Monday, October 25, 2010

DIBS: Kanye West's Runaway

I guess I can't write this fast enough. While I was upstate this weekend Kanye West's Runaway premiered on MTV. On the way back, I sat in the front seat of a rainy, nighttime Greyhound watching, flabbergasted, at this 30 minute manifesto written and directed by 'Ye himself (with some highbrow inspiration from across the board, but we'll get to that later).

For tonight, I just need to get this in front of your faces as quickly as possible. Get a good pair of headphones a half an hour of interrupted time, and check it. Tomorrow, I'll fill you in on my thoughts on what this infuriating, intriguing beautiful piece is.

I will only leave you with something well put by performance artist Aliza Shvarts regarding West's performance, "Somehow we have to be open to unmaking ourselves to remake ourselves in other ways."

Love him or hate him, like Elvis's hips or MJ's Thriller, West's Runaway speaks very loud for our generation's musical imprint in the world.

"All of the statues that we see, where do you think they came from?"

"I think that artists carved them years and years ago,"

"No, they are phoenix turned to stone, do you know what I hate most about your world? Anything that is different, you try to change. You try to tear it down. You rip the wings off the phoenix and they turn to stone. And if I don't burn, I will turn to stone. If I don't burn, I can't go back to my world."

Cheers,

Merman

Friday, October 22, 2010

Make up Homework

Here are some of the songs I'm digging on at the moment... When I'm sprinting from work to the subway to volleyball games and then back to work. Maybe next week I will be able to form a sentence!



First two are from actress/singer/Rilo Kiley's Jenny Lewis most recent venture with boy toy Jonathon Rice, Jenny & Johnny. I think these songs show 2 sides to the golden coin that is this album.

New York Cartoon - The traditional side. The lyrics remind me of something I will sing when I'm young, something I will sing when I'm old, and something my children will sing with the same kind of nostalgia.

Slavedriver - There are those quirks I do love so much about JL. I think it's different than most songs on the album, a hook track if you will.

PS. I love you - New band to me, thanks
Evan Minsker. Their playign at CMJ this week in NYC.. I'd love to see them, but, you know, I'm having trouble finding time to eat during the day.

Warpaint - A lady quartet with the most CLAMJAMMING Ashes to Ashes David Bowie Cover.

GOLDIES (Oldy but goody sandwich) and LCD Soundsystem.

The Long Winters -The commander thinks aloud, always gets stuck in my head in the fall.
LCD Soundsystem - Someone great. Watch the unofficial video, you'll understand.

Cheers,

Merman


Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Flying Lotus: LOL NO PROBS! :)

Are you serious? What a fantastic first video to watch today. BeepBoop, whatever your name is, Kudos for directing this video (#justkiddingit'sBeeple). Flying Lotus has somehow found a way to make mass genocide of parade patrons by the hand of robots super cute. The flow-stop movement and pixelated blood spatters kind of remind me of Reboot, a Saturday morning cartoon favorite of mine (remember that ish?) Maybe that's why I like this vid so much. God I loved that show. Anyway, I think my favorite part are the lovely wonderment of posters the doomed humans wave around in celebration of pony dreams, diapers, and kissing dudes.



Cheers,
Merman


PS. Get it now?!



Friday, October 15, 2010

Disclaimer: I don't feel nice today

...So scroll past this post if you’re having a good Friday. Oh and family members? Sorry, I’ll probably offend you with my language.This is a first, and probably a last, but there's a song in there somewhere. Promise.

This is about women in NYC. Not just any woman, I’m talking about ‘that girl’. I’m talking to you, the diluted American Princess. The kind that give women a bad name, and will probably never realize it.

I get it. A 13 to 1 women to [straight]men ratio in Manhattan probably fosters much of the stupidity, jealousy, and full-on penis driven frivolity I observe from women every day in this city. I see it on the subway, at the office, and most often at highly concentrated breeding grounds thinly veiled as happy hour ladies' nights and office mixers. From 96th street to Battery Park city, women are hiking their skirts, skipping lunch, scouring for Prada, Bloomingdales, sex and perfume, all for the elusive whiff of attention from a well-to-do financially stable blue-eyed boy, just looking to display his woman like freshly hunted wild game on his Mahogany wall. She'll stand there, too, with a frozen glazed-eye smile, so proud of her coveted status as trophy girlfriend. And it's not hard, either. The men have it easy, fishing in a barrel full of vapid, beautiful exotic fish. At least once a day I see a leggy brunette, sunken cheeks pinched with rosy stain, hair slicked back in a deliberate disheveled high-bun, designer bag in one hand, and a slimy, short arrogant fucking disgusting Wall Street financial investor in the other. You must be so proud. You got your man, and it only cost you your values, self-worth, bank account, ownership of your body, and mind. Congratulations. What's worse is that said self-loathing entitled shithead Mister is representative of the greater part of the single, straight, disease free male population in Manhattan. Can I just say something? Just one, little, tiny bit of opinion to those choice men and women about which I'm ranting?

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? REALLY?

I understand the human condition of love and the innate desire for it. I understand the human condition for the need to connect, for affection, for attention. I also understand that it may be more difficult in a city where woman outnumber men 13 to 1. But I really, really don't think that is an excuse for reckless abandonment of yourself, ladies. It may not seem like that's what you are doing, but every time you compromise your true self for the attention of someone else, not only are you relegating your own self-worth, you're also fueling the entitlement of self-centered people.

And yes, many women genuinely love to feel sexy, love to flaunt their assets and express themselves through high-end fashion and low-food intake. You know, I like makeup. I like feeling and looking good, too. I like new shoes and first dates and lip gloss. Heck I like dressing up and acting like a woman (rare, but true) and flirting, too. There's nothing wrong with taking care of yourself and having fun. But here's the thing:

You, and by you I mean the women who give women a bad name, have a fucking fundamental misunderstanding of what it means to love yourself, and what it means to sell yourself out.

In my very young, 24 year old freshly imported opinion, the moment a prospect of penis is introduced, everything else in many women’s lives becomes gray. I have seen and experienced, time and time again, the mysterious disappearance of a friend when a man is introduced, only to become the sporadic, wallowed shoulder after a fight about something stupid. I'll be there for you, too. We are all human and experience passion and fighting, irrationality and weakness. And I will comfort the shit out of you. But when it becomes permanent behavior, when erratic, self-pitying banter become the norm, that is when it is unacceptable. When you place more importance on your diet-o-the-week with the goal being to fit into those skinny jeans you've stapled to your front door, over showing up to your friend's home cooked meals, then you have disappointed me. Then you have contributed to the vicious, paltry cycle of gross materialism that infects the minds and hearts of women, and every little girl looking up to you. You love zombie! Stop eating our brains!

I only ask you to think about this: Why does sex or a relationship have to be the single most important influence over your happiness, where you live, what you choose to do, what you look like, what your interests are, and what your dreams become? Does it not seem like a shallow replacement for how you should feel about yourself? Shouldn't you want a counterpart to be a part of your life instead of the whole fucking thing? And don't you want to feel like an equal?

Maybe I'm too cynical at the ripe old phase of post adolescence, maybe I’m too critical, resentful, or scared to let someone influence me like that – especially deriving from the prospect of sex and attention – But, I can’t help that it infuriates me every time a woman, after dating someone for a week, adopts phrases like "WE'LL see you later!" or, "Oh, WE just couldn't, WE have so much to do this weekend" into her daily vernacular. Maybe I am making sweeping generalizations, but it just seems like a lot women think relationships are their main goal, their highest achievement, and must declare ownership of a man, like pissing on a tree, immediately. Have you ever thought that maybe it shouldn’t be your entire identity? You shouldn’t be Kyle’s girlfriend, and maybe you should have a life and set of interests that others identify you with before your relationship with someone else?

I should mention that I’m partially self aware; I realize this is most likely a self-indulgent and highly biased manifesto. But, I guess it’s better than taking it out on every starving, shallow money hungry sex driven retard in NYC who knows more about lipstick and high heels than they know about themselves; and every smart, respectable woman who transforms into a ball of stupid trying to act cutesy around their significant other. (Hint: Save it for when you’re not in public, save it for the quiet nights at home, whatever you do; just stop calling him baby in a whiny high pitched voice, especially on the phone at work. In your cubicle. Among 50 other cubicles. Note: WE CAN ALL FUCKING HEAR YOU.)

Wow. She’s really worked up. She thinks she’s so perfect, so rational, so edgy and curt, but she knows nothing about who I am. Who is she to judge? She’ll eat her words the second she’s in a relationship, too. She’s just jealous. She’s a coward for putting this on a blog, instead of saying it to whatever girl she’s talking about. Don’t hate me ‘cause you ain’t me. So on. So forth. I hear you, and whatever thoughts bounce up from your non-existent stop-gap. You want to know why? Because I am you.

I am faced with the same insecurities you are. Dear American Princess, I have fallen in love, too. Lust, too. I have felt lonely, and sought the company of others for a temporary solution. And yeah I have stared at a closet full of clothes and seen nothing. I might even have a couple pairs of emotional shoes, too. We all do. A completely rational life is the dumbest thing I can think of. Then again, so is following a penis around like a fucking pied piper. So what gives?

You have a choice. I think every woman will and should indulge in youth and sexuality, make some bad decisions, laugh about them the next day, shake them off, and learn the hard way. But after you do those things? You know, after all the Facebook stalking and new dress shopping, after all the subtext behind the texts and active sleepovers? After pretending to love the Atlanta Braves and Curb Your Enthusiasm and Derek Jeter’s batting average and Kenny Chesney… [can I insert trying to be a humble-yet-masturbatory HIPSTER through all of that? Oh come on, you’re not that ironic] take a time out, and learn from it.

Stop the rat race and do things for you. Stop pretending to like Kurt Vonnegut books and Kevin Smith movies just because he does (I mean you could, but probably don’t). Stop thinking ‘if you just lost 5 more pounds…’ then he would love you and every other silly thought going on in that spaghetti brain of yours. Value people, who, oh, I don’t know, appreciate your humor and intelligence, and the fact that you lead your own life instead of catering to theirs. You have so much more potential, you otherwise amazing woman. You might just find something more meaningful and impressive from your own brain; any maybe even stop one of those terrible, terrible types of men from thinking he deserves better than you. Because if you don’t respect yourself, then why the hell should he? I have complete faith in you, faith that somewhere buried underneath the Spanx, crash diets, and bandwagons that there is a much stronger woman in you. Can you just, like, let her show up to the party every once in a while? She’s so much more fun. Oh, here’s a song. I’m having a bad day. Whatever.



Cheers[sarcasm],

Merman

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Do I like Telekinesis?

Well, obviously, I do. But, I haven't decided about the band. I like the song well enough, but can't decide if there's some sort of dark passenger hipster appeal sucking me in. Thoughts?

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Roethlisberger, Not David Bazan [who is better]

That's what I was trying to spell, but Firefox felt there were more appropriate alternatives:


I concur. I Con-Cur. Anyway, this little
Roethlisbortion moment reminded me of a line from one of my new favorite tracks by David Bazan. He sings 'Because it's hard to be/ a decent human being'. Granted, I'm sure he wasn't talking about the strife of making bazillions of dolla dolla bills whilst wrecking motorcycles and raping bitches. I don't think Bazan, lead singer of indie minimalists Pedro the Lion and the very synthesized Headphones, would endorse said activity. He was probably just talking about littering and complacency.



Also, this infinitely better human being struck out on his own this year, band in hand for the first time in 5 years, and the last 2010 performance is at The Showbox in Seattle on Saturday, November 27. So,
you should probably go.

Cheers,
Merman


Monday, October 11, 2010

I'm Gay for Aunt Martha

I had a good weekend. So good, in fact, I forgot to post about it. On Friday, I finally got my ass down to see a friend's-boyfriend's-band-that-he-manages (for real) at the Living Room.

Usually, when your friends insist that 'this band is so good, you have to come!' you're expecting something that maybe a mother would love. You already anticipate to think 'Yeah! They sort of sound like Maroon 5, if Maroon 5 had no money and played Gavin DeGraw covers!' Oh come on, you know you cringe too when you think about sitting next to your friend, trying to smile and nod con tempo, loathing each elbow nudge paired with excited eyes, finger pointed stageward, silently mouthing 'AREN'T THEY AWESOME?' Meanwhile, you want to die.

I'm happy, and really, genuinely fucking surprised to say, I liked them, a lot. I really did. Aunt Martha is not a woman smelling of White Diamonds and shoulder pad foam, but lumberjack lady killer Tim Noyes and friends Garrett Leahy, and Brian Kim.They've only been a band for a little over a year, but there's promise and genuine
my-voice-was-made-of-lonely-hearts talent. Anyway, that's enough from me. You'll be seeing these guys around. Maybe in bonafide Avett Brothers blow up in your face style. Here's my attempt at capturing the magic, but you should really check out their website and brush up on those rusty made for lovin' pipes onTim.





Cheers,

Merman

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

BABFBD

You know how we do:
This is Tracey [right], my resident wife and and official bad ass. Today is her birthday, but don't ask her because she'll say it's the 7th. As you may recall, I moved to New York in March of '09 funky fresh out of college to start a wet dream job at an ad agency. Tracey has been an integral contribution to my sanity and acclamation to this retard psycho circus they like to call Manhattan/corporate America/adulthood. There were a million places I could have gone, jobs I could have taken, people I could have met. However, the universe decided it was time for me to meet a friend that reinstates hope in fate; the kind of gal that restores order to the universe and reminds you 'hey, maybe I made the right decision, after all'. She's taken me so many places, and traveled home with me to Ohio and West Virginia. We've been to foggy London town and the Jersey Shore, and next on our list is, in fact, your song of the day. Thanks to a superb recco, I think I've found the track that captures everything I love about said best friend, and everything she's helped me through in such a short amount of time. Happy birthday Czykk, if you thought this quarter of your life was crazy, imagine how the next one's going to be with me in it.



Cheers,
Merman

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Villagers > Cold Sweet Potatoes

That's what's for breakfast:
Word to the wise: Don't do it. Just don't.

Speaking of potatoes, there is only one thing that could console me from this tragedy that is my breakfast. And that's my favorite Irish lova, Coner J. O'Brien, who fronts Villagers during the times we aren't swooning. The track 'Becoming a Jackal' is so good, I personally nominated it for a Mercury Prize in July, but decided not to elect it the winner because then, I might have to share. Upon reflection, I think it's time... now, does anyone want these fucking terrible potatoes?



Cheers,
Merman

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Sexual Chocolate!

'Banoffee' Toffee Pie, Vegan Chocolate Ganache, Sweet Parsnip ca-HOLYFUCK-ke.

Sexual. That's the word you were looking to succinctly describe what sits in my face this evening. Reason enough to hang out in a Greenwich village 1 bed/showroom, surrounded by ADDivas at a swanktimate getogether. Really, it's the only way I could describe roommate 1's birthday.

Speaking of white hot, sexy, yummy take off your pants jams, here's one for the cakes. I Can See it in Your Face is a little diddy by Pretty Lights off 'Making Up a Changing Mind' EP. It's bit too cool for me. Kind of like the way that intellectual sexual sitting in the back of the Harlem speakeasy looks with his bow tie and skullcandy headphones, deliberately perched around a flannel neck. It's the perfect mix of sticky salty, with muted trumpets dubbed over Daft Punk's modulators, James Brown's organ, and Moby's famed soul singers. After 7 minutes of the stuff (and by stuff, I mean the aforementioned cakes, intellectual sexual, or this track) you'll need a cigarette.


Cheers,
Merman

Saturday, October 2, 2010

The little guys

Found in the H&M Fitting rooms in SoHo:

His name is Dudley, and we have a lot in common, actually. Small, cute if you have good taste, and watching tons of women buy clothes all day that we would NEVER wear (mesh orange riding pants?) And that's okay, because we're both rich in ways those wonkies can't touch. We're, as it turns out, the richest kids in town.

So, in honor of priceless charm that so few people in NYC enjoy, your song today is This Is Ivy League, The Richest Kids in Town. I'm a sucker for sentiment, as are many 20 something ladies besotted with the 1950's; This is Ivy League conjure such a sensibility.



Cheers,
Merman

Friday, October 1, 2010

Jeff Bridges Hearts Deerhunter

Two things everyone like: Jeff Bridges and Black & White. God. Just look at that poetry. Stunning! There's something about black and white, it can make anything look purposefully elegant. Nevermind he's probably kill shotting someone from a mirror over his shoulder, which is already way fucking elegant.

Jeff Bridges gets it, and apparently, so does Deerhunter. Take their new video for example. Slap a few overlapping reels of faces dubbed over LA Sunsets and dark spots and you've got yourself a timeless piece.


That being said, if I had to pick a song I think this B&WJB (see what I did there?) would like, it'd have to be Deerhunter's new one, 'Helicopter'. Classy, accessible, sexy, bubbly, all attributes both Jeff and Deerhunter share.

Off of their new album Halcyon Digest, released in September, it's one song of many 'I know-everyone's-saying-Deerhunter-is-good-but-I-just-haven'- listened-to-them-ye-ohhhh, yeah-they-actually-are...' songs. I'll admit, I have much to learn about them, but in the mean time, let's all share in this classy Black and white video:




And remember, if you just can't figure out a way to make it classy, just put it in black and white.

Cheers,
Merman