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Saturday, April 30, 2005


I, came

It's time to start blogging again. You dicks. Since it's 5:30 I don't have time for a wonderful extended analysis of something that'll surely change your life. (I would like to add that the title of my post is a reference to a movie that I know Vassallo knows, but I'd be surprised if anyone else does.) But I've been Night Putting lately since there's a golf course accross the st. from my apt. Night Putting. Putting at night with the 15yr. old daughter of the dean. That's another movie ref. but I seriously have been playing chip/put pig at 4 am. You gotta try it. But, until then...

go fuck yourselves,

ps - you fucked it up! you fucked it up Walter!
pss- my dirty undies dude. the whites.
psss - i'm just making up for lost time here.
pssss - obviously you're not a golfer....

Friday, April 29, 2005


Top 3 Most Beautiful Iron and Wine Songs

Although I've listened to Iron and Wine and the magical voice of Sam Beam often, I created a play list entitled "Iron and Wine Jumble" where I simply mixed up all their recordings into a random order. The jumble has played 3 times in full out my bookshelf Bose over the last 2 days. The one word that kept coming to me was "beautiful"....this fucking music is absolutely beautiful. Now I know this word is over-used at times but I can't help what pops into my head (i.e. the dreams I had the other night which occurred in no particular order: 1) Trent murders Ana Callabufo and I freak out because I think he's going to jail for life 2) Wilder scoffs at me while he blows multiple lines of white powder with "Rush Rush to the Ye-oh" playing in the background) and as a result I'm not going to apologize for using such a common adjective. Besides, I like to say beautiful as often as possible to describe a variety of situations, things and experiences (i.e. when my partner hits a shot in beer pong or when I blow a load into my red checkered boxers or when I drink a nice wheat beer or....when I hear Iron and Wine damnit). You might feel that a word such as soothing or lovely is a better way to capture the sound Sam Beam puts forth. If this is the case, write your own blog and I will gladly partake. Until then, beautiful it is. So, to borrow a cliche from wherever cliches lie and without further ado, here are my top 3 most beautiful Iron and Wine Songs:

1) Southern Anthem
2) Radio War
3) Upward over the Mountain

Sunday, April 17, 2005

Here is my take on the genre of the hangover mix. I feel like waking up with a hangover is a battle between good and evil, the ying and the yang, the ups and downs of weather you should feel great to be alive or shoot yourself for drinking so much/maybe even making an ass of yourself. There are also undertones of waking up alone when you didn't really want to. But, of course, by the end everything rocks and is alright. I thus present The Triumph of the Sun Over the Moon by DJ Whi. I'll AIM this to whomever, whenever. Keep up the good drinking!

Track List:
1. Sunday Morning - The Velvet Underground
2. Deep One Perfect Morning - The Jesus and Mary Chain
3. Somewhere There's a Feather - Nico
4. Down the Drain - Jon Brion
5. O Maria - Beck
6. Michelle - The Beatles
7. Devil Got My Woman - Skip James
8. On the Nature of Day Light - Max Richter
9. Here We Are in the Years - Neil Young
10. A Bunch of Lonesome Heroes - Leonard Cohen
11. In the Devil's Territory - Sufjan Stevens
12. Six Different Ways - The Cure
13. I Don't Want to get Over You - The Magnetic Fields
14. Can't Stand It - Wilco
15. The Boxer - Carbonleaf
16. Phone Call - Jon Brion
17. Dry the Rain - The Beta Band


WellHungOver, Vol. 1

As the second entrant to this illustrious mix compilation competition, I respectfully submit WellHungOver, Vol. 1. Lovingly selected and mixed by DJ Mike Y, WellHungOver, Vol. 1 is reminicient of waking up next to a beautiful girl after drinking too much charcoal filtered spirts the night before, you may have not have intended on it, but your damn glad that its there. Also, WellHungOver, Vol. 1 will not talk incessantly while you are trying to sleep and makes a damn fine cup of joe as well. Rock Bitches

1 - Jukeboxer - Pilgrim
2 - Bugs - Rush Hour
3 - The Kills - Gypsy Death and You
4 - Wagon Christ - Night Owls
5 - Feist - Mushaboom (Red Demo)
6 - Billy Holliday - Strange Fruit (Tricky Remix)
7 - Bonobo - Noctuary
8 - Amon Tobin - Stoney Street
9 - Donovan - Get Thy Bearings
10 - DJ Shadow - Six Days
11 - The Books - Motherless Bastard
12 - Four Tet - Everything Is Alright
13 - Rogue Wave - Man-Revolutionary!
14 - Van Morrison - Slim Slow Slider
15 - Nina Simone - A Little Sugar in My Bowl
16 - Nick Drake - From The Morning
17 - Nikka Costa - Nikka Who?
18 - Jolie Holland - Alley Flowers
19 - Archer Prewitt - The Way of The Sun
20 - Tom Waits - Jesus Gonna Be Here
21 - The Wrens - This Is Not What You Had Planned



Well everyone, after hours of listening, testing and drinking, it is time to post the hungover mix. The name of my mix is IbMusic because it can soothe not only that malt liquor headache but the spotty memories of last night's tomfoolery as well. Mike Y. has suggested we use AIM to send each other the files. That sounds like a plan to me. Let me know when you want it.

1. Grieg - morning mood
2. The Band - the weight
3. Muddy Waters - louisiana blues
4. Ella Fitzgerald - let's do it
5. Pink Martini - je ne veux pas travailler
6. Dean Martin - little ole wine drinker, me
7. Neil Young - thrasher
8. Micah P. Hinson - as you can see
9. Mary Lou Lord - farming it out
10. Mirah - monument
11. Devendra Banhart - will is my friend
12. Iron and Wine - waiting for superman
13. Pearl Jam - yellow ledbetter
14. Guided by Voices - how's my drinking
15. Tom Waits - martha
16. John Lennon - watching the wheels
17. Bright Eyes - the invisible gardener


Monday, April 11, 2005


John Darnielle's Blog

This is great. The mountain goats' john d has a blog. http://www.lastplanetojakarta.com/index.php

Saturday, April 09, 2005


Bass Mini-kegs

Go to Wegmans beer section and you'll see these little kegs of Bass. They have something like 15 beers and cost 18 bucks. They're fucking tits! After you drink all of the sweet ale, you can decorate your room with it. Rock bitches!

Monday, April 04, 2005



She's not my special lady friend, man. I'm just helping her conceive.

Saturday, April 02, 2005

This is less a blog entry and more of an annoucement: This mix off is on. Theme has been set as "Hungover Mix." Contents will be judged on song selection, flow and overall awesomeness. Final submissions are due tenatively on April 17, 9:00pm. The mix can be no longer that 60minutes. Post the final tracklist on the blog and that will be that....enjoy


Protein Shake Overdrive

So I just made a protein shake and I am currently drinking it. My usual protein shakes contain the following ingrediants: 1 scoop of chocloate protein powder, 1/2 of a banana, 2 teaspoons of natural peanut butter, and around 12 oz. of skim milk. Today, after approximately 5 hours of re-arranging economic data on excell, I decided I wanted some fucking caffeine in my protein shake. What is the best way to do this though? Call me crazy but I went straight to the caffeine chalace of power and began cooking up 4 scoops of foldgers. I didn't want to put in a full cup of coffee into my protein shake though so I only put about 2 oz. of water into the coffee maker. I'm not sure if the upper machine knew I wanted to sqeeze all the caffeine from those 4 scoops of foldgers into those 2 oz. of water though. Despite this, I said fuck it and threw in the 2 oz. of blackness into the blender. When I drank the finished product, 2 things went through my head: a) Why is this protein shake luke warm? Wait, I just poured in hot fucking coffee...that's why. b) Are those little bits getting stuck on my toungue coffee grounds? Uhhhh, yep....they sure as shit are.

What is the moral of this story? Should I not have tried to blend magic protein with magic American upper drink? Or maybe I should just stop drinking magic protein? Or maybe I should have put some fucking ice in the blender and maybe I should get a new fucking coffee aparatus. Either way, my biceps are tightening as I write and my brain has found a new found love for excel spreadsheets so I'm out.


Fuck it, Dude.

Randall and I were at the bar last night and it was pretty dead and I was a little disappointed. It was the first time I'd been out in Buffalo in a while and now I remember why: it fucking sucks. Since I really didn't give a fuck about anyone there, I didn't care about my actions either. So I tell Randall that I'm going to go up to the one really hot girl in there and say "Damn. You got a ballin' ass ho." He laughed and bet me $10 US that I wouldn't do it. No sooner than he says this does she actually walk up to us - she walks up to us - and basically just says hi. The thing about this move is that no girl does this unless she has a boyfriend or unless she has some other reason to just play little games where the end result never ends up in the sack. It was predetermined and I knew it. So when I said "Damn! You got a ballin' ass ho!" I didn't feel like I was blowing a good opportunity. Everyone I was with erupted with laughter. Randall, of course, didn't pay me my $10 US but said he'd buy me a drink.

But so this girl didn't seem put off at all by this statement, and seemed to enjoy being the subject of our laughter. And I keep talking to her and since I had nothing else to say I asked her where she was from A: Cuse. Q: where in cuse? A: Liverpool. Q: what year? A: 2002. I told her I knew Lauren and the Ippster and some other people and asked her with whom did she chill? A: Corrine Mclaughlin. There's nothing more to tell really; this story is a one trick pony but funny none the less. And that girl's name was Keleigh Thomas. Maybe some of you know her.


Debauchery, I mean Debaser

Look, there's no way I can be blunt about this: the best film ever created is Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. Period. The moving image has been around since the 1890's, and it has taken man until 1968 to make the film - which hasn't been replicated since - that defines the cinematic experiance in terms of beauty and emotion. Of course this is subjective, and of course I'm drunk (although I'll claim and argue this statement sober).

On a side note, I'm wondering how people feel about the fact that I'm watching a dead man's art. Does this make Kubrick immortal? Is he not immortal, yet something is to be said about affecting numerous people after death? Would you take the nihilistic view and say that these facts are irrelevant because man will some day be extinct? I tend to lean towards the latter.

Anyway, I'll also post my Debaser review. And this is just for fun. Er, not complete fun, but practice w/ language and form. If I've left out musical elements like the surf rock influence etc. it was because I don't know everything there is to know about music and the pixies, and also becuase my time is far from infinite. So if your name is Mike Y, only comment unless you have trouble with (or love) my writing skillz.

When Kurt Cobain strummed five simple power chords back in 1991, the unmistakable opening anthem of Nirvana’s flagship album Nevermind inspired a generation to boycott high school, haircuts, shampoo, and clothing without holes. “Smells like Teen Spirit,” the undisputed rock theme song of the Nineties, did much to revitalize alternative music, revamp the slacker image by renaming it and its musical representation “Grunge,” and to annoy the hell out of conservative parents everywhere. Indeed, Opal Drive in Liverpool, New York was the site of many arguments over whether a man abusing his vocal chords constituted music, and if in fact this sort of seethingly angry tone coming from some unwashed man from outside of Seattle was appropriate for a ten- year-old boy’s ears. “What do you have to be angry about?” my mom asked. “Tell me!” But parents know it’s impossible to keep their children totally sheltered, and unless they’re dealing with something like hardcore drugs, it’s usually not worth fighting – my Nirvana CD kept spinning.

One day I was watching MTV and running down my Grunge checklist. I had already ripped my jeans and lifted some old flannels from my dad’s closet, but I was desperately trying to figure out how in the world I could turn my shaved head into shoulder-length hair before I was thirty. All of a sudden, there’s Cobain on MTV doing an interview. Ten-year-olds hardly know what modesty is, so when I heard Kurt say he didn’t know what the big deal was about “Teen Spirit,” and that he was just trying really hard to rip off another band called the Pixies I almost shit. I remember thinking to myself I bet the Pixies can’t scream as loud as Kurt Cobain. Turns out I was wrong.

Black Francis’ vocal masochism is easily comparable to some of the best controlled howlers in the history of rock, and the Pixies’ front man’s skill is never more apparent than on their second full-length album Doolittle (1989). Easily the Pixies’ finest work, Doolittle has become one of the masterpiece albums of the Eighties. All of the jagged, frenetic energy of their previous album, Surfer Rosa, seemed suddenly transformed into a more accessible source without any of the runoff which usually corresponds with this kind of overhaul. “Debaser,” the album’s opener and the song to which the Nirvana influence is often attributed, sets the vigorous tone by packing a deluge of sonic octane into a tight three-minute span.

A simple baseline quickly opens into the high-pitched distortion of Francis’ guitar, and at seven seconds, when guitarist Joey Santiago lays down one of his trademark guitar riffs – simple and catchy – “Debaser” is immediately recognizable as vintage Pixies. At this point it is only a matter of time; Black Francis’ presence is like a looming shade, but when his voice hits the track he is very real. His abrasive voice, not yet at his typical scream sings: “Got me a movie/ I want you to know/ Slicing up eyeballs/ I want you to know/ Girlie so groovy/ I want you to know/ Don’t know about you/ But I am un Chien Andalousia.” What immediately sets “Debaser,” and Doolittle as a whole, apart from previous Pixies work is a focus on songwriting. These lyrics were inspired by the short Surrealist film Un Chien Andalou, made by Bunuel and Dali in 1929, in which an eyeball is sliced with a straight razor. This remains one of the most shocking cinematic images ever, with a seemingly endless ability to make audiences squirm. Of course the spoken version is decidedly less shocking (unless you’ve seen the film), but this sort of hermetic reference or cryptic imagery is what fans have come to expect from the Pixies. Songwriters like Black Francis exemplify the alternative mystique because who else is going to sing about slicing up eyeballs? Fans of alternative music have already decided that the best place for cheesy songs about love is in the vinyl scrapheap, and therefore have gone everywhere searching for a man with Francis’ aspirations: “Wanna grow/ Up to be/ Be a debaser!”

The Pixies’ I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude and their energetic pacing seem to be derived mainly from the Punk Rock scene that was so influential to their music. Most of the choppiness of punk – quick starts and stops, and cutting in and out of tracks, for instance – although prevalent throughout the album, barely manifests itself in “Debaser.” The climax, though, follows an offshoot of the Punk formula. At about a minute an fifteen seconds, all tracks abruptly stop, except for one guitar. This is the highlight of the song, showcasing the pure, unrestrained ability of Francis’ vocals as he wails “Got me a movie/ Ohhh oohhhhh!” Indeed, this raw force might be too much for some to handle, but the final highlight, providing the necessary balance to all the abrasion, is bassist Kim Deal’s angelic echo of the word debaser, which is a soothing presence to counter Francis’ projected anger.

So now I’m going around telling my mom I’m going to be a debaser when I grow up, which gets her mad. “I’ll slice your eyeball!” I yelled before she grounded me. But one problem was solved: Black Francis’ head was shaved. Bald. Now all I needed to do was find a Bic. “Mom!”

Friday, April 01, 2005



"My art has been described as highly vaginal. The word itself bothers some men...... Vagina."

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