Your favorite blog has gotten a facelift--not to be confused with a face-off. That was a shitty movie from the late 90's starring Nicholas Cage and John Travolta.
Go Netflix that bitch because don't forget what your film teacher always said "it's important even to watch the bad ones". What! You didn't take any film classes? I pity the fool....
Go RSS the new website today and get a free sticker. Sound good? Deal!
Back when indie rock was "alternative" and MTV was fucking awesome, there was a band doing weird shit in their parent's garages in hellish Stockton, CA called Pavement and they played their weird shit on the greatest damned show in music history, 120 minutes. Oh, how I miss these days....
MTV's keeping that little piece of indie rock history for themselves. Go check it. In the meantime, check this:
The last pinnacle of music? You be the judge.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
As a teenager growing up in the suburbs of Northern California with no car, few friends and a far too imposing sense of self-awareness, much of my free time was spent with my adopted family: Nirvana, A Tribe Called Quest, Minor Threat, Akira Kurosawa, Quentin Tarantino and a large, extensive network of branches stemming from those figureheads. They were all inspired, they were all DIY and they were all weird, just like me. I felt comfortable with them. I was no longer the ugly weird kid on the block, I was enlightened and knew what I loved, unlike the other true weirdos in the neighborhood who were uninspired, settled for an uninteresting job that paid enough to cover a mortgage and second car, married a lady who was equally uninspired and grew to resent her for it, had uninspired children who they raised with the same uninspired interest that their parents raised them with and ultimately died having contributed nothing to society of any significance other than a healthy life insurance package that afforded those uninspired children to sustain their uninspired lifestyles as uninspired adults. It's nice to know that sometimes there are anomalies to the common suburban plight.
Enter the Los Angeles lo-fi, post-grunge, post-punk, noise-rock, whatever-the-fuck-you-want-to-call-them, band No Age. Embracing that DIY style of putting out there whatever it is that is important to you, No Age's first album Nouns fits right in with that collection of Cd's that scattered my bedroom floor in the early 90's. The lo-fi recording of Nouns--which was recorded track by track at several studio locations in L.A.--goes along perfectly with the sort of minimalist punk that the duo rips through in under 35 minutes and reminds us that the lonely kid in his bedroom can still fucking do this shit without worrying about the gigantic scope of the music industry. They prove that you have if a good idea, and you love it, and you believe in it wholeheartedly, everything else will fall into place. And that's exactly what's happening for them right now.
They started out just like any other band, recording their shit on four track and tape players and distributing it through a large network of friends and other bands in the L.A. scene--which unlike many other metropolitan art scenes, is incredibly supportive of one another and bypass the jealousy and shit talking that can run parallel to success. Another huge caveat to their propulsion to national consciousness is the Los Angeles art/venue space The Smell, which like NY's CBGB in the late 70's, is quickly reaching cult status supporting other punkish DIY acts like The Muslims (up for an SDMA award for their hit "Extinction"), Abe Vigoda (opening for Vampire Weekend), Mika Miko, Silver Daggers, The Sads, etc. It's become a community, it's thriving, and it's so very indicative of the music they are making, as good things are usually the result of a certain belief and a nurturing that reminds the artist that regardless of the size or magnitude of the masses that it may or may not touch, it's still important.
Fortunately for No Age, their art is reaching the masses and for good reason, the shit is amazing. It just naturally, and somewhat inexplicably feels important for same reason that The Pixies felt important when they released their first EP Come on Pilgrim in the late 80's, or when Nirvana broke into national consciousness in the mid-90's with Nevermind. They all remind you that we can do whatever weird fucking ideas we can conjure up in our weird fucking human brains without convention or previous standard. State of the art doesn't mean shit. Anything is possible.
On that note: all you little weirdos sitting in your rooms with a pair of headphones and no one to talk to and full of strange little ideas that make you and only you smile, be sure that you can do it. Believe in what you love. And all those others, regardless of age--even the uninspired accountant working far too many hours burning his/her fuse and needing a little weirdness in their life--pick up a copy of Nouns and remember what it was like to be free.
They started out just like any other band, recording their shit on four track and tape players and distributing it through a large network of friends and other bands in the L.A. scene--which unlike many other metropolitan art scenes, is incredibly supportive of one another and bypass the jealousy and shit talking that can run parallel to success. Another huge caveat to their propulsion to national consciousness is the Los Angeles art/venue space The Smell, which like NY's CBGB in the late 70's, is quickly reaching cult status supporting other punkish DIY acts like The Muslims (up for an SDMA award for their hit "Extinction"), Abe Vigoda (opening for Vampire Weekend), Mika Miko, Silver Daggers, The Sads, etc. It's become a community, it's thriving, and it's so very indicative of the music they are making, as good things are usually the result of a certain belief and a nurturing that reminds the artist that regardless of the size or magnitude of the masses that it may or may not touch, it's still important.
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