Pete Doherty and Shane MacGowan: New Roomies; To Get Wasted, Doherty To Always Lose House Key, MacGowan To Get Pissed, Label All His Food “SM” In Individualized Tupperware Containers and Intentionally Fail to Replace Toilet Paper Out Of Pointed Spite

A snapshot of every single second of every single minute of every single hour of every single day of every single week of every single month (etc. etc. etc.) that the recent Pete Doherty and Shane MacGowan roomie-a-go-go loveshacking lasts:




SM: Woooooo... wooo... woo.

PD: Let’s jam!

SM: Eh, yea. Woo... woo...


SM: [Drunk vomiting]... wooo... woo.

Vic Chesnutt’s New Tour To Be Performed on Behalf of Human Creation, Art, and Architecture

It's hot in Chicago. I don't want to sweat anymore. I want it to get cold, really bone-chilling cold. Chicago cold. Snow, whipping down then swirling up because of how treacherous the wind is blowing, making the tallest and third-tallest building in the city sway HARD to scare the warm tourists in the observation towers never to return a thousand or so feet to the ground, because if the weather is this bad so close to heaven, just imagine how bad it would be with the clash of the warm front billowing up from hell.

The tourists would have to stay up there for days. Maybe weeks. When Chicago gets cold, it does for a while. Surrounded by the gray of winter, turned slightly blue because of the tint on the safety glass, the tourists would squint and hope to see the welcoming, warm orange glow of the streetlights below. And on days when the snow is pelting the windows a little less, they might steal a glimpse to get them through the next day, if for no other reason than as a reminder that, no matter what the season, we always long for its inverse. But these tourists have made a home there. What would they do in that box, that motionless glass elevator stuck on the top floor of nowhere?

I imagine they'd read the news. Men from the ground, mutant men evolved to withstand the intense steam heat from hell's core, would load the day's news onto supply carts. After the power would go out and when the tourists would become frightened (though glad to be safe in the sky), some would eventually overcome fear and language barriers to learn to work together, pulling up the carts through the unused elevator shaft. Keep them content for now, the mutants would say; eventually winter will end, because as we all know, heat rises.

The tourists, well-informed and well-fed from below, will miss the finer things in life from before this brutal winter. Their dogs, their bike riding, their human contact, because life in the sky is not as friendly as one might think, even with company. So, they'll squint again, this time across the air to their friends in the other tall building. The tourists will feel most palpably that people are always friendlier when there is some distance between them, on the ground and up high. Two glass elevators, stuck together in the blue-gray, swaying, waiting to heat up and dry out.

It's quiet up there, and the news is good, but it will get lonely. Even with a second box floating somewhere, boredom will set in. Being informed isn't enough. The tourists will want something the mutants can't send up an elevator shaft. The tourists will want art. They'll want something to give them a new understanding of themselves and the information they keep receiving. They'll want to laugh and cry and know what sardonic and poignant material was possible from humans, because that's what they'll miss most of all. During this interlude of leaderless confusion, wondering which move is the right one, a man will be born fully grown. Vic Chesnutt, named after nothing in particular, will play music he learned from an inspired bird that hid in a ceiling panel, afraid to fly south in case an event such as this occurred. Vic Chesnutt will lead the tourists himself. He'll lead them with the feeling they had been missing.

So, the tourists will go down. One by one, lowered down the elevator shaft. The mutants will scatter because they would attack on their own terms, when spirits are broken and people can't feel. But they can feel, and when they get down to the very bottom, they'll feel the heat of winter most vividly. They'll feel it as sardonic and poignant and several other things that, had they just trusted the power of human creation, art, and architecture, they might've avoided this whole ordeal in the first place.

Webcasters Pissed at Those SoundExchange Fuckers

If you love me, you'll read the abbreviated statement below, written on behalf of webcasters and SaveNetRadio. They're pissed that SoundExchange wants to charge small webcasters by percentage rather than on a per-song basis, the latter of which was actually recommended by the CRB. Hey, shit, that does kinda suck. Why those fuckers!

SAN FRANCISCO, Sept. 19 /PRNewswire-USNewswire/ -- Thousands of webcasters stand firm by rejecting the most recent Copyright Royalty Rate (CRB) proposal made by ThoseFuckers. The latest take it or leave it "offer" made by ThoseFuckers on behalf of the recording industry has done nothing to further negotiations with webcasters, and a mere 24 small webcasters have felt they had no choice but to give in to the record labels' demands.

"The latest proposal made by ThoseFuckers is extremely disappointing, at a time where we need real progress, not hollow tricks," SaveNetRadio spokesperson Jake Ward said. "While the clock continues to tick for webcasters, ThoseFuckers continues to play games with their good faith. The resounding rejection of this offer should serve as a reminder to ThoseFuckers, and to Congress, that the webcasting community is intent on a lasting and fair resolution to this issue, and willing to fight for it."


This deal is not feasible for anyone who wants to grow their business. It contains the aforementioned $1.25 million revenue cap, which limits growth and puts in place a dangerously low hard ceiling for revenue generation. The Small Business Administration revenue cap for over-the-air broadcasters to be considered a small business is $6.5 million -- this would seem a fair cap, with precedent.


Although several of the webcasters listed below are currently involved in direct negotiations with ThoseFuckers, the process remains exceedingly slow and increasingly unpromising. In the continuing absence of a genuine offer that would allow internet radio to continue to be the vital medium for new music discovery we implore our listeners and fans of internet radio to continue to urge your legislative representatives to pass the Internet Radio Equality Act (HR2060, S.1353).

For information on how you can contact your representative, please visit

Read the full statement here (just be sure to mentally replace each instance of "SoundExchange" with "ThoseFuckers"), and then have a great day, you cute little bugger!

Headstrong Trent Reznor Hates The Prices of His CDs… Hey, Yeah, I Hate His CDs Too!

This just in: Nine Inch Nails frontman Trent Reznor’s records aren’t selling too well.

But here’s the catch: It’s not his fault, boys and girls!

See, in response to what he sees as high CD prices, the maniacal electro-proto-alterna-metal pioneer offered more than just a nickel’s worth of free advice to his doting Australian fans while performing at a Sydney concert in this YouTube video. "Steal it. Steal away. Give it to your friends," said Reznor -- although, the singer apparently had no problem whatsoever with wasting over seven minutes worth of his unfortunate fan base’s money by, say, NOT playing music at his live show.

But the badass rock-martyr posturing doesn’t stop there! The razor-sharp Reznor had a very similar message for Chinese NIN fans at a (undoubtedly really expensive) music festival in Beijing, saying "It does not seem to be easy to obtain Western music via legal channels, so I have the following suggestion for our fans: If you can find and buy our legal CDs, I express my thanks for your support. If you cannot find it, I think that downloading from the internet is a more acceptable option than buying pirated CDs... If you like our songs after you've heard them, please feel free to share it with your friends." Sadly, no one on Reznor’s road crew could bear to tell him that (all) Chinese people speak Chinese and not English, but he had his moment.

Apparently, this whole thing stems from sometime back in May, when the venerable Mr. Reznor sounded-off on the unfairly high prices of music pricing and packaging, including the pricing of his killer Year Zero album, which was selling for the equivalent of almost US $30 in Australia. And seeing as how he has no intentions of dropping the ticket prices on any of his concerts or anything like that -- $110 bucks-a-pair, according to this guy -- the only due course of action is for NIN fans around the world to open up their hearts and share the dour, unfocused, shit-pissy, Reznor love!

Woo! Yeah! Fuck the establishment!

But still, you’ve got to give the man a little credit, I suppose. Even though he’s firmly entering into what can only euphemistically be spun as the “twilight” of his bright, bright (so bright!) career, at least he still has the wherewithal to at least pretend like he’s still got some passion left!

Now, if only that passion was being harnessed to make his new records a little better, he’d be set...

The Fabulous Grand Buffet Tour

All you can eat, $7.50. Of course the roast beef is always lathered with a rippling brown emulsion, and while the mashed potatoes are good and lumpy, they hold together about as well as the nervously glued biscuits in the back. But it’s getting late, and by 10:30, the green beans have their own evolutionary survival mechanism -- their caked-on buttery sheath slides off the serving spoon like oil off the tarmac. Cups of coffee swirl with murky sediment creating continents of filmy white bubbles, while those who are left await patiently for Grand Buffet to unveil its specialty dish, King Vision. To the side, the salad turns unnoticed.

For dessert, self-serve your own ice cream, dip in the chocolate gravel pit of sprinkles, then it’s Flamin’ Hot Cheetos... nah make ‘em Xxtra Flamin’ Hot. The spicy flavor nudges your nerve receptors just right, and a flood of endorphins come piling through the levies of your neural pathways, before the cerebrum comes to and you realize the bag is empty, your party of four is halfway to the movie theatre, and the fingers on your hand have morphed into a hunk of powdery red goo.

But if you want a plate at Grand Buffet, you gotta get in line. Starts on the left:

$ Of Montreal & MGMT

# early show

Ghostface Killah Rap Endorsed by Cartoons for Stoners; At Least He Still Has a Solo Career!!!

Famous porn station Cartoon Network has teamed up with America's Next Top Model Ghostface Killah for a 12-date, nationwide campus tour starting in October. Joining Ghostface is the wonderful hip-hop/spoken word artist Witchdoctor (a.k.a. Erin Johnson), but perhaps the most noteworthy part for you cheap, torrent-using pirates is that the show is free and open to the public -- it's like a whole new kind of piracy!

The tour is one of two announced tours by Adult Swim, the second featuring ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead and a live version of Dethklok, the heavy metal band from Adult Swim's Metalocalypse. Dates for that tour have yet to be announced, but who cares when you can keep tagging along with Ghostface on another tour. After the Adult Swim stint, Ghostface will perform at the Vegoose Festival before heading out on a 19-date tour with Rakim and Brother Ali. I caught up with Ghostface to talk about shit.

Thanks for doing this interview, Ghostface.

No problem, man. I love Tiny Mix Tapes. You have the best journalism on the net. Truthful, insightful, penetrating. Plus, now I listen to great music -- not shit like Paula Abdul and Janet Jackson!

Hey, what's wrong with Paula Abdul and Janet Jackson?

Their music doesn't say anything.

Did you ever see them move? They're saying plenty, baby.

Yeah... sure...

What's wrong, Ghostface?

Men, especially Grant Purdum.

Hey, don't judge us by our worst specimen.