The Pop Chart’s on right now. You can listen here. It’s the week’s forty biggest pop hits, along with some of my all-time favorite songs about summer. See You In September isn’t one of my favorites, particularly, but the end-of-school thing seems sort of appropriate since I’m on Brown Student Radio and the school year just wrapped up.
Filed under: gay, heterosexuals, hookers, hot, music, not hot, people from rhode island, personal, porn | Tags: 2010, colors, dragonette, google, melody gardot, new zealand, porn, robyn, sexcrime (two thousand nine), size queens, teairra mari
Or, things I saw on the internet this week but didn’t write posts about:
Russian man gets penis enlarged by three inches, then changes mind when the chicks don’t dig it. [via The Edge of Vanilla]
New Dragonette! New Dragonette! New Dragonette! [via, oddly, Sexual Ambiguities]
My new favorite Tumblr. Mainly because its very first post (two months ago) is still possibly the best.
Is your Jason Mraz lyrics?! [via My Ecdysis]
This interpolation of I Got Your Man makes no sense, and does nothing to change my feeling that Robyn peaked creatively in 1996. The Girl and the Robot’s growing on me, though, but it has little to do with her and everything to do with Royksopp.
There’s a new site for the 2010 New York Sexbloggers calendar. Coincidentally, I just got around to hanging up my 2009 calendar this past week. Hopefully the ’10 edition will be more practical and not fill up every single box with messages. (I forgot about two events I was supposed to go to today and no matter how many times I try Google calendar just isn’t my thing. Arggh.) [via Debauched Domestic Diva]
In New Zealand, a “sexual appetite” is akin to having a “dark side.” I mean, I’ve seen Once Were Warriors, but Jesus. (Actually, this is an article about an escort who fell in love with one of her clients and then killed him when she caught him with another woman. Tawdry!) [via $pread]
The Ivor Novello Awards, which are British awards for songwriting, were presented on Thursday. The Ting Tings, somewhat surprisingly, won for Best Album. [via This Is Fake DIY]
This is quite possibly the sleaziest porn I’ve ever seen. Just hearing 30 seconds of that music gave me a popper headache, and by the end I felt like I should be puking Jager. [via Sperm My Cumhole]
Teairra Mari’s new single has a video with terrible acting at the beginning and a crazy neon paint towards the end. The song’s chorus sounds like it should be a sample, but isn’t. It’s kind of an anti-chorus, really.
I really like Melody Gardot’s old-timey video for Baby I’m A Fool. At first I was thinking she sounded like Adele, but then I realized the song just sounds like jazz for old people. In other words, I feel like a big lamewad for liking it as much as I do.
OK, off to shower. If you’re in Providence, there’s a fair chance you’ll see me dancing at Xanadon’t tonight. That is, if I can convince the BF to leave the house.
Filed under: music
I put British quartet Official Secrets Act on my spring mix (which, oops, is only about two weeks old at this point), but they’ve got a new single out now and it’s pretty damn awesome.
Their album, Understanding Electricity, is one of my favorites of the year so far, though I haven’t actually ever mentioned it here. It’s old-school Brit-rock, with catchy melodies and choruses made for pale teenagers to swoon around to in their bedrooms. More in line with old Depeche Mode singles than Art Brut or Coldplay or whatever people think of as Britpop these days.
The new single, Bloodsport, has an awesomely simple video which really captures the spirit of the Days-Of-Our-Lives-on-a-foggy-heath mood of the song without being in any way literal. Bloodsport might seem like an odd pick for a summer jam, but think of all those times in the summer when you wish you could spend a day just hanging out in an air-conditioned library. That part of the summer needs a jam, too.
Flash Republic are from South Africa, and their song Twister has been on the charts there for four months now. It’s that sort of Urban Outfitters cowbell funk that’s generally really annoying if it’s not done by LCD Soundsystem. Ting Tings-esque would be another way to describe them. I really like singer Tamara Dey; she’s half club-diva, half Christina Amphlett from Divinyls. (I’m not quite sure why Christina Amphlett came to mind right away, because I don’t actually know what the similarity is. But there’s something.) And the song, which is about “playing Twister” with “a boy,” is really delighfully campy, too.
I think if ever a band from South Africa were to become a sensation in the US then this would be the band. I mean, it’s never once happened before, so I wouldn’t hold my breath or anything, but if it were to happen, this could conceivably be why. I don’t live in Brooklyn and my eighty-five year old downstairs neighbor prevents me from really ever having dance parties, but if I were a hipster with no regard for the elderly I’m pretty sure this would be a staple at all of my house parties through at least mid-September.
I’m finding it’s with less and less frequency that I’m drawn to clubby dude hip-hop these days. Maybe it’s because there’s so much to dislike all the time: Hopsin’s Pans In The Kitchen is an example of a song I was totally into until the second verse, which just makes fun of heavy girls. And then there’s all the other misogyny/homophobia/drug use/blah blah whatever. Or could also be that hip-hop radio’s way of repeating six-song playlists until you hate even the songs you liked. Or maybe it’s because the rappers I’ve championed over the last decade–in vaguely chronological order: DMX, Nelly, Ja Rule, 50 Cent, Lil Jon, and Flo Rida–have managed to be completely annoying for years after having a couple of really hot singles that I’m reluctant to acknowledge liking anyone new. Or maybe it’s because I’d just rather drink Patron than listen to other people sing about drinking it. (And actually I don’t even like Patron.)
Anyway, despite the odds, Durrough Music’s Ice Cream Paint Job is totally my new anthem today. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a totally ridiculous song. And it’s about painting your car. But I like how it takes the current standard Pop Champagne sound, but takes out the tiresome club scenarios and saves all the product placement for, um, Chevy.
Durrough Music is from Dallas and his overly-pimped out Myspace is kind of funny–a voice tells you to keep your girlfriend away from the page, for example. I haven’t had a chance to listen to his other songs (including Caramel Sundae and Halle Berry) yet, but I’m not really holding my breath for more than this one little banana split of awesomeness.
And speaking of bananas, does the phrase “cream on the inside, clean on the outside” not sound like some kind of gay personal ad? If I were in the market, that would totally be my new Manhunt headline.
Martha and the Muffins’ moody Echo Beach is one of my favorite songs. It’s summery, sort of, but also very melancholy, despite a really enthusiastic sax bit. It stands somewhere between the Shangri-Las and Essential Logic, if such a place even exists. (It also appeared on one of the very first Mixtapes For Hookers, back in October of 2007.)
Anyway, MPHO (no, I have no idea how to pronounce it) is a new singer molded in the Santogold Santigold style. Her debut single, Box N Locks, basically lifts Echos Beach in its entirety (minus the saxy bits) and adds some VV Brown-ish girly London-pop over it. The mix between the cheery vocals and low-key sample is nice, and the chorus is pretty killer.
In terms of longevity, it’s too early to call whether it’s going to be an SOS or a So Human, the latter of which I really liked at first but which grew tiresome very quickly. MPHO debut album’s called Pop Art, and it’ll be out later this year.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Just don’t overdo it with the Orange Jagerschlagiqtinis.
Scottish punk band APB were never very popular, despite the fact that their 1981 single Shoot You Down is really a very wonderful song.
One of their later singles, Something To Believe in, was recently covered (and posted on Youtube) by Gwenno from the Pipettes.
That thing she’s holding, by the way, is a Tenori-On, one of those newfangled Japanese contraptions that I’m too dumb to understand. I’m more fascinated by her stare, though, and by the fact that she didn’t clear the bed off before making the video.
While I was typing that last post, a popunder started telling me that I should really think about shaving my armpits. It scared the shit out of me, mainly because I wasn’t expecting it and couldn’t figure out how to make it go away. The animated clip–because, you know, real armpit hair is scary–can be seen here.
As an ad, it’s not really terrible, and I guess it’s a logical market for Gillette to be pursuing, since they’re in the business of shaving. And I do sort of like how the clip starts with an animal husbandry metaphor before moving in to instructions. (Don’t you want your armpit to smell like an empty stable?) I also kinda laughed that the first instruction is to put onehand on your head. But God, I hope this doesn’t become a trendy thing to do. I can see it now, millions of guys growing neat little beards on their faces while shaving their chests and armpits. Ick.
Tonight’s the night… I’m going to see Stevie B! As this is something I’ve wanted to do since I was about nine, I can’t wait. Although hopefully I can curtail my enthusiasm–at least a little bit–since I have a job interview later this afternoon… But Stevie B! OMG! I’m sure the place is going to be a giant tool shed and I’m going to choke to death on Axe vapors, but I don’t even care!
Oddly, he’s playing at a really lame restaurant that, as far as I know, has never booked any kind of musical entertainment before. And really I have no interest in hearing his new material. I just want the chance to hear In My Eyes. And Spring Love. And Because I Love You (The Postman Song). And I Wanna Be The One.
