Any Awesome Show fan worth his salt knows the inherent difficulty in explaining it to someone who’s never seen it before, let alone convincing your parents or other non-internet generation elders what the fuck is going on and why it’s incredibly hilarious.
Luckily for us, internet blog human Cathy Fisher has done this very astute and fun write up of just why, academically, Tim and Eric is both funny, and much more like other comedy than people would like to believe. In a good way. Ch-ch-ch-check it out, and be sure to rewatch the red-band trailer for the upcoming Billion Dollar Movie and apply all that you’ve now learned.
I feel like a heel. I gave Lil B’s Christmas tape some love yesterday but totally spaced that our main man Mr. Muthafuckin’ eXquire, was also dropping his own very special Christmas tape. This new tape features a boat load of tracks eX has circulated individually since our release of Lost In Translation. Both “The Song That Never Ends AKA Huzzah! 2″ and “R.I.P. Payso” are on here along with tracks featuring guest spots by Danny Brown and Maffew Ragazino. It’s good shit, but would expect any less from eX?
This shit’s like getting a Sega Genesis when you were 12 or some shit on Christmas morning… only we’re a whole day late. Whatever, It’s not like you guys were all hunkered around a computer all day yesterday anyway. At least I hope you weren’t and spent the day with your friends and/or families. So be it a day late it’s still it’s free and awesome, so enjoy it!
As the Bloglin’s primary Metal reviewer I was tasked with compiling the Bloglin’s top 10 Metal albums of the year. 2011 was a rough year for metal. Compared to years past, the good albums were few and far between and most of them were immediate follow ups to last year’s releases. New bands came into focus, but their work just wasn’t there. These ups and downs come every few years and while some of the top 10 metal albums aren’t as great as their preceded releases, they’re still better than 90% of the field. Maybe this is just a sign of the end of the world in 2012? Who knows but we can all hope and pray to Oden that things pick up a bit more.
While blackened thrash dominated the 2010 rankings, 2011 saw a pique in black metal acts. While a majority of lo-fi releases were strictly released on cassette, the forefront was manned by some of the longest-standing names in the black metal genre. From Norway to the States, bands brought out some of their best work in years. And then came the new wave of British heavy metal. Bands like Devil, Ghost and Capricorn emulated acts like Sabbath and Saint Vitus. As Cathedral played their last show ever, earlier in December, a slew of new bands picked up the torch and marched onward.
Wolves In the Throne Room
While this list might not be in agreeance with your top 10 picks, keep in mind, I tried to represent some of the more prominent acts of the year. You may notice that my list doesn’t follow how I graded these 10 albums in my original reviews. There are some rank shifts, putting higher graded albums below lower graded albums. I wanted to revisit the rankings for the list because over the course of the year opinions on an album can change. This list was ordered by albums I kept to coming back to time after time over this past year.
You’ll probably notice the Metal albums here vary some from the Bloglin’s general Top 50 abums of 2011 in inclusion, exclusion and placement (No Liturgy this time, sorry folks!). That is because this is entirely my list of the best Metal releases for the year, unlike the Top 50, which was a group effort. So without further ado, here’s the top 10 metal albums of 2011, which still holds nothing on 2010′s list!
Back in 1990, the Plano, Texas trio Absu began compiling a healthy arsenal of death metal tracks which they compiled into five demos. Yes, five demos. When they were pleased with their sound, the dark lords said “It is good” and released Barathrum: V.I.T.R.I.O.L. in 1993.
Now, almost 20 years later, the’ve put out six full lengths, including their newest, Abzu. A lot has changed since their early days. The band has morphed into a blackened thrash act and their sound has achieved numerous accolades. Abzu is one hell of a ride.
San Francisco based Orchid created quite the stir when they released their first EP over a year ago. Now, one of the most anticipated releases of 2011 is upon us and what is my verdict? Pretty solid. While it’s easy to get hung up in the “It sounds like Sabbath” mindset while you’re listening to Capricorn, you have to appreciate their sound craft.
Orchid’s songwriting and production is almost mind-numbingly precise. These guys executed one solid doom album in the time from their first EP to Capricorn‘s release. While it’s easy to capture the sounds of Sabbath, it’s difficult to capture the 70′s in that same breath. Many bands attempt to emulate the sounds of the Ozzy-era Sabbath but finding that delicate balance of context and construct is rare.
Knowing what Steve Albini has done for bands like High on Fire, I was beyond stoked when I received the press-release announcing their new album, Jason… The Dragon. Arik Roper artwork. Check. Kick-ass producer. Check.
I can assure you that this album is still convincing of their “FUCK YOU,” Southern metal mentality.
The Oregon doom metal trio YOB have returned after a successful 2009 release The Great Cessation to unleash Atma, their sixth album on their attention-starved fan base. At just over 50 minutes long, the 5-track album is what we’ve all been waiting for. But what made The Great Cessation so epic is lacking in Atma. Maybe YOB is turning a new leaf in their music. Whatever it is, I am digging it.
Last year, Elder’s S/T awoke the doom metal scene with their familiar sound, filled with youthful energy and optimism. This year, Dead Roots Stirring brings back the return of Elder and it’s a whole new sound. It’s not the same Sleep worship as their self-titled album and it’s got a bit of its own identity.
The band has matured with their sound and this album delivers. Like Sleep and other traditional stoner bands, Elder’s songs are all on the longer side. “Gemini” is the opener and you can tell right off the bat that this is a new Elder. It’s got bite and kick.
Two of our absolute favorite rappers are coming together at the Highline Ballroom tomorrow night, the 27th for a helluva post-Christmas gift. If you’re stuck with nothing but lumps of coal and/or sadness after the bearded one’s birthday, then this is the perfect panacea for you.
Mr. Muthafuckin’ eXquire, who’s fantastic Lost In Translation mixtape we put out earlier in 2011 will be teamed up with the ginger giant ginger himself Action Bronson to cook up a holiday show you won’t soon forget. Be sure to check out his two 2011 albums, Dr. Lecter and Well-Done, if you already haven’t.
To sweeten things up even more, these New York heavyweights will be supported by Harlem’s Dyme-A-Duzin and The Doppelgangaz . This is one incredible showcase of New York rap and a show people are going to be talking about for years to come, believe that! get your tickets now and we’ll see you Tuesday.
P.S. give Lamour Supreme some props for that awesome flyer.
Squeak. But a big existential squeak right at the end of 2011. For real though, I’ve never been a huge fan of the Roots. They’ve made some songs that I really like, but as far as their albums go I never really connected with them. And truth be told, my life is such an utter mess right now I can’t tell if my frame of reference even exists anymore. But in spite of all that I know for sure that Undun has the magic. I know a lot of people have spoken on the album, but I haven’t read much of it. I did however, read the NPR writeup that accompanied the promotional stream of the record. And, I was surprised by what I found: Sufjan Stevens, and Concept Album. Concept albums usually suck. There is no two ways about it. I don’t know much about Sufjan Stevens background but I know I’ve really enjoyed a lot of his work, and he seems to be an increasingly common name popping up lately in hip hop circles (not gonna say who, because I’m not sure what the haps are exactly, but he has music coming out with at least one of the rappers I’ve written about on the Bloglin). And the outcome of this odd premise is nothing short of immaculate.
My only complaint is that there are too many guest vocalists. They really seem to get in the way, for no other reason than Black Thought comes correct as fuck on here. His words are imbued not only with his persona as an accomplished rapper, but also as a wise man who has seen many things both in the world at large, and in his own life. And according to NPR’s feature on the record the brilliant performance is on account of the fate of many of Black Thought’s family members. On a record that tells the tale of a fictitious drug dealer in the last moments of his life, Black Thought leads the group not only as the MC, but also as the one with a firsthand account of the story they’re telling. And while the most brilliant shimmering moments of the record rest on the strength of Black Thought’s very personal performance, somehow stories about drug dealers compel our collective consciousness like nothing else.
It’s easy to see why it happens — anti-establishment figures in an era when the establishment has fallen out of favor with common citizens, the symbol of ultimate empowerment, the symbol of the original ideals of the USA, the power, the respect, the money, the sex, the mystique, and ultimately the seduction — but grasping how it happens is a wholly different affair. Perhaps it’s that the drug dealer represents the most potent distillation of the most basic factors which define all of us here in the United States. Here where our lavish lives come at the cost of others’ liberties in far away places, at the cost of untold animals, plants, and vast stretches of Earth. Here where in order to get ahead we make sacrifices that turn us into people we’d rather not be. Here where the system leaves us so few choices that in order to be free we have to first be illegal. But all of that is just ruminations, and little more than conjecture. But it is that same conjecture that unfolds so brilliantly on Undun, and it is this quizzical unfolding that pulls us in so deep that you almost feel like you’re looking out from inside the music at times. And here in this immaculately respectable concept album the music is made of the very same things that define the corner, the plug, the duffel, the hammer, the money, the hos, the deception, the hurt, the paranoia, et cetera.
The premise is that the record begins in the final moments of the protagonist’s life, and as it unfolds he himself is looking back on the moments of his life that defined him. And as his life looms in the ether between the living and the dead, we join him in his rumination. Here as he looks at his own life and wonders about what he did and why he did it, we join him. Alongside Redford we are invited to ruminate on why he did it. But perhaps the unspoken notion here, is that we are also invited to ruminate on why we didn’t do it. And here, in this masterful space that the Roots have created, we all — those of us who have trapped, and those of us who have not — stand in the light of Redford Stephens and contemplate what it is that we’ve done as well as what we haven’t done, and examine our shadows for the differences. I’m gonna stop though, because ultimately you just have to listen to this record. I could write about it all week, but you’re better off listening to it and experiencing it all yourself.
Let me tell you about Lawrence Pearce. He’s the sort of person you want around in that sappy, half-drunk, post-holiday haze; the best kind of conversationalist, you know, a real dream-thinker. An enthusiast to the nth degree. When the twinkle lights stop twinkling and the champagne’s almost gone and 2011 comes crashing to a close like so many freeway accidents, Lawrence is the one most likely to hang out with you ‘til 4am, waxing all excited about Sixth June and Reality Bites. Truth.
But that’s not the thing. His project Nové Můra is the thing, this crunchy-hot electronic work that radiates the energy of both modern LA and 80s minimal synth, the cling-clang of metallic industrial, a mess of wires and sci-fi chimera. And lest you think that last paragraph bore zero relevance, take a listen: Lawrence’s exuberance comes barreling out of Nové Můra in great puffs of sonic enthusiasm. Music that’s exciting to hear because you can feel how excited the musician was to make it.
So here, in this last Sounds From the Other Side of 2011, I beg you: Cozy up with the aforementioned post-holiday haze, grab one last drink, turn off the lights and let this sci-fi fantasy drag you away. It’s the sound of 2012, or 3012, or 4235. And Lawrence will be totally happy to show you around.
Merry Christmas, Reader. I hope you’re satisfied with all the fantastic Мишка gifts left under your tree. Or, conversely, I hope you’ve come to terms with why no one got you anything this year.
Christmas is a time for peppermint hot chocolate, wearing sweaters, and listening to Frank Sinatra, and no one knows this better than I, but today, in the spirit of not being too spirited, let us take a look at some of the really shitty parts of Christ’s birthday.
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Beat ‘Em Like Mike
Air Jordans are the best; there’s no question about it. Are they worth dying over? Apparently. This past week Nike released the Jordan Retro XI Concords and people literally killed for them (I’ve always wanted to do that. You say someone literally did something and they actually did do it. Like, you don’t mean it figuratively. Huh. This is great). Sneakerhead-on-sneakerhead violence erupted across the country where, in Atlanta, shoppers broke down the entrance to the mall, leading to multiple arrests, and in San Francisco, gunfire erupted and the sale was eventually shut down.
In Florida, police took a page from the Occupy Wall Street Book of Unethical Behavior and pepper sprayed rioting customers (though, here the pepper spraying was a bit more justified), while in North Carolina someone was trapped beneath a glass door. The lamest account (and by lame I mean completely senseless because it happened over a pair of Jordans) comes out of Washington DC, where it’s been rumored that an eighteen-year-old kid was murdered over his Concords. That’s been confirmed, spread and then refuted, so who the hell knows? Let’s not get into if it actually happened or not, or the implications of this materialistic, exclusivity-based possible murder, but merely take a moment to appreciate our own Jordan collections.
Last night, on the eve of Christmas, a woman tried to make light of the Concord release, saying, “Did you hear about people shooting each other overs sneakers? Who even brings a gun to the mall?” She didn’t get it.
I told her, “Hey. Stop it. You don’t know about Jordans.”
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True Life: I Am Zelda
In a fascinating unveiling that has absolutely nothing to do with Christmas but because I don’t care I’m going to post it anyway, Nintendo recently published the official Legend of Zelda timeline. Apparently this is something fans have debated for years, and I guess if I think back to fourth grade I can remember being curious about where Oracle of Seasons fit in with Majora’s Mask. Here, it appears that following Ocarina of Time, the timeline splits into two, possibly because of time travel or something.
If you don’t want to watch the above video (for obvious reasons), check out this simplified version of the timeline. If you don’t care at all, then go eat some yogurt.
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Hey There, Sandusky Claus
A few weeks ago I posed the question as to how Santa ever became the mascot for our Lord Jesus Christ’s holy day of birth. I’ll admit, the idea was half-baked (not as funny as it could’ve been). Still, it is a question I am genuinely curious about. I’m snot sure how the association occurred; perhaps it was a story fabricated by a bearded priest after he was caught sneaking into someone’s home. After all, Santa Claus is essentially just a confused robber. He breaks in to your house in the middle of the night, but then, instead of stealing, leaves stuff behind. Eventually the milk and cookies (or scotch and ham sandwich, depending on your tradition) were added to the equation to make St. Nick a little less of a dope. Maybe that’s it (it’s probably not).
Kind of along the same lines, do you get Christmas cards from people? Lame relatives, square co-workers, whoever it may be, you know what I’m talking about: the long letters informing you of all the wonderful things that they and their family have been up to this year. They’re the worst. We usually don’t get them because no one likes my family, but this year some unknowing sucker decided to send us one. As it turns out, this guy is awesome. Obviously I’m quite the pedant myself, but this guy tops even me. Check it:
Seasons Greetings to All. [note the period]
Diane and I enjoy hearing from so many of you at this time of year as we remember friends from across the miles and years. While substantially less immediate and real-time than Facebook or Twitter, it does officially relegate us to senior status but also permits us to appreciate the wonderful blessings of our life. We’ve had another rewarding year in which Diane and I officially entered senescence for our first cruise from Southampton through Kiel Canal and did a reverse pivot of the Baltic via Rostock, Germany, and in the interstices of the trips we welcomes Sebastian Rocksworth – the prototype Amazon.
That’s the intro paragraph. The whole thing is great, but let’s skip to the very end, where it gets real pedantic and unnecessary:
So as not to permit accumulation of miasma on your Thesauri, I will calm your sussuri by telling you my lucubrations continue unabated but assure you there is no cure.
What exactly does that last sentence mean? “So as not to have you chumps rifling through your Thesaurus, I’ll go ahead and tell you that I will continue with my solemn literary work [this letter], but should let you know that there is no cure for my superior intelligence.” In other words, this guy is saying he’s not sorry for being way smarter than everyone else. And you know what? Neither am I. Merry Christmas.
I have no idea whether this is real or not, and I know I could just ask the internet but I’m not going to because I have a feeling it’s fake but I’d like to continue thinking that Bad Ass is a movie I could just go see.
Thanks to frequent and longtime commenter /tormentor Matt VanBuren for bringing this adaption of the Thomas Bruso story to our attention. You’ll remember Mr. Bruso as the Epic Beard man who fucked that other dude up on the AC Transit bus a few years back, and also brought us amberlamps. Now he’s Danny Trejo. I smell Oscar!
This circle will son be completed, and a new year will begin. But, if you’ve been paying attention to the world around you then I’m gonna guess it’s pretty clear that there is more than a new year starting. It’s much bigger than that. And I can’t help but feel like Мишка is somehow right in the middle of every middle that this diffuse new beginning has.
And so I just wanted to take this opportunity to say thank you to Mikhail, Greg, and everyone who is clocking in at Мишка every week; thanks to all of the folks who contribute to the bloglin and the amazing array of collaborations that find a home with Мишка; and thanks to all of the mopsters, regular readers, and folks who happen by and appreciate all the stuff we do. My life hasn’t been the greatest this year, but knowing that no matter what I wind up doing it has a home here has been a priceless piece of solace. Thank you.
