For years now indie horror movies have been destroying the studio-funded garbage in both content and quality. You’re Next is 2011′s mighty indie contender. Directed by Adam Wingard and written by Simon Barrett (whose previous collaboration A Horrible Way to Die is excellent), You’re Next is a relentlessly entertaining tale of a family reunion gone to bloody hell. Ma and Pa Davison invite their two sons and daughter over to celebrate their anniversary. They live on a secluded estate – the kind of place that’s just begging for a home invasion. Oh wait…

The invasion begins over dinner and the terror doesn’t stop until the last blood-dripping frame. Men wearing terrifyingly sterile animal masks make their way into the house, armed with all kinds of fun stuff like crossbows and hatchets. The family seems completely helpless under the axe of the intruders and it seems like the entire Davison clan will be butchered before the sun comes up. But the masked menaces didn’t count on son Crispian’s (AJ Bowen) girlfriend, Erin (Sharni Vinson), a girl destined for slasher survival girl stardom. Unlike her celluloid predecessors, Erin survives by tooth and claw, not dumb luck and cleanliness of vagina.

Erin fight back against the intruders with a vengeance. Think Home Alone if Macaulay Culkin was Rambo (and was hot). All we know about Erin is that she spent a lot of time in the Australian outback on her parent’s survival camp. But you won’t need further explanation on her commando origins because you’ll be enjoying pitch-perfect suspense accompanied with some of the year’s most shocking and creative kills put to film. Each death is a brutal and bloody one, and the majority of them are funny as hell. While a lot of slasher films sacrifice atmosphere for shock (and end up just being unintentionally silly), You’re Next never looses its thickly tense mood as the blood gets deeper. Even after witnessing a hilarious kill you’re still going to jump out of your seat in the next scene. The fight to survive never loses its urgency no matter how over-the-top Wingard and Barrett make the violence.

Aussie Sharni Vinson isn’t the only actor who delivers – You’re Next has a great ensemble. AJ Bowen (A Horrible Way to Die) plays the son scratching at his father for approval. Horror starlet Barbara Crampton (Re-Animator, From Beyond) plays Ma Davison. All around weird guy Joe Swanberg plays sarcastic asshole son Drake, Crispian’s sibling rival. The film also features Ti West (director of House of the Devil & The Innkeepers) and Horrible Way alumni Amy Seimetz.

With You’re Next, Wingard and Barrett have hung on to their mumblecore sensibilities while making an aggressively entertaining balls to the wall invasion slasher that’s going to appeal to mainstream and indie audiences alike. That takes fucking talent, my friends. I think it’s a no-brainer to predict that this is going to be a crossover mainstream horror hit when it’s finally released – along the lines of Saw, Hostel, and House of the Devil. And it’s just as easy to bet on Wingard and Barrett having long and successful careers and Sharni Vinson becoming a huge star.

The day before it screened at Fantastic Fest, You’re Next was bought by Lionsgate, who are giving it a very well-deserved wide release in 2012. The same day, this amazing ominous art appeared on the wall of the Alamo Drafthouse…

It’s all about the family.

Media attention on the last round of the Gathering was a ever-crowded peak where coverage big and small took to the Cave-In-Rock, Iowa campgrounds in search of a story. There were in-depth, undercover pieces by Gawker Media (for their site Deadspin), photo pieces galore (like Driven By Boredom’s boob happy recap) and a 34-page piece by writer Kent Russell, which appeared both on its own and in the latest issue of n+1 Magazine. But there was one content that seemed to be lacking- video. Sure, there was 2009′s Psychopathic Video release, A Family Underground,” but I’m taking in terms of an unattached video project, something made by an outsider.

Sharing the same name with the above-mentioned Russell article is a brand new documentary, Amercian Juggalo, released via Vimeo yesterday. The 23-minute film is a unfiltered look at those in attendance at the annual week-long Gathering, where these people come from, who they are and just how intoxicating the whole experience is for them. First and foremost, Juggalos are devoted fans- that you can’t deny and while watching this film, it’s surely the first thing you’ll notice. The drugs, the confusion or that lanky, ripped-as-hell teen named Maniac just seem to just dissipate into the background, replaced by fixed focus face-painted portraits and the perpetual cheer of “Whoop Whoop!”

Sure, these rabid folks are familiar to most of you Bloglin readers, but for most of the country, they are ones of constant scorn and misunderstanding, so it comes as no surprise that the film’s young director, Brooklyn’s Sean Dunne, professes his goals simply and concisely in just “letting the Juggalos speak their minds.”

Watch the whole thing above.

The Field – Looping State of Mind (2011) [Kompakt] // Grade: B

I’m a sucker for anything on Kompakt. One of these days I need to take a red-eye to Cologne and attend one of their parties to truly get the full experience. Few labels in the world are as consistent as Kompakt when it comes to releasing quality, warm, dream-like pop and techno, and no one does it quite like they do. So when I heard Axel Willner — better known as The Field — had a new album out, I had to jump on it immediately.

When Willner decided to call the album Looping State of Mind, he was not kidding. This really is an ambient album disguised and packaged as a techno album. Rather than hearing this album in a club, I would much rather hear this on a moving walkway in the Frankurt airport at night with no one else around. Though the style of songs on Looping State of Mind are reminiscent of original krautrock and shoegaze groups, the mechanical, repetitive and airy nature of each track makes it feel modern. The tracks are of epic lengths — no song is shorter than 8 minutes, some are even 10 — and none of them crescendo like other spacey acts like Godspeed You Black Emperor or Explosions In The Sky. Instead, the drones, especially in headphones, clear your head and give you an endless floating feeling.

My personal favorite on Looping State of Mind is “Burned Out.” Of all the loops that were extended until near exhaustion on the album, this feels the most lush, warm and trance inducing for me. It’s a feeling I would like to revisit, like biking aimlessly around Copenhagen, or taking a disco nap on the monorail in Detroit. “Then It’s White,” another stand out track on the album, sounds like a lost song on Sigur Ros’ album ( ). Its melancholy piano, dragging snares and haunting vocal loop remind me of Fall in every East Coast city I’ve lived in, so this is perfect timing.

The songs on Looping State of Mind aren’t chaotic psychedelic jams, pummeling techno rollers, krautrock tunes with crescendos or beach resort Balearic anthems. It’s closer to Brian Eno’s serene scenes in Music For Airports than anything else. If you somehow traveled solely by a motorized massage chair, you would listen to this album indefinitely with noise cancellation headphones while wearing 3d glasses. That said, wanting to feel this way is rare. Listening to Looping State of Mind should be reserved for a special occasion. If you’re depressed, Looping State of Mind will not make you snap out of it, rather it will make you want to close all the blinds and watch QVC on mute. If you want to embrace seasonal depression, this is the album for you. I don’t mean that in a bad way either, sometimes I do want to simply zone out to tones and drones myself. Just know what you’re getting into when putting this on, and it’ll be a pleasant, long escalator ride.

I have to believe that some of ye olde bloglin faithful remember Shadowrun. I loved that game, and while I never made it past the mountain excursion where you go off to find the elves, I certainly spent countless hours over several years attempting to beat that game. All fruitless, but the Shadowrunners Click has been a much more fruitful incarnation of the name.

I originally linked up with Himself — the rapping half of the duo, who is accompanied by Froskees on beats — on twitter. We have some mutual friends, and so that was how it got started. Over the last couple of months I’ve been peeping their tunes and I gotta say, that these dudes are on some shit. They definitely have their own sound, and their own aesthetic.

The fact that Himself is Mexican, while relatively unimportant when it comes to the music, is also a draw for them. There aren’t a lot of Mexican rappers, and there certainly aren’t many #BASED Mexican rappers. They’re not on some normal shit, these are dudes from the next wave of hip hop I keep calling out. So, peep some of these tunes, and download their album 808 Bit Revenge. And be sure to check out their site, and get familiar because you’re about to be seeing a lot more of them.

Oh my. After Walt’s psychotic laughter fades away at the end of “Crawl Space,” it’s good to take a breather, wash your meth mouth, and assess where everyone on the show stands. Hank is a marked man again but Saul’s anonymous tip to the DEA at least gives him a head start. Marie’s phone call to the generous Skyler filled her in on just how lethal the situation is. Jesse’s promotion and falling out with Walt doesn’t mean he wants him offed. Mike is recovering in that pop-up ER set up by Gus in case the Mexico trip turned sour.

And Walt is left, defeated, laughing his face off in the half-full crawl space; the show’s twisted version of Scrooge McDuck’s money bin. Gus fires him – in beautiful Gus of the Desert fashion – and he decides to pull the pin on his life. He’s taking Saul up on his “eraser” offer and is willing to pay to have his family wiped off the radar. We know he’s going to get out of this (there’s 18 episodes left in the series, dummy) but something tells me going in the underground witness protection isn’t going to be it.

And all of the money trouble originated because Skyler wanted to buy a stupid car wash and decided it was cool to drop $600,000+ in her ex-boss’ lap. Vince Gilligan and crew decided to go full slapstick with Ted’s death. Tripping over a throw carpet and sliding head first into a kitchen island is Breaking Bad‘s equivalent of stepping on a rake or stepping into a bucket. The rain of oranges was the icing on the cake. The show hasn’t been that funny since the ol’ “pizza on the roof” gag. Screw you, Ted Beneke. I never liked you.

After some speculation last week concerning whether Mike was aiming for Jesse or one of the Don’s goons, it’s apparent now he was bucking for the goon. I love how after that getaway with Gus, Jesse decides to allow some forgiveness in his life and have Andrea and her son over for video games (probably not “Rage”). You’re a young, successful meth cooker now Jesse, you deserve a little happiness.

IN BRIEF: Tio was watching Bridge Over the Kwai, known for it’s famous bridge explosion and Sir Alec Guinness not being Obi Wan Kenobi. Nothing in this show is unintentional. The brief glimpse of that movie could be foreshadowing of some explosions to come. — “Does the laundry have to be dirty?” “No.” OOoooohhh good burn, Tyrus!

I realize that it is difficult to separate one cultural realm from the other. I’m sorry. That is how things work. While the first part of this Blogling about music (here) presented an awful lot of video game music, this one will unabashedly start with music video games.

Nearly a decade before Guitar Hero had American teenagers experience the power of rock and Rock Band subsequently brought their families together for some wild weekend jamming to Bon Jovi on the weekend, Japanese dorks had Beatmania. In Beatmania, you are a club DJ whose mission in life is to rock the crowd. Armed with 5 keys and a turntable, you need to reconstruct the song that is playing and to keep tha headz ringin’. For that, you get money. The songs in the game were either original or remixes developed expressly for Konami by more or less renowned artists in genres ranging from soul to “hard tekno.” Not too shabby. Remember this was originally an arcade game, then picture yourself rocking a virtual crowd by yourself in a middle of an actual crowd.

After that, the game was ported on the Playstation and Game Boy Color and even had its own portable console. Several Beatmania cabinets were created along the years with fresh tracklisting and updated graphics, the line was nicknamed “Bemani games” by Konami who laughed at the fat kids all their way to the bank and went on to design Dance Dance Revolution and Guitar Freaks and Drum Mania. Of course these have all the ingredients to attain cult status and Bemani arranges are still wildly popular (and wildly frowned upon by the copyright holders).

Until a few years ago, I really had no idea about the pervasiveness of these games. Then during the second or third Hado Channel party (more on that in a second), the chat room became animated over this thing they called “Stepmania.” I inquired. These young minds came from a message board called BemaniStyle. It turns out, some Smartypant had released an open-source emulator of DDR, played on the keyboard. Open-source meant that with a little bit of knowhow, you could put any song in the world into the game and dance your fingertips away.
Hado Channel is an online rave party that now spans several nights, with back to back DJs from the J-trance, J-core and gabber persuasion. Of course, shit got real, real fast.

The track in this video is made by m1dy, the man is a kōjin (個人サー) or one-man dōjin. I will probably profile him at some point or another. I hold gabber dear to my heart. I grew up close to the Belgian border and a really stones throw away from Rotterdam – when my friends drove to Amsterdam to sample the vegetation, I had to hop along for the ride and stomp the night away. Gabber is what many people Stateside will call “hardcore techno,” but it has a very specific proletarian/fraternal ethics. Gabbers shave their heads, often wear military gear and braces; at first glance they’re not very different from skinheads. What you may not notice if you’re not paying attention is how sample-heavy, dorky and subversive gabber is. I certainly didn’t realize how much sampling of 80s music, Detroit house, dutch pop and exploitation movies was going at the time I was the most involved in this scene. Then came all the jumpstyle/hardstyle kids (and college) and I kind of lost interest (also I found a refuge in breakcore). All this to say that in addition to the 300+ bpm range making the music unfit for commercial distribution, clearing rights for gabber simply cannot happen – which is why the dōjin format is basically tailor made for it.

First dudes I heard came out of Osaka and quickly it spread to the rest Japan, for a discipline called J-Core (which can be anything from hard tech to splittercore and makina). Associated circles include Mob Squad Tokyo lead by M-Project, C.H.S (Cutie & Headshaking Sounds) lead by T+Pazolite (d(♥.♥)b) or Alice’s Emotion lead by REDALiCE. I hear you, demanding minds. Here are samples.

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J. Cole – Cole World: The Sideline Story (2011) [ROC Nation] // Grade: C-

If you were a J. Cole fan for the last thousand years, or if you had been bumpin’ J. Cole since before Mariah was pregnant, I’ve got to believe that your worst fears have come true. That’s right, J. Cole’s debut LP is a dud. That’s not to say that Cole himself is a dud because dude is definitely an incredibly capable rapper with an appreciable style, his ear for drums might be the best in Top40 Hip Hop, and he understands the difference between making an album, and stringing together the right features. I gotta believe that on some level Cole was impassioned by all the music here. The problem is that the sum of the parts of his soul that he poured out wound up being less than compelling. Now, why it wound up that this record is almost wholly unmemorable is impossible to pin down without sufficient insider info. I don’t have that info, but I’ll do my best to sum up what EYE think MAY have happened here.

Now, Cole put out a debut mixtape in 2007, and in early 2009 got picked up by Jay-Z. Since then he put out another mixtape, and did some features, and got a very healthy buzz, and recorded this album. Meanwhile Jay-Z released 2 records. And, while Cole is still way ahead of many of the other XXL 2010 freshmen, that’s not by virtue of their successes. Big Sean and Wiz Khalifa have risen to notable pop acclaim, but it would seem that only the latter has done so in a lasting fashion. But, even with their accomplishments, what Wiz and Sean accomplish, Cole had the moment that he signed with Jay. Everybody already cares about J. Cole. And so, while we expected an album the invisible machinations of the ROC intervened.

Maybe at this point you’ve picked up on my sentiments towards Kanye West. I think he is involved int eh production of incredible art, but I also think that he is just despicable when it comes to taking credit for so many other people’s work. I don’t like the fact that other people write his raps for him without explicit credit. And so, as my mind is imbued with a proclivity, I can’t help but wonder whether or not Cole was being milked for raps, and had his work taken from him. It wouldn’t be far-fetched in the slightest. Maybe Cole’s album came out in pieces, from other people’s mouths. But, that’s purely theoretical. But, really though, can you think of a logical reason that this record would have taken this long?

“Lights Please” was on dude’s debut mixtape. And, while I can see how material can remain relevant for 4 years, I don’t see how the debut album from an artist under intense scrutiny for his lack of an album, could possibly have room for a 4 year old song. It’s probably about licensing, and publishing and shit, but damn, drop an EP or something. Which brings another massive oversight: J Cole is not Danny Brown. We don’t need 19 tracks of J. Cole. We needed: 12 dino-size heat rocks. We got: 19 iguana-sized heat rocks. And over the course of those 19 tracks there is no arc, and there are not enough moments to keep me engaged. And that would be fine. If J. Cole were doing 1890’s Erik Satie Vexation raps. But he’s not doing Vexation raps, he’s doing 2011 dude raps. Tepidly.

I mean, I gotta give it to dude for hangin’ on. Plenty of XXL freshmen haven’t lasted this long. But dude really needs to reassess his strategy. I mean, he’s playing in the action figure rapper league, and he’s basically like Duke or Lt. Falcon. Cole is kinda straddling two fences with this record. It’s one part old man arm chair raps, and one part young man on the grind contemporary raps. I’m sure there are some folks out there who love this album, but to me it lacks vigor. And that’s not surprising, if you look at it objectively. Things that are delayed and put off too long often fail to be electric or magical. They are often unmemorable. Unfortunately, I think this was the only way this record was gonna turn out with the endless delays which should characterize a disconnected corporate major label, not one run by a rapper. I just hope dude has the sense to take his career into his hands, and start living through his music in the present. I’m honestly very interested to see what he does next, and I’m sure his career is far from over.

I got a bunch of new sets up over on Stagg Street including ones of old favorites like Madison Young with Mannequins and Jessie Lee in bed. I’ve also been shooting some brand new models lately and have full sets on the site Nasty Canasta on a red leather bench and Courtney Crave in front of window.

Check out more pics of these lovely ladies at their links. So naked and so much fun.

September 11 marked the ten year anniversary of one of Jay-Z‘s classic albums, The Blueprint. In observance of this anniversary, Complex decided to run a piece that claimed to finally answer the debate of which classic Hova album, Reasonable Doubt and The Blueprint, is best. And while it’s a well-written, well-structured piece, and regardless of the fact that this question is completely a matter of opinion and there’s no way Complex is going to provide an answer that readers will then adopt as their own, it contains one major flaw.

The piece, entitled End of Discussion: Why Jay-Z’s “The Blueprint” Is Better Than “Reasonable Doubt”, is broken down into twelve categories, each of which examines and compares aspects of the two albums, from “Lyrical Content” and “Lyrical Structure”, to “Cover Art” and “Guests”. For each category one point is awarded depending on which album is superior. Most of the observations concerning the two classics are honest and accurate, however, in the end, The Blue Print comes out on top with the final score being eight to four.

Now, there is no way that TBP is twice as good as RD. Independent of your personal opinion regarding the two albums, this is just not even a possibility. Complex wants to rule in favor of The Blue Print, and that’s fine, but it is not a landslide victory as the 8-4 score makes it seem.

Here’s where the error is made: While each category won awards an album one point, some of the categories should not be considered equal in terms of defining an album’s greatness. For instance, “By The Numbers” and “Lyrical Structure” should in no way be on par. Numbers are interesting when discussing classic albums, but they cannot possibly factor in to a true musical discussion in any way similar to the structure of lyrics. Look at Weezer‘s Pinkerton, as a great example of a group’s clear magum opus (along with Weezer (The Blue Album), which, again, is another timeless debate) that, by the numbers, was frail in comparison to subsequent releases. While much of Rap’s subject matter is indeed “the numbers,” and turning a profit, it’s the actual lyrics themselves that should how classic an album is.

In that respect, the scoring of Reasonable Doubt is considerably flawed, with “Lyrical Structure” and “Flows” deserving, at least, two points each, bringing the would-be final score to 6-8, with The Blue Print still coming out on top. And whether “Sequencing” and “Cover Art”, or “Cover Art” and “Guests” can, similarly, be considered equal is up for debate, but the point value of the lyrical categories certainly need to be more endowed.

And yes, true, that would suggest that “Lyrical Content”, of which Complex deems The Blue Print the victor, should also be afforded two points, bringing the final score to 6-9. This is not necessarily the case, however, as it can very much be considered a case of “It’s not what you say; It’s how you say it.” While Jay is discussing solely drug dealing on most of Reasonable Doubt the way in which he does it is so magnificent and inventive that it does not once feel repetitive, making TBP’s more introspective, topically-varying lyrics both less standout and less deserving of two points.

Whether 6-8 is an accurate score is another discussion entirely, and one that will never be finished, but it is at least a more believable score than 4-8. There is also another, more abstract dilemma inherent with comparing two albums and trying to obtain an be-all, end-all ruling, that being the indescribable essence of the different collections of music, along with the different perspectives that each listener brings to the table. Like I said, it is completely a matter of opinion, so even attempting to end the debate is futile. Having said that, 6-8 would at least be a score that I could happily say Complex unnecessarily awarded.

Well not actually Doritos per-say, but their creator, Arch West has done died. Kinda weird to think that someone invented Doritos, but I guess everything was invented by someone somewhere… and someone had to come up with the bright idea to prepackaged nachos.

I actually didn’t realize Doritos were the first of their kind. Growing up in New York I was more accustomed to seeing Wise Bravos and actually thought they pre-dated Doritos. But what did I know? I was a stupid kid. Anyway, Dude who invented Doritos is dead, read more about his legacy over here. Now go out and bust open a bag of cool ranch in his honor.