygiene second.

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4. Turk Wendell

This former relief pitcher has got the market cornered on, what seems to others as, senseless superstitions. Donning a necklace made of animal teeth and claws, Turk the Barbarian believes these exotic trophies of beasts he has killed act as talisman’s that bring fortune and success.

Other neuroses include having to eat four pieces of black licorice while on the mound, brushing his teeth in the dugout, and having such an infatuation with the number 99 that he requested a contract for $9,999,999.99 be offered to him from the Mets.

(more…)

It’s straight up summertime now. That means BBQ’s, beach time, chilling in the park catching a tan time, maybe even chilling out on a boat time if you got it like that. For all those activities you need jams to bump in the iPod, in the Jeep or on the stereo. We got you on all fronts. We’ve got heavy bass joints by Ross and Gucci that’ll inspire your drunk friends to pick fights at the beach — remember it’s mad hard to run in sand, so, pick fights with lil dudes.

There’s also abstractly introspective jams from Zeroh that’ll make you feel like Jack Kerouac, while sitting in a park writing in a notebook. Maybe for the next one, I need to find some R&B jams to turn those late night pool sessions into skinny dipping sessions. Don’t say I’m not always looking out for y’all and trying to improve your skinny dipping situation.

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Gucci Mane – It’s All Gucci (2011) [How Fly]

How is it that as Gucci Mane has grown increasingly more insane in real life (see: lightning bolt ice cream cone tattoo) his music has gotten more normal? When dude was just smoking weed in Georgia and hanging out with OJ Da Jucieman he was making some real weird shit, talking about his farts smelling like calamari and how cold penguins would be in Boston (answer not as cold as Gucci’s jewelry). Now that he’s officially bonkers though, he’s seemingly lost his edge.

It’s All Gucci has some ok songs on it compiling recent output and some “lost” songs dating back about 5 years or so, but, it’s clear that the best material is the older, weirder stuff like “Up My Alley”. One slimmer of hope is that both of the songs featuring Waka Flocka Flame from the upcoming Ferrari Boys tape their working on are pretty hot. I’m gonna assume Waka’s insanity probably has some sort of enabling effect for Gucci. Most of the newer songs have Gucci on autopilot, at worst sounding bored, at best just giving you run of the mill Gucci on an R&B feature, but, “Stoned” has Gucci shouting out Barney Rubble, reviving his long running love of cartoon characters as metaphoric inspiration.

Download It’s All Gucci (Click Here)

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Zeroh – Awful-Alterations (2011) [Blq Brd]

What would happen if you made a rapper from equal parts Sa-Ra Creative Partners melodic space age funk weirdness and Aesop Rock dense lyrical baritone? You’d probably end up with someone who sends a lot like Zeroh. Homeboy is the type of dude to make an oblique reference to Ender’s Game and The Office in one song, but can also ride a Missy Elliot sample to talk about his future wife in another.

This is the kind of tape you can throw on just to jam the beats (which are heavy on the weirdo grooves) and be entirely cool. But, don’t be surprised when you hear a nice couplet on the 37th time that you listen to a song, making you wonder “was that there the whole time?” Though awfulalterations is a short tape, considering how much is stuffed into each song via lyrics and the ever-swinging grooves, it feels a bit longer than it is — that’s what she said.

Download Awful-Alterations (Click Here)

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Rick Ross – Big Rozay (2011) [Hip Hop Is Dream]

A lil’ before Gucci Mane’s last album Mr. Zone 6 dropped he put out a mixtape, simply called Buy My Album. Gucci, ever the businessman, made it explicitly clear that his mixtapes serve as loss leaders for his albums. With that plan in mind we get Rick Ross’ new tape Big Rozay, a short tape that exists essentially to advertise for the Self-Made album his Maybach Music Group put out recently. Appropriately there’s the expected inclusion of lead singles like “Pandemonium” and “By Any Means” from that album and they are appropriately hard-as-fuck, but, the real draw here is the first four songs on the tape.

The first four tracks work as a concentrated dosage of dude’s stadium coke rap product. Where you might’ve thought “B.M.F “or “Walking on Water” saw Ross as huge sounding as he could get, this tape says “fuck that” and has dude rapping straight over a opera stabs for “Intro (Rozay)” on some regal overture shit. There’s “Git Paid” which sounds a lil bit like 2002 El-P making a trunk rattler with his distorted synths. “Na Wut” follows suit with a Lex Luger beat that sounds like it was created exclusively for dudes to create Best-Lebron-Dunks-of-2011 videos to. It’s all big shit talking, heavy bass and fast high hats, Ross is from Miami, the Heat are from Miami it makes sense. Yet, the naysayers among us would say “didn’t the heat get eliminated in the finals?” Ardent Ross fans realize that the reality of the finals lost isn’t important because Lebron had tons of sick dunks. We’re talking bombast over reality here.  This is, of course, Rick Ross we’re talking about.

Download Big Rozay (Click Here)

Cupco!’s Last Gasp Now Available Online!

Cupco, those fine purveyors of off-beat animation, illustration and doll production, have finally decided to shuffle off this mortal coil. Upon unveiling a final exhibition of their work at out Broadway location this past month, the gang decided to call it quits. The folks who comprise the company stitched together over 500 dolls to round out their final hurrah, and were gracious enough to let us display a large portion of them for one night only. The event went off without a hitch, as you might expect, but left some attendees were left wondering what was to become of the figures.

Well, if you found yourself asking this very same question, you’ll be delighted to know that you can currently get your grubby little mitts on some of the pieces that were included as part of the Last Gasp exhibit. Head over to our online store, and peruse the remaining Cupco products that we have posted for sale. Each of the listed dolls features a removable head, that can be attached to any other doll body, impossibly creating something even weirder than what you started with. What I’m getting at, is that you may not to limit your purchase to a single item. How else will we ever know what Kim Jong Il‘s dome looks like attached to the body of a drug addict?

While you’re at the store, you may also be interested in picking up one of the fine caps or Badges that we’re featuring in conjunction with the now defunct production company. Both the snap-back and badges feature an image of the renowned Cupco Dripping Head, and will prove to the world where your allegiances lie when it comes to niche toy/illustration brands… I also happen to think that the patches would look really killer next to that Steal Your Face button that’s pinned onto your denim jacket.

Keep in mind folks, this may be the last batch of Cupco output that you’re get your hands on without having to contact some slimy eBay toy dealer. Let us facilitate your purchasing of these fine one-of-kind products! We’re sure that whichever figure you choose will make a fine addition to your collection, as well as a wonderful family heirloom that can be passed down for generations to come. Better order soon though…  stuff is flyin’ off the shelves!

Thurston Moore – Demolished Thoughts (2011) [Matador] // Grade: A-

Give the Thurston Moore/Beck album to the old man, why don’t you?!?!  Honestly, this aging reviewer hasn’t listened to a full Sonic Youth album since maybe Sister and that was when it came out. On top of that, I don’t think I’ve ever really listened to Beck; it was just too patently “indie” for my stuffy and pretentious outsider tastes. With that in mind, it came as quite a surprise that I actually enjoyed this album quite a bit. I was expecting some rather boring experimental guitar suites, and instead was surprised with an acoustic album that is equal parts Pop Psych and Krautrock, with a pair of Ray Bans pointed directly at some vintage 1992 Pumas.

There’s no denying the man’s talent, but talent can very often be a handicap when making music for the modern ear. The little bit of Moore’s experimental work that I have heard in the past twenty years has often been far too scholarly. Personally, I have never been much of a fan of music that required an instruction booklet. From Tool all the way over to Def Jux, if music seems too intellectual and theory driven, I tend to get bored very quickly. Demolished Thoughts, however, is experimental music done right. At first listen, the acoustic guitars and mild strings hearken back to the early ‘70s and the days of soft stoner rock and psychedelic folk. On further listen, though, one can hear how the album is crafted in layers, much like the avant garde microtonalism that pads Moore’s practically 40 year pedigree. This is the perfect example of a CMJ album if it were composed by John Cage. The most beautiful part about it is that it never sounds overwrought with ideas, and actually floats quite effortlessly from song to song.

There are standout tracks, both “Circulation” and “Orchard Street” seem as though they could be early Sonic Youth unplugged, with their carefully krauty artiface and post-Alan Vega vocals. As atonal and difficult as some of the counterpoint of this LP is, most songs come across as light and very pretty. Ultimately, Demolished Thoughts, is a complete success… and has forced at least one person to reconsider his opinions of both Moore and Hansen.

The cult of Mater Suspiria Vision is making a human sacrifice upon the Bloglin altar once again. This time around with a disclaimer tagged onto the beginning of the clip warning of strobe light usage and unwanted affects that may be elicited in some viewers while watching. I’m not one for seizures but MSV’s freshest ritualistic offering entitled “Paradise of The New H” from the forthcoming Inverted Triangle II is an anxiety-filled caravan into madness that is nothing short of an epileptic fit.

Paying tribute to exploitation films of the ’70s, satanic rites and black masses are given a chopped and screwed treatment that would give DJ Screw, R.I.P., the cold sweats. Like any Mater video this one is a sensory flooding with lots’o exposed, deprived, and submissive ladies. Beware as you approach the latter half of this visual orgy, the screen forms a black hole that sucks any sanity away, lets hope your brain can handle this kind of wickedness.

Formed from members of Cali/Germany’s Teenage Panzerkorps (Der TPK), quintet Horrid Red issues a sound crawling in vintage, sinking, pop harmonics and targeted, noisy, punk attitude. Singer Bunker Wolf is utterly fantastic, like a transported saint of late 70′s-early 80s heyday, towering over the tunes, crooning in a certain uninterested monotone, miles away from the slinky, bass lines and spook he shares the space with. We reviewed the new band’s pair of Bandcamped EPs, Pink Flowers and Silent Party and, of course, loved them, calling them “patient, ominous and gorgeous.”

Lucky for a crowd of about 100 last weekend, Part Times Punks out here in LA hosted the band as part of their Neue Deutsche Welle Nite aka German New Wave Nite with duo German Army supporting. It was but Horrid Red’s fourth show ever and the band were both comfortable and commanding on the Echo’s small stage. Photos of the night, from yours truly.

Remember Sea-Monkeys? The white flaky powder, resembling a bag of head lice, that came in packets to be added to water and watched as they hatched to become a faithful and semi-visible friend forever. One of the best marketing schemes in the history of selling, still being sold today and rivaled only by the pet rock, Harold von Braunhut amassed a fortune advertising and peddling his shitty, gimmicky, half-assed novelties. We, Мишка, even used his Kiyoga Agent M5, spring-loaded baton advertisement as the basis for one of our very early tee designs.

Maybe I’m being a little too harsh on the dead conman, he passed away in 2003, but I bet most of you mail-order item collectors, I know you’re out there reading this, didn’t know that Mr. Braunhut, the mastermind behind selling ocean debris to kids as “sea-monkeys,” wasn’t just advertising in the back of your daddy’s Superman comics. He took out ads in Aryan Nation newsletters, white power publications, and other anti-semitic magazines throughout his working life. The clincher is that he was born Jewish, becoming a self-loathing supporter of fascist ideals and donating a percentage of his profits to keep the hate-machine going strong.

The Awl has conducted a really interesting, full investigation into the secret life of inventor, Harold von Braunhut with the whole story available to read here. To think that as you were anticipating the birth of your brine shrimp, their creator was funding the rise of a white, supreme race.