Mask of the day.

MIRANDA JULY.

WE JUST MAILED OUR DEMO TO MIRANDA JULY MOGMOGMGOO!!!!
MIRANDA WE LUV U.
OUR # IS 518 435 5564
BYE!

http://mirandajuly.com/contact

All Saints’ Day Mask.

MFairbank is a mask-a-thon. Here is finding #1:

Tonight we scored the silent film _Sunsh…

Tonight we scored the silent film _Sunrise_ with our buds Dead Friend. It was in the public library. Previous to the show there had been controversy. I won’t tell you what the controversy was about, but these people can:

http://www.nitrateville.com/viewtopic.php?t=4680&sid=5cb40ad5ebe1dcca46afcea1e580af94

This topic is kind of amazing. I wish every town could have grotesque music in its library, but only Albany can. Thanks!

Broadcast and Atlas Sound @ Le Poisson Rouge, 10/20/09

Le Poisson Rouge rides a weird line between being NYU brosky bar and simpatico hangout for the avant garde.

Regardless, Atlas Sound: bad sweater, broad shoulders, bad lyrics about girls, stiff bass player, other guitarist who has weird guitar posture, funny banter about belt buckle. Does this sum it up?

Bradford, the lone cowboy behind AS began his set with harmonica and sweater and guitar and it was OK, but when he ended his already seven songs too many set with another lone acoustic number I was gritting my teeth. One of his songs in particular about not dying alone seemed awfully trite and the guitar loops were getting old by about song three. Good guitar craft and cool multi-instrumentalism, but overall, I would’ve been satisfied to see him play five songs and be done with it.

Broadcast hit the stage with seventeen mintues of trippy synth noise brought on by two Dr. Samples and some pedals. They had swirly black and white projections while the audience rocked on their heels in anticipation, waiting to see where all this witchcraft would go. The dude wore a nice patterned sweater and the woman wore some white flowy madness.

After their floating through about twenty minutes of Broadcast’s pscyhedelic sound pudding, the audience was treated to the hits. They played “I Found the F” and “Black Cat” and some other poppy stuff that I couldn’t identify.

For the last song, lead singer Trish Keenan pulled out a three stringed Eastern folk guitar to play some harsh yet sweet drones while white capped drums repeated driving the audience into a meditative sway.

Overall, good set, but the sound was a bit muddy.

Bye!

Tuesday.

Peach and apple
Gangs and the media
Subways and landlords
Queens and hate crimes
Natter and panoply
Help is sitting at the front desk

Jezebelmusic post: Tayisha Busay, Planet Rump, Cherie Lily

Livejournal: Tayisha Busay’s NASTYASS DANCE PARTY

Tayisha Busay
Cherie Lily
Planet Rump

@ Glasslands, October 14th

In a barn down by the river, skinny white boys spray glitter aerosol into their hair, and girls in bloomer dresses step spritely through theatrical smoke. An electric yellow kiddie pool is full of Sour Patch kids, and in case you didn’t notice the pool, one of six leotard-clad women will come over and offer you a pack.

Tonight is Brooklyn spandex-o-holics Tayisha Busay’s NASTYASS dance party, perhaps the first of a monthly dance party at Glasslands on Kent Avenue in Williamsburg. What that means is the Busay troupe has decked out the Glasslands with tinsel, glow sticks, and there a stop motion video booth in the back. DJ Melissa from Telepathe is DJing.

A bolt of lighting hit the stage and Planet Rump materialized to start the show. This group, coming from out of space, played three songs, one which was about fightin’ dudes off your ladies when killing it on the dance floor. “I’m just trying to get down with my funky self / Get outta my tree you ain’t the Keebler Elf.” Lyric of the night. The two females rhyming were backed by a fellow in a lamé jacket playing simple Casio leads and drums. Simple wins!

Next up was Cherie Lily, Andrew W.K.’s wife, in an aerobics thong-backed onesie. All her 160 bpm “Houserobics” project demonstrated is that she is real aerobics instructor and a hobbyist musician. Zing!

Troupe Busay took over. They were dressed for a gym on Planet Sparkle. They started pumping out some Dr. Sample loops and some Mac Book simulated synth business. Singers Tessa and Ariel started wailing out the “Whyhyhyhy” of “WTF you doin’ in my mouth” but the vocals were so high in the mix that my ears began choking on their harshness. Matters quickly deteriorated as the eyelinered dude operating the Mac Book cranked something up on his mixer and the PA sounded like someone dying in a digital pilates class. Tessa, clearly a veteran performer, didn’t miss a beat, and with beaming confidence declared, “yeah, we’re having technical difficulties, BUT SHIT HAPPENS.”

The Busay act may have had an off night, but even perfect I think they are pinned in the world of sassy female electro MCs. My gutter tooth is accustomed to the likes of Gravy Train, Peaches, No Bra, Kevin Blechdom, and maybe even Uffie. From hamburger abortions, to interspecies love, to the cartography of all things “pussy,” the performers above have covered it. Not that you have to be vulgar or overtly sexual to succeed in this genre; however, I think it is Busay’s intention to go there given some of there song titles and lyrics, which are vanilla beans compared to acts like No Bra and Kevin Blechdom. Instead, Busay was using metaphors of patting your head and rubbing your tummy as innuendo for “doing two things at the same time.”

Outside on Kent Avenue I did a video blog on the street with Planet Rump where I tried to recite as much of their Keebler Elf song as I could recall. See you at next month’s NASTYASS dance par-tay.

Derek Jarman 1.

Today I finished Tony Peake’s biography of Derek Jarman. As I was reading the final pages of Jarman’s last hours and disintegrating body, I was rushed off the F Train because we had finally arrived at Jay Street and I had to get to class to teach subject-verb agreement. After sitting with the 530-page life of Derek Jarman, I was hurried through his final inevitable moments and I felt base feelings of mortality and inspiration. This always seems to happen to me; as I’m finishing a book — and I’ve been reading lots of biographies lately — the last pages are usually rushed by the comings and goings of the subway, and I miss the death of the main subject. I could reread, but it feels like you only get one go at living someone else’s life in a book.

Here’s the Tony Peake book if you like Derek Jarman:
http://www.tonypeake.com/author/derek_jarman.htm

Miny Pony Produce

This is from Agent N.

San Diego.

Todd played The Spotty Dog in Hudson, NY

Here’s a video of “For Evan and Evan.” Earlier this summer we mailed out a bunch of postcards and asked people to vote for one of five song names to be turned into a real song. “For Evan and Evan” was clearly the winner. And Evans everywhere can be proud of that.