Monday, May 31, 2010


Click here for good grass

Now, here's a little Detroit grown folk-pop masterpiece that was completely overlooked upon its release. Of course Rodriguez has always had a core group of followers, but while the Dylan's of the world became iconic, Rodriguez always came off like the drunk dude at the end of the bar. His presence started becoming known among todays kids when the Fresh & Onlys backed him on his 2009 tour.

Fun fact: After quitting the business, he had no idea that he went platinum in South Africa until his daughter found a write up on the internet.

Funner fact: Television's Mr. Rogers wore those cardigans to cover up a bunch of forearm tattoos he got while in the service. He has fuck New York written on his chest.

Disclaimer: I made up the part about his chest, but at least I succeeded at making you, a grown dude, think about an old mans chest. Ewww!

*She's only been awake and talking to me for less than five minutes and already I've been asked about why I didn't do this or do that etc; -Fuck. Boys, be careful who you may not be what they want.

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Announcement # 458

If I could give any particular advice... it would be to make a splash wherever you go. It shouldn't matter what anyone else thinks as long as you conduct yourself in a good manner. Do the right things and don't worry about waiting for thanks to come. As long as you feel good about yourself, don't worry about the naysayers... they'll come around. If they don't? Well... they'll just spend their years saying nay.

Also, it feels terrible to feel forgotten.

Friday, May 28, 2010

Up the bracket!
Click here for Merkin consultation

I was just digging around my records the other day and I gave this one a listen. It holds up pretty well. If you never had a chance to listen to this band and your only knowledge of them comes via Pete Doherty's crack use and celebrity status... this was before all that. Well, maybe not the crack.

Enjoy Up the Bracket by The Libertines!

Videos of the week! The SF Edition

Agent Ribbons - Amoeba SF

Vivian Girls - Amoeba SF

Rodriguez (backed by the Fresh & Onlys - Amoeba SF

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Summer's here... right?

And now, for absolutely no reason at all, here's a photograph of one of my daughters and I walking around a park. She's one of the apples of my eye, but this photo also looks like an action shot of a kidnapper at work. Being a daddy is awesome!

Window Twins

Click here to improve your heckle.

Tim Cohen of the Fresh & Onlys and Jon Bernson of Black Fiction/ Ray's Vast Basement teamed up to form the Window Twins and release the album I am This Tall City.

I feel the need to state right away that this album in no way sounds like a F&O record. It actually sounds like The Two Sides of Tim Cohen LP released earlier his year. So, if you're into that sort of thing, you're going to love this, make your own diy t-shirt and impress your friends with your musical prowess. For me however, I'd like a bit less tinkering and a lot more guitar, but that's only because I'm a supporter of leather jackets, switchblades, and pinball machines.

If any of you bought the "In the Clouds" San Francisco compilation, you may have been totally enamored with a song from the Exray's called "Everything goes." That's Bernson's new stuff. By the way, your mom called and I told her you might be seeing your teacher. She just told me to make sure you get an A.

Also, this is not the album cover. However, I'd like to imagine Tim Cohen is pictured at right.

The Sound of Fury
Click here for that good guano.

The English call a bathroom a loo, cigarettes "fags", and have kings and queens instead of presidents. They also created their own version of Elvis and his name was Billy Fury. Hey, Elvis was referred to as the "King" so I guess our friends across the pond aren't too different from us at all. Put on this album whilst enjoying a pint and chant "Thank you... thank you very much" in a British accent as you shake your hips. You'll feel alright tonight!

Sunday, May 9, 2010

So fuckin' lame...


This sucks. This is what the old Jack White would've had nightmares about.

Shit, if you can make it through the whole video and leave a comment, man... I'd like to hear about it, because this sucks so bad that I couldn't imagine someone else listening to it the whole way through without having been promised something.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

True Love

Last Minutes with ODEN from phos pictures on Vimeo.

When I first saw this video I had to hug my two dogs. If you don't have a dog... well, today is a good time to start thinking about adopting. Not. Buying. ADOPTING.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Shoot em' up

Every once in a while, you're bound to have an unorthodox kind of day. It's probably the result of some cosmic lottery that we're too poor to buy tickets for, who knows, right? Anyway, yesterday was one of those days for me. For starters, it was my day off from work and like any American man, I had hoped to take care of some errands and then slay a bottle of something strong. My, how plans change I tell ya...

I got a telephone from one of the fabulous ladies that make up my department telling me that they were short staffed and asking if I could come in. Of course I gladly accepted because I have this really weird hyper-dedication thing when it comes to what I do for a living. Anyway, after being there for a little while, it seemed as though it would be a regular, run of the mill afternoon. That is until two representatives of the Worst Losers in America Club decided to make their afternoon mine.

Our first interaction was short, but poignant. There they were, prime examples of pure crust punk awkwardness in all of their barefoot glory. I had gotten word that there were people asking for money and as an earner of my money... I went to stop it. I approached them and explained that shoes were important and unless there was a pool, puddle, stream, river, ocean, masseuse, or foot worship convention within twenty five feet of our conversation... they'd have to be respectable, don some combat boots or whatever and not be barefoot in the lobby of an active building.

"I'm gonna be a rock star... rags to riches!" proclaimed the male crusty with his eyes almost closed and a sense of balance akin to one of those inflatable boxing clowns that never falls down. "Yeah!" said his female friend with similar eyes and teeth that would make a dentist faint because they can't possibly teach that shit in American dental schools. Regardless of the nonsensical answers they provided, they shuffled off looking high as hell. Also, they smelled like a dirty basement. Really... I used to have a basement and it was filthy so I know.

Now, before any defenders of crust punks hop out of the woodwork to stick up for freedom, punk rock, or anything else... just don't. I was homeless and on every drug the world has seen between the years of thirteen and sixteen and not once did I decide to fail as hard as these two.

Hours passed and then I got the 911 call. All I knew is that there was a man down. Nothing else. I responded as fast as I possibly could and upon my arrival I actually wasn't shocked to see the "rags to riches" kid laying unmoving on the floor, totally blue, not breathing, unmoving. Basically, for all intensive purposes... dead. His female tooth model friend was in hysterics, but obviously high out of her mind. To her credit, she did call 911, so that was impressive. As I walked toward the boy, she began to give him the most awkward CPR I'd ever seen. I was glad she was doing it though because anything helps I guess.

I got her out of the way and gave it all I had in me... but because these two looked so diseased and "AIDSY" I made her blow into his mouth while I did the chest compressions. This lasted over two and a half minutes, but it was worth it... I think.
Something told me that this kid was going to die soon whether or not it was with me in the room.

When he came to, the first thing he muttered was a quiet "fuck you" to me and then he mentioned to the arriving paramedics that he was "gonna be a rock star."

His girl was then arrested for possession and so was he after they were released from the hospital. Awesome times kids! Remember: drugs are super cool. They will make every minute of life appear more glamorous*

UPDATE 5/8/10:
I saw the OD kid on the train today while heading to work. As I sat there writing in my notebook (secret stuff about rockets and shit) I could feel him looking at me so I glanced in his direction. All I could see was hatred in his eyes. Pure, undiluted hate. I paid him no mind because I was done with him. I had already filed the incident away as all in a days work, but not him. Nope. It was obvious to me that he hated me because I let him live and now he had to live the same self imposed nightmare he'd been living prior to our chance meeting. As he stared I could feel his gaze, but instead of looking over and asking him what the fuck he was looking at, I just sat there writing in my book (again, super secret stuff about rockets and stuff)

Later in the day I thought about his angry, bloodshot eyes and you know what? If I see him again I think I'll ask him what the fuck he's looking at? If he's brave enough to answer, which I doubt... I'm going to make sure he never looks at me again because in my head, a guy like that with no hope on the horizon, could easily try to stab me or some shit. I haven't asked, but I'm pretty sure my two daughters would set fire to a major city if I was ever hurt. Love... it's stronger than dirt.