Blog Wars 2: The Empire Eats Crack

I love my brother, but he hates Josh Homme. Seriously, Ran would drink the water in that bottle and throw a brick at his head if he ever saw him out. Ran even hated that Songs for the Deaf record. AND THAT HAD LANEGAN ON IT! Ran's blog A- The part about Them Crooked Vultures B- just like the record itself.

I actually meant to mention Lady GaGa in that last blog. Ran touched on it, but let me expand. Suicide has never been caused by great performance art outside of Marilyn Manson. Plus... bitch got hooks. That "Bad Romance" video is like a visitor from 1985 (the "Wild Boys" era of video). I made fun of her until she provided the single entertaining moments on SNL this season. Then I started listening. Remember how I said, "she's interesting but I'll never buy her record"? That holds true; but you should remember that in this economy, I don't pay for shit. No grade for "Bad Romance", but I've watched the video 10 times. I'll probably watch it again when I link it to this blog. Let's just say Lady GaGa is auditing my brain, not taking the class for a grade.

The remake of The Prisoner on AMC plays like David Lynch's production assistant watched the first episode of the original while drunk on absinthe after which he got really ill and puked all over my television screen. The dialogue is stupid, the visuals are headache inducing and it appears that no one involved in this horrible catastrophe of a show ever watched one episode of the original. F for fuckall

Imma let you finish Oakland Raiders, but the Tennessee Titans have the BEST CRAZY OLD GUY OWNER OF THE YEAR!

Ran's dead on about that Sherlock Holmes shit. Even the de-coked re-awesomed Robert Downey Jr.doesn't make me pay to view Guy Ritchie making Snitch with American-friendly accents in the Queen's English. I may go see Iron Man 2, though, cape or no. What the hell am I saying? I almost missed Inglourious Basterds on the big screen, and I LOVE Tarantino. I never go to the movies.

PS to David Lynch's drunk assistant: come unsee that shit for me, right now, you hack. I want my hour back. Watching TV is serious business around here, and I don't have time to waste.

Lastly, regarding Ran's verbal asskicking of NBC a few weeks ago, he is mostly 100% correct. The Office is in the toilet with only minimal moments of funny and the Leno horror is legend. Where our opinions differ are on Community featuring that guy from The Soup and Trudy from Mad Men. Hey, it's a blog, I don't research crap. That show is the funniest thirty minutes on television outside of HBO hands down. Well except when Chevy Chase is on the screen. Oh, except this bit here. Community - solid A "Gettin' Rid of Britta" - A+++++++++++

Anything that makes fun of douchebag white boy reggae is aces with me. On that note, a parting shot... thanks to the court system for sparing us that Sublime reunion. Way to get one right.

Kickstart My 2010

Stereogum tells me that Vampire Weekend's new LP, Contra, will be released on 12 January. Not coincidentally, that is the date that I will be able to listen to Vampire Weekend again without being reminded of the ex who ruined them for me. If that isn't an example of Morissette Irony, I don't know what is.

Enjoy a performance of "Run" at that link or the suspected first single "white Sky" below.

Mirror Ball Rising

A long time ago in a town not so far away (I , in fact, will be in Richmond this weekend for my brother's annual birthday drunkfest) there lived two brothers. Now individually, these two boys were pithy, angsty, brilliant, acerbic, stupid, charming, gassy drunks that could lay a dark wet blanket over almost any affair that you could imagine. With their Wonder Twin powers activated, however, they were the most formidable perpetual sarcasm machine that the world has ever known. The catalyst for activation was music and that music could be many things but at root, a lot of it sounded like Neil Young. Now the Church of Neil has many followers, among them Jay Farrar, Matthew Sweet, and Jason Molina. No disciple, however, has ever brought forth the fury with both voice and guitar like the fury wrought by J. Mascis.

Mascis has been on my radar ever since he formed a rockin' lil' combo called Dinosaur Jr. Now without rehashing a bunch of history which you can read by clicking that link up there... Dinosaur Jr., like The Cure (who Dino Jr. covered once), has often been a J. Mascis vanity project with revolving members. That said, they have never been as strong as they were in their initial configuration of J., Lou Barlow and Murph. In 2005, one of the most unlikely reunions this side of Bob Stinson's resurrection occurred and that original lineup reunited and recorded a record, Beyond which was released in 2007. The record was well received as was the accompanying tour (or so I hear, I never leave the house).

Now, in 2009, a sophomore effort has been released and my expectations were somewhat low. Beyond was good, but it never struck me like I had hoped that it would so I awaited the latest, Farm, with little excitement but some anticipation. That, my two readers, was a mistake.

Farm begins with what has become my anthem of the summer, "Pieces". Mascis' guitar line is melodic and gritty; and his voice, as always, is thin but unwavering. The song, seemingly about J.'s never ending heartbreak, is just the beginning of what is possibly my favorite DJ record ever. Farm is a return to the heavier sound of early DJ with a solid nod to the melodicism of later albums. The record is anchored by three longer songs while surrounded with shorter more playful pieces. Two Barlow compositions adorn the record and while dissimilar given the differing voices and writing styles of the two songwriters, they fit nicely into the mix of Farm.

Nerdspeak aside, the record rocks from beginning to end. I haven't really felt a "soundtrack of the summer" vibe from a record in a long time. You know those records, the ones that you can't stop listening to during the hot, long summers. A few of mine have included Pavement's Slanted and Enchanted, Neil Young's Mirror Ball, and (though it was released in January of 1985), New Day Rising by Husker Du. This is the first one that has hit me that way in a while.

Grab a pal, crack a cold one and throw yourself the only listening party you're gonna need this summer.

Dinosaur Jr. - Farm - A-

Summer Babe

So, it's my fault.

I was under the impression we were taking the summer off. Brother Van's gone blog happy and, frankly, it's making me look bad. So, it's time to dust off the old keyboard, insert the headphones and let you good people share in my genius. First, let us discuss the new Moby.

What? You Say. What?

That's right , Moby. Capital M - oby. And if I'm listening to Moby, that can mean just one thang. That's right kids, Uncle Ran is cleaning the bathroom. Let me tell you right now, if'n you just have to clean the shitter there is simply no better record. "Wait For Me" has surpassed "The Head On The Door" for this guy. And if you are counting at home, that's 24 years of cleaning the bathroom.

"But tell us, Ran, is that all it's good for?"

Why, of course not, children. "Wait For Me" has plenty of other uses I'm sure. Making the bed, perhaps. Flossin' the teeth. And I'm sure it's the best possible soundtrack for aging white hipsters to listen to at the after party. But, I just don't know what that means.

For me, I likes to listen to it high on Tilex and coffee. 8:30 on a Wednesday mornin'.

Grade B