Avey Tare's all excited about his new rifle. So, he goes bear-hunting in Alaska. The first bear he sees is a little brown one, and he kills it with his first shot. There is a tap on his shoulder, and he turns around to see a big black bear.
The black bear says, "You've got two choices. One, I maul you to death. Or two, we have sex."
Avey bends over for the bear. He's sore for 2 days, walking around like a complete jerkoff, but he eventually recovers and vows revenge.
Avey heads out on another trip to Alaska and finds the black bear and kills it. At that moment, there is a tap on his shoulder. A huge grizzly is standing right behind him. The grizzly says, "That was a big mistake. You've got 2 choices, "Either I maul you to death or we have sex."
Avey bends over. He survives, but he's really hurting this time, and it takes quite a bit of time to recover. And he's of course outraged!
Sure enough, he heads back to Alaska and, after following Paw Tracks for miles, finds the grizzly and shoots him at point-blank range. There's a tap on his shoulder. He turns around to find Panda Bear.
Before Panda Bear could say anything, Avey says, "I know the drill, bub... I choose sex." Avey Tare and Panda Bear proceeded to make the most beautiful noise Alaska had ever heard.
Avey started booking dates as soon as the sex stank wore off:
* with Kria Brekkan
Under the advice of doctors, Björk has canceled her Friday Big Day Out appearance in Sydney due to swelling vocal cords following last night's performance at the Sydney Festival. The rest of her tour -- now fleshed out with dates in Korea, Hong Kong, Jakarta, and more -- is fully intact at the moment, but we'll have to wait and see if Björk can make a full recovery before finishing off her first Australian tour in 12 years. We know she will though. She's superhuman.
Big Day Out organizers are offering refunds, despite the 70+ acts scheduled to perform (from Spoon, Arcade Fire, and Battles to Dr. Octagon, Rage Against the Machine, and UNKLE). Silverchair are still on the bill.
And now for an inappropriate, out-of-context Björk quote:
“Football is a fertility festival. Eleven sperm trying to get into the egg. I feel sorry for the goalkeeper.”
* Big Day Out Festival
Thrill Jockey smiled as Boredoms made her way down toward the shore. Her long, dark hair hung loosely over her shoulders, with her perfectly toned body gleaming in the sunlight. For a moment, Thrill thought he might stop breathing if Boredoms didn't stop running. Dipping her toes in the water, Boredoms deemed it warm enough and made her way out to him, with a smile spread across her glossy lips.
"How are you liking the water?" Boredoms asked, as she reached Thrill.
"It's getting kinda hot actually," he said smiling at her, as she bobbed up and down in front of him.
"You know, if we weren't in public, I'd probably do you right now!" said Thrill jokingly.
"Why don't you?" she asked, licking her lips seductively. "The sun's going down... no one's on the sand. It's just me, you, and a really great idea."
"Lead the way," Thrill replied with a devilish grin.
As soon as they reached the beach, Boredoms started furiously kissing Thrill. If this was where she wanted it to happen, he sure wasn't going to protest. Slipping his tongue into her mouth, he began to tug at her bottom. She slowly pulled away and took off her bathing suit herself, smiling wickedly as she took his hand and slipped it between her legs. "Better?" she asked before kissing him again. Nodding and caressing his tongue with hers, Thrill slipped his fingers inside Boredoms and slowly began to stroke.
You can hear the rest of this sexy adventure on Boredoms' Super Roots 9 (TMT Review), set for release via Thrill Jockey everywhere outside Japan. Yep, Boredoms finally have a solid U.S. label to call home! The CD will come in a custom, mini-gatefold jacket, accompanied by a "40-page perfect bound booklet with music scores and notations." It'll even be available as a 320 bitrate, DRM-free download! Seriously, Thrill Jockey is the SHIT. Expect more sexy releases from Boredoms and Thrill Jockey in the future.
What a day at the beach:
$ "in the round" (which means you can walk freely around Boredoms as they make some crazy noise)
How to make a Star Finder:
How to play the Star Finder game:
Now play with your Star Finder at rock concerts!
Excepter and a chicken are playing in a meadow. Excepter falls into a mud hole and is sinking. He calls to the chicken to go and get the farmer to help pull him out to safety. The chicken runs to the farm, but the farmer can't be found, so he drives the farmer's BMW back to the mud hole and ties rope around the bumper. He then throws the other end of the rope to Excepter and drives the car forward saving him from sinking.
A few days later, the chicken and Excepter were playing in the meadow again, and the chicken fell into the mud hole this time. The chicken yelled to Excepter to go and get some help from the farmer. Excepter said, "I think I can stand over the hole!" So he stretched over the width of the hole and said, "Grab for my penis and pull yourself up." And the chicken did and pulled himself to safety.
Moral of the story: If you're hung like Excepter, you don't need a BMW to pickup chicks.
The Futureheads Tour the U.K., Are My Second Favorite Active Band with an Obnoxiously Strong British Accent
The first is Art Brut. Now that we've got that out of the way...
The Futureheads have a little treat for all the kids in the U.K. First of all, they're touring the shit out of the place, but they're also offering a free download of each night's rendition of "The Beginning of the Twist," the first single from their upcoming record. Every. Single. Night. This strikes me as great news for the following populations: (a) deranged fans who think that drummer David Hyde's extra high-hat flub at the Oxford Academy show is a sign of the second coming or (b) singer/guitarist Barry Hyde's high school guitar teacher, who will hear him drop a chord in the second verse at the Exeter and consequently leave him a "you naughty, naughty boy" voicemail. Otherwise, I'm not exactly sure who will be downloading nine live versions of the same jam without the context of an entire live show, but hey. If you're one of those people, shoot me an e-mail... I'd love to know how your mind works.
No tour companions yet, but some nice fellow on the band's official site promises they will be "some ‘waxer-belter’ (really great) support bands on the fight-card"! (Sometimes I really don't know what you Brits are talking about. But I like it.)
Bangers and mash, sod off, Chrimbo, other assorted phrases I don't understand, etc.:
Kathy Leodler, a 23-year veteran of the FBI investigating everything from immigration to mail fraud, has signed on as the acting chief of the RIAA’s San Diego office. Bully for her, really, because she’s just the woman the RIAA needs to achieve its goal of stamping out every iota of illegal file-sharing.
Until now, the goal has always seemed just slightly out of reach for the RIAA constantly slipping through the fingers of the dedicated-but-inexperienced staff. With Leodler on the case, the organization can finally earn its keep. Pirates have waited far too long for the other shoe to drop, and I’d like to congratulate Leodler in advance for her swift and inevitable victory.
It will not surprise me if Leodler’s efficiency at her new post elevates her to a status similar to the rock stars she has altruistically vowed to protect, redefining not only the post of acting chief for an RIAA office, but the meaning of law enforcement itself.
As we raise our collective glass to toast Leodler’s inaugural few weeks in the position, I’d like to take a moment to look into the future, when Leodler, on her last day on the job, gets up from her desk and exits her office for the last time, her stoic expression belying the quiet confidence and shark-like detective skills that will no doubt have eliminated file-sharing forever. Cheers, Ms. Leodler.
Late that night, a stranger rolled into town. It was legendary punk band X on their 31st Anniversary tour!!
A lonely wind whistled through the parched streets of the small town. The sun beat down relentlessly and the townspeople stared at their feet as they trudged solemnly through the dusty lanes. It had not rained for weeks. At night, one could hear wolves howling in the distance.
The longer the town went without hydration, the more tempers flared. Anxious cattlemen huddled around the bar at the saloon, desperate for an escape from the rising heat and dying grass. Within the week, two men had been shot dead for cheating at cards. The wind blowing from the west carried the scent of the fires currently tearing down the coast.
The proprietor turned his back to put a new song on the Victrola. The crowd was starting to get loud and rough. It seemed all they ever did was wait for the rain to fall once again. Suddenly the saloon doors opened with a bang. In strolled John Doe and Exene Cervenka, trailed by Billy Zoom and, in the rear, D.J. Bonebrake. Heads turned as the legendary punk band X began to tune their instruments. "I hear you people have been having a mighty hard time of it," said John Doe. "Well, we can't make it rain, but we can make it ROCK!"
"We're touring to celebrate the band's 31st Anniversary," Exene added. "We've got a good number of shows announced, and possibly even more to come!"
"If only I'd known you were coming!" one of the ranchers exclaimed. "I would've put on my good hat."
"Well, from now on, I'd advise you to read Tiny Mix Tapes," said D.J. Bonebrake with a smile. "It's totally my preferred source for music news."
John Doe was right. It didn't rain, but no one cared because they got to hear "White Girl" and "Johnny Hit and Run Pauline."
Bjorn started here about a month ago, and from the start, I could tell he just wasn’t one of us. Everyday when the lunch whistle blew, me and the guys’d go to the corner, talk about the missus', have a couple brews, heck, sometimes more than a couple.
Bjorn? ...Bjorn was different. Strange. An odd fuckin’ bird. He’d come into work all dressed up, somekinda thick gunk in his hair, always talking in that accent about something nobody could understand. One time he nearly dropped a girder on my head, not that I hold a grudge or nothing, but you get the idea. Frankly, we were all sick of it. So it’s a good thing he hasn’t come in these past few days.
It’s a damn good thing.
It’s the TMT failsafe: when struggling for a story idea, confuse the band’s name with some other noun. Today, I confuse the English band, Clinic, with a methadone clinic. Don’t worry, Scout, I’m not really a junky.
Of course I know about Clinic. Where do you think I go every Wednesday at noon? Get my shit worked up real good. It's a bummer though, because if I had it my way, I'd only go once a month. Laws say they can only give me, at most, one week's supply of methadone. Major bummer. So, yeah, I know about Clinic.
It all happened by accident, of course. One of my dudes said, "Hey, inject yourself with this shit. It feels good." I figured it was something innocuous like vitamin C. Turns out it was heroin -- chick, brother, Harry Jones, China white, PURE H. Did it feel good? Did I feel like God? Hell yes, and before I knew it, I was full on like King Kong. I was floating. I was chasing the dragon. I was a sleepwalker.
So, yeah, again, I know about the clinic. So? Oh shit! You meant Clinic, not the clinic. Of course! What about them? They cleaned me right up... err, I mean, yeah rock ‘n’ roll! Just a sec, let me "Google" the fuck out of ‘em. Ahhh, yes, yes, now I remember: "a decade of funk, celebration and soft metal." They wear masks. Do you think they'd hook it up with methadone?
I know Clinic. They are the dudes who tour and don't come to Indiana. Don't you hate hearing tour announcements and then finding your state not on the itinerary? It's like a handjob with sandpaper. Maybe.
But yeah, these dudes, Clinic, not the dudes at the clinic, are pushing out their fifth studio album -- not weekly supplies of methadone. Titled, Do It!, the album will be released April 8 from Domino Records. Instead of turning into a cotton shooter, you should listen to the first single from Do It!. Visit clinicvoot.org February 1 for a free download of "Free Not Free"/"Thor."
There, of course, will be a tour to support Clinic's new album. Ideally, I'll be seeing these guys in NYC because I'm tired of the weak-ass Nixon shit that's been filtering into the Midwest lately. So, if anybody has a room for me in May, let me know. Okay? Thanks.
Do It! tracklisting: