It’s upsetting to think that if I had focused more on critical writing or plied some NY internships a bit more, publications might be tapping me to write articles like this (or at least I’d feel confident enough in my talents that I’d write ’em on my own and shop ’em around). But nope! I’m stickin’ to jokes. At least I get to read the strong videogame music analysis that I’ve desired since I was approximately 11 years old.
This Pitchfork article about DJ Paypal referred to the inherent comedy of footwork and linked to this track as evidence. Nailed it.
I want three discs of “She Hates Me” yesterday. I want it eleven years ago when I would bump Come Clean during study time in the Friends School library, so that maybe I could have set in motion a chain of events leading to the world laid out here. Oh, and follow Printed Internet.
This overview of the community supporting prolific rapper/messiah Lil B (and each other) makes me wish I could devote my life to the Based God Mythology. But the main drawback is that I would have to devote my entire life to the Based God mythology. There’s so much. Tract after tract, and that would just cover Keke, Based Cat.
I saw Andrew W.K. at Webster Hall this past March on his I Get Wet 10th Anniversary Tour— something I had wanted since I was 12 years old. Even though security would clear the stage between songs, the first notes of the next would call up a swarm of revelers from the crowd. There was non-stop frontflipping off the stage into the mosh. The audience contained more than three partymonsters wrapped in white jeans and matching tee, with stringy bacon-grease hair dangling down their backs when it wasn’t whipping in all directions. I got to sing into the mic during the show closer, jostling against His Partyness himself, letting everyone know that I, too, get wet when the party is dying.
While I would probably not ever think of Andrew W.K. as one of my favorite musicians, and I’m patently uninterested infollow-up album The Wolf beyond the three listens I’ve given it over the past ten years… I can sing along with every line of I Get Wet. Can’t do that with an Animal Collective album. Not quite there with either of Sleigh Bells’ releases. That statistic stands alone.
(That is, unless you want to count Girl Talk’s sets as albums, or if I’m discounting my own lyrical memory when it comes to My Chemical Romance. But it’s more partyful to believe in it this way.)
Welp, I gotta eat my words, I figured P4K would give him best new music when they finally got around to it. Good thing that I still really like the album. I’m looking forward to a recap of his Coachella show.
I’ve been checking Pitchfork recently to see if they would actually get to reviewing Childish Gambino. They did! And it’s quite a review.
A piece about the current Atlanta hip-hop atmosphere. I find it funny that the main idea of the article is “Atlanta rappers are typically not great at rapping, but somehow they’re still interesting!”
If I had to number it, I would have given it an 84 at first listen but an 89 as of last listen. I wish the Pitchfork review gave me some more angles to inspect it from, but without that I still come up short against the amount of dead air and the overall pacing, (but not the awesome structure,) of the album.