"I know what you like/ I am your prescription"

Dear Sean Carter,

I’m not gonna lie, Jay-Z,lately you’ve been rough on me. After Kingdom Come I was completely sure you sold your once gloriously original soul for a new eternity of hack-dom. The album wasn’t bad as much as it just wasn’t good– lacking the fervor, the merciless onslaught of crazy freestyle lyrics. I know you are no longer the same man as you were during the Reasonable Doubt years and I know it is no longer a “hard knock life”, but god damn it Jay-Z do something for the people. There are enough bafoons masquerading as artists on our televisions and radios. I think it is safe to say, we have seen enough grills, spinners, fancy cars, ridiculous parties and other such frivolous things that glorify the marketability and dare I say it, cultural degradation and banality of America. Come on Jay-Z give us something of substance. We, your loyal and humble fans, deserve that much. Let 2008 bring understanding to your heart and intelligence to your musical output. Don’t take the P.Diddy, Puff Daddy whatever the hell his name is route. Be strong. Let not American Gangster sit by its lonesome as a semi-decent piece of concept art (sans the kitsch). Know there should be extra time in your busy schedule, now that you are no longer president of Def Jam, to dedicate your talents to the production of wonderful musical things. Come on Jay-Z, give a young lady the magic back.

Love with a slightly scorned heart,
Joselia

What once was:

Jay-Z – Dead Presidents 2

What is:

Jay-Z – Show Me What You Got

What shall, hopefully, be:
Jay-Z – I Know (ain’t this live version wonderful? but isn’t this freakishly similar to The Good Life video by Kanye?)

Times New Viking and My Open Letter to Isaac Brock

In these times of war we live in where Mike Huckabee is a seriously considered political candidate, we need to find things to take refuge in, as best as we can. The news this week was especially bleak and when the world gets weird, the weird turn pro. Hunter S. Thompson’s turns of phrase aside, I am going to talk in this post about two things: Firstly, some nice music I have been listening to of late, and second about Isaac Brock, of Modest Mouse fame, patron saint of the flannel wearing semi-depressed single white males.

Firstly, this band named Times New Viking has sparked my interest of late. They’re very lo-fi, they’re signed to the well respected Matador record and they’ve released two albums so far, with another dropping January 22nd. They’re very spastic and excited and they have a nervous energy about them that appeals to my own nervous energy, almost as if they were channeling similar neuroses, which is good. Let it out kids, let it out. Look forward to my review of their new album in the coming weeks or so, as I’ll likely find time for it in between the boredom and sleep of vacation. Sweetums.

Times New Viking – Teenage Lust

Secondly, my letter to Isaac Brock:

Mr. Brock,

I am sincerely one of your biggest fans, I know you get that all time, but I’m serious. You used to be the fucking shit. After Good News for People Who Love Bad News came out I was genuinely happy to see you successful, you had proved yourself a formidable man with your release of such gems as Lonesome Crowded West and The Moon and Antartica. But of late, well, I’m feeling you draw away from the light and into the down right stupid. Your latest release, We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank, well, let’s just say the title says a lot about this. You let the old guy from the Smiths in, you got backing vocals from the guy from the Shins and you added an orchestra, and needless to say, it sounds like, well, as my friend put it, “this sounds like an overproduced Modest Mouse cover band.” I understand an artist must evolve, but dear god, you and Devendra need to remember where you came from. Please Mr. Brock return to your roots, it doesn’t have to be the same old song and dance, bring some of the vitality and added instruments (no more ska bullshit) to a new record, think Dramamine meets Ocean Breathes Salty, think Third Planet meets Bankrupt on Selling. Somewhere between your live album, Baron Von Bullshit Rides Again and this latest release, you lost your fucking mind. I know you’ve got more ideas, the new record has them, only layered in jangly bullshit. Fire that stupid Smiths guy, the novelty of Meat is Murder wore off in 1998, and man, it’s almost 2008. So how about making a new year’s resolution to remember that Isaac Brock is just a man, and Modest Mouse is just a band, but it doesn’t have to be this way.

Love,
Clark

P.S. Remember you guys are named after a Virginia Woolf story, not fucking the Da Vinci Code. For god’s sake.

Modest Mouse – Bankrupt on Selling

Devendra-vention?

Dear Reader,

Devendra Banhart for the longest time was not only a guy with a cool name, but a guy who made cool music. But my love and admiration for him has been shaken of late on account of his latest album, the bipolar little piece of work called “Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon.” I’m a reasonable man, at heart, and yet, I could not stomach this latest release, which was a careless album that seemed without inspiration. This post is an open call to Devendra to return to his roots and remember that studio production was not what made him brilliant, it was his ability to make beautiful music. This is like Dylan going electric, but instead of Highway 61, you get a Rod Stewart album. Seriously, what the fuck? Here is my letter to Devendra, tear stained as it is:

Dear Mr. Banhart,

For the longest time sir, I have been a fan of your music. When I heard your album Rejoicing in the Hands, I nearly wet myself with glee, here was a musician who understood what good music was. He was the next coming of Marc Bolan, Syd Barrett incarnate, the next great in a long line of skinny white dudes who sing songs about birds, bicycles, and girls named Emily. You were an androgynous genius, a shape shifter, you could probably fucking turn water into wine if you tried hard enough. Then you hit us with Nino Rojo and the beautiful Cripple Crow, and for a while there, you were becoming legendary.

But those days are gone, instead of the glorious follow up I was owed, you gave us a mix and mash of odd styles, forced songs, and oddly soulless music. The voice was there, but damn it man, where is your heart? Did someone pull an Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom on you? Where have you put the real Devendra?

I’m tempted to think it’s all just an act and you’re just fucking with me, you know how music blogs love to hate. I just implied that an evil sacrifice had made you heartless, what the fuck am I doing? I can only blame myself for not being strong enough to endure this oddity. I can only hope, that somewhere the real Devendra is out there and he’s not just adding distortion to Allman Brother’s Songs. Please God, bring us the real Devendra!

Love,
Clark

In Memorium: