A few weeks ago, we had the pleasure of linking up with some of our favorite hessians: Cavalera Conspiracy. Our good friend Iggor Cavalera, accompanied by fellow bandmate Johnny Chow, stopped by the office and the shop to catch up with us and talk about the future. CC stopped by while on their East Coast leg of their tour featuring Opeth and Earth Crisis who is alive and still straight edge.
Unfortunately Max (Cavalera) woke up that day and could not speak forcing them to cancel the date but we’re hoping to catch them next time with new material as hard hitting as their latest release, Blunt Force Trauma, and of course some Sepultura classics.
On his right side is Andrew Kline whom on this tour is Iggor’s drum tech but any other day you can find him busy in the studio, hard at work on a variety of projects including an unreleased album with famed Cypress Hill Dj/Producer DJ Muggs that will take you on a Portishead-esque journey to the dark side and back; and “Carry on Tradition,”,a hip hop album under the moniker Drew Tradition featuring West Coast all-stars such as B-Real, Ras Kass, Apathy and Planet Asia. If you’re still edge and haven’t lost your hardcore then you will most certainly know Andrew from 90s straight edge powerhouse, Strife. There is only one truth!
Another week, another debrief. It’s been a long one too, hasn’t it? Not a bad one; it certainly was not bad, just long. There’s a lot to cover, too: Halloween, burritos, weather patterns. Let’s get into it.
Halloween: This weekend marks the half way point of the Fall Four, that being the four fall holidays (starting with my birthday in September and ending with Christmas). I’m a big fan of Halloween and its wonderful traditions of dressing up and asking people you don’t know for candy until your dad’s flask runs out at which point it’s time to go home. I’m still pretty bummed that I cannot trick-or-treat any longer, having already continued the tradition until a very innapropriate age (at this point, no one wants a twenty-one year-old boy-man coming to their door looking for treats).
The video up top is awesome. It’s exactly what I want from a video: Animals being cute and doing funny things. Zoos across the nation give their animals pumpkins on Halloween to get them into the holiday spirit, sometimes even hiding treats in the pumpkins! ”We do spice them up a little bit with meal worms for the meerkats,” said Tony Franceschiello, the senior keeper at the San Diego Zoo said. “The bat-eared foxes have mice and crickets crawling throughout. Elephants just pretty much crush them, because they’re melon eaters anyway.” This is almost as great as seeing small dogs in costume. I like that too.
Hip Hop: I know a fairly decent amount when it comes to Hip Hop and Hip Hop history. That being said, I have never heard of the rapper 2 Chainz before this year’s BET Awards. Never. I never even heard his name in passing, or in a brief overview regarding southern rap. But then he was featured in one of the BET cyphers, and now he is everywhere, collaborating with people like Nelly, T.I., and Gucci Mane and giving interviews on Sway In The Morning and The Breakfast Club. He’s not a new rapper, is the thing. 2 Chainz was, or maybe still is, in the rap duo Playaz Circle, which formed in 1997 and released their first album in 2007. Though again, I had never heard of Playaz Circle (I question how much of a circle you can make with only two people) until recently.
I’m not really advising you to check him out; he sounds just like everything else coming out of the South. I mean, listen to “Riot” up top. It’s a complete imitation of a Lex Luger beat and the current radio sound. More than anything I’m just amazed at 2 Chainz’ sudden emergence, or rather, reemergence. Generally in the BET cyphers I’ve at least heard of all the participants, even the up and comers, but 2 Chainz isn’t even a new rapper, he’s sort of a veteran. I guess, I don’t know, I’m just baffled by where he came from and how he is suddenly on every other song being released.
Weather: This weekend, for the first time in history (the history of me living in New York, at least) it snowed in October. It was pretty lame. Worse than the snow itself were the remarks people made regarding the snowy conditions. Here are some of the better lines I overheard:
“Can you believe this weather!?”
Yeah, I one-hundred percent can. It’s happened innumerable amounts of times in the past.
“Man, it’s too cold for weather!”
No, it’s not. That doesn’t make any sense.
“The snow is so fitting for Halloween…in December!”
Um, what?
Food: To wrap up this week’s debrief, let me tell you a little about what I’ve been eating recently. All this weekend, as is my Halloween tradition, I’ve been making Pumpkin Pancakes. They’re great, you just add some pumpkin puree into the pancake batter and you’ve got an instant seasonal treat. Serve with some apple sauce on top, or on the side if you don’t like your foods to touch, and you’re set.
Also, the other night I had a Catfish Burrito, which I didn’t know was even a thing. Did you? Either way, it was good.
When I first made it into the city I didn’t know what to think. I had never seen someone who looked like me. And the pants, and the shirts’ it was madness. People were everywhere. Things were everywhere. There were buildings; there were cars. It was wild. Coming from my rural home in the middle of nowhere, I was not used to this type of lifestyle. You see, I was Raised By Wolves.
Not really. That’s just the name of this brand that we’re now stocking in the online store! Perhaps you’ve heard of them. Or maybe you haven’t, whatever. Regardless, we’ve got ‘em! Now in the store is the Rosie tee and the Pom Beanie in a handful of colors (check out the Cream one, it’s real nice), pictured above. So head over to our online store and get your wolf on.
No, that was a bad ending. Okay: Head over to the store and get wild.
No. How about this: Head over to the store and buy this or else wolves will come and eat you.
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. But just how good is Abzu?
Coming off 2009′s Absu, which is still a favorite of mine, this new album packs some cleverly-disguised punches. Aside from the jarring hair metal intro, “Earth Ripper” opens a chasm of mysticism and lore. The sound is very similar to their previous release and their hammering tremolo picking is addicting without being overbearing. Their two-stepped tempo chugs along, allowing “Circles of the Oath” enough momentum to explode in a fury of blast beats. This is Absu’s black metal sound at its finest and even though I prefer their music tinged with thrash, this is my favorite cut on the album.
For that circle pit thrash sound, queue up “Abraxas Connexus,” it’s still blackened but there’s obviously a huge thrash influence here. Much as Absu’s sound has evolved over time, this album shape shifts before you can register what is happening. This continues with “Skrying in the Spirit Vision,” evoking more of that mysticism they’ve been working so hard on. Absu isn’t known for their particularly long albums and with only “Ontologically, It Became Time & Space” and “A Song for Ea including” remaining, you might overlook the fact that the latter is a staggering 14 minutes long! The entire title is actually “A Song for Ea including: (a) E-A (b) A Myriad of Portals ( c) Third Tablet ( d) Warren of Imhullu ( e) The Waters – The Denizens ( f) E-A (Reprise).” Does that make sense?
To back track a bit, Absu was the first part of a new trilogy based on magick and occultism and Abzu is the follow up to that. That leaves one more album in the trilogy and Abzu sets it up to be one stellar release. While Abzu may not be as successful of an album as Absu was, there’s still hope. After all, what sequel is ever better than the original? It’s always the third release in a trilogy that saves the series right? We’ll have to wait another two years to find out if that holds true.
Chicago! It’s that time again, as resident DJs Teen Witch and Baby Bamboo bring you CULT. A monthly party celebrating the weirdest, freakiest music the underground has to offer, you won’t want to miss this week’s edition.
Joining the CULT on Thursday is LA by way of Sydney DJ Plastic Plates. Plastic Plates is quickly making a name for himself in the nu disco scene with his remixes of acts as diverse as Adele, Mark Ronson, Sia and Human League. Check out his Moda Mixtape for nearly an hour of sexy smooth house and disco beats. Who knew CULT could get down like this?
Do you like Common, the rapper? Good, me too. No, I know, his last album (2008′s Universal Mind Control) wasn’t that great, but let’s not dwell on the past. Rather, let’s look ahead to the future. It seems that what the future holds for Common is the publication of his first memoir, One Day It’ll All Make Sense, by Atria Books.
According to Amazon, One Day:
is a gripping memoir, both provocative and funny. Common shares never-before-told stories about his encounters with everyone from Tupac to Biggie, Ice Cube to Lauryn Hill, Barack Obama to Nelson Mandela. Drawing upon his own lyrics for inspiration, he invites the reader to go behind the spotlight to see him as he really is—not just as Common but as Lonnie Rashid Lynn.
That last bit about drawing from his own lyrics recalls the concept for Jay-Z’s Decoded, which was both an awesome concept and product so perhaps this too will be a must-have piece of rap literature. Plus, when has Common been known to put out a bad product (again, ignoring that last album)?
Also, check out that Maya Angelou quote on the front. “A magnificent memoir.” A magnificent quote.
Above check out the video for Common’s latest single, “Ghetto Dreams,” featuring Nas. One Day It’ll All Make Sense drops September 13th.
I’ve been trying to get somebody to buy me a Fruit Dehydrator for a couple of months now. Ideally my mother will buy one for me, but it could be purchased by anybody, really. I was hoping to receive one as a housewarming gift in July, but that event came and went with no sign of the essential appliance. Now I’m vying for ownership to coincide with my birthday in September. So far, my hopes are high.
When people hear that I want a fruit dehydrator they question my motive. “Why would you want a Fruit Dehydrator?” they ask. The answer is simple, and often is delivered in the form of a counter question:
Why wouldn’t I want a Fruit Dehydrator?
With one of these miracle-working machines, both consumers of fruit and fans of shriveled things alike (I being the former, though also the latter given the right circumstances) can finally take things into their own hands and have dried fruit whenever they like. There’s always that one peach in the bunch that you just didn’t get to, or the apple that got left out too long. Now, instead of throwing the mushy fruit away, or forcing yourself to eat it out of dedication to the dollar, you can just dry that juicy, over-ripe piece of produce out and enjoy it! It really is like a Fountain of Youth for fruit. Or, well, no I guess it’s not like that. What it is, actually, is it’s like a fountain that, if you were dying, you could go in and be healed, but under the condition that you will now be a senior citizen. Still alive, just old. That’s what it’s like.
I’ve wanted one of these machines since I was eleven, but things just never seemed to work out for me. It seemed like luck was on my side during the days leading up to my fifteenth birthday when both my parents began to increasingly drop hints concerning things old, and shriveled, but it turned out that the only surprise was an unexpected visit from my old, shriveled Aunt Delaney. And then, again, when I was eighteen, I thought for sure that a fruit dehydrator was in my future, as I was promised something really exciting and special for Christmas. It turned out to be just a brand new computer. You can bet I was pissed!
This is my year though. I can feel it! All the signs are there: I’ve been eating plenty of fruit, I’ve been staying dry, I’ve been seeing lots of machines around, and on top of all those, I just got a haircut! That last one is always a good sign. With these clear messages from the heavens presenting themselves all at once, I am confident that this year, finally, I will be gifted a Fruit Dehydrator.
And plus, besides just having the feeling, Fruit Dehydrators were recently featured on Bon Apetit‘s website as part of a feature entitled the Five Best Kitchen Gadgets for Healthier Cooking. Boom! Check that out. The Fruit Dehydrator is on the come up. I don’t mean to think of myself as a trend setter — a revolutionary, if you will — but the Fruit Dehydrator very well could be the next shutter shades, otherwise known as Kanye Glasses. Pretty soon, I imagine, Fruit Dehydrators will be available on street corners and party stores alike, and most likely for a much cheaper price then they’re original, high-fashion counterparts. This doesn’t upset me, however. Some people might be upset that something they pined for and cherished, something that only they believed in and thought of as cool would suddenly be propelled into the mainstream (see: fans of Odd Future), now becoming the poster child of “cool.” Not me, however. I wish only the best for the Fruit Dehydrator. I believed in the potential benefits of owning one when no one else would even hear its case, the potential to totally revolutionize the fruit eating industry as well as the home kitchen. I hope that one day everyone will have a Fruit Dehydrator. They’re that awesome.
Other things that I want for my birthday, as long as we’re on the subject are Wind Chimes, preferably metal, but wooden wouldn’t be so bad, one of those spy tools that cuts circular holes in glass, I’m not sure what they’re actually called, or a Race Car Bed. Any of those things I would be happy with, but the Fruit Dehydrator is definitely number one.
Hey, you know what? It’s time for another Check Yo’ Ponytail 2! On August 16, CYP2 returns to its regular Tuesday slot over at the Echoplex in Los Angeles, and this show is going to be particularly epic, headlined by Denver based post-rave artist, Pictureplane. Since January Pictureplane has been consistently touring along with releasing his excellent sophomore effort, Three Physical, and a collaboration with Lil B and Sole. His set, chalk full of electronic thump beats and haunting vocals, is sure to kill.
Joining Pictureplane on the 17th is San Francisco artist oOoOO (pronounced “Oh”). Combining atmospheric synths and strings, with hip hop beats, and female vocals, oOoOO creates chilling spacial explorations clearly influenced by Flying Lotus yet with a distinctly original sound. It’s the type of music you should listen to while walking around a foggy forest, or while skipping your little brother’s graduation to sit on a carpet in your room, if you know what I mean.
August will be here before you know it, and if you don’t get tickets now you’re going to feel awful when they sell out and you can’t attend what’s sure to be a sonic massacre. So, get your tickets. Also performing is Javelin, Holy Other, Hollagramz, Triangle Records DJs, and resident DJ and CYP founder, Franki Chan. Get to this show. Really, just go. Otherwise you’re going to be super bummed and have to patiently wait for the next one.
The reason they put choking hazards on toys nowadays can be attached, almost singularly, to the existence of Polly Pocket. Manufactured by Bluebird Toys, an independent company based in England that would later be acquired by toy goliath, Mattel, Polly Pocket consisted of a shrunken-down, stereotypical, “valley girl” character (Polly) along with her miniature accessories and interchangeable outfits packed into a dreamscape that folds right up, into, what resembles, a makeup case. The tiny pieces within the outer shell, once misplaced, left the toy completely worthless causing parents to bear the brunt of a discontented or dead child, depending on if the pieces slipped through a crack in the sidewalk or down a throat becoming lodged in the air passage. Polly actually underwent a recall in 2006 for this very issue.
And now, a little something for the boys. Polly’s younger and more daring male counterpart Mighty Max, something, due to my gender, I’m way more knowledgeable about and keen on discussing, hit stores in 1992, also manufactured by Bluebird, playing off of the “eww” factor that young males so voraciously bought into. I was no exception to the rule and was set on snatching up all of these “spooky,” “scary,” compact toys, down to the last, highly-losable figurine. Mighty Max toys were pocket-sized worlds in the shape of snakes, skulls, and other creatures of the night, offering in the jaws of the beast, an environment and a chance to roleplay and plot interactions between hero and villain. Each plastic landscape had the coolest names too, so rad they made me wonder if someone’s job there was to come up with the titles of each individual snap-case.
The toys were categorized into Doom Zones and Horror Heads and, if my memory serves me, the only difference between them was the shape and look of the exterior carrier. My personal collection included Mighty Max Conquers the Temple of Venom, Mighty Max Escapes From Skull Dungeon, Mighty Max Challenges Lava Beast, Mighty Max Pulverizes Sea Squirm, and the list goes on and on. Now, when I say the pieces were small, I mean miniscule. I managed to lose the figurines within a matter of weeks and after going through a trunk of my old playthings a few months ago, I had only the cases left, a timeworn skeleton of my Mighty Max intrigue, with no movable pieces in sight.
A mint condition Mighty Max set, if any kid could keep one that way, is comprised of a Max figure along with two or three enemy figures. Once those are gone, all fun is lost forever. To promote the toys, a shitty cartoon was developed in the early ’90s about an entitled, blonde-haired brat who finds an enchanted baseball cap. Nobody really knows how he acquired the cap, I’ve heard theories about Max’s dad leaving it to him, Max breaking his mother’s statue and finding it inside, and Max discovering it in his mailbox, but, regardless the process, the hat allows him to timetravel, fight monsters, and embark on a quest to fell the perpetratin’ Skullmaster.
The damned things are on eBay as we speak, going for upwards of 200 smackers. If i’d have know I might not have……well no, I woulda still abused the shit out of them and misplaced everything.
Like many of you out there, I’m a Lynch fan. His films from the industrial surrealism of Eraserhead to the surprisingly linear Blue Velvet and beyond to the agitated disharmony of his series of animated shorts Dumbland play upon the brain in such a clever way that it becomes nearly impossible to shoo away the creeping emotions as his imagery pinpoints and exposes your weaknesses and uncertainties like a nightmare tailor-fit for any audience. On more than one occasion, the artist’s storytelling has left me vulnerable and perplexed, taking in his peerless brand of filmmaking. Even the iconoclast’s more experimental work, like that on his 2002 short films collection, holds a place as one of my most prized and watched DVDs even now.
With all of that said, his most recent “short”, if you can call it that, is aloof rubbish, so much so that the video clip’s sound of a garbage truck backing up are relevant on entirely another level. The 51-second “political commentary” on the debt-ceiling and state of governmental economic affairs is smug with a capital S. A photo of the U.S. Capitol and the noise of early morning trash pickup make up his self-satisfied discourse, called How Things Have Been Going, that, although the point he’s making is clear, doesn’t do much for me. It’s a shame that because of his old age and status, David Lynch is stroked and revered for this uninspired crapola with people calling it “Lynchian” and “post-political”. It is neither of those.
I just think this was a swing and a miss albeit a swing in the right direction. Something as peculiar as the debt-ceiling is terrain I’d like to see treaded by the cult director. David Lynch needs to harken back to his New York City PSA days. Using sound and video free of dialogue or explicit messages he was able to reach that bleak threshold that is, my good men and women, “Lynchian.” See it above.
