For a long time, Who’s That? Brooown! by the late Brooklyn trio Das Racist has been a favourite music video of mine – you can actually PLAY the game and this hella catchy track has a way of getting stuck in my head all day. Of course, I’ve never beaten it because I always seem to take my sweet time. If you haven’t given it a try yet, here’s your morning time-waster. Good luck dodging your supervisor!
Got a case of the Mondays? Here’s an older Young Empires track that was featured on Parisian music label Kitsuné’s Maison 10 compilation from 2010. Always awesome to see a local band with excellent collaborations.
I haven’t listened to much from Portland’s Blouse, but I like what I’ve heard so far. I’m not surprised, because they’re on Sub Pop, and I could eat their artist roster for breakfast and experience optimized nourished and contentment.
For something more uplifting, check out Blouse’s 2011 track Shadow. Happy Monday!
The weather was cray today. One minute it was sunny and balmy, the next it was hailing chunks of ice the size of pinky fingernails. So I put on my ugliest rainboots, ran around with the dog with snow-crusted eyelashes, and hopped in my parents’ hot tub with a disgustingly sweet cocktail. Cue rainy day music.
Unexpected weather fluxes are always surprising, but unfortunately weird weather is going to be a permanent fixture in our collective future thanks to recent developments regarding climate change. Bummerific. But this isn’t a blog about my environmental activism and feminism (I have Jezebel, The Hairpin, and xoJane for that).
The good news is that we can choose to live in the present. Here are two contemplative songs perfect for capping off your Sunday evening.
By this time, nobody is keeping track of how old we are. Not even us. When it comes to remembering birthdays and anniversaries and other peoples’ feelings, if someone isn’t following me around with a calendar, shouting “PLEASE REMEMBER TO CARE ABOUT THIS” I can guarantee you I will forget. I am too busy preparing a snack. In this respect, I am much like a foraging animal with excellent taste in music.
But for real. Here’s a new one from Oakland’s finest Shannon & The Clams to celebrate. Can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to their new album Dreams in the Rat House out May 21st on Hardly Art.
And here’s two from 2011′s Sleep Talk
Have you fallen in love with them yet? Of course you have.
Here are their upcoming tour dates. They’re not coming anywhere near Toronto, but you know. Just so it’s up there.
06.06.13 – Portland, OR – Mississippi Studios *
06.07.13 – Seattle, WA – Tractor Tavern *
06.08.13 – Missoula, MT – Old Beck VFW Post 209 *
06.10.13 – Minneapolis, MN – 7th Street Entry *
06.11.13 – Chicago, IL – Empty Bottle *
06.16.13 – Montreal, Quebec – La Divan Orange *
06.17.13 – Boston, MA – Great Scott *
06.18.13 – Philadelphia, PA – Kung Fu Necktie *
06.20.13 – New York, NY – Bowery Ballroom *
06.21.13 – Washington, DC – Comet Ping Pong *
06.22.13 – Asheville, NC – Emerald Lounge *
06.23.13 – Atlanta, GA – The Earl *
06.24.13 – Nashville, TN – The Stone Fox *
06.26.13 -Dallas, TX – Club Dada *
06.27.13 – Austin, TX – Mohawk (inside stage) *
* – w/ Mikal Cronin
Let me tell you a story.
I’m three weeks away from moving into my new apartment in Toronto, so I decide it would be a good idea to get my G license before I sell my car.
I wake up on a gorgeous sunny morning. The night before, I was super Type-A and replaced my indicator lightbulbs and topped up my fluids. I make my way to the testing center with some homemade chocolate trail mix and an apple in my pocket.
I wait on standby and luckily, someone cancels. My tester gets into the car and we breeze through all the checkpoints (I even did a parfect parallel park without scraping nearby cars).
I’m flying down the highway at a conservative 100 clicks when I notice that my car has begun making a choking tutter, like a disapproving mother-in-law. I realize the radiator is drier than dust and it’s cooking the motor. I’m white-knuckling the steering wheel as the tester mouths instructions. We’re less than a kilometer back when the car completely dies in an intersection in front of a police officer. She storms out of her vehicle threatening fines while I stammer that my car won’t move. Luckily, some guys push me into a nearby abandoned lot as rush hour traffic whizzes by. The driving tester shakes her head, rips my test, and tells me I’ve failed. My car gets towed away to the wrecking yard.
Now I have no car, no G license, and no way to get to work for the next 3 weeks.
How do I cope? Black Lips on repeat, forever.
I want to laugh and I want to cry
I want to spit, but my mouth is dry
I want to run but I can’t cause my legs don’t go.
Where did they go?
Choade is the most underutilized word in the English language. You are a choade if you don’t know what I’m talking about right now. Please listen to this trippy, spaced-out, lingering track by barely-conscious New Zealander Connan Mockasin from 2011′s Forever Dolphin Love. And then listen to the album’s title track below if you want to get the full-on heebie jeebs (while also annoying your roommates).
Who isn’t a huge fan of the Beach Boys? No seriously, everything I post on this blog is secretly a thinly veiled attempt to recreate the joy I feel when I listen to the Beach Boys.
That’s why I was so tickled pink to watch Halifax’s Rich Aucoin and his tribute song/video to Brian Wilson, off his 2007 EP, Public Publication. I can see why this clever little video won a Prism Prize and the whole album made the 2012 Polaris longlist.
RIYL: Cut Copy, Holy Ghost!
You may have noticed that there’s no video in this post. Congratulations on your excellent powers of observation! Perhaps you should become a research scientist after watching this video (But don’t do it in Canada, because your funding will be slashed and you’ll be muzzled by the Harper government, lol).
This particular music video can’t be embedded because it’s an interactive, clickable experience just begging to manipulated by your little fingers.
Riffing off 90s nostalgia has become pretty commonplace in music, art, and fashion, but this vid from Los Angeles shoegazers IO Echo remains pretty inventive.
So what are you waiting for? Check it out!
Guess where I’ve been? Scoring the sweetest little apartment in Toronto. Boom. My apartment is so cute, I could die. It’s on the third floor of a gorgeous Victorian in Parkdale with the cutest high, sloped ceilings, sunny hardwood floors, sprawling Western-facing roof, and a teensy galley kitchen. I almost want to create a new blog just to talk about all the cool things I’m going to get up to… Brunch at Grand Electric. Buying antique furniture in Roncesvalles. Sneering at people who don’t live in Toronto. Wearing maxi skirts and Frye boots and wool hats with erect little ptarmigan feathers. Juicing.
For the last three years, Sasha and I have been blogging from the GTA. But our dastardly scamming goes no further. Now we’re legitimately a Toronto-based music blog, not a slutty Oakville/Hamilton blog masquerading as such. (I <3 Hamilton)
So why the sudden move? Well, like the lyrics of Please Slow Down by The Green Apple Sea, It’s about time for a change. It feels so much better to be on your own…
It took me about 4 weeks to find an apartment, because I was looking for:
- no bedbugs, cockroaches, rats, crabs, or unsavoury houseguests
- no basements, because that’s my current sitch, so why tunnel underground further?
- a bike-friendly neighbourhood with art/culture/foodstuffs
- not a gajillion dollars a month in rent
After 4 weeks of constantly checking Padmapper, Craiglist, Kijiji, and Mapliv, I was at the end of my rope. As a last-ditched attempt at cognitive psychology, I decided to put together a super obsessive rental application package for a listing that had garnered over 1200 hits. I even colour-coordinated my plastic folder to the electric yellow of my leather Topshop satchel so the landlord would be subliminally convinced that I am a HAPPY SUNNY RENTER WHO ALWAYS PAYS CHEQUES ON TIME.
I was also the first one at the open house and spent my time walking around the apartment making encouraging remarks in an old-timey stage voice, such as: “WHAT A CHARMINGLY LOW BATHROOM MIRROR! I CAN ALWAYS APPLY MY MAKEUP ON MY KNEES. THIS IS AN ADORABLE HAT STAND! PERFECT FOR HATS AND OTHER SARTORIAL QUANDARIES. I AM PARTICULARLY TAKEN BY THIS HOT PLATE. IT WILL COOK MANY THINGS.” And it worked! He actually mentioned the yellow folder and enthusiastic desperation when he called to say I had been chosen for the apartment!
Now that I can relax, I’ve been gardening and packing and not eating gluten, because I’m convinced if you make one big life change, you should do all the other shit you’ve been procrastinating about too. Just because. So, I spent all afternoon in the garden, getting dirt stuffed into my nail beds, tucking soil into tiny carrot seedlings, poking holes for wrinkled peas and jagged lettuce seeds, and transplanting a cherry tomato shrub with tiny green tomatoes dangling like little chandelier earrings. All for my little rooftop garden paradise.
And what kind of music does a girl listen to while gardening? Thug music. Wurd.
Southern Hospitality – Space Camp Death Squad (via Side One Track One)
And because I’m still addicted to this song, after all these weeks…
SEE YOU GUYS IN TORONTO!