The Cure For What Ails Ya: Ted Leo + The Pharmacists Tour America

[Setting: A sterile medical clinic examining room. There sits a half-naked emo kid. A single tear streams down his face. Enter Doctor]

Doctor: So Mr. Heartlong, what can I do for you today?

Emo Kid: [sobs] Well , Sir, um... I've got this... um... burning sensation when I, you know... urinate. And, um... discharge.

D: I see. Well how long have you noticed this?

EK: About 2 weeks.

D: I am sorry to inform you, but it sounds like you may have an STI. Drop your pants and let me take a look.

EK: [continues to sob profusely]

D: [leans forward, examining problem area, gives one of those hmmmm sounds, and stands up] Well again I'm sorry, but it looks like you have a case of gonorrhea.

EK: [really starts to break down, lips quivering] B-b-b-but I've never had sex before.

D: Well I have heard of one other method of contraction. What have you been doing for the last month, approximately?

EK: Nothing sex-wise, I've been sitting in my room, trying to get as many random people on my Facebook friends list as possible to look super cool and listening to the new Fall Out Boy album. But no sex.

D: Ahhh, we've been seeing a lot of this recently.

EK: [uncontrollably crying] What is it, Doc!? How'd this happen!?

D: You see the combination of skin-tight jeans, angular haircuts, and the modulation in Patrick Stump's voice have been causing an epidemic of gonorrhea to spread across the continent.

EK: Is there anything I can do?

D: Well, there is one thing that may be able to help...

EK: What is it? I'll do anything... anything [makes a move on the doctor]

D: [shoving Emo Kid away] God! Get off me, ughh. You have gonorrhea, that's fuckin' sick!

EK: I'm sorry Doc; just make it go away.

D: Okay, but you have to follow my instruction. First of all, we're going to have to amputate that haircut.

EK: [looks like he got kicked in the balls] No Doc, no! There must be some other way. I'm nothing without my hair. How will I show my angst?!?

D: I'm sorry; it's part of the quarantine process.

EK: Is that all? You're not going to have to amputate anything else are you?

D: No. But you need to take this prescription and go to Ted's Pharmacy, and talk to the head pharmacist, Leo. It's a traveling pharmacy though, so you'll have to catch him at one of these locations:

EK: Thanks Doc. [sniff] But what are you prescribing me?

D: Some taste, now get the hell out of my office! And kid... you're going to be okay.

Warner Music Group CEO, acclaimed ‘Just For Men’ facial hair model and much sought-after business wunderkind Edgar Bronfman Jr. has, once again, managed to find himself in the middle of a pretty little shitstorm. Two French magistrates tugged him in by the scruff of his pristinely manicured little beard for no less than ten hours of hot ’n’ horny questioning over allegations of fraud and share manipulation during his tenure as board director with Vivendi.

The investigation centers around an incident where Efer dumped a large quantity of his shares in the organization back in early 2002. Thing is, Vivendi were just about to announce a large-scale share buyback program; this was widely expected to result in a significant drop in the share price. Those inquisitive Gauls seemed to think this all sounded just a little bit too much like insider trading for their liking; consequently, the cosy tête-à-tête with EBJ.

One of Bronfman’s lawyers, Thierry Marembert, made a statement after details of the meeting were made public last Friday. In it, he said that “Mr Bronfman's transactions have at all times been proper and at no time did he contravene any French laws.” And, of course, I have absolutely no doubt this is indeed the case, and that all this’ll blow over double-quick.

Then Edgar will be able to get back to the most important things in life; namely, continuing to provide a vital moral compass to his kiddiewinkles, waving his arms furiously and shaking his head dumbly over the continuing meltdown of the WMG share price, and -- of course -- continuing his implacably brave fight against the modern-day slavery he and his artists are being forced to endure through the evils of file-sharing.

Sonic Youth and Dntel Figuratively Scoff at Commercial Radio, Support Free Yr Radio, Free Yr Radio Sponsors To Provide Lavish Gifts: Free Cars, All-Over Print Hoodies, Bling, Bands Not To Scoff If It Means Their CD Has a Spot at the Checkout Counter Next to the New Modest Mouse And is Rung Up By an Anorexic Sales Girl With Chunky Bangs

OH MY GOD IT’S LIKE TOTALLY BETTER THAN A WICKED CLEVER TEE-SHIRT!!!

Closing a tour for Free Yr Radio, Sonic Youth will headline the last of a series of free promotional concerts Saturday, July 21 at 7 PM at the Urban Outfitters on Santa Monica's 3rd Street Promenade. Free Yr Radio is an independent music campaign developed by Toyota Motor Sales, U.S.A., and Urban Outfitters in support of non-commercial radio.

Get yo’ freak on, kidz! At the July 21 show, one (...lucky…?) Urban Outfitters-lurking, MUZIK-lovvvvvin,’ KXLU listener will win a Toyota Yaris.

Get a move on, a contrived tee-shirt, and get your free tix for the Santa Monica show here. The 13-city tour kicked off in mid-April in Chicago with Klaxons, and has since include The Ponys, Voxtrot, The Long Winters, The Rapture, Rogue Wave, Tapes ‘N Tapes, Dinosaur Jr., and Annuals.

What’s more -- El-P will actually set foot in an Urban Outfitters:

Grizzly Bear is scheduled to perform July 12 in Cleveland, and El-P (…!!!!!) is slotted for July 14 in NYC.

BECAUSE WE ARE LIKE SO IN LOVE, READER, HERE’S TWO WAY-EXISTENTIAL EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEWS:

Sonic Youth are (collectively) psyched to save the world with sweet jamz, drop a reissue of Daydream Nation, and headline the concert for KXLU 88.9 FM. While (collectively) stroking the smooth cotton fabric of a “Frankie Says Relax” tee-shirt, they shot the shit:

Mr. Ranaldo: What happens if the manager won't give you the Toyota Yaris, hipstahhh sneakers, shitty “indie” CDs, and platform jelly sandals?

Mr. Moore: When you're dealing with a store like this, they're insured up the ass. They're not supposed to give you any resistance whatsoever. If you get a customer, or an employee, who thinks he's Charles Bronson, take the butt of your gun and smash their nose in. Everybody jumps. He falls down screaming, blood squirts out of his nose, nobody says fucking shit after that. You might get some bitch-talk shit to you, but give her a look like you're gonna smash her in the face next, watch her shut the fuck up. Now if it's a manager, that's a different story. Managers know better than to fuck around, so if you get one that's giving you static, he probably thinks he's a real cowboy, so you gotta break that son of a bitch in two. If you wanna know something and he won't tell you, cut off one of his fingers. The little one. Then tell him his thumb's next. After that he'll tell you if he wears ladies underwear. I'm hungry. Let's get a taco.

Dntel is equally… pumped…

Jimmy Tamborello, a KXLU alum, took time to get prophetic after spinning da’ jamz to open for Sonic Youth, and in a moment of reflection next to the rack of “More Cowbell” tee-shirts, he discussed Free Yr Radio:

“It’s like this Bible passage I always come back to, Ezekial 25:17: The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you. Now I’ve been saying that shit for years, but I saw some Converse sneakers, hoodies, and kitschy t-shirts in Urban Outfitters that made me think twice. Now I'm thinkin': it could mean commercial radio’s the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And my music here, it's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could be non-commercial radio is the righteous man, and I'm the shepherd, and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is college radio is the weak. And commercial radio the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Ringo. I'm tryin' real hard to be a shepherd.”*

*Sorry, Samuel L. Jackson. XOXO, Love you.

Believe It Or Not, Gruff Rhys Can Actually Be A Pretty Ruff Ghy On Tour

Hey assholes, it's me! Gruff Rhys! Yeah, I'm wearing a striped shirt today -- what's all the fuss, fatty? You think you're so fucking tough, don't you, slammin' to the sounds of Kevin Drumm and, what, Runzelstirn & Gurgelstock? Yeah, you're a total bad-ass; you can go throw up into a bucket with all your friends, you little fairy. You want to see real strength? You want to see a one-man, a one-MAN show that'll blow your undies all the way up to your neck? You're lookin' at him. You're not even lookin' at him; you're just sorta glancin' in my general direction because you know my stare is as harsh as fuckin' ice-nine.

Welcome to your own personal hell, my friends, because I am planning 12 dates in North American cities, and you better call your mayors, because when I'm done with those cities, I am done with them, as in they will be no more, understand? I will be entering, let's say Brooklyn, voted the #3 place to raise a family in the United States, and I'll set up my acoustic guitar and lean into the mic, saying "This next one's off my latest album, Candylion, and I hope you like it," and before your little girlfriend can squeeze your hand in excitement and secret lust, I'll jump back on the mic and be like, "and if you don't," and then make that X motion over my package that they do in wrestling. I'm telling you, there's going to be riots in the street, in homes, after I slam my way through that song. Then I'll take a break for a sip of water and say something about how the next Super Furry Animals album is on its way August 27, and then I'll go into another song, but everyone will be like, "Wait, what's it called?" and I'll act like I can't hear them until they start chanting my name, and then I'll be like, "HEY VENUS!" and everyone will start cheering as some chick named Venus comes up on stage and we mack it, and I don't even have that strong of feelings for her.

And then I'll move on to the next city, trail of smoke wafting behind me. Yeah... they'll be pretty short sets.

$ Ulrich Schnauss

$$ Her Space Holiday

Spanish Subsistence Farmers, Arts & Crafts?! I Thought I Knew You; Los Campesinos! To Tour! Excitedly! Elicit Punctuation Fervor In News!

It's time to get to the bottom of this business with Los Campesinos! But don't worry, the exclamation point is theirs, not mine -- I'm cool, calm, and collected about this! Toronto powerhouse label Arts & Crafts has taken this young band under its collective (get it?) wing, first with an opening slot for indie-rock behemoth Broken Social Scene and more recently by signing the burgeoning 7-piece to a record deal! Los Campesinos!, though, do not hail from the Great White North, nor do any of their members play in the Social Scene or Scene spawn, for that matter! This shakes my foundation and, to be frank, makes me feel unsettled! When I turn to A&C for my fix of the Canadian Grateful Dead (BSS), a venti-sized Starbucks blend of latte soaked goodness (like Feist) or orchestral chamber pop (like Stars), I want to know this is the most interwoven, interconnected, inbred group of musicians I can possibly find, all (or mostly) hailing from places where people care about hockey! Is that so much to ask?!

Instead, I'm getting a rambunctious hybrid of Arctic Monkey and Architecture in Helsinki that sounds like the band started by that kid who wouldn't stop wiping his nose on his sleeve in elementary school! They're from Cardiff, Wales, and I'm not even sure they play hockey in Wales! What's more, this band exponentially increases the deception factor by being neither Hispanic nor farmers! At this point, I wouldn't be able to take all of the abuse from a brand new band and an established label I once loved if this music wasn't so damn fun! And, for a few dates only, you can see it live!

The Story of the Jock Who Clapped His Hands And Said Yeah; A Short Fictional Tale By Scout Leader Kyle

It was always hot in August; Ohio was good for that. It was fair time here in ol' Champaign County, the time of year for 15 year olds to get drunk and hook up in the campers and barns. The year was 2006, and a friend and I decided to head down to the county fair, only to realize that, if we wanted to live happy lives, our existence in this shitty area needed to be short-lived. My friend was wearing a really happening green Yeah Yeah Yeahs t-shirt, and I was wearing a brown Clap Your Hands Say Yeah shirt with pink font. It was sexy, and I loved me some CYHSY at the time.

As we walked on the dirt, smelling the essence of pig shit and fair food, we were confronted by a number of random guys. Typically, these manly men would be sporting a Holister baseball cap, leather sandals, American Eagle shorts, a Hot Topic metal bracelet, and an Abercrombie shirt. They were being loud, obnoxious, and would typically "clap their hands" and shout "yeah!" while hangin' with their buddies.

One of the boys (the most obnoxious one) went by the name "George." George had no clue that Clap Your Hands Say was an amazing band that took the independent music world by storm with their self-released, self-titled debut album back in 2005. So what did George do? You guessed it. He "clapped his hands" and said "yeah."

The next day the police department found George on top of a camper, rotting and chewing on his castrated nuts.

Moral of the story: If you don't want to end up like George, I suggest you get some schooling and see CYHSY live at these dates:

* Elvis Perkins in Dearland

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