God apparently had his own show on Los Angeles public access TV in 1997, but before you dive in and download the video, [download link, 31 megs, mpeg format] be forewarned! God has quite a mouth on him! And God's camera operator hasn't quite learned how to control the zoom button yet. But what business is that of yours? God and his camera operator don't give a fuck what you think, beyotch!
Youtube user Victah recorded this show (called either One Man Show or Spirit of Truth) off public access TV, and edited one episode down to eight minutes of the finest moments in the word of God, including liberal and creative use of the F-word, like the immortal line, "you figured me out, you fucking nincom-fucking-poop."
Thanks to Resident Clinton for sending this gem along. You can stream it (with an account) at youtube here.
Mark your calendars for this year's Eurovision song competition (May 20), because this year's entry from Finland might give Dschinghis Khan a run for the title for Best Costumes. Say hello (or "hei" in Finnish) to Lordi, who are in the running with their toe-tapping and head-banging hit "Hard Rock Hallelujah" (YouTube link). And if they don't win, at least Lordi should go down in history as the band that inspired the following paragraph to be published in the New York Times:
As he stuck out his tongue menacingly, his red demon eyes glaring,
Lordi was surrounded by Kita, an alien-man-beast predator who plays
flame-spitting drums inside a cage; Awa, a blood-splattered ghost who
howls backup vocals; Ox, a zombie bull who plays bass; and Amen, a
mummy in a rubber loincloth who plays guitar.
Just in case you were wondering which country is currently the leader in zombie bull bass-playing technology, now you have your answer.
I'm not from these parts. New Jersey, that is. But I'm here 5 days a week, so it is my ongoing quest to understand this state's charms, idiosyncrasies, and motivations.
I posed a question to Jersey-native Mike Lupica the other day, unwittingly sending out shockwaves that could be felt as far as Flemington: why aren't The Misfits a source of regional pride in NJ, while Bruce Springsteen and Bon Jovi are practically on the state legislature?
Now there's the obvious argument of underground vs. top 40, but for some reason, The Misfits don't seem to merit even a footnote in the NJ User's Manual. As Bill Zurat puts it, there are only a few NJ bands that are appropriate to hear blasting out of a Camaro with its windows rolled down cruising LBI, and The Misfits are definitely Camaro-worthy. So where's the mall graffiti already?
L.A. is proud of Rollins, S.F. still loves Jello, and NYC named a street after Joey Ramone. I want to know why NJ doesn't step up and own its incompetent punk icons. Like I said, I'm not from these parts.
Lupica set off an inflammatory discussion on the WFMU e-mail list:
Subject: who best represents new jersey? 1. bruce springsteen 2. bon jovi 3. the misfits
Please provide evidence for your argument. This email sent as an extension of an in-house argument currently in progress.
Click the link below to read responses from various WFMU DJs (names have been removed to protect the innocent), and feel free to post your own answer or attempt to further derail this discussion in our comments section.
All you cheapskates out there better admit it, because everyone knows it anyway: You get more than 90% of your tunes through Soulseek these days, be it the new Scott Walker CD before official release, obscure music from all over the globe, or rips of long out of print vinyl. One great way to discover new music is to search for known good stuff and browse the shared folders of the people who turn up in the search results. Throw in a bit of Google and All Music Guide, and you have the modern day equivalent of spending endless hours browsing record stores and talking to certified music nerds.
One day, when I was browsing Soulseek folders of people with good tastes, I came across a compilation called "Lux and Ivy's Favorites". There is only one Lux and Ivy in music, and everything associated with The Cramps is worth checking out, so it didn't need any convincing for me to download it. Eventually I found more and more volumes of this compilation and downloaded every one of them. Curiously, Google and all the Cramps fan sites seemed to know nothing at all about this, so I asked one of the ultimate experts on all thing Cramps and related: WFMU's own Rex Doane. Not even he had ever heard of these compilations, but he said that it looked "like a combination of the various Songs The Cramps Taught Us comps and
the legendary Vip Vop tapes and Forbidden City Dog Food comp they used
to play at shows".
Instead of doing something constructive with my time (like writing for this blog) I have been whittlling away valuable time on the online virtual-reality game Second Life. In this game you create your “second life” physical identity and persona, chat with other people, buy and sell land, build, and take part in, uh, society. Whereas I have always been fascinated with SIMS games and elaborate online virtual-reality gaming in general, I only observed from a distance, knowing the time consuming pull these things have. And well..truth be told, I also found these games and the people who play them to be a bit pathetic. Don’t people have something better to do with their lives?
But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to sign up when my friend Brendan Danielsson posted pictures of his second life character. He was able to create a creature that resembled the odd people who populate his grotesque paintings and have them interact with real people in a virtual world. Suddenly- this virtual reality gaming racket made a bit more sense. When Brendan posted this video (2 meg .mov file) of his adventures- I was sold.
I immediately created the most grotesque creature that I could by using the basic body and clothes modification option. In my “second life” I was now a pretty lady with a tiny balding pin-head smeared with exaggerated drag queen make-up. I gave myself an enormously fat short torso and long spindly bowed legs. With my allotted virtual money, I bought some knee-high boots and some sexy granny panties. When I was transported to the common area of the game, I immediately made friends with a purple hillbilly character with a yellow mullet and acid wash jeans and a little man spastically running around in silly underwear.
Unfortunately the freaks aren’t out in full force- a few furries, a smurf, some D&D types, goths…nothing too odd that doesn’t have its own little tedious subculture. Mostly, this second life consists of people I actively avoid in real life- boring normals…who decide to create characters dressed in jeans and t-shirt or sad sacks who sit in front of their computer all day and create outfits using virtual money in order to be a “sexy” character they wish they were in real life. When waddling around on the virtual beach, a character approached me and asked, “Why did you choose to look like that?” My only response was, “Why Not?” Most people’s fantasy lives are as boring as their real lives! I want to be a 7-foot tall pinhead drag queen! And as in real life- my second life is filled with derisive laughter, nasty comments and cold shoulders! Perhaps IF THESE PATHETIC SLOBS KNEW HOW BEAUTIFUL I WAS IN REAL LIFE they wouldn’t be treating me so poorly! Maybe with A LOT MORE TIME AND EFFORT I can find some like-minded cretins…but really- why bother? Who has the time?
That being said…I’ll, ummmm, er…well….I’ll see you in Second Life.
A few weeks ago, I had nothing nice to say about youtube - nothing at all. Rather than revel in the untold solitary hours of Me-time they could provide, I got all negative over what wasn't there. Since then, youtube has done 2 things to bring me into the fold: they've finally gotten some damn Shangri-Las videos; and they've fed my minor obsession with Rolly (look <<-- thataway).
My initial exposure to Rolly was through a weird (and wonderful!) little Japanese movie called "Suicide Club" (2002), a largely plot-free mess that managed to compellingly and compassionately tell the story of a national epidemic of group teen suicides - while still being loads of fun!!
Scene One: 54 teenage schoolgirls stand at a subway platform and count off: "a-one! and a-two!! and a-Threeeeee!!!" - and jump, en masse, in front of the oncoming train, while the supercute jumpy pop strains of tween sensations Dessart thump away in the background. Later, there's an irresistable montage showing us
the suicidal creativity of those wacky Japanese kids, accompanied by this music. Here's a movie with many thoughts (though arguably unarticulated ones) about suicide, TV, Pop, fads and bandwagoneers, the internet, the generation gap, irony, and that old dramatic standby, modern humanity's ever increasing disconnect from humanity. Here's a creepy mp3 of a young boy successfully talking a cop into killing himself. (5.6megs)
And when the movie's not busy thinking about all that, it's rolling around inside a bloody sheet with Rolly, a weird mix of Kurt Cobain, Mick Ronson and Dr Frankenfurter (of the Rocky Horror Frankenfurters). Here's video, taken from "Suicide Club", of Rolly singing, in abysmal Englanese, a dirge that seems to be called "Because Dead", and features an inexplicable line you or I could never have written: "Lesson One The Shaving Cream". Watch it! (or listen to it, on Mike Lupica'sshow).
I've since found out that Rolly's a pretty big star in Japan, but it's been pretty damn impossible to find out anything about him -- until now! As the following will no doubt make plain, I'm not the only one who remembers that amazing guitar cockfight between Steve Vai and Ralph Macchio in "Crossroads" (here it is for you). Seems like Japan has turned that scene into a game show! A girl sits in a chair, tunelessly humming some of her fave rock riffs ("20th Century Boy", "Deuce", "Living After Midnite", etc), while Rolly and fellow contestant Marty Friedman try to sound out what she's singing. Whoever guesses first, and then successfully rocks the riff, wins. Watch it!
But goddam, youtube still takes forever to load sometimes. Nothing under the flip, so don't jump!!!!
Reduce, reuse, recycle. This week I missed a seeing a show because when I wrote back to accept my friend's offer of free tickets, I used a naughty word. He didn't get the email because it went to his spam folder. The lesson I learned from this is that my friend's spam filter is fucked up.
Save As, an exhibition of works by artist/photographer Adam Harvey, takes spam subject lines and digitally maps them into large-scale pornographic images. You can send in your favorite subject line to be included in an audience-generated work. Emails already received are here. via Wired
Dirty dancing.Fuse is casting for a reality show where contestants dance naked to music videos. This is so based on my life.
Naked truth. Maybe they will set a naked world record for naked people dancing to videos and send it in to the naked world record site.
Toe jam.Angel Boi is world's first foot fetish rapper, but surely not the last. Check out the unlistenable hit summer single Toe Lover. Hey, it's audience participation week on TWiS--looks like he is casting for the Toe Lover video. via del.icio.us/tag/fetish Is that a gun in your...well, yes it is! Some shooter guy strips to raise funds and covers his thingy with a big gun. Which reminds me: people who do this naked fundraising stuff should be shot. This includes the old ladies in bucolic English villages and the hot athletes in ski towns. You are all going down. It has to stop.
Cows and the people who love them. Disturbingly lovely photos by Yann Arthus-Bertrand. Also disturbingly lovely photos of horses and the people who love them, but the cows are cooler. Also photos of the French.
Pet tricks. A hard-hitting look at the gritty world of furries-for-hire.
Celebrate your sacrament, hug your dealer, hug your dog. Shake it on Shakedown Street, have yourself a High Time, engage in a bit of fellowship - whatever it is that you people do - just don't spill your bongwater on the rug. Watch the video on youtube, then come back here (and bring someone special) for A Very Stoned Holiday soundtrack.
Stephen Stills's song "4+20" has nothing to do with it.
There's tons more - later on, if you're able to summon the initiative, you can search the WFMU archives yourself. Meanwhile, here's Liz posting lots more songs for you, right here on this blog. (Sorry about all the complicated links, I do realize a body can get lost without some space notes. I truly don't mean to harsh your mellow.)
You have until Dec. 31, 2006 to come up with something enlightening to tell future generations. Specifically, the future generation of intelligent life that'll be toiling around this hunk of landfill in 50,000 years. Yes, in other words, cockroaches (youtube link, thanks Bryce).
A cuddly-feely group of scientists, humanitarians, and artists have convinced The People With Money that humankind circa 2006 needs to send a message to what They believe will be humankind circa 52,006 by way of a satellite called KEO (thanks Andy). Lucky for us, this a democratic group of optimistic futurists; they'll allot 6000 uncensored characters (~ 4 typed pages) to each of us joes, with which we may express ourselves to the roaches yet to be born. Click here to pollute the minds of earthlings, the next generation.
KEO is nowhere near the cosmic equivalent of tossing a message in a bottle out to sea. This winged(!) satellite, to be packed up at the end of the year and launched into orbit in 2007/8, will hold a human genome-etched diamond that encases a drop of human blood, and samples of air, water, and earth. If that's not sci-fi enough, the re-entry plan should win you over: upon passing through the earth's atmosphere, KEO will produce an artificial aurora borealis. Check out this page for other technical highlights.
I'm a fan of their data encryption plan, personally. Our collected messages to the future will be encoded on radiation-resistant glass DVDs. And just in case there aren't any DVD players around in 50,000 years, the KEO team is including a detailed diagram for how to build one, laser reader and all. Let's hope Radio Shack is still around, eh?
Equipment. Some people never have enough of it. Witness nearly an entire American economy supported by the desire to constantly upgrade, enlarge or expand. For some people, the right equipment assures success at their new found interest, whether it be a Ducati superbike or an Aga stove.
I like to believe I fall a little shy this side of kitchen equipment lust. I finally own a toaster AND a microwave, after years of using my stovetop and broiler for all toasting/re-heating needs. And I still boil water in a kettle on my stove, just like a cave woman. Really...I use a one cup Melitta coffee filter for most coffee needs, (tip to future female DJ's: my lack of coffee maker knowledge keeps me out of the line of fire when I have guests or bands out to the station, a good thing.)
BUT i do own a rice cooker! It has truly revolutionized the way I cook rice. First of all it can't burn! Who among us can raise their hand truthfully and say they have never burned the rice? What? You're lying! This white plastic, god-like gadget can cook brown or white rice, jasmine and all. Most fantastically for the Jetsons among us, it can be pre-programmed to come on when you are away to be rice-a-ready on your return. You will need this feature, because it appears to take nearly twice as long to cook rice as the old, burn the bottom way. But who cares about time? Perfection is the goal here. Add up all the time you save not scrubbing/destroying your favorite KOBENSTYLE DANSK cookware that you bought on Ebay before it went through the roof, and it all makes sense.
A couple weeks ago on this blog, I mentioned a number of podcasts related to shortwave and DXing that I've been sampling. While I don't have time to listen to as many I'd like, I thought I mention a couple other podcasts I try not to miss.
If you don’t already know, “podcasting” is a very simple method to “subscribe” to an ongoing radio show or audio program and have your computer automatically download each new one as it is posted online. For years, it’s been possible to capture or digitally record streams and snatch audio archives from the internet-- IF you knew what you were doing. Now it's much easier. I use a PC program called iPodder (which is now called “Juice,” I hear). Very simple. There’s others I haven’t tried, but in general it’s not hard science. However, if you don’t have an “always on” broadband connection it could be problematic. With dial-up, you won’t be able to subscribe to many programs, and downloads could take a lot of time (and cost you some bandwidth).
Podcasting allows you to time-shift listening to radio shows you can’t usually catch, and gives you access to all sorts of amateur programmers who are going online with a wide variety of good, bad, and ugly programming. While lots of mainstream radio content is either unavailable as a podcast or requires you to give up some money to do so, there’s PLENTY of choices when it comes to subscribing to free podcasts. Too many really.
Hey Kids, $mall ¢hange with another semi-occasional post to drop some mp3 science for yas. I'll try to make these tings more regular. Lately I've been getting into more and more old school dancehall, literally tons of great rekkids out thurr, with many underappreciated in collectro circles. So here's a few jams I have in heavy rotation at the moment...
Knight Rider 'Bad Boy Steppin' crown heights is definitely steppin' to this jam off the 'Kuff' riddim. If you don't have Shelly Thunder's 'Kuff' I more than highly recommend.
Gregory Peck 'Informer' on Stalag, same riddim as the classic 'Bam Bam' by Sister Nancy and 'Ring the Alarm' by Tenor Saw. I like how he riff's Jacob Miller's 'Tenement Yard' into some harder steez, and he continues the JA tradition of naming yourself after a celebrity (Charlie Chaplin, Clint Eastwood, etc). Sorry for the scratchy-ness on this one.
Courtney Melody 'Ninja Mi Ninja' Rougher than Rambo. Courtney has one of the sweetest and toughest voices in reggae, and shoutout to Scratch Famous of Deadly Dragon fame for championing this one.
Also, if you're ever wondering what riddim a certain dancehall track is on, there's a few websites out thurr with large databases that cross reference artists, titles, and riddims. Very handy...czeck this.
And if you own a lil' sampler like a Dr. Boss and want to load up of classic sound efx, such as the bombs, lasergun, ufo, etc, head over to the selectors resource page at Deadly Dragon. Nuff respeck!
We've been blessed with the annual ritual since 1996: each WFMU marathon our good New Jersey neighbors (give or take a New Yorker or two) Yo La Tengo have graciously dragged their gear down to our studios and helped us raise cash by attempting to play requested covers for real live pledgers. Any request. Were they ever afraid of falling on their faces by not knowing the chords to "Rock the Boat" or "You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet"? Hell no. With the iron backbone of host Gaylord Fields covering for them on mic breaks while they huddled and worked out arrangements between sets, James, Ira, Georgia and their friend Bruce would fearlessly dive headfirst in and come up winners (contrary to what they would say in the liners). For everyone who has longed for a document of these years (or miss your copy of the Replacements' The Shit Hits the Fans you lost in that move) the long awaited CD Yo La Tengo Is Murdering the Classics is now available via the band's site on their own Egon label. Pledgers who were owed this back in '04 should have gotten a package as we speak. It's a compilation of assorted cuts from the 96-03 years (they're still doing the shows since then with Tom Scharpling as well as Gaylord), and includes such crowd-pleasers as Eno's "Baby's On Fire", Doug Sahm's "Mendocino", Yes' "Roundabout" and one helluva finale medley we won't ruin by revealing. Says Ira, inspiration for playing WFMU came from the lengths our marathon DJ's endured themselves: "Glen Jones setting himself on fire, Tom Scharpling making himself sick on junk food, Ken Freedman getting an Eagles tattoo, and most bravely of all, the DJ's speaking for minutes at a time without 45-minute blocks of uninterrupted music to hide behind." "Meet the Mets"/"Oh Bondage Up Yours" (Real Audio from the CD played on Laure's I Had To Kill That Guy show).