End of the Month Music Bitchfest - April 2016

Well, my ass just got morcellated by the government, but it's all worth it when you look at the plethora of new ah shit there's nothing.

Nine Inch Nails
OR IS THERE?! It looks like Reznor, Mrs. Reznor, and Mrs. Finck-Reznor are all involved in the new season of Twin Peaks. While some people speculate that Reznor will be acting in the third season*, I'm confident that this just means a Reznor/Reznor/Finck reimagining of the original TP score**, but this time, with more dissonance! And, since Julee Cruise was also tagged, maybe Trent will give her some good music over which to caterwaul.
We won't know until next month, when second-long blips of music start rolling out from nin.com every week until mid 2017, when the show airs.

They Might Be Giants
TMBG have wrapped up their "Phone Power Tour"*** and, aside from some make-up dates and a small handful of special appearances this year, will go into hiding to create A WHOLE NEW YEAR OF MUSIC FOR 2017.
I'm shocked I've made it almost halfway through the year without getting the TMBG DTs...


In other news, Garbage released a new song from their upcoming album and it's...a Garbage song. Meh.

MOTHER FEATHER'S ALBUM IS OUT IN TWO WEEKS BUT I'VE BEEN LISTENING TO IT ALMOST NON-STOP FOR A MONTH. THE REVIEW IS FORTHCOMING.

Finally, I still don't quite believe that Prince is dead. Just typing that feels impossible. Score one for that bastard God; what is the ONLY WAY to make the world forget about Bowie's death? Kill Prince.
You fucking cunt.
Why can't Justin Bieber die? Or any of the, literally, hundreds of goddamn awful shitty "singers" out there? At some point soon, I'm going to watch his three films, bawl myself stupid and then accept this, but, not yet.
Also, these as-yet-unconfirmed rumors that the man died of AIDS and had been living with HIV since the mid fucking 90's seem ridiculous. He WAS sex, so how could he POSSIBLY have contracted a sexually transmitted disease? That's like saying the sun got skin cancer or the ocean drowned...
Prince is responsible for some of the best moments in me and my best friends' lives, and I'll never forget that. Yet another truly unique soul in this parade of gray mediocrity has been lost and the universe will never recover.
One thing I will say: if his goddamn sister had anything to do with his death, my dwindling faith in humanity will be absolutely extinguished and I shall devote myself, fully, to ending this sick and broken world.

* We are calling it a new season, not a reboot or series, right?

** Oh Christ, I hope he's not acting in it...

*** Which, oddly enough, only features three songs from the album after which it takes its name...

"SPECTRE" PROBLEMS

When I walked out of the theater that night, I was apoplectic. Not only had it been a bad Bond film, something I thought we'd seen the last of in 2002 when whatever devils shat out Die Another Day*, but it had actually managed to damage and devalue the previous three, excellent Bond films*** and set the whole franchise back. After that shitty little tacked on scene, I was completely fine with a new Bond****. Toss it out and burn it down.

Since then, I have purchased the film and rewatched it, taking notes about what, exactly, had made me so furious, confident that it couldn't be that bad, right?

I am exceedingly pleased to admit to myself that it's not, in fact, that bad, and convinced now that that guy who said Spectre was "the worst Bond films in 30 years" had never seen Die Another Day.

After some time and distance (and filtering out the niggling shit), here are my biggest issues with the new Bond:

Oh that credit sequence: In all seriousness, did NOT ONE PERSON INVOLVED with this know of the existence of tentacle porn? Also, while we're talking about octopi: the octopus as a symbol works, but the actual octopus, especially an octopus/woman hybrid does not. Fire, good; mirrors, good; hentai, BAD.
Then, there's Sam Smith's voice. His testicles? Where are they, please? I get that there must be emotion, but, if you're going to get that high, just get a lady to do it. I don't want Bond to be associated with men singing in breathless falsetto. Unless it's as a joke.
Or unless it's beautiful.

WHY DID BLOFELD’S TORTURE CHAIR DO, LITERALLY, NONE OF THE THINGS HE SAID IT WOULD DO?! Not only did Bond remember exactly who Swan was seconds after having his brain drilled, but, moments later, he sprints down a hallway, disarms a guy, shoots that propane thing, and snipes a whole bunch of dudes, things one couldn’t do without, you know, "sight, hearing, and balance", all the things Blofeld said he'd just fucked with. Plus, if ANY of his senses had been the slightest bit affected, that would have been an excellent time for Swan to be more than a damsel with pretty hair. It ends up making Blofeld look like an idiot.

That weird and clearly tacked on bit at the end. It's obvious the creators didn't know how they wanted to leave things, so they shot that bit of drivel.

And here's the niggling shit I filtered out.

"I think you're just getting started!" - Jesus fuck

So, that posthumous message from M indicates that she knew about SPECTRE? Nah, let's not bother explaining that.

Hi, I'm Rory Kinnear, double-0 exposition.

"Of course! (forehead slap) Mr. WHite!!!!!!!11!!!"

Making Mr. Hinx superhuman is the bad kind of reference to older bond movies. Jaws was Jaws, let him rest.

Why does SPECTRE headquarters feel like a spa?

The details of the ring and how it connects everything is WAY underexplained. I had to pause the movie on Q's computer screen to put it together. Am I that stupid? 

"I'M THE METEOR!!! ME! AND SPECTRE! WE'RE ALL THE METEOR!!!"

Blofeld talks about how he was (indirectly) responsible for the death of all the women in Bond's life, but the woman from QoS didn't die. You'd think with so many cameras, that Blofeld would have known that.

So much surveillance and foreknowledge of Bond and they didn't check his watch?

The fluffy, white cat just for fan service felt silly.

So love is stronger than…cataclysmic brain trauma?

They should have let the "now we know what 'C' stands for" joke stand on its own.

The escape from M I 6 was way too cozy.

That last a little car commercial moment is just awful.

Here's what I'd like to see if there is another Bond in this series: 

SPECTRE returning to its roots and moving off of the personal shit with Bond. Or, maybe they put a bounty out on Bond and Swan, allowing us to see a little more of her being awesome. You could also throw in 009...played by Idris Elba. And, one way they could ameliorate that pointless and completely ineffective torture scene would be to have lingering effects hindering Bond.

I'd really like to see Swan in the next one and the issues Bond has with real life. We didn't get nearly a long enough look at that with Vesper in the third act of Casino Royale.

Or reboot the whole thing. Again. After the bad taste Spectre left in my mouth, I'd be fine throwing out Craig and starting things over. I like M, I like Q, I like Moneypenny, and I like Blofeld.

* One of my favorite credit sequences though.**

** Not the music; the visuals and story tie-in.

*** I enjoy Quantum of Solace as a direct follow-up to Casino Royale, not something to be viewed after a long period of time.

**** Although not Idris Elba. I love his strength and grit but he is not Bond any more more than James Brolin is.

A review of Har Mar Superstar's "Best Summer Ever"

My first exposure to Har Mar Superstar (AKA Sean Tillmann) was a song called “Sextape” which combined my favorite elements of Beck and Prince into one filthy little ditty. Ever since then, I've been into his unique and sweaty* brand of sleazy R&B/dance. On his latest album however, the sleaze has been washed away...by reminiscent tears.

I do not know what I was expecting**, but Best Summer Ever was not it. It's so goddamn sincere! Tracks like "Don’t Erase", "Confidence", "How Did I Get Through the Day?" (strong "I Only Have Eyes For You" vibe on this one), and "I Hope" (a fantastic opener which seems to start things off at the end of the proceedings, rather than the beginning) are heartbreakingly real. Scars from lost summer loves, perhaps? This is not a slezeless release, however. "Anyone's Game" and "It Was Only Dancing (Sex)" have got some jizz on them, but there's still that patina of sincerity lurking at their core. There's also "Haircut" (featuring Karen O.), which could have been a lost track from some 70's compilation consisting of artists who tried to start new dance crazes and failed ("Hey! Everybody do the Crewcut!"). Karen O.'s giggles on the track only add to the silliness.

I've never thought of HMS as a joke artist; he's too dedicated to what he's doing, and Best Summer Ever is no exception. This is a legitimately heartfelt album, almost overflowing with moments of genuine feelings and emotions. Has Tillmann grown up? Has he abandoned his gold lame bikini briefs?*** Personally, I hope not, but, then again, I'm a bit peculiar. Any normal person could bring this album to the beach, hit repeat, and have a really excellent (if somewhat tumescent) time, especially if any of those normal people loved music about heartache from the 60's, 70's, or 80's, as Tillman and  Julian Casablancas (who produced the album and penned "Youth Without Love") perfectly captured all three decades. Whether or not Har Mar Superstar has, indeed, grown up, he will always have a sweat-stained and shady place in my heart, and, if you're willing to get a little filthy yourself, you might find one there for him as well.

* Oh so incredibly sweaty...

** Aside from a guy who looks a hell of a lot like Ron Jeremy wearing underwear, socks, and a smile, I suppose.

*** Several pairs of which I assume he owns.

A review of Mother Feather at the Bowery Electric on 4/1/16

With Matt Basile, Chris Foley, and Gunnar Olsen as the oxygen, Ann Courtney as the flame, and Lizzie Carena as her smoke, Mother Feather engineered a conflagration in which one would be ecstatic to burn, a willing sacrifice to all the gods of pop cock rock that are or ever were.

It started with Basile, Foley, and Olsen (bassist, guitarist, and drummer, respectively) filing onto the stage, followed by Lizzie (vox and keyboards), and, finally, Ann, the front woman, shrouded in red. There was the jaunty ribaldry of “Trampoline”, the bass onslaught of “Natural Disaster”, a brand new track, “I.C.U.”, debuted at the band’s BBC Radio 1 performance*, the ever-rousing anthem "Mother Feather", the lustfully inspiring "Mirror", and more, ending with “Totally Awesome”, a song about New York City which would sound insincere or satirical coming from anyone else's lips. But they believe it. So you believe it. Days later, the energy given off by Mother Feather is still with me.

To put things differently: have you ever had sex with a fire? If you’d like to know what that feels like, go see Mother Feather live.

Mother Feather’s new video for “Living, Breathing” (filmed at the Bowery Electric in March) is live now, their debut LP is set for release on Metal Blade Records on 13 May, and later this summer, they will spread their fire across America on the Warped Tour.

* Listen quickly, it's timed.

A review of The Dandy Warhol's "Distortland"

Jesus. The Dandy Warhols have been a thing for over two decades. That's absolutely spectacular. And, either by accident or because their entire career thus far has been a carefully orchestrated series of events, they are releasing their 10th album, Distortland, just about twenty years after their inception.

As its title and cover art indicate, there's a pervasive haze in and around this album, which tends to make the first or second listen seem a bit characterless when compared to their previous works, but, if one persists, they'll see there are definite shapes in the mist, and they're all well built.  

"Semper Fidelis" has a menacing, skittering creep to it that robs honor from its title, and an ominous pulse and chugging, almost heavy metal, guitar, just barely there. "Pope Reverend Jim" starts with a robotic clangor which remains throughout, but is occasionally matched and overcome by some straight up surf rock, something you can twist to. "Catcher In The Rye" has the vibe of a mischievous, sinister Sesame Street. "Give" is downtrodden yet determined. And "STYGGO", which starts out sounding like a Disco/Funk cover of "Sympathy For The Devil" reveals itself to be a pure Dandys groove.

The "realest" track on the album, however, is tucked in just at the end and lasts less than two minutes. It's called "The Grow Up Song". "All of my friends are mommies / even Johnny is a dad / and I'm glad / I guess”. What happens when 90's psych/grunge/pot rockers survive the 90's? When they don't overdose or break up? When they get married and have children of their own? From Courtney Taylor-Taylor's perspective, it sounds kind of sad. And if he is, indeed, "too old for this shit", what does that mean for the future of the Dandy Warhols? After all, they did end up covering "Blackbird"*.

Not everything on Distortland will impress at first listen, but do yourself a favor and stick with it, the stuff you find hidden in the haze is choice.

* Beautifully, I might add.

End of the Month Music Bitchfest - March 2016

They Might Be Giants
The physical release of Phone Power, TMBG's 19th studio album, is out and, yeah, my name is in the liner notes*. That is the best kind of weird. My "for people" review is here, but, personally, I think there's some issues. A few tracks ("Bills, Bills, Bills", "Got Getting Up So Down" and "Black Ops Alt") should not have been included, but, if they hadn't this would have been a super scant release for the Flansburger.

Personally, this is what I was envisioning before the album came out:

Also, TMBG launched their 2016 IFC call for membership and, yes, I bought one. I'll be getting (along with EVEN MORE THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS T-SHIRTS and some shitty trinkets) another unique-to-me ringtone...which, while very exciting, does kind of make the first one a little less special, but, seriously, I feel like the IFC peaked with that offer the first time around and I can't imagine where they go from there. Meet & Greets? Coffee with the Johns? Anyway, shut up, this is magic and I'm a part of it.

Beck
Beck has a pointlessly convoluted new site which, hopefully, means fucking something is coming some time before the sun dies.

St. Vincent
Last month (fuck you, I was busy) her cover of the Rolling Stones' "Emotional Rescue" came out on the A Bigger Splash** soundtrack, proving, once and for all, that even St. Vincent can't make me care about the Rolling Stones.

New Garbage in June! Strange Little Birds it'll be called. Probably not an Anglofied version of Tori Amos' cover album.
Probably.

Along with all this glorious nothing, Mother Feather debuted their video for "Living, Breathing" off their new, self titled LP, scheduled for release on May 13th,*** AND will be on the fucking Warped Tour this summer.
Goddamn ladies, you doin' it right.
I'll be at their show tomorrow at the Bowery Electric and I will tell you all about it, because you're  too scared to go on your own and experience what it's like to stare into Heaven's Eye and have it wink, sassily, back at you.

And, finally, I had a chance to check out the new Dandy Warhols album, Distortland; a review is incoming shortly, but, on the whole, I dig it. Not as much as Monkey House, but, whatever, people change.

* With about 1000 other people but, hush, child, be still, and know that I am God.

** ...sequel to Splash?

*** Pre-order the fuck out of it right now.

Homework!

I've been cast in my very first feature film, entitled You & Me, which starts shooting in Los Angeles in April. I'll be playing the romantic lead (which is terribly exciting for me as it's not my typical stylo) and, I have been given homework from my director, specifically, to watch these films:

Before Sunrise 

Before Sunset 

Before Midnight

Educating Rita

Annie Hall

Beginners

Once

In the Mood for Love

Coming Home

Shopgirl

Lost in Translation

I've seen Shopgirl and Lost In Translation, and (shockingly?) none of the others.
I have seen one Woody Allen film and it wasn't Annie Hall. Does this make me a bad actor? Or not an actor at all? I don't really care because actors are awful and I hate them. 
Oh Christ how I hate me...

Anyway, I'm going to take you with me on my journey as I watch these films, whether you want to go or not.

First up...Before Sunrise.

End of the Month Music Bitchfest - February 2016

Between the Year In Bitch and Bowie's transformation into pure energy, I decided to take a month off...not that much is going on...silence from Eels and Nine Inch Nails.....definitely feeling the lack of a new They Might Be Giants song every week; although those fifty two songs were quite the feat, they clock in at just over two hours.

Still, some truly great stuff and (for once?) I am not complaining.

Aside from all that nothing, Beck announced some tour dates this summer, which, for a normal band might indicate a release is upcoming...but Beck is not normal. 
He is fickle and cruel.

But, speaking of Bowie...I've been listening to a lot of Bowie, as has anyone with ears and a soul.

I finally sat down and really listened to Tonight and Never Let Me Down. 

Tonight is pretty awful. From the shitty reggae of "Don't Look Down" to the overwrought, atonal cover of "God Only Knows" to the pointless appearance of Tina Turner on the title track...man, what a disaster.

While Never Let Me Down isn't nearly as bad as its predecessor, it's a low point for me, although there are some gems there.

I also noticed some stuff...almost every Bowie album mentions angels or aliens or something akin to them, thus further confirming the fact that David Bowie is, in truth, a celestial being and is not dead because something like Bowie can never, actually, die.
Moving on. 

I have cemented the opinion that my favorites are still Bowie's mid-to-late 90's albums. Tin Machine not included.

Everyone always goes on about the characters and story of Diamond Dogs and Ziggy Stardust, but not enough credit's been given to the story of and behind Outside.

That is a dense goddamn plot line.

Bowie wrote a murder-as-art concept album set in the future that involved time travel, the subtitle for which was: the Ritual Art-Murder of Baby Grace Blue: A non-linear Gothic Drama Hyper-Cycle. 

Ziggy Stardust and Halloween Jack can eat a thin white dick.

Nathan Adler, Ramona A. Stone, Algeria Touchshriek, Leon Blank, Baby Grace Blue, Paddy...these aren't just vague concepts tying into what costume Bowie was wearing at the time, this is a fully realized work of which we are only getting a glimpse which will never be fully realized now...unless I'm right about Bowie being some kind of angel and visiting Eno in his sleep to impart the rest of the trilogy for him to complete with the help of Trent Reznor. 
Or whatever.

As for Earthling, yeah, one could say it's just Bowie doing drum 'n' bass, the stuff that was popular at the time, but, one would be a fucking idiot. Yes, DNB was popular, but no one EVER created anything in that genre like Earthling. Throw in the fact that his backing band had Reeves goddamn Gabrels and fucking Mike Garson in it and you can just stop talking. HE USED A WASHING MACHINE AS PERCUSSION. SHUT UP. TITS AND EXPLOSIONS.

Also, why all the hate for Hours? This was written by Bowie and Gabrels, played by them and the rest of his backing band from his previous two albums, and is sincere as hell. Half the album is well constructed, beautifully written mellow rock and the other half is Bowie's weird experimental brilliance. Yes, "Brilliant Adventure" sounds like something from a handjob spa and "What's Really Happening?" was written by some guy who won a contest, but the rest is almost perfect. It comes from a place without pretension or costumes or characters where Bowie can look back over his twenty or so albums and thirty-five or so years of being an artist. It's called perspective, yo.  

Also, the b-side "We Shall Go To Town", could be on ★.

And, I also listened to Nevermen, the self titled collabo between Tunde Adebimpe of TV on the Radio, rapper Doseone, and Mike Patton of Faith No More. It's unique as all get out, for better worse or worse, and kind of just makes me want another TVOTR album. If you're feeling adventurous or just bored with Rihanna and Adele, you should check it out. Review here.

Tuesday Was Awful

Yesterday, for the first time in a very long time, I was afraid. I was legitimately terrified. I was terrified of losing my one, functioning eye, thus rendering me completely blind.

Since my 9th grade year or so, I only had the one functioning eye, and it doesn't function that well, I'd say between 35 and 45 percent. This is because of a large quantity of scar tissue on my retina left over from the half dozen plus eye surgeries I had over the course of 1995 and 1996. These half dozen plus surgeries were to reattach both my retinas which had become detached while I was on my high school football team*. As a result, my night vision is almost non-existent, I have no depth perception whatsoever, what is well-lit for you is dim for me, and what is dim for you is basically pitch black for me. Combine the sports angle with the eyesight situation and you'll begin to understand why sports bars are, literally, hell for me.

And, I've had a few folks try to "see what it's like" by merely closing one eye. That doesn't work. You'd have to close one eye, retard the rate at which your pupil dilates and then disrupt and distort your vision with a constantly-shifting blob of color (the scar tissue) filling up most of your upper left quadrant and patches of your other three quadrants of vision.

Just saying.

So, why was I actively concerned about losing my remaining, shitty eyesight?

You ever get a eyelash in your eye?

You ever rub your eye?

Well, when angles and pressure and Satan's prankishness are all juuust right, you can rub an eyelash RIGHT INTO YOUR EYE. The white part of your eye is called the sclera and I got an eyelash embedded in my sclera. No, it didn't hurt, but the idea of something penetrating the delicate membrane of my eye...ugh, shudder. Incidentally, this is why you should have deep eye contact with someone special every day, it strengthens the relationship and they can see if you have any foreign bodies puncturing your eyeballs.

Anyway, how does one remove an eyelash which has been lodged in one's sclera? It's pretty motherfucking, goddamn, horrifically terrible friends; the eye doctor, hopefully with the rock solid hands of Roland Deschain of Gilead, puts numbing drops in your eye and then uses an instrument to remove it. A tweezers if you're lucky, a scalpel and a tweezers if you're not. The worst part for anyone else is having to keep your eye open and motionless while a series of metal instruments draw near, touch and then sort of distort your vision (that's the instrument piercing the surface of your eye and slightly altering its shape). For me, throw in the fact that, if something goes wrong, I could lose my remaining sight. 

So while I'm trying to sit as still as possible, hold my eye open despite EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING AND THE SCREAMING COMING FROM MY MIND TO GET AWAY FROM THE BLADE ABOUT TO CUT MY EYE and not sob in terror (both because that would shake my body and because I am an ugly, ugly crier) some things flashed through my head. 

What were the last things I remember seeing? 

The last movie was Deadpool, and, while not a fantastic film, I felt it could be a fitting last one for me. 

The last non-Braille book was "Vampire L.A." by Phil Tucker (seriously, Phil: 100% enjoying it now that I'm 3/4 into it).

Last VO gig was AirWick.

The last concert, They Might Be Giants (or, kind of, Mother Feather, if you count the dozens of times I saw them perform "Living/Breathing" last weekend), fine with both of those.

The eyelash, which had broken into two pieces, came out all right and, as of right now, things are okay. I'm taking a course of antibiotic eye drops and I have a follow up on Friday, and another in a week or so after that, but now (and for a while probably), I'm afraid to go to the gym (sweat and/or pool water probably not helpful), keep my eye open (dust!), keep my eye closed (more bastard fucking eyelashes), pet the cat (dander, whatever that is), sneeze (sudden pressure shift), read (bit of a hinderance when that's technically my job), shit (muscle strain), utilize anything with a screen (reduced blinking results in dry eyes results in my eye turning to glass and shattering probably) and so on.

So...that's where I'm at.

* peer pressure, Florida, etc.

A review of Saul Williams' "MartyrLoserKing"

Saul Williams is a rapper like David Bowie was a singer.

MartyrLoserKing is the follow up to William's accessibly dark and dancey Volcanic Sunlight, and it's his heaviest and most intricate release since 2007's The Inevitable Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust.
There's still a lot of anger in Williams' words and music, specifically on tracks like 'Roach Eggs' and 'Down For Some Ignorance', but it's not thrown, blindly, at the listener; he won't be dismissed as hysterical, his arguments are pertinent and well stated.

Standouts include 'Ashes', one of Williams' darkest works to date, the juxtaposition within 'The Bear/Coltan As Cotton', the first half with its soaring openness, the second with its high speed, bladed slam poetry, the pulsing, hypnotic 'Horn of a Clock-Bike', the revolution of 'Burundi' (featuring Emily Kokal of Warpaint), and the oddly-Radiohead feel of "No Different", which feels like a sorrowful prayer.

If all rappers were brilliant, impassioned, and recondite, then Saul Williams wouldn't stand out. As it stands, he remains one of the most thoughtful and intelligent artists out there and continues to evolve the arts of rap, hip hop, and poetry, all at the same time.

The Year of Dial-A-Song Wraps Up

More than 52 brand new songs in one year. The scope of this is still messing with me. Some bands don't release that many songs in a career, but these lunatics did it in ONE YEAR.
Jesus.
And what's more impressive is that almost all of them are great, not just good or passable. It's ridiculous.
True, about a fifth of them are less than two minutes and not one was over three and a half minutes, but when it comes to the music of They Might Be Giants, it's never about the length of the songs, but the depth.

After a short tour in the UK (starting January 27th), the release of their 19th studio album, Phone Power, and, finally, a month touring the US (starting March 17th), the band plans to go dark until 2017, enjoying a well-earned rest...or recording material for their 2017 Dial-A-Song project...we'll find out which in a year.

It was truly an honor to be a part of this experiment, and it's never been more excellent to be a fan of They Might Be Giants.

And now...QUANTIFICATION!

Favorite Line
I was ready to give Favorite Line to 'ECNALUBMA' pretty much the first time I heard it..."help me out, I can't seem to get this window open / never mind, now it's open / I think my hand is broken" and, while stuff came close ('Trouble, Awful, Devil, Evil' with "the weight of my insensate body draws all the bedclothes down with it / unknowing, ecstatically lowering into a bottomless pit surrounded by / trouble awful devil evil"), nothing topped that for me. Then, three weeks before the end, 'I'll Be Haunting You' brings a damn strong contender with "my absence has been weaponized, the empty sockets where my eyes are swiveling to recognize and pin you down". 
Man. 

I think it still has to go to 'ECNALUBMA', maybe because I've been hearing it for most of the year and I stop to appreciate it every time; the awful little story it tells in less than the length of a tweet and about ten seconds. 

Top 10 Dial-A-Songs (in no particular order)*

'Unpronounceable' - for its uncanny familiar-at-first-listen sound, a literal instant classic

'Let Me Tell You About My Operation' - for its ability to make the listener instantly jitterbug

'ECNALUBMA' - for its deification of the (over?) importance of emergency medical vehicles, the title is just a cherry on the sundae

'Underwater Woman' - for its jagged edges telling a story as sad and desperate as its lyrics

'I’m A Coward' - for its delicious contradiction

'I’ll Be Haunting You' - for its characters and the lives they led

'Thinking Machine' - for its perfect manifestation of a They Might Be Giants song, and for Ansel Adams' mouth

'Music Jail, Pt 1 & 2' - for its avalanche of raucous energy, and for its brilliant turn

'Daylight' - for its sorrowful, hazy grace

'Trouble, Awful, Devil, Evil' - for its dark, unsettling beauty

HONORABLE MENTIONS

'Whole Lot Of Glean' - for its self reference and Beatles impersonation

'Definition of Good' - for being the most adorable thing ever

'Madame, I Challenge You To A Duel' - for its decorum and the tale it tells

'It Said Something' - for recapturing the glory of Apollo 18

'Summer Breeze' - for finally fulfilling its destiny 

* These are for the songs, and not their videos. There are links because this is the Internet, whether you like it or not.

The Year In Bitch - 2015

A note: 2015 was completely owned by They Might Be Giants. Go forth knowing this.
There was other stuff though.

Biggest Surprises

Oh Christ it's in my HEEEAAAD!
Meghan Trainor. Meghan goddamn Trainor. Yes, I know it's poppy, sickly sweet, bubble-gum-in-your-hair drivel, but, guys...it's catchy, and I enjoyed it. Granted, I listened to the album, Title, about a dozen times over the course of a week or so and then kind of forgot it existed, but that was a damn fun week.

Aphex Twin's Musical Bukakke
Biggest surprise of the year was Richard D. James, after recently returning to the world with Syro back in 2014, dropping over a hundred unreleased Aphex Twin tracks (over eight fucking hours of never before heard music), onto the Internet for free. You know what's weird? Even after this ejaculation of new Aphex, I'm a bit surprised there wasn't more. Because I'm a greedy whorehole of consumerism.

The new Blur and how much I enjoyed it when compared to all other Blur albums
Usually, when Damon Albarn releases a Blur album or some side project that isn't Gorillaz, I check it out and then take whichever tracks I feel could encompass a Gorillaz album and then add them to a playlist called "This Could Be A Gorillaz Album". I don't hate Blur or any of Albarn's side projects (his solo debut was one of my favorite records of 2014), but I like Gorillaz more. I've read that it kind of pisses off Albarn that this thing that started out as a joke ended up being the thing that everyone in the fucking world latched onto, but, hey, he's getting to do whatever he wants, creatively, with whomever he wants to do it, so he can't be that mad. But, I dug a lot of Magic Whip. Not as much as I dug Plastic Beach or Demon Days, but, whatever. I was surprised by how much I liked it and that's why it's here, Dad.

David Bowie releases the best song he's done in twenty years
Not since Outside had I been more excited for a new Bowie album. The promise held within that one, epic title track...the possibilities were limitless...

Telepathe defies the music industry by releasing their debut album
After chewing their way through miles of record label bullshit over a period of years, they finally release Destroyer, and it's as dark and smoky and sweaty and throbbing as a club in the 90's.

Marilyn Manson emerges, slightly, from up his own ass
Saying Manson's The Pale Emperor is "his best album in years" is a deceptive, little compliment. Another way to phrase that could be, "The Pale Emperor is his first album in years that wasn't hot, wet garbage." Manson's The Pale Emperor is his first album in years that is not hot, wet garbage. Let's see if Mr. Warner can keep inching his way out of his own asshole. We're rooting for you, you pasty monarch, you!

Prince releases his 38th and 39th studio albums and they're both really solid
You'd think this purple sparkplug would have run out of ideas by now. Nope. That second one, HitNRun Phase Two, is a rock solid 70's funk gem.

ESKA
Seriously, you've never heard anything like her. 

Biggest Disappointments

Beck releases a really excellent new song...with no plans to release the album from which that song was taken

Questionable grammar aside, this was bittersweet. "Dreams" was a perfect summer song and introduced a shift from the reflective, golden syrup of Morning Phase to something a bit more active. I was stoked, until the weeks turned into months and he kept schtum about any new album plans. At one point, on his official site, he posted a picture of a mixing board with the caption "back to work". He might as well have posted a picture of a sack of potatoes with the same caption. Beck, you know I dig your stylo, but stop fucking with me, it's bumming me out. 

Not even a wet fart from Trent Reznor

See above. 

Although, I should know by now that he's big on the "calm before the storm" approach to creation. There was not a goddamn thing until the last few weeks of the year, at which point Reznor finally announced "Cargo In The Blood", and that there will be "new NIN music in 2016. And other stuff." Recent photographic evidence has shown him messing about with a Folktek Euphonos Field. Toss that fact in with his previous implementation of their Luminist Garden on the Gone Girl score and I'm ready to go ahead and declare that the new Nine Inch Nails album is going to be good. Quote me, bitches.

David Bowie releases the best song he's done in twenty years...and the album it's on doesn't live up to my own, personal standards

★ is a good album, but it didn't expand upon the world created in "Blackstar". And nothing can be more disappointing than David Bowie releasing an album that doesn't live up to my own, personal standards, right?*

That goddamn awful Bond theme

The theme to a James Bond film is one of its most important elements. To me, more important than the car or gadgets. And, look, I get that Sam Smith has no testicles, that's fine, I was born with only three molars, but you don't invite a man with only three molars to compete in a "Who Has The Most Molars?" contest and invite a man with no testicles to sing a Bond theme. Then again, if I had judged Spectre by its theme, maybe I would have known from first listen that the film was not only going to suck, but that it would also ruin my faith in the Bond franchise.

Cake's continued yet somehow self-important silence

Does continuing to do nothing count as a disappointment? I mean, if they had said, "hey, new, triple album coming in 2015" and nothing happened, that would definitely count as a disappointment, but they continue to do nothing. I mean, can one really be disappointed when a near dead, shit-smelling dog keeps lying around and smelling like shit?

2015 LIVE

So much fucking They Might Be Giants...thirteen shows in one year...I'm not saying I never want to see TMBG live again, but I could take, say, a year or so off from seeing TMBG live again.

Saw John Grant for the first time, and, while it was a great show, it felt a little flat. The album was so multifaceted, I can't imagine recreating the sound with only a handful of players...and he didn't.

Garbage's "20 Years Queer" tour was palpable nostalgia. Shirley Manson is still a fire goddess.

The Bests! Yeah, The Bests!

John Grant's new one, Grey Tickles, Black Pressure was pretty fantastic. It made me reaccept Amanda Palmer as a person, although after a solid month or so of listening to it, I found I needed a break. It was making me a touch bloodthirsty...

But...it's They Might Be Giants. Hands down.
I cannot even begin to sum up how tremendous this year was for They Might Be Giants and for fans of They Might Be Giants. After thirty four years as a band, one could expect standards to be lowered, for the band to, perhaps, phone stuff in occasionally, but, in the face of these expectations, they, instead, released three albums worth of original material in one year, ranging from just plain good to truly excellent.
And, then there were the thirteen (more or less) unique shows at the Music Hall of Williamsburg on the last Sunday of each month. Fans were treated to performances of their first four albums in their entirety (more or less) as well as 2008's The Else, a live showcase of their 17th studio album, Glean, two mind-blowing horn spectaculars, a set of adorable and jittery kids' shows, and even a duo set, the first of its kind in 25 years. Call me spoiled, call me lucky, I'm going to stick with blessed.

And, other than that, nothing else noteworthy happen this year in music.

BITCHWISHLIST 2016
AKA The Future Sucks

For Prince to continue releasing HitNRun albums. Now that Bowie's gone, Beck and Prince have got a lot of work ahead of them...

To get that new Beck album before June? Yes? Gelfling? Friend?

I could deal with some new How to destroy angels. I still consider Welcome oblivion to be one of Reznor's more interesting sonic forays. Oh, and that reissue of...what's it called...The Fragile? Yeah, I could handle that too.

For They Might Be Giants to take the rest of the year off after their UK and US tours and the release of Phone Power. These guys have earned as much R&R as they want.

It's it about time St. Vincent and David Byrne teamed up for a sequel to Love This Giant?

GORILLAZ! FEATURING BECK! AND ST. VINCENT! AND ALL THE OTHER BANDS THAT I LIKE!

For the debut LP from Mother Feather to, literally, destroy the world.

* As Bowie didn't pass away until 2016, I don't feel right including that here, but you'd better fucking believe that that's the first item on my goddamn 2016 Year in Bitch.

Remembering Bowie

I went about David Bowie all wrong.
I was introduced to him, by accident, as a child, when I rented a VHS copy of Labyrinth from Couch Potato video. The cover was awesome, I knew and loved the Muppets, and I'd been to Jim Henson's house, so why wouldn't I rent this? He was the Goblin King. All right. Cool.
In my teens, I was reintroduced to him by Trent Reznor, specifically when I heard Reznor on the "I'm Afraid Of Americans"* remix. "David Bowie? ...oh, you mean the Goblin King, yeah, I know him..." The fact that he was friends with Trent Reznor (with whom I was at the height of my obsession at the time) made him cool in my eyes.
I repeat: the fact that David Bowie was friends with Trent Reznor made David Bowie cool in my eyes.
You see what I mean? All wrong.
Soon after, I saw Se7en, and did some homework when I heard Bowie again, moaning and hissing on "Heart's Filthy Lesson". I discovered Outside. 
Things finally started clicking for me in 1999, but neither fast nor hard enough.
My first year of college, a whole bunch of Bowie's earlier work was reissued, from Space Oddity to the first Tin Machine album. The combination of cable Internet, the birth of Napster, and my impecunious status as a college freshman resulted in a lot of stolen, low-quality Bowie music burned, haphazardly, onto CD-Rs. And, even though I had Bowie's full catalog at my fingertips, I still didn't get a lot of it.
Eventually, I did what I should have done years before and sat down with everything. I learned that I loved his earlier work and his later work but was lukewarm on most of the middle of his career, aside from Low. I learned that David Bowie was the Funkiest White Man Alive**. I learned what his wang looked like by watching The Man Who Fell To Earth.
After that, Bowie was just...there, like this musical spirit with a song or album for every mood or feeling. Then, in 2003, he puts out Reality, which closes with "Bring Me The Disco King". After hearing that for the first time, I declared Bowie's career over. If he never recorded another note, that would be fine, because "Disco King" was the perfect end to David Bowie's career. "You promised me the ending would be clear/you'd let me know when the time was now/don't let me know when you're opening the door/stab me in the dark, let me disappear". Fucking come on, man! He'd said everything he needed to and would now just be David Bowie, enjoying all the things that encompassed. But, I'll be damned if, a decade later, he drops The Next Day, which, I will confess, hasn't sunk in with me yet. I dug all the videos and a few tracks, and I get that it's good, but it just never did it for me.
Then, in November...surprise..."Blackstar". This song and video changed me. I'd never heard anything like it, I'd never seen anything like it. Bowie was about to create a new world for us, like Diamond Dogs or Outside, except this time, he was going to do so with almost seventy years of life and experiences under his belt. This was going to be...unparalleled.
I got my review copy and was disappointed. Not because it wasn't a good album, it was a very good album, but it wasn't the album I had wanted from David Bowie.
I repeat: I was disappointed because it wasn't the album I had wanted from David Bowie. 
Instead of starting things off with "Blackstar" and continuing to reveal this new world to us...we got some leftover tracks from a year ago, a song from this play Dexter was in, Bowie's love letter to a secret, British, gay language***, and some wistful and reflective tracks that were wistful and reflective. 
I was beginning to tire of the album, as I'd been listening to nothing else for a week or more, so, last week, I decided to spend more time with the second two installments in his Hansa Trilogy, "Heroes" and Lodger, both of which I had heard but never really listened to. The evening of Thursday the 7th, I attended a performance of Lazarus, the night after, on his 69th birthday, I watched Tony Visconti, Woody Woodmansey and friends perform all of The Man Who Sold The World, most of Ziggy Stardust, and a handful of other early Bowie hits, live, and, at one point, Visconti had us sing "Happy Birthday" to David into Visconti's phone, then, two days later, this.

This will sound idiotically naive, but I somehow thought Bowie would outlive all of us.
He was so many things to his fans: angel, alien, sex symbol, angelic alien sex symbol; I feel like we're more devastated than his family could possibly be, as they only knew and loved him as a man, a father, a husband.

In the wake of his passing, we're all going to be exposed to a whole hell of a lot of people remembering, recounting, and reliving their own Bowie Moments, but in light of the fact that he knew about his illness and that everything on his final album was meant to be a farewell to the world, nothing will ever be a more eloquent, poignant, and haunting eulogy than the one he wrote for himself in the album, its artwork, and the videos for "Blackstar" and, especially, "Lazarus". 
David Bowie spun death.

But Bowie means something different to everyone. To me, Bowie will be forever pursued through the streets of downtown New York City by a goateed Trent Reznor, will always be ruthlessly mocking Ricky Gervais in song, and will always, always, always be the Goblin King.
And the Goblin King can never die.

* At the time of its release, 1997 or '98, I had never heard "Heroes".

** An honor/burden that now falls upon Beck.

*** When I heard about that, the first words out of my mouth were, "Of course he's doing a song like this, he's David fucking Bowie."

A review of David Bowie's ★

I have two issues with ★. First, between the stage play, Lazarus, and the two re-recorded-yet-previous-released tracks ("Sue" and "'Tis a Pity She Was a Whore"), it feels less like a new David Bowie album and more like a "here's what David's been up to since 2013" compilation*, and, second, Bowie and company blew their load far to soon with the utterly astonishing opener, "Blackstar", and, aside from a few moments here and there, the listener spends the rest of their tragically short time with the album stepping on cold, semen-soaked tissues. But, it is David Bowie's semen, and, I feel, that makes it better than regular semen.

After the epic, ten-minute title track, which introduces a plotline, characters, haunting locales, and a rich and mysterious world just begging to be explored and discovered, it is crushing to find that world immediately discarded for the drum-fucked ribaldry of "Whore". This album could have been a follow up to Outside (the new, sleeker, more dangerous version of "Sue" would have fit nicely there)...

The rest of the record isn't bad (although people who aren't fans of experimental jazz might want to watch out), but, except for the title track, "Lazarus", and "Girl Loves Me" (the lyrics for which borrow heavily from Polari, something you'll know more about than you ever wanted to only because Bowie decided to record this song), the rest of ★ just sort of fades into the background. Both "Dollar Days" and "I Can't Give Everything Away", each wistful and hazy in their own beige fashion, feel like they could have been off of any one of Bowie's last four albums.  Insert the mention of this being Bowie's 28th studio album and the fact that it's to be released on his 69th birthday and how we should all be happy/lucky/grateful to even have new David Bowie music while children in Africa are starving for new David Bowie music...

It's my fault. I understand that. But it doesn't make the disappointment any less stinging. I based an entire album on its opening track and that was foolish; I'm an adult and have been listening to music most of my life, so, my bad. And, whatever the case, no matter how unfulfilled I was with ★, I'll always have the ebon perfection of "Blackstar" and its video to soothe me, provoke my imagination, and score my nightmares.

* An alternate title could be "David Bowie Is Back Into Jazz!!!"

End of the Month Music Bitchfest - December 2015

They Might Be Giants

Dial-A-Song Round Up! pt. 12

"I'll Be Haunting You"
Damn, this close to the end and we've got another contender for the Top 10 DAS tracks of the year.

"Long White Beard"
While it is, undoubtedly, a great song, one of the best from Why?, the album is out and they have two weeks left to close this thing, so I'm a bit let down. Even more so coming after "I Am Alone" and "Haunting".

"I Love You For Psychological Reasons"
What a disturbingly adorable song and video. Between this and the last few weeks (excluding LWB), I have a funny feeling they've been saving up the highlights for the twilight.

"Shape Shifter"
And then, it ends, with a fantastic song with an even more fantastic sing-along chorus and a nightmarish video reminiscent of the most feverish moments from Liquid Television.

Look for the Year of Dial-A-Song Wrap Up coming soon.

Also, the last three TMBG concerts of the year (or if you're being a dick, the last concert of this year and the first two of next year) are happening/have already happened. Reviews forthcoming.

And, finally, the upcoming 19th TMBG album has been titled: Phone Power, which is a dumb name that sounds like a bootleg collection of Dial-A-Song tracks which I love because that's pretty much exactly what it is and it's dumb. PP will be out in March.

 Nine Inch Nails

Oh Trent! You scamp! After, literally, a year of silence, this punk ass musical genius announced (finally) the release of "Cargo In The Blood", an art book by Russell Mills featuring all the work created for the most recent NIN album, Hesitation Marks. The big awesome about this isn't the 320-page book (which is pretty cool), but, rather, the fact that each of the 2000 pieces comes with a unique and original work by Mills himself. The idea of $300 for an original Mills is bonkers...which is why I purchased two. 

And, just a week or so ago, Reznor dropped this adorable little tweet into the world: "New NIN coming in 2016. Other stuff, too." You know...whatever. I'm stoked, but this might be the year I stop obsessing over every little plip and plop of NIN stuff that comes out; poring over a blurred image, getting sweaty over a thirty second clip of noise...maybe, who knows. Of course, Trent could avoid causing me all this heartache/headache/diarrhea by just releasing a full album on January 1st*. Technically, that counts as 2016. And he's done stranger stuff than that in the past. 
As for the "other stuff", speculation is running rampant, but I'm assuming it means the Fight Club musical that's been bandied around for about for almost two decades and, perhaps, some new How to destroy angels?
And also the "tension" Blu Ray.
And the deluxe Fragile.
Sigh.
2016 is going to drag like a dog with no legs, isn't it...

Bowie's Blackstar, sadly, did not meet my expectations. But, I'm kind of a dick, so that's on me. There might be a more formal review coming soon. Hold your breath.

Finally, Prince surprised everyone by transforming into a huge, purple clitoris and returning to his home dimension, SexyCum.
Just kidding.
He did, however, release a follow up to September's HITnRUN Phase One releasing...yes, HITnRUN Phase Two, at first, exclusively on Tidal, the streaming music service for the uninformed, idiot rich**. And I reviewed it here.

YEAR IN BITCH COMING SOON!!!!!!

*WHICH HE DID NOT

** IT DOESN'T MATTER IF YOUR MUSIC IS FILTERED THROUGH DARK MATTER-COATED DIAMONDS IF YOU'RE USING SHITTY IPHONE EAR BUDS.