February 26, 2008

ERAS END AND BEGUN A NEW

Petite report du scene:
Shopping rips. Truly rips it punk. Lucas has a brat voice the likes of which we haven't heard since Chris from the Pee-Chees nasal baby screech. You can't peel yr eyes off him. Whether Shopping is his first or last band, you get that we will be knowing and hearing much more of him, cos he's really got it down with all the stuff someone can't be taught, with his eyes clinched tight going waaaaahuh into the mic, a natural he is. Their show last night was lacking in the usual rheumy eyed rabal roused kiddoes. I blame that big wet snow.

A friend met Donald Rumsfeld's grandson at a skate shop over the weekend, turns out he's a full tilt America-hating anarchist counting the days 'til he's old enough to expatriate. I found this encouraging somehow.

The new Vic Chesnutt record with Guy P, Silver Mt Zion and Godspeeders is winter-approps bummedrone, captivatingly so. Worth picking up just for "You are never alone" an ultra-cynical feel-good tune about band-aiding your problems to get by that namedrops popular herpes medication Valtrex.

My downstairs neighbors have yet to complain about my riding my skateboard indoors. I find this encouraging somehow.

Anyone care to join me in speculating that the reason the Ellen Allien/Sascha Funke tour is not hitting Chicago is because they're doing Pitchfork, one or both of them? Funke's MANGO is not what I was anxiously dreaming it was. That black magic was came true in the form of ol' kinky justice. Safe and Sound is tremendously satisfying, in headphones and in the house, just right-on and righteous. Dude, "PARAGE"--as the strings rise and glimmer and drop and them brump.brump.brump. It's pretty much everything I want out of a song. The chippy ching-pong on "26 Dollars", which goes acid and then heavenward, softly, equally. It makes me want to put together a teutonic-tech-disco-minimax-Kompaktian-thumpz monthly (the nights I know would not play a Justus Kohncke song unless there was a mash-up with Cool Kids doing drops on it.), but I am contractually barred from those sorts of arrangements being a Writer™, maybe it might just have to be a clandestine parking lot bike-in disco in June sort of thing. Boomboxes are nigh.

Posted by Jessica at February 26, 2008 04:30 PM | TrackBack