first person to name all the tracks gets to let me sleep on their couch

I wanted to upload at least one semi-decent mixtape before I packed everything up, so I spent a few hours pulling out records I've found here in Oakland over the last six months or so, most at garage sales, flea markets or Amoeba. I didn't really plan them out ahead of time, so excuse a few rough mixes. Also the sound quality is already sub-optimal, so I suggest extra relaxation and extra volume.


side a: http://www.mediafire.com/file/hmdigzmzdzj/hi _a_.mp3




side b: http://www.mediafire.com/file/j4mn2mrdjyt/02 y'all _b_.mp3

ebay gold

I just sold a record on eBay I paid fifty cents for at a garage sale this summer in Oakland. The winning bidder (Ken, from Canada) paid $644 (+ S&H) for the 45. That's an astounding $92 per inch of vinyl and a tidy %1288 profit. I 'spect a lot of you might like to hear what a single that valuable sounds like, so here's the goes (right-click "save as"):

Phil DeMarco & The Valiants - Lonely Guy MP3

Phil DeMarco & The Valiants - Be On Your Way MP3

Now, I know what you're thinking. Really? They sound good, but what makes them worth more than a month's rent? I suppose the relative scarcity, the fact "Lonely Guy" has been included in a few compilations of rare doo-wop, making it a known quantity, and the mania of lonely men with lonely obsessions. Thank god though, it's going to pay for new tires and a whole lot of biodiesel.

from the shelves: elizabeth cotten

Born in 1895, Elizabeth Cotton wrote her most famous song, “Freight Train” in her early teens, on the porch of her house on Lloyd Street in North Carolina, despite never having been taught standard tuning (or any tuning for that matter). Unfathomably, she wasn’t discovered until she was in her sixties, after decades as a housekeeper. Despite living through America’s long, hot afternoon, she harbored no bitterness. “We’re all gonna rise the Judgement Day. That’d be wonderful wouldn’t it? I’d come and gather all my little children in my arms. All of you all. Just gather you up and take you right on back with me. Oh wouldn’t that be sweet. I wished I could.”





Having had an Elizabeth Cotten sized hole in my record collection for a long time, I was thrilled to finally see this record reissued. The original releases on Folkways are hard to come by, but this one should still be available at all fine record stores. You can get a taste here first:

Elizabeth Cotten - When I'm Gone (transferred from LP)

this week in lloyd: the rubble being...

I'm not even sure what my favorite part about this video is, I love all of it so much. This can't be real right? Who is that woman? wtf? I think I'm going to spend two days pulling quotes from this and drawing Lloyd's facial expressions, only to decide that the video is about as perfect as it could be and throw them out.

It reminds me of Dave Chappelle, who I miss dearly, but I'm pretty sure Lloyd is sincere. It may be scripted, but that makes it no less endearing. Maybe I'm more pre-disposed to be a Lloyd fan, but I'm thrilled that there seems to be a bit of substance behind that pretty grill and a real voice beneath that chiseled abdomen.

since i left you

You know that song about the Big Rock Candy Mountains? That place kind of exists, somewhere in Mendocino County. I've been there for the last month or so, and let me tell you, California is MAGIC. A coyote ate a pony and it was like the wild wild west with these fifteen foot alien plants, but basically all that statement really means is that I don't understand this state any more than I did before I moved here.

Here's what I do know: I have a lot of scattered thoughts.

First, here's a video I can't help but keep watching even though it makes me sad. Its by someone else who knows a lot more than me about hard living. I mean, guuuhd gawd listen to that voice. I don't particularly care for the opening shots of the junkyards, but they're worth getting through.


It's true what she says. Everything. All of it.

In fact, I've been doing lots of hurting lately; been real self destructive. Maybe its the first step towards getting rich off art. Either way, my next step is moving to New Orleans with my pal Borna, who is well on his way to getting rich off art. I'm not sure if I can talk about it yet, but let's just say someone noticed how brilliant his Best Buy show was... So yeah, I'm heading down South to find records, make stuff and try and shake this feeling.

a friendly reminder from joey about where not to be alone with the king of r&b in your house - or any house for that matter

there are no other words for this. except maybe,

Here we are, in this kitchen, kitchen
Sexin' each other from feet to head
Now, some folks may raise the question
"Why can't they just get a bed?"
Yeah, there ain't nothin' wrong
With us in the kitchen gettin' it on, no
Girl, it's like five hundred degrees and here we are
By the cabinet do's, by the stove
Hot buttered rolls on your tippy-toes

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I'd also like to thank Sam for making the new banner at the top of this page. She's a real pro, and she does all sorts of designs. Which you can find at her lovely website.

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AND WE'LL BE CUTTING UP TOMATOES
FRUITS AND VEGETABLES AND POTATOES

from the shelves: bob dorough

What good is it having all these old-fangled records if I can't share them? And what's more, I'd like to provide a bit of context about why I (and you should) care about these dusty artifacts. We'll start with Arkansas' own Bob Dorough:



That handsome young gentleman happened to be one of Miles Davis' favorite singers, recruited after the notoriously prickly trumpeter was impressed by his lyrical rendition of Charlie Parker's "Yardbird Suite." One result of their collaborations was a rare Miles Davis album track with vocals, "Nothing Like You," on the Sorcerer LP. Dorough later experienced some-what of a comeback and gained more mainstream fame as the singer responsible for "Conjunction Junction," "Three is a Magic Number," and a lot of other Schoolhouse Rock fare. I'll pause while you re-live your childhood.



This album, released in 1966, is (for me at least) his definitive release. It doesn't exactly resemble the Miles Davis' era or the Schoolhouse Rock period of Dorough's career - but it does seamlessly blend the talents that make his entire discography worth examining. Backed by the elegant trio of guitarist Al Shackman, bassist Ben Tucker and drummer Percy Brice, Dorough's sophisticated piano and idiosyncratic voice carry the record through jazz, folk and blues without dropping a beat.

Among my favorite tracks are the spectral "Lazy Afternoon," the traditional adaptation (but seemingly autobiographical) "Crawdad Song," and a much better-than-you'd-expect version "Don't Think Twice," by esteemed contemporary (perhaps you've heard of him?) Bob Dylan.

I picked up this album during my one and only visit to State College, Pennsylvania for a measly three bucks, intrigued by Miles' brief mention of him in his autobiography, and brought it back to Ann Arbor only to find out Bob Dorough was a life-long friend of my roommate Theo's family. Theo's father, jazzman Lee Katzman, is a book unto himself, so I can't begin to expound on him in a mere blog post, but his close relationship to Dorough is the crowning seal of approval for this chronically underrated singer.

Furthermore, When I listen to this, I think of young Theo sitting rapt on the couch as Bob tickled the ivories and sang "Baltimore Oriole" in their living room. I think of that, and I think of Theo singing "Baltimore Oriole" at his last concert as a U of M music student, and it's hard not to smile.

Download:
Bob Dorough Just About Everything 320 vinyl rip

radio love #2

Since the first radio love, where I expounded upon my love for "Break Up," I've gained an even greater appreciation for Guccie Mane. The 'So Icy Boy' stuff I can do without, and with a few rare exceptions rapping about substances usually = no substance. But there's something about Gucci Mane that's worth repeated listens. The "Gucci!'s," "BrRrRrR's" and the "'sgucci!'s," that he litters throughout his songs are no small part of the charm.

Ever since Young Jeezy and his "yeeeaaahhhs" and creepy laughing I think it's sort of a prerequisite for Southern rappers to figure out some way to punctuate their rhymes with a memorable catchphrase. Gucci manages to squeeze at least a dozen examples during the version of Mariah Carey's "Obsessed," where he's prominently featured.

It makes sense too, Mariah is one of the biggest solo artists out there, and even at this stage in her career, she has star-making capabilities. She's always had esoteric tastes in supporting men (remember the "Fantasy" remix with ODB?) and Gucci doesn't squander the oppurtunity presented. His low growl is all over the song, even when he's not rapping. Not un-coincidentally, radio stations have been playing this more than the original.

My feelings about the actual song? It's more fun with Gucci, and not as petty, but still a bit limp. If you don't know the background of the tune, learn something, but as an diss track, it's not as pointedly effective as Eminem's response. With the added humor, it comes closer, but Mariah has never been nearly as adept at self-deprecation as Shady. No matter how you want to analyze it's intentions, one listen to the anthemic chorus was enough to know it'd be a monster hit, and that it was. This song was a rocket, Gucci was the after-booster. For me, it was also a bit of a grower - sort of like Mariah herself (go back and watch some of her videos: they may all be the same song, but they're kind of good and she's kind of sexy). Besides, hearing Mariah Carey call someone else "crazy" is the perfect sort of reminder about how seriously you should be taking this stuff.

Mariah Carey feat. Gucci Mane - Obsessed (remix)

krakatoa

Right now, this blog is like a volcano ready to erupt. The magma (all my crap) has finally been unpacked, the result of a tectonic shift (hello cookie factory loft!) thats about to result in a stream of lava that will melt your hard drives and leave you all frozen in time as I simultaneously rain hot ash down upon you.

It's hard to predict exactly when the blast will occur, but I think you're all safe for the next couple days. I'll be busy with this:





and this:



I will be there Saturday, DJing with bands from noon until the after-after-after-after party on some rooftop backlit by the rising sun. Good times. Japanther! NinjaSonik! Me!

So again, HOODSTOCK
September 12th
2523 MLK JR
NOON to night (or the cops show up, 16 bands...)

my friends are the best

I know, I know - who doesn't believe their friends are talented? I truly believe I've been luckier than most though, as I'm constantly amazed by way the people closest to me express themselves. And while it's a journalistic taboo to write about your friends, I've always ignored it. I can see where it might get tricky to criticize friends, but fortunately for me, I've almost always had something nice to say. And oh boy, I'm about to rave about Andrew Klein.

It's not hard to meet Andrew Klein, or count yourself among his friends. He's got to be one of the most approachable people I know, and the way he conducts himself with transparent romance and a quick wit endear him very quickly to anyone willing to listen to him wax poetic. I met Andrew first as a neighbor, then became immediately inseparable when I was the music editor and he the fine arts editor of The Michigan Daily. Always a great writer, Andrew and I shared many a hazy night passing each other beers and the typewriter.

So, in addition to being a terrific writer, editor and friend, Klein can also play a little guitar. And I have to be honest, I never thought of Andrew as a particularly great guitarist, at least technically. Not compared with the lead guitarist in his band, Gary, who must have practiced ten hours a day, and took roughly 95% of the solos in their blues band (The Midnight Special). But what Andrew may have lacked in technical skills, he more than made up for with enthusiasm and stage prescence (not to mention reverb and tremolo). This man knows how to sweat on a Telecaster, let me tell you. And if I ever needed someone to belt "Bring It On Home" after six beers, he'd be my first call.

But I was still caught off guard with the song that arrived in my mailbox this afternoon. Labeled Assistant Editor by the computer (its registered name, repurposed from Splicetoday.com) and with"About Half Way Done" as a working title, it's a one man (garage) band fucking jam. The guitar work doesn't surprise me - the tone is workmanlike and soulful, economical and brash. The vocals on the other hand, were a bit of a wtf moment. Andrew, did you spend some time alone in the woods or something, Bon Iver style? Where did these heavenly harmonies descend from? Was it all the gospel we listened to. I bet it was The Soul Stirrers.

I couldn't be more proud to debut this. Ladies and Gents, for the first time anywhere: Assistant Editor:

http://www.mediafire.com/?adzyi4nmjwu

(pictured above: the jail outside Memphis where Andrew and I spent a night on the floor sharing what looked like a thirty year old gym mat. We had to trade our pancakes for a blanket, and smoked menthol cigarettes rolled in toilet paper with a guy named Dot. But that's a story for another time).