I forgot about thi sthread and just found it,. Plus I'm drinking. What's good? YEAH man.
i took a couple hits of the "binger" while watching Arrested Development. Still a little zooted. Starting working on blends/remixes for this jump-off coming up at that we do at Milk called "Night of the Remix". Motherfucking Mike 2600 will be in the mix as well.
UH-OH, Phonics is gettin high. I thought you only did that at my house?
Cosmo is beyond dude, he slayed the Rub Cali tour at Milk.
Oh yeah, not to hijack but,
this jump-off coming up at that we do at Milk called "Night of the Remix". Motherfucking Mike 2600 will be in the mix as well.
dude I got like 3-4 new ones. definite Piffy Brewster.
Sorry I'm late to the party--that's me these days.
My first thought was that most of the sober folks in this thread oughta be ashamed of themselves for not having more to say about this dude. But my second thought was: Asking folks to appreciate AI is like asking folks to, like, appreciate water. How much can you say, really?
But you know what?
Fuck that.
So, I know this baby girl, and one of the chief delights in her small/huge world is to kick her little red toy tambourine, especially in accompaniment of the demo version of Aphex Twin???s ???Windowlicker??????something about the sympathetic swirl of cooing voices buoyed along by the gentle clip-clop-pony drums just touches her boogie nerve, I guess. I???ve got half a mind to try to Colonel-Tom her into mastering the second break from ???Think (About It)??? (or at least some double-live-Bill-Withers-If-you-wanna-help-me-Jesus-it???s-all-right), but just watching her kick along--and stop when the music stops???is quite enough, and about makes my heart explode out of my chest???s mortar like a joyous, fiery red shell. The whole thing would probably send me good-footing on some Sweet Daddy Grace, were it not for my essential bitter-daddy gracelessness. Oh well. Hallelujah, anyhow.
Michel Mourre: ???We would force ourselves to keep quiet at the mention of our old dreams, accept the ruins and be happy in them, and become ruins ourselves, self-conscious, self-satisfied ruins. We had reached that point where we systematically went out of our way to find ugliness, evil and error in everything, but for most of us this was undoubtedly only a desperate show of bravado, a mask to conceal our disappointment at not having found truth, beauty, and good.??? ??? I remain disappointed with the concentration of dudes in here who cling so steadfastly to a ???you can???t fool me???/???nothing is new??? type modus operandi. Dudes act like they (and they alone) were born fully formed, caught everything, have missed nothing, and now spend all their omniscient moments knucking a wide, easy swath through life, rocking four-finger rings that spell out ???WAYS??? and ???MEANS.??? And they???re so vain, they???ll probably think this post is about them. For the most part, though, when cats like that are pulled from the bosom of the familiar, and find themselves out here in the endless nameless, in that place where there is no cool, they end up on a dead-end street wearing two different shoes, joining the ranks of those who, failing to win the mistress, have to woo the maid???having distanced themselves from the actual spirit, they???re left to content themselves with the records. All of which is just to say that I wish more folks thought about and wrote about music in terms of enthusiasm, and fewer thought about it in terms of mastery and ownership. I mean, everything has a place???scholarship, completism, dick-waving, everything???but, where are my motherfuckers who, you know, believe?
One of the best, tensest wind-ups I???ve ever heard in any song ever:
Oh, the night was clare,
And the mooooooon was yell-low
And the leaves
came
tum-
bling
down.
And then Lloyd flips the switch and lowers the dynamite. As Tom Verlaine???s amplifier might say: Matchless.
???It is only too clear that man is not at home in this universe, and yet he is not good enough to deserve a better.??? ??? Perry Miller b/w ???It???s crystal clear / that you have no business being here??? ??? Bobby??? Franklin???s Insanity
Where the fuck is autumn? I mean, you ain???t got to put it in my house, lord, but please lead it to my door.
Random eighties shit that I pulled out the other day for no good reason: Feelabeelia???s ???Feel It,??? George Clinton???s ???Bangladesh,??? and Strange Kind Of Love by Love And Money. They are, respectively: 1) a half-hit wonder (packing harmonica by Stevie and back-up by Wonderlove, no less) that sounds like a coked-up Justin Timberlake running amok in Showbiz Pizza, 2) off-peak P-Sleaze that--despite its photocopy of a photocopy of a photocopied guitar solo--gets by on pure snake-oil, and 3) a really good, well-crafted Pop Record from back when ???really good, well-crafted Pop Record??? didn???t entail some Brian Wilson manqu?? sucking the giant poison cock of retrofixation. From ???88, it misses the Madchester boat, so no loops, and it???s got some Steely Dan affiliation (with Jeff ???Come To My Garden??? Porcaro putting in some work), so you can imagine; if Sade had a dick, this might be her sound. All three are straight nickel-bin, and come highly recommended to those who don't give a fuck.
In college, I took an Asian Literature class from this wonderful lady named Julia Lin. Before class one day, she and I were chitting and chatting about thissing and thatting, in the course of which she offhandedly mentioned that her daughter was a sculptor. ???Oh, really? Where is she going to school???? ???Well, she???s working at Yale right now.??? ???Cool. What kind of stuff does she do???? ???Are you familiar with the Vietnam Veteran???s memorial? Or the Martin Luther King memorial???? ???What, you mean she does that kind of heavy, monumental stuff???? ???No, I mean she actually designed those.??? After some stunned Porky Pig abbadda-abbadda, the best I could come up with was ???Well, at least she???s keeping busy.??? I felt quite the rube.
That Delores Ealy 45 that Re-joint just reissued is crazy: The twin vocals are some bonkers, largely tuneless, JB/Bobby Byrd-instructive-intro shit (???Mister Engineer, keep the tape rolling??????), only far less together--not entirely unlike those Nice & Smooth intros where the two obviously have no fucking idea what the other one is saying, but they???re still trying to make it work (???This song contains?????? ??????explicit lyrics?????? ??????special effects?????? ??????but you???ll love it?????? ??????but overall, and errything??????). The O???Rugged Factor is heightened by the fact that I???m pretty sure that the two vocalists so deeply out of synch and so apparently unaware of each other are both the same person. Plus, there???s only, like, two and a half instruments on the whole thing, and that???s counting the drums twice; Vic cut the record down to the bone, sin duda. Where???s all that Bayknowledgy at, though? I was expecting maybe some notes like that Human Race reissue that the same folks put out a while back, but no such luck. I know how old the drummer is, but that about it. I realize that there???s some compilation forthcoming, so maybe they???re saving their bullets for the fifteen-dollar bollars, but cho: For five bucks I can???t get a personnel list or something? Whatever the case, it???s good to see that Justin and MhatDrumLoops are doing their respective things.
The bodega from which I purchase the occasional canned Arnold Palmer is often staffed by a woman who looks an awful lot like Ric Flair.
Egyptian proverb: The worst things: To be in bed and sleep not; To want for one who comes not; To try to please and please not.
ALL RIGHT???I???MA RIP IT FREESTYLE, FREESTYLE???ACCAPELLS, NO BEAT, HERE I GO???YO, CHECK IT:
MOORMORE-COCKED STORMBRINGER AN ORANGE AURORA LINGERS AROUND YOUR MOMSES??? LIPS FROM MY CHEESE-DOODLE FINGERS
WHUT WHUT
UNGH???YEAH???HERE
WE GO??????GLACIERS OF ICE??? STEEZ???CHECK IT:
YO
YO
YO
YO, STAND ON THE RANCH BEN BRANCH AVALANCHE MILLIONAIRE PANTS???
???heartaches and pain.??? b/w ???Let???s talk about them shits:??? Nah, not here. But still: So many blank spots, so many friendships in abeyance, so many closed circles, so many rooms I just don???t go in anymore. I just want it all fixed: I want the letters to write themselves, I want the phone calls to criss-cross the country like fairy pigeons of deliverance and close all the gaps while I sleep, I want the floor to be clean, I want my younger brother to let himself off the hook about that jail shit, I want everything to be everything, and I want the time for it all to be revealed.
But mostly, I just want to listen to Talk Talk???s ???New Grass??? on repeat. Endlessly crumbling paper drums and querulous single voice coalescing into a mind-wide autumn sweater, gradually swelling with organ and slack-key breath until it becomes solid hymn. Amen.
Pass me not,
signed,
j. Courvoisier
...
Now, all that has about as much to with AI as a quarter has to do with George Washington, but make no mistake: The above post was made possible by Cosmo Fucking Baker.
Comments
dude I got like 3-4 new ones. definite Piffy Brewster.
My first thought was that most of the sober folks in this thread oughta be ashamed of themselves for not having more to say about this dude. But my second thought was: Asking folks to appreciate AI is like asking folks to, like, appreciate water. How much can you say, really?
But you know what?
Fuck that.
So, I know this baby girl, and one of the chief delights in her small/huge world is to kick her little red toy tambourine, especially in accompaniment of the demo version of Aphex Twin???s ???Windowlicker??????something about the sympathetic swirl of cooing voices buoyed along by the gentle clip-clop-pony drums just touches her boogie nerve, I guess. I???ve got half a mind to try to Colonel-Tom her into mastering the second break from ???Think (About It)??? (or at least some double-live-Bill-Withers-If-you-wanna-help-me-Jesus-it???s-all-right), but just watching her kick along--and stop when the music stops???is quite enough, and about makes my heart explode out of my chest???s mortar like a joyous, fiery red shell. The whole thing would probably send me good-footing on some Sweet Daddy Grace, were it not for my essential bitter-daddy gracelessness. Oh well. Hallelujah, anyhow.
Michel Mourre: ???We would force ourselves to keep quiet at the mention of our old dreams, accept the ruins and be happy in them, and become ruins ourselves, self-conscious, self-satisfied ruins. We had reached that point where we systematically went out of our way to find ugliness, evil and error in everything, but for most of us this was undoubtedly only a desperate show of bravado, a mask to conceal our disappointment at not having found truth, beauty, and good.???
???
I remain disappointed with the concentration of dudes in here who cling so steadfastly to a ???you can???t fool me???/???nothing is new??? type modus operandi. Dudes act like they (and they alone) were born fully formed, caught everything, have missed nothing, and now spend all their omniscient moments knucking a wide, easy swath through life, rocking four-finger rings that spell out ???WAYS??? and ???MEANS.??? And they???re so vain, they???ll probably think this post is about them. For the most part, though, when cats like that are pulled from the bosom of the familiar, and find themselves out here in the endless nameless, in that place where there is no cool, they end up on a dead-end street wearing two different shoes, joining the ranks of those who, failing to win the mistress, have to woo the maid???having distanced themselves from the actual spirit, they???re left to content themselves with the records. All of which is just to say that I wish more folks thought about and wrote about music in terms of enthusiasm, and fewer thought about it in terms of mastery and ownership. I mean, everything has a place???scholarship, completism, dick-waving, everything???but, where are my motherfuckers who, you know, believe?
One of the best, tensest wind-ups I???ve ever heard in any song ever:
Oh, the night was clare,
And the mooooooon was yell-low
And the leaves
came
tum-
bling
down.
And then Lloyd flips the switch and lowers the dynamite. As Tom Verlaine???s amplifier might say: Matchless.
???It is only too clear that man is not at home in this universe, and yet he is not good enough to deserve a better.??? ??? Perry Miller
b/w
???It???s crystal clear / that you have no business being here??? ??? Bobby??? Franklin???s Insanity
Where the fuck is autumn? I mean, you ain???t got to put it in my house, lord, but please lead it to my door.
Random eighties shit that I pulled out the other day for no good reason: Feelabeelia???s ???Feel It,??? George Clinton???s ???Bangladesh,??? and Strange Kind Of Love by Love And Money. They are, respectively: 1) a half-hit wonder (packing harmonica by Stevie and back-up by Wonderlove, no less) that sounds like a coked-up Justin Timberlake running amok in Showbiz Pizza, 2) off-peak P-Sleaze that--despite its photocopy of a photocopy of a photocopied guitar solo--gets by on pure snake-oil, and 3) a really good, well-crafted Pop Record from back when ???really good, well-crafted Pop Record??? didn???t entail some Brian Wilson manqu?? sucking the giant poison cock of retrofixation. From ???88, it misses the Madchester boat, so no loops, and it???s got some Steely Dan affiliation (with Jeff ???Come To My Garden??? Porcaro putting in some work), so you can imagine; if Sade had a dick, this might be her sound. All three are straight nickel-bin, and come highly recommended to those who don't give a fuck.
In college, I took an Asian Literature class from this wonderful lady named Julia Lin. Before class one day, she and I were chitting and chatting about thissing and thatting, in the course of which she offhandedly mentioned that her daughter was a sculptor. ???Oh, really? Where is she going to school???? ???Well, she???s working at Yale right now.??? ???Cool. What kind of stuff does she do???? ???Are you familiar with the Vietnam Veteran???s memorial? Or the Martin Luther King memorial???? ???What, you mean she does that kind of heavy, monumental stuff???? ???No, I mean she actually designed those.??? After some stunned Porky Pig abbadda-abbadda, the best I could come up with was ???Well, at least she???s keeping busy.??? I felt quite the rube.
That Delores Ealy 45 that Re-joint just reissued is crazy: The twin vocals are some bonkers, largely tuneless, JB/Bobby Byrd-instructive-intro shit (???Mister Engineer, keep the tape rolling??????), only far less together--not entirely unlike those Nice & Smooth intros where the two obviously have no fucking idea what the other one is saying, but they???re still trying to make it work (???This song contains?????? ??????explicit lyrics?????? ??????special effects?????? ??????but you???ll love it?????? ??????but overall, and errything??????). The O???Rugged Factor is heightened by the fact that I???m pretty sure that the two vocalists so deeply out of synch and so apparently unaware of each other are both the same person. Plus, there???s only, like, two and a half instruments on the whole thing, and that???s counting the drums twice; Vic cut the record down to the bone, sin duda. Where???s all that Bayknowledgy at, though? I was expecting maybe some notes like that Human Race reissue that the same folks put out a while back, but no such luck. I know how old the drummer is, but that about it. I realize that there???s some compilation forthcoming, so maybe they???re saving their bullets for the fifteen-dollar bollars, but cho: For five bucks I can???t get a personnel list or something? Whatever the case, it???s good to see that Justin and MhatDrumLoops are doing their respective things.
The bodega from which I purchase the occasional canned Arnold Palmer is often staffed by a woman who looks an awful lot like Ric Flair.
Egyptian proverb: The worst things: To be in bed and sleep not; To want for one who comes not; To try to please and please not.
ALL RIGHT???I???MA RIP IT FREESTYLE, FREESTYLE???ACCAPELLS, NO BEAT, HERE I GO???YO, CHECK IT:
MOORMORE-COCKED STORMBRINGERAN ORANGE AURORA LINGERS
AROUND YOUR MOMSES??? LIPS
FROM MY CHEESE-DOODLE FINGERS
WHUT WHUT
UNGH???YEAH???HERE WE GO??????GLACIERS OF ICE??? STEEZ???CHECK IT:
YO
YO
YO
YO, STAND ON THE RANCH
BEN BRANCH
AVALANCHE
MILLIONAIRE PANTS???
???heartaches and pain.???
b/w
???Let???s talk about them shits:???
Nah, not here. But still: So many blank spots, so many friendships in abeyance, so many closed circles, so many rooms I just don???t go in anymore. I just want it all fixed: I want the letters to write themselves, I want the phone calls to criss-cross the country like fairy pigeons of deliverance and close all the gaps while I sleep, I want the floor to be clean, I want my younger brother to let himself off the hook about that jail shit, I want everything to be everything, and I want the time for it all to be revealed.
But mostly, I just want to listen to Talk Talk???s ???New Grass??? on repeat. Endlessly crumbling paper drums and querulous single voice coalescing into a mind-wide autumn sweater, gradually swelling with organ and slack-key breath until it becomes solid hymn. Amen.
Pass me not,
signed,
j. Courvoisier
...
Now, all that has about as much to with AI as a quarter has to do with George Washington, but make no mistake: The above post was made possible by Cosmo Fucking Baker.
thats my deal, duke.