Archive for December, 2005|Monthly archive page
Fuck a Kanye, this song is much better without him wheezing on it. Diplo seems to be of a comparable opinion (or at least that this is better West-less). For those of you in similar boating apparatuses, check this shit out.
The envelope, slung ninja star-style through the six people nearest to you. Get this.
With only ten songs to their name (although albums upon albums from the members’ later projects), it’s unlikely that many bands that were predicted by B.T.’s sound would be able to claim them as a major influence. Still, they deserve a healthy dollop of credit for the ten they did leave us with. Shoe-gazing shuffling in to a deck of noise pop cassettes and getting sexed up in the process.
Get awkward and rock a lot.
It hadn’t even occured to me to think of Briano Eno playing live, let alone with Fripp in tow. While these songs were always extraordinary, now they kick ass too. Never before has Eno’s stuff sounded so aggressive, so poppy, and so wonderfully scrappy. Fripp plays his stellar solos with unbelievable fire in his belly. Both of these should be heard immediately (bit of warning about the wankiness of “Baby’s…”)
Not my favorite thing they’ve ever done, but it rocks like Motorhead bending over Kyuss. That is a good thing. This record will probably make it to the States a couple years from now.
If the Human League would have studied New Order and Devo instead of becoming a cheeseball factory, they would have been the Minny Pops. Shit’s got a pulse, and some serious idol worship in the vocals. Not entirely typical of them on the whole, but one of their better tunes.
Sounds like a Monday Night Football sample with a sinfully delicious vocal hook. Brings out the diva in anyone.
One of my friends HATES it when people refer to songs like that, especially since the advent of the iPod. Not much to be done with this, then. Much more aggro than anything off 6, actually closer to Ruins. The whole record is pretty good, if much more out of bounds than its immediate predecessor.
It’s like a 22 minute scrappy fight between robots and midget rock-ninjas. Slightly more tuneful. Comes from a live DVD that acts as Supersilent’s new album. 7 has been nomintated for the Alarmprisen, comparable to the Grammy.
If Brian Wilson was young, gay, and little more with it, he would be making songs like this. Count on shit like this to get me buying delightful t-shirts.
Yeah, this was going to be a secret weapon track. A lot of Stewart Price’s stuff doesn’t have his name on it, but still has his distinct molding. Works great out of Madonna’s “Jump,” somehow.
When I heard this band freshman year it didn’t make sense — was too noisey for my taste. Couldn’t see the bubblegum sweetness under the swishy fog, it seems. Listening to this constantly will be an excellent repentence.
Love that this is half-Usher with a wicked, galloping beat. Best hip-hop (let’s be honest, it’s a little too light-hearted for rap) get-with-me track since Paul Wall’s “Smooth Operator.”