February 7th, 2008

First off, i would like to apologize for these posts beforehand, they are being typed up on my simple cell phone. Chances are i wont be able to do line breaks, so expect big paragraphs, yay! Anyway, hello from on the road! As you can tell by the time stamp of this post, well, its late. We are currently on our way to cpac ( to attempt to blend in with the most conservatives of the conservatives. Why, you ask? To see if we can blend in. To see what they really say behind closed doors. Hopefully we’ll be able to keep up our cover as conservative leaders on our college campus until then. So yah! As a heads up, we are arriving late because our windshield wipers broke in the middle of a rainstorm. So we had to pullover and fix it. Two pairs of gloves later, we were on our way again. Then, well, we saw a flipped over car and got out to see if they were ok. One cop car later, we were again on our way. And now, we are finally pulling into leors family’s house. Night all! Check back on the hour for updates from inside the convention…

Favorite Five Pictures So Far…

December 29th, 2007

(That last one is our “yay, waiting in line for free hot chocolate/peanut-butter sandwiches!” pose..)

High-Class Living…

December 29th, 2007

So, we needed to find a place to stay in New Orleans and decided to Priceline it. Basically, you offer a certain class of hotel in a certain area a given amount of money for a night. We decided to have some fun with it and offer $52 for a four star hotel in the French Quarter.

To our surprise, we got it. Thats about $17 a night per person. The resulting hotel we stayed at for two came complete with a roof pool and spa. Nice bath-robes, and most importantly, 11pm snack time which consisted of hot choolate and free peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches on, as they pointed out, assorted breads. Just rolling in, the first thing that crossed my mind was “Wow, this hotel was not meant to house people such as us…”

Here, pics just speak louder than words…just click below.

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Shea Steele is the fucking shit.

December 29th, 2007


We would like to thank Dr. Shea Steele (above, second from the left…and yes…i know i look fucking retarded in this picture) for being a kick ass host and really pulling through for us, and putting the rest of the cities we’ve visited to shame. While New Orleans was like swimming through a sea of drooling lunatics, flailing their arms through the thick haze of drunkenness like flagellum through plasma, and Atlanta was a trip to Grandpa Jared’s house where it was full of babies and fried chicken, Nashville managed to get us drunk and leave us in a dumpster with two less kidneys (in a good way.) It seems like everybody in Nashville is either in a band, or way to cool to even bother with being in a band, and the bars are comfortably divey and not segregated (socially) too much. I got to dance with a overweight 65 year old woman at a honky tonk bar and down can after two-dollar can of PBR while listening to stories of prison, ending up at a 24-hour greasy spoon which had us stumbling into LOCAL HONEY, Shea’s vintage clothing store, around 6 in the morning to crash. She even closed the store the next day to eat lunch with us and allowed us to scare away potential customers. AND she let me shower, which is a huge deal, because i hadn’t showered in a while. All in all, thank you Shea for everything, and you totally affected my view of Nashville in the best way, as it has climbed the charts of potential places that would not induce suicidal tendencies in me if i lived there. So, like, way to go.

We’d also like to thank Matt from The Pink Spiders, for kicking our asses at pool (i mean, the guy busted out a pool cue he had brought from home that looked like a fucking unicorn horn…how were we supposed to compete with that?) and Willie (who has cavorted with the likes of Yoko Ono and Wolf Eyes, and his own defunct band, The Parlour Boys) for telling us stories about being on the road with The Bravery, giving us more of a reason to hate them, and kicking ass at my favorite game of all time: Brackets. (I mean, he did convince everyone at the table that the band RUSH could win over euthanasia.)

Thanks Nashville, I’ll call you, baby.

New Orleans Neighborhoods

December 29th, 2007

So on Christmas Day we woke up and after a random walk to find the only open convenience store we could find, we jumped in the car and drove down to Algiers.

Now Algiers was one of the hardest hit areas of New Orleans by Hurricane Katrina. While the rest of Downtown New Orleans (including the French Quarter) did show signs of Katrina’s wrath, Algiers is quite below sea level and therefore relies on multiple levees and a system of pumps. These obviously failed.

Click below for the rest of this post, complete with pictures and observations….

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December 26th, 2007

So last you heard we were dying in traffic or something. Since then we’ve kissed some babies, kicked around Atlanta a bit, driven through bumblefuck Alabama, and tore through the bayou, or around it, whatever highways do. And now we just left New Orleans, which frankly, i found a bit of a let down. I mean, it had this Vegas: get so fucked up and drool like some idiot baby vibe, which i guess has never been my bag. The mentality seems to be “how can i make an even bigger ass out of myself than i do every day?” Which leads to the retarded cavorting of thirty five-year-olds leapfrogging down bourbon street. But all in all New Orleans, architecturally is a beautiful place. And we got to see some awesome ragtime stomp that sounded pumped out of a time machine. But you know what was a huge let down? Nobody spoke like Remy LeBeau. For those of you who don’t know that is…here’s a picture:

Anyway. I could turn that into a whole rant but my heart isn’t in it. We’re on route to Nashville right now, not sure what the fuck we’re gonna do there…but probably a whole lot more than the last two nights (tip: cities kinda blow on Xmas eve and Xmas day). Fuck this. i have nothing to say.


Kamikaze HeartsSo we’re back from a very long break, and well, we’re coming back with a vengeance!

Anyway, so I usually avoid using track names for titles of posts, but, well, I just found this fitting. The Kamikaze Hearts are a band that I’ve wanted to review since I heard them over half a year ago. I stumbled upon them when I saw their name at a random venue outside Boston, and, well, honestly thought, based on their name, they were either going to be an a)terribly cliche emo band or a b)shoegazer band keeping with the traditions of Lush (which will be reviewed/highlighted/profiled later).

I was wrong on both accounts.

To my surprise I found a band that has a truly unique sound that fit perfectly well with my most recent soft-spot in music: americana-lo-fi-rock. This genre doesn’t really exist, and chances are doesn’t adequately classify this band in the least, but they really remind me of a combination of Low, Great Lakes Myth Society and Midlake.

Hailing from Albany, the Kamikaze Hearts’ most recent album “Oneida Road” is a beautifully composed album, especially the first four tracks. They seem unable to decide on vision, but thats half of its appeal. While listening, you can see the band searching for their voice…and not caring while you are taken along for the ride. This becomes apparent with the first opening notes of “Defender”, a mysterious mandolin infused track. Sounding akin to a Scottish folktale of encroaching anonymous ransackers on a small, isolated village. Then, on the other side of the spectrum there is the beautiful “No One Called You a Failure”, a sincerely composed and written song speaking of their love for Albany (”no one locks their doors up here/and now one feels the need/and all night their key chains in their ignitions”). Opening up with the lyrics “if you see your breath in the window, draw an arrow pointing north/it will re-appear when the frost sticks to the highway”, its a track that shows just how talented these guys are at painting pictures with their lyrics. Even more so, its how they weave these lyrics between their moaning voices and mandolin bridges that makes it intensely difficult to not shudder while listening to it.

And thats what makes this album such a beautiful piece of work…Their wailing, harmonizing vocals mixed with rhythmic guitar/mandolin plucking combined with their story like lyrics.

Though the album just comes in under 36 minutes, its worth a listen…or two, or three, etc.

Defender (MP3)
No One Called You a Failure (MP3)
Guyana Central High School Class of 78 (MP3)

Didn’t think you’d ever be called a scoundrel again, eh? Thought the nineteenth century was long gone? Wrongo!

The reason I am attacking you (the you who is probably nobody because this website got dropped faster than an unwanted pregnancy in a McDonald’s lavatory) is because of this very fact: you hate We, Burning Giraffes. And that’s fine. Becuase frankly i hate it to. I hate funny, sexy men, with nothing better to do than to yap yap yap away on the internet, flexing their intellectual and chastizing muscles, while we spout off about things that you philistines just couldn’t possibly wrap your meaty heads around. Okay okay. This is not the case at all. I am up late writing a story about a guy who keeps cloning his ex-girlfriend and killing them. Wow, so original…yeah, i know it’s not…but i dont care. I’m pretty tired of thinking and it would be dreamy to just kill off these miserable brain cells (making sure to keep the cells that are strictly dedicated to the careers of Don Johnson and Philip Micheal Thomas). But i can’t. My brain is what keeps me pretty.

The thing is that i want to get back on the saddle. Throw on the ol’ wrestling unitard and rob a liquor store. You get what I’m saying? Of coures you don’t! Savages! You’d knife your own Grandmother and eat her body for a day’s wages wouldn’t you? If yes, then you are on par with me.

Challenge: Listen to the song “Sweet Sunshine” by Beck and tell me you don’t want to hunt him down and like, totally unleash your homies to put their collective steel-toed boot up his ass.

Anyway, i guess you (still unsure of who this could possibly pertain to) would like some information that you could potentially care about after trudging through the ravings of a sleep-deprived skinny white boy?

Here’s some shit you MUST listen to:
Zoe Keating - One Cello x 16 Natoma (Zoe Keating; 2005)

Half-decent looking hippie chick plays the most beautiful Cello music i have ever heard. It’s just her on cello and a loop station with some minor effects. She does this shit live to and I can only imagine it would be orgasmic. This album’s beauty is only outdone by its progressive and simplistic nature. The soundscapes are like, the hottest naked person you’ve ever had in your bed, times a thousand. It’s that good. Check it out. (Oh, she used to be in Rasputina…but…just forget i told you that…)
Victor Bermon - Arriving At Night (Hefty!; 2007)

I just heard this album two days ago and I’m already hooked (thanks Jeremy). Think Mice Parade without Adam Pierce’s spazzy drumming and Kria Brekken’s fuck-me voice. It’s a purely instrumental album with tones of xylophone, glockenshpeil (who cares how it’s spelled?) strings and synth. It’s another beautiful album and should NOT be overlooked. You can go to Hefty’s website and sample a few of the tracks. At least do that much. Pretend to like it. Then buy the cd and listen to it. But seriously…I don’t care what you do.
Hefty! Records:

Genius/GZA - Liquid Sword (Geffen; 1995)

So one day i felt particularly white and thought (why don’t i have individual albums from every member of the Wu-Tang Clan? Forty-eight hours later I was five albums richer, and my personal favorite was this album (the runners up being Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s “Return to the 36 Chambers: The Dirty Version” Inspectah Deck’s “Controlled Substances”, Method Man’s “Tical”, RZA’s “Afro Samurai Score”, and a close second place Ghostface Killah’s “Iron Man”).  All of those albums are worth checking out, but i found  the GZA to be  particularly underated (and plus it’s damn fun saying his name.  Okay, okay, so i know what you’re gonna say: “we love the sound of ninjas and samurai clanging swords and swearing revenge, but isn’t that what Wu-Tang is for?” And i answer, yes, but who the fuck gets sick of samurai? Yes every Wu-Tang Clan member’s side project sounds like they are trying to say ‘Yes, I can make this music by myself too!’ (eventhough most of the tracks have members of the Wu guest appearancing) but fuck it. It still sounds damn good. Lots of soul samples and really sick beats that tear the roof off twelve years after it exited Geffen’s womb. And if you like good soul music, you have to check out this sick compilation called SHAOLIN SOUL, which is a two-discer, featuring all the soul tracks that the Wu has sampled throughout their mighty career. Ya dig? No? Okay…sorry.

I have to finish my story. Fuck all y’all. More to come? (comics, movies, books, records, ice cream flavors, sexual positions, brands of toothpaste)? IF anyone reads this…comment on it or let me know or something cause i have no idea who you are.

The hell with you people.

January 17th, 2007

so I guess this information super-boring place is totally dead underwater by now. Well cookiepusses, my ancestors and great great grandseedlings didnt die in the shallow sands of Arcamedes to see us fuck up the one thing we all set out to accomplish with our sperm-blessed lives. We did have some good times though, eh boys?

here’s to us! An ongoing list of good times…..I’ll start us off:
1) remember when Jeremy had such bad stomach pains after a party at Josh’s that he had to rush to the Greenwich Emergency Room and get anally penetrated by a purple finger and maybe a cold instrument or two.