Eightfourseven - “Sleeping Dragons”
Lesser known Sacramento band that takes a dose of inspiration from Deftones without falling asleep. Actually, it sounds a bit like Team Sleep with everything dimed.
Recommended for fans of My Vitriol, Year of the Rabbit/Ken Andrews, or that one electro-rock record that Bush made.
Dorky shit, but I was bored and I actually got a seriously good roll:
- Local H - “Hands on the Bible”
- Cloudkicker - “Oh, god.”
- Rival Schools - “Favorite Star”
- The Evens - “If It’s Water”
- 2Pac - “California Love”
- Circa Survive - “The Lottery”
- Rage Against the Machine - “Beautiful World”
- Modest Mouse - “Lives”
“”The decision to include culture and art in the US Cold War arsenal was taken as soon as the CIA was founded in 1947. Dismayed at the appeal communism still had for many intellectuals and artists in the West, the new agency set up a division, the Propaganda Assets Inventory, which at its peak could influence more than 800 newspapers, magazines and public information organisations. They joked that it was like a Wurlitzer jukebox: when the CIA pushed a button it could hear whatever tune it wanted playing across the world.
The next key step came in 1950, when the International Organisations Division (IOD) was set up under Tom Braden. It was this office which subsidised the animated version of George Orwell’s Animal Farm, which sponsored American jazz artists, opera recitals, the Boston Symphony Orchestra’s international touring programme. Its agents were placed in the film industry, in publishing houses, even as travel writers for the celebrated Fodor guides. And, we now know, it promoted America’s anarchic avant-garde movement, Abstract Expressionism.
Given that Dr. Seuss illustrated wartime propaganda, Walt Disney disseminated anti-Axis ideology, and famous children’s authors peppered their books with subtle political propaganda, it comes as little surprise that the CIA enlisted abstract expressionism in their Cold War arsenal.
(via explore-blog)
Son, I’m sorry for this world,
And all the awful things she’ll do to you.
If you only knew what you’d endure before you were born,
I haven’t got a single doubt,
You would have not come out,
And I would have known it was for the better.
You’ll be raped of any evidence,
Of ever owning any innocence.
This culture’s a vulture,
And you’re prime candidate for prey.
I’ve learned that I will lose all that I’ve ever loved one day,
But I never thought I’d ever have to watch it all go,
Or wish it all away.
I know you’ll grow,
But I wish I knew you’d stay small if I said so.
Please just don’t grow.
Please just don’t grow.
Just stay small.
Stay small
Daddy’s little girl met the world,
I watched the devil do his work.
If only she knew just how sorry I was.
I found not a single prayer,
Could save my daughter from despair,
As long as she stayed in love with this place.
It’s because I truly love her,
That I wish to take back the work,
That brought her here in the first place.
Had I only known that one act would be the reason
That my new baby girl,
Like her dad would dance with demons.
We watch the devil do his work in us.
I watch the devil do his work.
Happy Earth Sings Mi Fa Mi Day.
NPR’s Radiolab explores the music of Beethoven and a secret message he may have tried to send to the future on the wings of a metronome: stop being such a pussy.
[G]iven his background and personality, Beethoven clearly didn’t want his music to be easy and comfortable. […] Late in life, Beethoven got his hands on a metronome, went back into his symphonies, and marked them with tempos that are shockingly fast — so fast, in fact, that most conductors simply refuse to play them as marked.
“ I’m interested in exploring. I’m a student. That’s why I do free software. In proprietary software, you can become Steve Jobs. If you write free software, you become a student. I like that.”
Budi Satria Kwan, Starfield
Cursive - “Sierra”
My little girl
We would have been so… oh, nevermind…
But I’m ready to settle down now
Yeah I’m ready to leave that wrecking ball behind
I could be your carpenter,
And you could be my twinkling north star o’er the desert sky
Chuck Palahniuk says read Amy Hempel, the minimalist author he aspires to emulate, and then anything else you read has the color turned down. Brotha Lynch Hung is kind of like that for me with rappers.
Oh, you smacked some bitches and have lots of money? How quaint. Brotha Lynch will give you a knowing smile like Denzel in Training Day, clenching a piece of umbilical cord like a sausage link between his blood-stained teeth. When you run home, he’s creeping up in there.
If you enjoy the whiplash of laughing and reeling back at horror movies, Lynch is the H.N.I.C.. His flow is out of this world. The bassline on this is slick like the lube you won’t be getting, and punctuated with a creepy-crawly gangsta whistle. It’s a perfect song.
Take away the subject matter, focus on strictly the flow, the timing, the cadence, the lyrics and the creativity….. nobody is fuckin with Lynch. I mean NOBODY.
(x)
