Dinah Washington - Mellow Mama Blues
Billie Holiday - Gloomy Sunday
Nancy Wilson & Cannonball Adderley - Save Your Love For Me
Reparata & The Delrons - I Can Hear The Rain Fallin'
Chicago Cubs Clark St. Band - Slide
The Bar-Kays - Soul Finger
Brother Jack Mcduff - Hot Barbeque
Booker T. & The MG's - Soul-Limbo
Brown Brothers of Soul - Cholo
Stormy - The Devastator
Wee Willie Walker - Ticket To Ride
Charles Thomas - Keep My Baby Warm
Mongo Santamaria - We Got Latin Soul
Clarence Frogman Henry - Ain't Got No Home
Floyd Newman - Forg Stomp
Wynder K. Frog - Willie and The Hand Jive
Frankie Stein And His Ghouls - Frog Frug (frug)
Sonny Boy Williamson (II) - Fattening Frogs For Snakes (Alternate Take)
Ferdinand 'Jelly Roll' Morton - Frog - I - More Rag
Ocho - Hot Pants Road
Little Richard - The Girl Can't Help It
Bootsy Collins - The Name is Bootsy
Dennis Coffey - Theme From "Enter the Dragon"
David Newman - Foxy Brown
Nicole Willis - Say It
Aaliyah - Back and Forth
Bobby Moore and his Rhythm Aces - Hey Mr. DJ
The Mohawks - The Champ
Morris Day & the Time - Jungle Love
Prince - Housequake
Zapp & Roger - Computer Love
The Delfonics - Ready or Not
The Peoples Choice - I Likes to Do It
Wendy Rene - After Laughter Comes Tears
Jimmy Ponder - While My Guitar Gently Weeps
Monday, March 31, 2008
The House of Beautiful Chairs is about as close as you're gonna get to a squat without having to keep a knife under your pillow, just a dirty little house in a part of Little Village that seems fairly intimidating at night. I don't know how fair or apt that description is, I mean, when I parked out front there were little kids and their families playing frisbie on the grassy street median, but there were also some hard looking dudes holding down the corners of the street like thug paperweights. The house was actually pretty nice given what it was. The people who live there are all pretty young, and it looks like a young person's apartment. Alleyed furniture, drawing taped and tacked haphazardly to the walls, tagged up flags and tapestries.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
this song is about blood... and the holy name seis
Date: 3/29/08
Location: Lowercase Collective
Bands: La Armada, Parsley Flakes , Radical Cheerleaders, Slut Barf
Cost: Donation
Drinks: Not Allowed
Things I missed to be there: Jilt, Viewers Like You, GiGi Deluxe and Happy the Human Pin Cushion at Morseland; Totally Michael and the Sass Dragons at peopleprojects; Kid Loco, Jordan Z, and Livewire at the Sanatorium; Rat Patrol, Abrade, and Rat Bastards at Rancho Huevos; dance parties at one of the dance parties at one of the Diana's Shoes lofts and some place called Pussy
Reason for Going: Some sort of flawed reasoning that led me to believe that the hardest show to get to and from was the best one to go to
As of press time, the war in Iraq has been going on for five years and a few weeks. The official count of dead American soldiers is just over 4000, and that number increases sharply if you count every case of suicide, friendly fire, and deaths under mysterious circumstances. Conservative estimates say that over 100,000 Iraqis have died, including insurgent fighters, members of the old Iraqi Republican Army, and civilian men, women, and children (and while organizations such as the Red Cross have verified this number, our government's official toll is significantly lower and that's the figure that gets quoted on television, when it's mentioned at all).
It's been a few years since my last antiwar protest. I don't really see the point anymore. The three-word chants. The half assed street theater. The roaring sound of megaphones clashing against one another, over a steady soundtrack of bucket drums and police whistles. Nobody gives a shit. The powerful protests I witnessed at the onset of the war, where concerned Americans came out in the tens of thousands, were hardly reported on in the news, even when they got violent, and as the war surged on, people lost interest. With each passing march, the number of marches dwndles and the blurbs and the soundbites get shorter and shorter. It's a new century, with a new media consciousness, and it's apparent to all but the oldest and youngest members of the activist community that marches don't work, and no amount of hyping from, say, the Billionaires for Bush, with their cardboard coffins and plutocrat shtick will change things. It's hard to get a response. Malachi Ritcher immolated himself off the side of a busy downtown freeway, and it took months for people to hear about his death protest, not through traditional media, but through blogs and emails.
If you're a person, just a normal person with no real financial or political power, you need to do something truly outrageous just to get your song heard, and that's what the Holy Name 6 did. A couple weeks back, six activists calling themselves the Catholic Schoolgirls for Peace, arrived at Chicago's Holy Name Cathedral in their Sunday best. It was, after all, Easter. Midway through the ceremonies, they produced fake blood and dumped it all over themselves chanting anti war facts and slogans until they were arrested. The Catholic Church is against the war in Iraq, and has been since the beginning, but Cardinal George still meets with the president for photo ops, and, although he doesn't like politics to come up in his services at Holy Name, hasn't argued with the Catholic League in their endorsement of George Bush in the last couple elections, for fear that more innocent lives will be lost to abortion or homosexuality than are already being lost overseas, if a Democrat won the office.
So they covered themselves in stage blood, some of it spilling onto the pews and the carpet and even the guests, and were arrested, taken out and charged with felonies for the damage they were said to have caused. It wasn't at all a sophisticated protest, and they very well might not have considered how their actions might negatively affect the antiwar movement in the court of public opinion, but they do have some serious balls to do it.
Chicago is a shitty city to piss off Catholics in, and 2008 is a shitty year to piss off anyone. Quick google searches of the names of any of the Six will bring up myspace pages, facebook pages, and for one poor girl, her email address listed on her college's website. Before they were even bailed out of jail, their inboxes were full death threats and creepy personal information. Sympathetic cats at the Lowercase Collective decided to throw a benefit show for the Six in their basement laundry room.
When I got there, Parsley Flakes were playing their superbly awesome blend of synth punk and butts were bouncing around all over the little room, more and more with each song, culminating in a frenzied encore performance of the Genesis song "That's All." It was awesome. The last show I went to there had Milwaukee synthpunks We'rewolves end a set with CCR's "Down on the Corner", and if it ends up being a trend at the house, then I hope they open their basement up to a lot more shows as the weather catches up to the season.
The surprise of the night though, was La Armada. Despite the bands' Los Crudos patches, Condenada stickers, and dreadlocked rhythm section, they weren't playing hardcore, or even punk... they were playing METAL. Speed metal and thrash with guitar and drum solos, all in Spanish. I wish I was more well versed in metal, and could trust myself in comparing them to Creator or Archenemy or Opeth or Crom, but I haven't been lstening to a lot of guitar music lately, so the only comparison I could make is to say that La Armada is like a Dominican (and at least one Puerto Rican, if the heckling was to be believed) version of the cartoon band Dethklok.
All in all I, traveled for about two hours to get to and from a show where I ate a handful of vegan cookies, checked my beer at the door, and saw just two sets and I still feel like I won the night. Take that, dance party motherfckers.
[Parsley Flakes doin it up]
Location: Lowercase Collective
Bands: La Armada, Parsley Flakes , Radical Cheerleaders, Slut Barf
Cost: Donation
Drinks: Not Allowed
Things I missed to be there: Jilt, Viewers Like You, GiGi Deluxe and Happy the Human Pin Cushion at Morseland; Totally Michael and the Sass Dragons at peopleprojects; Kid Loco, Jordan Z, and Livewire at the Sanatorium; Rat Patrol, Abrade, and Rat Bastards at Rancho Huevos; dance parties at one of the dance parties at one of the Diana's Shoes lofts and some place called Pussy
Reason for Going: Some sort of flawed reasoning that led me to believe that the hardest show to get to and from was the best one to go to
As of press time, the war in Iraq has been going on for five years and a few weeks. The official count of dead American soldiers is just over 4000, and that number increases sharply if you count every case of suicide, friendly fire, and deaths under mysterious circumstances. Conservative estimates say that over 100,000 Iraqis have died, including insurgent fighters, members of the old Iraqi Republican Army, and civilian men, women, and children (and while organizations such as the Red Cross have verified this number, our government's official toll is significantly lower and that's the figure that gets quoted on television, when it's mentioned at all).
It's been a few years since my last antiwar protest. I don't really see the point anymore. The three-word chants. The half assed street theater. The roaring sound of megaphones clashing against one another, over a steady soundtrack of bucket drums and police whistles. Nobody gives a shit. The powerful protests I witnessed at the onset of the war, where concerned Americans came out in the tens of thousands, were hardly reported on in the news, even when they got violent, and as the war surged on, people lost interest. With each passing march, the number of marches dwndles and the blurbs and the soundbites get shorter and shorter. It's a new century, with a new media consciousness, and it's apparent to all but the oldest and youngest members of the activist community that marches don't work, and no amount of hyping from, say, the Billionaires for Bush, with their cardboard coffins and plutocrat shtick will change things. It's hard to get a response. Malachi Ritcher immolated himself off the side of a busy downtown freeway, and it took months for people to hear about his death protest, not through traditional media, but through blogs and emails.
If you're a person, just a normal person with no real financial or political power, you need to do something truly outrageous just to get your song heard, and that's what the Holy Name 6 did. A couple weeks back, six activists calling themselves the Catholic Schoolgirls for Peace, arrived at Chicago's Holy Name Cathedral in their Sunday best. It was, after all, Easter. Midway through the ceremonies, they produced fake blood and dumped it all over themselves chanting anti war facts and slogans until they were arrested. The Catholic Church is against the war in Iraq, and has been since the beginning, but Cardinal George still meets with the president for photo ops, and, although he doesn't like politics to come up in his services at Holy Name, hasn't argued with the Catholic League in their endorsement of George Bush in the last couple elections, for fear that more innocent lives will be lost to abortion or homosexuality than are already being lost overseas, if a Democrat won the office.
So they covered themselves in stage blood, some of it spilling onto the pews and the carpet and even the guests, and were arrested, taken out and charged with felonies for the damage they were said to have caused. It wasn't at all a sophisticated protest, and they very well might not have considered how their actions might negatively affect the antiwar movement in the court of public opinion, but they do have some serious balls to do it.
Chicago is a shitty city to piss off Catholics in, and 2008 is a shitty year to piss off anyone. Quick google searches of the names of any of the Six will bring up myspace pages, facebook pages, and for one poor girl, her email address listed on her college's website. Before they were even bailed out of jail, their inboxes were full death threats and creepy personal information. Sympathetic cats at the Lowercase Collective decided to throw a benefit show for the Six in their basement laundry room.
When I got there, Parsley Flakes were playing their superbly awesome blend of synth punk and butts were bouncing around all over the little room, more and more with each song, culminating in a frenzied encore performance of the Genesis song "That's All." It was awesome. The last show I went to there had Milwaukee synthpunks We'rewolves end a set with CCR's "Down on the Corner", and if it ends up being a trend at the house, then I hope they open their basement up to a lot more shows as the weather catches up to the season.
The surprise of the night though, was La Armada. Despite the bands' Los Crudos patches, Condenada stickers, and dreadlocked rhythm section, they weren't playing hardcore, or even punk... they were playing METAL. Speed metal and thrash with guitar and drum solos, all in Spanish. I wish I was more well versed in metal, and could trust myself in comparing them to Creator or Archenemy or Opeth or Crom, but I haven't been lstening to a lot of guitar music lately, so the only comparison I could make is to say that La Armada is like a Dominican (and at least one Puerto Rican, if the heckling was to be believed) version of the cartoon band Dethklok.
All in all I, traveled for about two hours to get to and from a show where I ate a handful of vegan cookies, checked my beer at the door, and saw just two sets and I still feel like I won the night. Take that, dance party motherfckers.
[Parsley Flakes doin it up]
Monday, March 03, 2008
Two Slaps Radio [WLUW]
Dandelion Wine - Hot Dog
Mike & Ike - Sax On The Tracks
Zebra - Simple Song
Curtis Mayfield - Get Down
Parliament - P. Funk (Wants To Get Funked Up)
Eddie Hazel - I Want You (She's So Heavy)
Bootsy Collins - Stretchin' Out (In A Rubber Band)
Grant Green - Final Comedown
Armenta & Majik - I Wanna Be With You
Ocho - Hot Pants Road
Jane Birkin - Love For Sale
Erma Franklin - Light My Fire
Brenda Lee Jones/London Fog And The Continentals - Easy Mover
Nina Simone - Save Me
Ike and Tina Turner - Come Together
King Curtis - Ridin Thumb
Marvin Gaye - Hitch Hike
Detroit Emeralds - You're Getting A Little Too Smart
The Meters - Hand-Clapping Song
The Majestic Arrows - Gonna Build You a Time Machine
The Invitations - Ski-Ing in the Snow
Jean Dushon - Second Class Lover
Kim Weston - Helpless
Prince - Cinnamon Girl
Ray Barretto - New York Soul
Gnarls Barkley - Run
The Mohawks - Sweet Soul Music
The Contours - First I Look At the Purse
FUNKY FUNKY FOOD SET!
Just Brothers - Sliced Tomatoes
Wendy Rene - Bar-B-Q
Brother Soul - Cookies
Natural Bridge Brunch - Pig Snoots Pt. 1
DJ Shadow and Keb Darge - Butter that Popcorn
lights out
Date: LEAP YEAR 2008
Location/Show 1: the independent international interstitial festival at i^3 hyperspace with lord of the yum yum, geoffrey pugen, negativland, heather marie vernon and more
Location/Show 2:unconventional action at the lowercase collective with we'rewolves, kt the band, purpetual dusk at curtsy caverns, porches and more
Cost: donation
Things I missed to be there: Parsley Flakes and Baby Teeth at the Empty Bottle; Bakelight 78 at the Bravarian Glau Haus; Miss Gab, Beatkids, and Har Mar Superstar at Debonair Social Club; Critical Mass Art Show Closing Party at The Heart of Gold; Back and Forth Nu Disco Party with Nick Chacona and DJ SR-71 at Lava; Livewire, Mr. Automatic, and The Sleevz at Reggie's
I was at two shows tonight where the lights went out.
In the first, they were turned off for The Simplification of an Island Imploding, a sound sculpture by Fashion Flesh that had no visual components. The piece was not without its merit. It isn't every Friday night that you can escape everything, the rush of cars and trains, flashing lights and pop music (or at least your particular subculture's approximation of it), and get to experience something with your fellow revelers, and I'm sure that no one appreciated that more than the drunken art institute students who took complimentary pillows to the floor, laid down, and soaked it in. Personally though, I was bored. It was a pretty standard background noise sound collage; nothing really engrossed me, no tension was built up or relieved, it pretty much kept its pacing and volume constant until it ended and then the lights went on. I appreciated the curators suggestion that we move around and explore the space but I wasn't in the mood, and from almost anywhere in the room, I think the piece would have benefitted from full surround sound, instead of just two speakers in the front of the room.
The second time the lights went out, I was sitting on a radiator on the second floor of the Lowercase Collective House. I'm not sure if it was Porches or Purpetual Dusk at Curtsy Caverns who did it, but it was a folk-punk act consisting of a guy with a guitar. I'm not sure if it was (a) out of modesty, or (b) in deference to the music he was about to play, or even (c) a calculated mimicry of either option, but it got my attention before he started out his pained and impassioned singing and in spite of his pained and impassioned voice. Keeping me there wasn't an easy task. Acoustic guitars almost always drive me from a room, and he was the third such act of the night.
On the surface, the two shows couldn't have been much more different. The I Cubed fest was an epic multimedia festival with weirdo talent from all over the country, held at an immaculate loft in a part of downtown where it's nearly impossible to park without a valet, and the first thing you see when you enter the space is an elevator that's been tricked out to look like Spring as envisioned in an Easter basket. The Lowercase Collective, on the other hand, is a house on the edge of Logan Square and Hermosa, where gentrification comes less in the form of punk hipsters and more in the form of forward thinking families settling, and you can't really find your way inside without hitting a bad patch of ice and busting your shit.
Both shows went for a three-tiered approach to their nights. The titular three I's of the I cubed fest stand for Independent, International, and Interstitial and the Lowercase Collective's show, labeled an unconventional action, consisted of a vegan dinner, a presentation on plans for organizing against one of the upcoming conventions (I missed that part and have no recollection on whether it was the Democratic or Republican Convention) and ending in a concert (two concerts really, with electric bands in the basement and acoustic acts upstairs).
A little more about the acts...
In a usual Lord of the Yum Yum set, Paul Velat uses a mix of beatboxing, throat singing, sampling and looping to perform a mix of iconic classical and pop music standards (think The 1812 Overture, Flight of the Bumblebee, Welcome to the Jungle, and Summer in the City) and mash them together in his own image, in a way that is often as impressive as it is hilarious, and unusually danceable. It's hard to believe that it doesn't get old, but he is consistently the high point of whatever show he's playing.
The last time I saw him was one of the best. He was playing a show with the underrated psychedelic punk outfit Loto Ball Show, opening for the purposefully (I think) cringeworthy, Dr. Demento'd out bad-is-funny-and-funny-is-good-so-ergo-bad-must-be-good act Little Fyodor at the Mutiny. I don't really know how to explain how his act, which is pretty weird to begin with, blew everyone away by being weirder than usual, but that night he really outdid himself.
Tonight he did it again, and maybe for the first time reached the potential of what all of those previous shows hinted at, when he premiered his opera Sock. The show is about a dude who wakes up to find one of his socks missing, and travels to the underworld to find it, encountering a cavalcade of odd characters, including singing trolls and naked mole rats on his journey to find the keeper of lost things. The opera used a mix of of puppets, masks and crowd participation to get the job done, and proves once again, that any children's show can be adapted for a discerning arts crowd with the addition of beer and words like "fuck" and "shit".
KT THE BAND
Upstairs at Lowercase, KT the Band started off the folk sets. Her lilting voice was reminiscet of a guitar playing Joanna Newsom, a midwestern Joanna Newsom who, instead of writing songs about unicorns and magic and shit, sings about beautiful girls who work in sandwich shops in Sheboygan. It would have had us all nodding in our seats even if she wasn't beautiful, but the mix of her and her music were so charming and delicate and delicately powerful and lovely that you could almost hear the hearts breaking all over the room. Somebody needs to get this girl into a real recording studio, because the tracks on her myspace page don't do themselves justice at all.
DANIEL KIBBLESMITH
At this point, it's hard to even think about a situation where something would offend me. On any given episode of any number of shows on Comedy Central and Adult Swim, the "hocking" same topics, have been rifled through so many times, I don't even notice half of the ironic racism and brutality breezing by. I don't know if it's a good thing or not. Shows like Wondershowzen and the Sarah Silverman show seem like they try (or tried in the case of Wondershowzen) waaaayyyy too hard to get the laughs that shows like South Park, The Chapelle Show, Shin Chan, and Robot Chicken seemed to do effortlessly, but the ratio of hits to misses is still in their favor (which is more than I can say for cheap, bullshit shows like Drawn Together).
In the twenty seconds or so that make up the meat of Daniel Kibblesmith's video Fix It With Eyes he uses Aushwitz, Abu Ghraib, a dead animal and a dead baby in a series of things that could be made better with big googly eyes. The video was done cheap, and it looked like it was done that way on purpose. Daniel seemed to be wearing his influences right out in the open in an Aqua Teen Hunger Force shirt and a well-placed Tim-and-Eric-y "Great job!"
It reminded me a lot of old Wondershowzen, which kind of got to me, until I did a quick search through his videos to see that he can do something different if he wants to and has worked comedy from a number of different angles and any number of syles. Fix it With Eayes might not be Kibblesmith's best work, but it's a slick video and still good for a laugh after a few viewings.
WE'REWOLVES
It probably sucks to be the We'rewolves while Canada's We Are Wolves are running around making it big and stealing your thunder, but these kids didn't seem to mind. They were a great dancepunk act with dance songs about dancing and punk songs about punks and ended with a cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival that just drove kids crazy, even after the singer, realized along with the rest of us that he had no idea what the lyrics were after the first chorus. Also, they all look like they're twelve and may very need rides to the train or the suburbs if they want to see their comrades in style Screamin Cyn Cyn and the Pons.
Location/Show 1: the independent international interstitial festival at i^3 hyperspace with lord of the yum yum, geoffrey pugen, negativland, heather marie vernon and more
Location/Show 2:unconventional action at the lowercase collective with we'rewolves, kt the band, purpetual dusk at curtsy caverns, porches and more
Cost: donation
Things I missed to be there: Parsley Flakes and Baby Teeth at the Empty Bottle; Bakelight 78 at the Bravarian Glau Haus; Miss Gab, Beatkids, and Har Mar Superstar at Debonair Social Club; Critical Mass Art Show Closing Party at The Heart of Gold; Back and Forth Nu Disco Party with Nick Chacona and DJ SR-71 at Lava; Livewire, Mr. Automatic, and The Sleevz at Reggie's
I was at two shows tonight where the lights went out.
In the first, they were turned off for The Simplification of an Island Imploding, a sound sculpture by Fashion Flesh that had no visual components. The piece was not without its merit. It isn't every Friday night that you can escape everything, the rush of cars and trains, flashing lights and pop music (or at least your particular subculture's approximation of it), and get to experience something with your fellow revelers, and I'm sure that no one appreciated that more than the drunken art institute students who took complimentary pillows to the floor, laid down, and soaked it in. Personally though, I was bored. It was a pretty standard background noise sound collage; nothing really engrossed me, no tension was built up or relieved, it pretty much kept its pacing and volume constant until it ended and then the lights went on. I appreciated the curators suggestion that we move around and explore the space but I wasn't in the mood, and from almost anywhere in the room, I think the piece would have benefitted from full surround sound, instead of just two speakers in the front of the room.
The second time the lights went out, I was sitting on a radiator on the second floor of the Lowercase Collective House. I'm not sure if it was Porches or Purpetual Dusk at Curtsy Caverns who did it, but it was a folk-punk act consisting of a guy with a guitar. I'm not sure if it was (a) out of modesty, or (b) in deference to the music he was about to play, or even (c) a calculated mimicry of either option, but it got my attention before he started out his pained and impassioned singing and in spite of his pained and impassioned voice. Keeping me there wasn't an easy task. Acoustic guitars almost always drive me from a room, and he was the third such act of the night.
On the surface, the two shows couldn't have been much more different. The I Cubed fest was an epic multimedia festival with weirdo talent from all over the country, held at an immaculate loft in a part of downtown where it's nearly impossible to park without a valet, and the first thing you see when you enter the space is an elevator that's been tricked out to look like Spring as envisioned in an Easter basket. The Lowercase Collective, on the other hand, is a house on the edge of Logan Square and Hermosa, where gentrification comes less in the form of punk hipsters and more in the form of forward thinking families settling, and you can't really find your way inside without hitting a bad patch of ice and busting your shit.
Both shows went for a three-tiered approach to their nights. The titular three I's of the I cubed fest stand for Independent, International, and Interstitial and the Lowercase Collective's show, labeled an unconventional action, consisted of a vegan dinner, a presentation on plans for organizing against one of the upcoming conventions (I missed that part and have no recollection on whether it was the Democratic or Republican Convention) and ending in a concert (two concerts really, with electric bands in the basement and acoustic acts upstairs).
A little more about the acts...
In a usual Lord of the Yum Yum set, Paul Velat uses a mix of beatboxing, throat singing, sampling and looping to perform a mix of iconic classical and pop music standards (think The 1812 Overture, Flight of the Bumblebee, Welcome to the Jungle, and Summer in the City) and mash them together in his own image, in a way that is often as impressive as it is hilarious, and unusually danceable. It's hard to believe that it doesn't get old, but he is consistently the high point of whatever show he's playing.
The last time I saw him was one of the best. He was playing a show with the underrated psychedelic punk outfit Loto Ball Show, opening for the purposefully (I think) cringeworthy, Dr. Demento'd out bad-is-funny-and-funny-is-good-so-ergo-bad-must-be-good act Little Fyodor at the Mutiny. I don't really know how to explain how his act, which is pretty weird to begin with, blew everyone away by being weirder than usual, but that night he really outdid himself.
Tonight he did it again, and maybe for the first time reached the potential of what all of those previous shows hinted at, when he premiered his opera Sock. The show is about a dude who wakes up to find one of his socks missing, and travels to the underworld to find it, encountering a cavalcade of odd characters, including singing trolls and naked mole rats on his journey to find the keeper of lost things. The opera used a mix of of puppets, masks and crowd participation to get the job done, and proves once again, that any children's show can be adapted for a discerning arts crowd with the addition of beer and words like "fuck" and "shit".
Upstairs at Lowercase, KT the Band started off the folk sets. Her lilting voice was reminiscet of a guitar playing Joanna Newsom, a midwestern Joanna Newsom who, instead of writing songs about unicorns and magic and shit, sings about beautiful girls who work in sandwich shops in Sheboygan. It would have had us all nodding in our seats even if she wasn't beautiful, but the mix of her and her music were so charming and delicate and delicately powerful and lovely that you could almost hear the hearts breaking all over the room. Somebody needs to get this girl into a real recording studio, because the tracks on her myspace page don't do themselves justice at all.
At this point, it's hard to even think about a situation where something would offend me. On any given episode of any number of shows on Comedy Central and Adult Swim, the "hocking" same topics, have been rifled through so many times, I don't even notice half of the ironic racism and brutality breezing by. I don't know if it's a good thing or not. Shows like Wondershowzen and the Sarah Silverman show seem like they try (or tried in the case of Wondershowzen) waaaayyyy too hard to get the laughs that shows like South Park, The Chapelle Show, Shin Chan, and Robot Chicken seemed to do effortlessly, but the ratio of hits to misses is still in their favor (which is more than I can say for cheap, bullshit shows like Drawn Together).
In the twenty seconds or so that make up the meat of Daniel Kibblesmith's video Fix It With Eyes he uses Aushwitz, Abu Ghraib, a dead animal and a dead baby in a series of things that could be made better with big googly eyes. The video was done cheap, and it looked like it was done that way on purpose. Daniel seemed to be wearing his influences right out in the open in an Aqua Teen Hunger Force shirt and a well-placed Tim-and-Eric-y "Great job!"
It reminded me a lot of old Wondershowzen, which kind of got to me, until I did a quick search through his videos to see that he can do something different if he wants to and has worked comedy from a number of different angles and any number of syles. Fix it With Eayes might not be Kibblesmith's best work, but it's a slick video and still good for a laugh after a few viewings.
It probably sucks to be the We'rewolves while Canada's We Are Wolves are running around making it big and stealing your thunder, but these kids didn't seem to mind. They were a great dancepunk act with dance songs about dancing and punk songs about punks and ended with a cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival that just drove kids crazy, even after the singer, realized along with the rest of us that he had no idea what the lyrics were after the first chorus. Also, they all look like they're twelve and may very need rides to the train or the suburbs if they want to see their comrades in style Screamin Cyn Cyn and the Pons.
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