I want to apologize to hip hop. For someone who claims to love all kinds of music, I haven't give the genre the attention it deserves. If it was one of my unborn children, it would probably sue me for negligence and win. That being said, songs that blow me away and leave me at a loss for description, like "Cappuccino," renew my love of the genre and give me faith in the artists. The Knux are totally genre bending and their orgy of dirty guitar riffs, dirty breaks, and (you guessed it) dirty hip hop make a perfect soundtrack for cruising the streets of LA.
This amalgamation of sounds makes them as much hipster and hip hop; their debut Remind Me In Three Days weaves successfully through different genres over the course of the album, as though given carte blanche to club hop up and down Hollywood Blvd. in the same evening.
But it was "Cappuccino" that really grabbed me, and stands out as one of the strongest tracks on an album full of strong tracks.
Just to be clear - the song is actually, not actually about cappuccino. Or, apparently, mocha. I wish I could say I know what they're talking about, but I don't - quite possibly because I'm not cool enough. My guess is that it's about cocaine, or bitches, or both, as these are prevalent motifs throughout the album. Regardless, laid back beats, overtly sensual rhythmic thrusts, and vocals that sound as though the Knux took a break from blow to toke a joint, are the soundtrack for the larger than life but true to reality Los Angeles of Entourage.
So skip three cappuccinos and spend the money on the album instead - it's well worth it.
Sip on some Cappuccino
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Stanton Warriors - Making Monday Funday
I have to confess that I've recently been ignoring my youth a bit, accepting adulthood a bit too readily, going to dinners and drinks and watching dance acts come to town and sitting back thinking that perhaps I've grown out of that phase in my life.
But that was until I found out the Stanton Warriors were coming to town. And at Monday Night Social which is the antidote to falling into boring adulthood. I fought off my inner lameness demon (who tried to entice me with Gossip Girl and slippers) and found myself headed to Hollywood and wondering how there was still no parking on a Monday night.
Having heard their FabricLive album I had an idea of what to expect from the London duo, and I tend to find dance acts and DJ sets to be more captivating, simply because the audience can get involved with dancing (not always a guarantee at say, a singer-songwriter gig). Others haunted by the demon of lameness sit there with their arms crossed saying things like "who wants to see two guys with laptops?" and "they're not even playing anything." Which is when I get to patiently explain that all the work is done pre-laptop. That the making of a track, choosing the palette, refining the sounds, selecting and hunting for just the right tracks for a set is an artform in itself, as is working with a continuous set of music, which is like a live animal, and getting it to talk to an audience, get them dancing for hours on end, and giving them an excuse to get absolutely mashed on their drug of choice on a Monday. . .Well, to me, that's an art form cleverly disguised as a good time. Sorry there are no guitars.
In addition to killing it playing to a packed house and quilting together a truly awesome set that pulled from early 90s hip hop, to the Gorillaz, to Booka Shade to their own originals, Stanton Warriors happen to be some of my favorite dance artists. The Stanton Warriors weren't my first introduction into the breakbeat world, but they were the ones who taught me that I loved the genre. Putting aside the, minimalism of their house music cousins, the Stanton Warriors are all about glitter and grime keeping things sexy in a dirty, urban style. Favoring booty beats and standards from early 90's hip hop, the boys touch it up with a healthy mix of breaks, crunching percussion, heightened rhythms and duuurty MCs saying all kinds of shameful things.
Their album Stanton Sessions Vol. 3 streets on November 11th in the US.
In the meantime, check them out on MySpace of hear some of their unreleased remixes on Hype Machine.
Catch up on Stanton Sessions Vol. 1 and 2
But that was until I found out the Stanton Warriors were coming to town. And at Monday Night Social which is the antidote to falling into boring adulthood. I fought off my inner lameness demon (who tried to entice me with Gossip Girl and slippers) and found myself headed to Hollywood and wondering how there was still no parking on a Monday night.
Having heard their FabricLive album I had an idea of what to expect from the London duo, and I tend to find dance acts and DJ sets to be more captivating, simply because the audience can get involved with dancing (not always a guarantee at say, a singer-songwriter gig). Others haunted by the demon of lameness sit there with their arms crossed saying things like "who wants to see two guys with laptops?" and "they're not even playing anything." Which is when I get to patiently explain that all the work is done pre-laptop. That the making of a track, choosing the palette, refining the sounds, selecting and hunting for just the right tracks for a set is an artform in itself, as is working with a continuous set of music, which is like a live animal, and getting it to talk to an audience, get them dancing for hours on end, and giving them an excuse to get absolutely mashed on their drug of choice on a Monday. . .Well, to me, that's an art form cleverly disguised as a good time. Sorry there are no guitars.
In addition to killing it playing to a packed house and quilting together a truly awesome set that pulled from early 90s hip hop, to the Gorillaz, to Booka Shade to their own originals, Stanton Warriors happen to be some of my favorite dance artists. The Stanton Warriors weren't my first introduction into the breakbeat world, but they were the ones who taught me that I loved the genre. Putting aside the, minimalism of their house music cousins, the Stanton Warriors are all about glitter and grime keeping things sexy in a dirty, urban style. Favoring booty beats and standards from early 90's hip hop, the boys touch it up with a healthy mix of breaks, crunching percussion, heightened rhythms and duuurty MCs saying all kinds of shameful things.
Their album Stanton Sessions Vol. 3 streets on November 11th in the US.
In the meantime, check them out on MySpace of hear some of their unreleased remixes on Hype Machine.
Catch up on Stanton Sessions Vol. 1 and 2
Monday, October 13, 2008
Kaiser Chiefs' "Love's Not A Competition but I'm Winning (Nelsen Grover Mix)"
Apparently, numerous experiments were done dealing with buttons that, when pushed, will bring the button pusher intense, orgasmic joy. The closest thing I have to this is on my ipod shuffle, which is just about the size of what an intense joy button should be and today allowed me to hit the little back button repeatedly to listen to this remix.
I discovered this bootleg completely by accident, hunting through my iTunes for more Kaiser Chiefs after hearing their new killer, Ronson produced single. The original tune is great, and in my humble opinion, stands out from a slew of forgettable tracks on the sophomore Yours Truly, Angry Mob with an Echo and the Bunnymen feel, and a wistfulness completely uncharacteristic of the rowdy Kaiser Chiefs.
But it is this one hit wonder of a remix from a Dutch, Armani Exchange wearing DJ with 315 friends on MySpace that really caught my attention. He does all my favorite things with this, from choosing an original I like to incorporating a tad bit of nu-wave and keeping in line with the Chiefs' self image.
There's the disco influence that I'm digging, sneaking in there in the beginning, some synths to appeal my neverending lust, and a house beat that could only still be cool in Europe. Sure it gets a little self indulgent towards the end, but when has that ever mattered to someone drunk /high/gyrating against a perfect stranger on the dancefloor? Most importantly (and orgasmically), Grover is not afraid to go with the foolproof house standard of a buildup and a big fat dropping of the beat, which inevitably inspires the Pavlovian response of pumping a fist in the air and jumping around like a maniac. Or just hitting repeat.
Check out the remix and see Nelsen's 315 friends for yourself.
The original should be easy enough to find via the usual routes. . .
I discovered this bootleg completely by accident, hunting through my iTunes for more Kaiser Chiefs after hearing their new killer, Ronson produced single. The original tune is great, and in my humble opinion, stands out from a slew of forgettable tracks on the sophomore Yours Truly, Angry Mob with an Echo and the Bunnymen feel, and a wistfulness completely uncharacteristic of the rowdy Kaiser Chiefs.
But it is this one hit wonder of a remix from a Dutch, Armani Exchange wearing DJ with 315 friends on MySpace that really caught my attention. He does all my favorite things with this, from choosing an original I like to incorporating a tad bit of nu-wave and keeping in line with the Chiefs' self image.
There's the disco influence that I'm digging, sneaking in there in the beginning, some synths to appeal my neverending lust, and a house beat that could only still be cool in Europe. Sure it gets a little self indulgent towards the end, but when has that ever mattered to someone drunk /high/gyrating against a perfect stranger on the dancefloor? Most importantly (and orgasmically), Grover is not afraid to go with the foolproof house standard of a buildup and a big fat dropping of the beat, which inevitably inspires the Pavlovian response of pumping a fist in the air and jumping around like a maniac. Or just hitting repeat.
Check out the remix and see Nelsen's 315 friends for yourself.
The original should be easy enough to find via the usual routes. . .
Friday, October 10, 2008
Nada Surf - the Rediscovery of Emo
I went and saw Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist tonight - aside from being a very cute movie, it really reminded me of my own (less hip) high school experience and what a part indie rock played in it.
When I left the movie, a crisp fall wind blew leaves into my face, and it was so like every other fall in Los Angeles, I was suddenly overcome with a wave of memories of this time of year. Fall has come to mean concerts, Jewish holidays, concerts missed because of Jewish holidays, and wondering if everyone else's feet were as cold in Converse as mine were. Colder weather is also the perfect time to get back into knit sweaters and weepy music, which go together like beer and pretzels.
Just today, I got sent a Nada Surf CD, which I liked enough to add it to the growing pile in my car; their charmingly poppy lo-fi croonings were the perfect soundtrack to my cold weather memories reverie. It also got me thinking about Nada Surf and wondering why my first encounter with such a 90's band was in 2007.
So I started thinking back to what I was listening to in the mid 90's - the Offspring, Bush, Greenday, Alanis Morrissette (everybody was doing it then - it was like smoking in the 50s). In music, I had discovered yelling before I discovered crying. And then high school happened. Or rather, sophomore year happened - I made a friend who was worlds cooler than me, and who I have to wholeheartedly thank for introducing me to the gentle whine of indie rock and emo. Once I got halfway through college and discovered dance music, I turned my back on indie rock and emo, thinking that I had "graduated". Two years out of college and several music industry jobs later I find myself willing to admit that despite a newfound love of other genres, I still crave that perfect balance of emotion and pop in an indie rock song and now use all my resources to seek it out.
And along comes Nada Surf, giving me a second chance at my youth, or at least my 90's era youth (though they have consistently been putting out albums for the past decade or so). With over 100,000 friends, these guys are definitely in the famous realm, but I like to pretend that they're some little band teetering between obscurity and tastemaking. And they sort of are. Being a distinctly 90's band, their style has the eras earnestness that came about about partially as a result of grunge and partially as an apology for the pretentiousness of the 80's. While the mark of an era may keep them from being the fresh sound of now, the emotion is timeless, the lyrics intelligent, and the jangling melodies hover somewhere between weepy pop and cheery indie for music that makes you fall in love with plaid and emo all over again.
Soundtrack for your snap bracelet.
When I left the movie, a crisp fall wind blew leaves into my face, and it was so like every other fall in Los Angeles, I was suddenly overcome with a wave of memories of this time of year. Fall has come to mean concerts, Jewish holidays, concerts missed because of Jewish holidays, and wondering if everyone else's feet were as cold in Converse as mine were. Colder weather is also the perfect time to get back into knit sweaters and weepy music, which go together like beer and pretzels.
Just today, I got sent a Nada Surf CD, which I liked enough to add it to the growing pile in my car; their charmingly poppy lo-fi croonings were the perfect soundtrack to my cold weather memories reverie. It also got me thinking about Nada Surf and wondering why my first encounter with such a 90's band was in 2007.
So I started thinking back to what I was listening to in the mid 90's - the Offspring, Bush, Greenday, Alanis Morrissette (everybody was doing it then - it was like smoking in the 50s). In music, I had discovered yelling before I discovered crying. And then high school happened. Or rather, sophomore year happened - I made a friend who was worlds cooler than me, and who I have to wholeheartedly thank for introducing me to the gentle whine of indie rock and emo. Once I got halfway through college and discovered dance music, I turned my back on indie rock and emo, thinking that I had "graduated". Two years out of college and several music industry jobs later I find myself willing to admit that despite a newfound love of other genres, I still crave that perfect balance of emotion and pop in an indie rock song and now use all my resources to seek it out.
And along comes Nada Surf, giving me a second chance at my youth, or at least my 90's era youth (though they have consistently been putting out albums for the past decade or so). With over 100,000 friends, these guys are definitely in the famous realm, but I like to pretend that they're some little band teetering between obscurity and tastemaking. And they sort of are. Being a distinctly 90's band, their style has the eras earnestness that came about about partially as a result of grunge and partially as an apology for the pretentiousness of the 80's. While the mark of an era may keep them from being the fresh sound of now, the emotion is timeless, the lyrics intelligent, and the jangling melodies hover somewhere between weepy pop and cheery indie for music that makes you fall in love with plaid and emo all over again.
Soundtrack for your snap bracelet.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
James - the concert
Not being one of James' biggest fans, I had my own expectations of what this band's concert would be like. I hd visions of my Mancunian glory days in the indie clubs, surrounded by clouds of smoke and Northern Brits with bangs made all the more beautiful through a haze of whatever was on special that night and an intense camaraderie heightened by copious amounts of alcohol mixed with loud music.
To my surprise, this was one of the un-hippest crowds I've seen. At just about every concert anyone's ever been to, especially every rock concert, there's always "that guy." The one rocking out harder than anyone there who is convinced that they are the band's biggest fan. He may be wearing the band's t-shirt (still a major concert faux pas - the only exception being the t-shirt of the current artist's former band, showing just how harcore and knowledgeable you really are). He is inevitably thrashing about in a manner that is borderline dangerous, mildly embarrassing to you, but ultimately so honest that you have to admit it's admirable and he is a fan, no matter how awkward you feel. That seems to be the makeup of James' core fanbase.
That being said, "that guy" is usually one of the happiest people at the concert. And that was most definitely the case that evening. I have never seen a crowd that is more appreciative of the artist they're seeing. Everyone had huge grins on their faces, people of all ages were out well past their bedtimes, and everyone was dancing, including my injured self, bouncing up and down enthusiastically in my chair. At the end of the concert, audience members were allowed to dance on-stage, and the earnest happiness in everyone's faces was so touching I might have cried had I not been too busy stupidly grinning.
Energy aside, James is a great band. As it turns out, they're the artist that sings those songs that I'd always heard but never knew who sung them. There's a familiarity to them, partially having to do with the fact that they have elements of the Smiths (emotional, warbly and Mancy), and partially because they have elements of U2 (happier, folkier songs with political tones) but mostly because they don't go off into uncharted waters sticking to melodic rock songs that are comfortable under the pop umbrella. And I love that about them. Much like with food, I think the simplest ingredients make for the best product, and James uses excellent song structure (complete with sing-along choruses), clever lyrics, and universal messages to create pop songs that are accessible to those seeking just that.
Check them out below:
www.myspace.com/jamesisnotaperson
To my surprise, this was one of the un-hippest crowds I've seen. At just about every concert anyone's ever been to, especially every rock concert, there's always "that guy." The one rocking out harder than anyone there who is convinced that they are the band's biggest fan. He may be wearing the band's t-shirt (still a major concert faux pas - the only exception being the t-shirt of the current artist's former band, showing just how harcore and knowledgeable you really are). He is inevitably thrashing about in a manner that is borderline dangerous, mildly embarrassing to you, but ultimately so honest that you have to admit it's admirable and he is a fan, no matter how awkward you feel. That seems to be the makeup of James' core fanbase.
That being said, "that guy" is usually one of the happiest people at the concert. And that was most definitely the case that evening. I have never seen a crowd that is more appreciative of the artist they're seeing. Everyone had huge grins on their faces, people of all ages were out well past their bedtimes, and everyone was dancing, including my injured self, bouncing up and down enthusiastically in my chair. At the end of the concert, audience members were allowed to dance on-stage, and the earnest happiness in everyone's faces was so touching I might have cried had I not been too busy stupidly grinning.
Energy aside, James is a great band. As it turns out, they're the artist that sings those songs that I'd always heard but never knew who sung them. There's a familiarity to them, partially having to do with the fact that they have elements of the Smiths (emotional, warbly and Mancy), and partially because they have elements of U2 (happier, folkier songs with political tones) but mostly because they don't go off into uncharted waters sticking to melodic rock songs that are comfortable under the pop umbrella. And I love that about them. Much like with food, I think the simplest ingredients make for the best product, and James uses excellent song structure (complete with sing-along choruses), clever lyrics, and universal messages to create pop songs that are accessible to those seeking just that.
Check them out below:
www.myspace.com/jamesisnotaperson
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