One Man's Problem

Tender Loving Companion

2010-10-13T13:44:00.000-07:00

So very much to be pissed off about in America these days, that it generally makes you feel weak, pointless and apathetic. Unfortunately this directly translates to the sentiments put forth in current music; a vacant void of steam with the lasting power of a sleepy ethiopian midget. To really step up and write the call to action for the current generation you'd have to be a supergenius. How do you harness and personify the rage caused by the lack of signal strength to the iPhone into just a couple stanzas...and will it even remain relevant when the iHelmet comes out? At this point, what lyric/chord combination will really fuel an angry mob to storm the Staples Center.
That Thing - That Thing
Gemini - Ain't No Love (Better Than Your Love)

Blogina

2010-10-06T13:47:00.000-07:00

Oh yeah, crap, I remember... I had a blog, and I let him die a slow gruelling death in some neon graveyard in webspace. I used to look at some other blogs with content that I thought was pretty funny, informative, or inspiring, and see this trend where the last few posts would be this tapered effect: going from a few posts per week, to once a week, to once a month. The last post would occur after about 3 or 4 months of non-activity. I always thought to myself, "Not me, man", of course I'd still be writing the 90,000th post on my death bed - with 70% of the world's population following me...the sarcastic poet/laureate of my generation.

But now I've covered myself in my own blog's skin like Wild Bill in Silence of Lambs, only to stare out into a mirror (unfortunately my real audience) in full mangina, and ask them if they'd fuck me.
Midnight Star - Curious

Back n Forth

2010-08-03T10:23:00.000-07:00

I'm in a mood and I have absolutely no intention of sharing it with blog (which usually isn't the case, as its actually more typical for me to share my exaggerated feelings with a small group of net lurkers).

So, I'll keep this short and informative. We got Grow Up going down again, August 4th, 2010 @ Madrone, with self-labeled "East Bay Acid Thugs" Party Effects, who may have the best website this side of 1995. Also Pat Les Stache, the brain behind the heavily influential American Athlete blog is our new resident DJ, so I should have no problems wiping away my frown, for the sake of getting down, once the tunes start to get pumped out. I think Nick Cave said something along the lines of that music can change your mood, and get you from a stationary position, to moving with abandon in a split second. I couldn't find the exact quote - which I'm sure is much more poignant than my recollection of it - as it was in some old issue of Mojo that is not easily accessible from a basic google search (but, i did happen to find this quote on practically every "quote" page, which sort of adhere's to my current mood, "I want to write songs that are so sad, the kind of sad where you take someones little finger and break it in three places." Ummm, back to square one I guess). Paaaarty!
Gene Dunlap - This One's On Me

Yippie

2010-07-25T01:57:00.000-07:00

Some people just don't understand the physical consequences related to having a sense of humor. I mean, if I so happen to sip in a large gulp of my false marguerita-tini, and then I see someone basically solicit sex in real time without any regard to decency or tact, I believe that I am officially allowed to spit out my drink if its just been sipped up...and if, by chance, it happens to make contact with your dress (which is easily a size too small for you) then really, you shouldn't get mad. It was understandable to me...maybe?

The Tubes - God Bird Change

Look Dude...

2010-07-14T10:34:00.000-07:00

I've been traveling around a little bit, as its summer, and that's what you are supposed to do (right?). You're supposed to endure the summer elements of heat, humidity, bug bites and long lines; things that as a spoiled Californian, I normally don't have to deal with. Of course that means turning my back on blog, and stashing him away in some far corner without much hesitation (sorry bud!). If only I had a super telephone, so I could stay connected to my internet mistress at all moments...

Thanks to DJ Rance, I was able to borrow a portable unit of technology to conveniently record the Grow Up 1 Year Anniversary. Included in today's post are sets from Chungtech and the Jonas Reinhardt DJs. I personally was in rare form (I was actually talking to people) as the incurred light-headedness of blowing up about 60 balloons before-hand mixed with a combination of every hard liquor I could synthesize, really did a number on me.
Jonas Reinhardt DJs - DJ Set @ Grow Up 7/7/10
Chungtech - DJ Set @ Grow Up 7/7/10

Grow Up 1 Year Anniversary, July 7th

2010-07-01T13:28:00.000-07:00

The Grow Up 1 Year Anniversary is going down next week, Wednesday July 7th, 2010, the 188th day of the year (189th in leap years) in the Gregorian calendar. Now obviously since I have a vested interest in Grow Up, July 7th is therefore a very relevant date in my life. Let's take a look at some other important July 7s throughout history:

1923, University of Delaware invents "junior year abroad" (at Sorbonne)
1956, 7 Army trucks loaded with dynamite explode in middle of Cali, Columbia killing 1,100-1,200, destroying 2,000 buildings
1972, Dutch Minister decides to ignore soft drug usage
1973, 78 drown as flash flood sweeps a bus into a river, India
1986, It is reported Boy George is being treated for heroin addiction
1990, Bill Cullen, game show host (Price is Right), dies at 70 of cancer
2006, The Western Black Rhinoceros is declared extinct due to poaching

Now, 4 years since mankind realized that they'd forced the WBR into leaving the planet for eternity, the Grow Up 1 Year Anniversary just so happens to be going down (and what a fruitful lineage we have to follow). Big line up on this one, as members of Jonas Reinhardt are DJing, along with Oakland's Chungtech. Excitement!

In honor of the 1 Year Anniversary, I'm putting up one of my alltime, high-figure-fetching-if-its-even-there-on-ebay tunes. If need be, look up the relevance of this track on someone else's blog. I got this one from the comp, Maiden Voyage, on Compost records, which has along with it a gaggle of other really seminal and/or rare jams for those who like to boogie.
James Mason - I Want Your Love

Soul of the North

2010-06-25T11:49:00.000-07:00

There is something that is well weird about the whole Northern Soul movement that has just been kinda blowing my mind lately. I mean a bunch of working-class white UK tough guys working in a coal mine all day in some depressing shit town, trekking 200 miles on a friday night to pop pills and dance till dawn in matching wifebeaters to a rare Judy Street track (that basically sounds like a sunshine show tune) doesn't really seem to be the most possible of outcomes. I mean, to use the vernacular of the locals, that is relatively poncy behavior. Surprisingly, if you look at the type of dancing that went down at some of these joints, its basically on par with the breakdancing that was going down in the Bronx in the early 70's, except by a bunch of cockney whiteboys in oversized trousers. The quality that I find so endearing about Northern Soul, is that it's a music culture that strove to highlight the creme de la creme of failed American R&B 45s, and ultimately ressurect the careers of a handful of soul singers; likely leading them to quit their jobs (the ones they pined to get back after previously quitting their jobs to do music the first time) to sail from the colonies over to mother England, enjoy about ten minutes of success from a bunch of people who speak the same language, but still, are basically unintelligible in interviews, and then ultimately go back home and remain as failures. A touching tale, I know.

Anyways, I don't really like blogs that post youtube vids, likely cuz my attention span is short, the internet is slow at work, the quality often sucks, and you can't download/steal the track and listen to it in other formats (which, I'll admit is very hypocritical of me to say). But I have to post this vid, for this specific post, cuz it's just too perfect. Record a song in 1973, make the video in 2007 (after attending your cousin's funeral). Makes perfect sense, and why not vary it up with 3 seperate locations all with in 30 feet of each other, and some striking shades. "Making Love on a Mountain...Drinking Love from a Fountain".

Personal Blog Solipsism Showerin'

2010-06-22T14:56:00.000-07:00

I tend to take two showers per day. It's the ultimate initiation to, and closure of each day, and I can do practically everything (other than poo and shave; which I do simultaneously out of the shower) that is needed in there: Floss, Shampoo, Soap, Brush, Rinse, Lather, Excrete, etc. Now I've heard that this isn't exactly the best practice as my skin produces oils which are meant to remain on my epidermis for a bit (as opposed to getting consistently washed off twice per day). I think that my body, has instead overcompensated for my consistent shower schedule, and overproduces these skin-specific oils. This became very apparent when the water heater for my habitation-unit crapped out, leaving the hot water function ragged and useless. I did not shower for a full day and a half (practically sacrilege!), and I noticed that not only was I particularly oily, but also unable to sleep and wake properly due to my lacking of ritualistic behavior. Proof that for me, shower is king. I hope you care. I may have already wrote this post or something similar to it...ah, the mind is goin'.
Sir Lord Baltimore - Hell Hound

Scoooooootch

2010-06-10T10:41:00.001-07:00

There is something magical about the properties of scotch: it'll make you slap you best friend in the face, because they stated that Harry Nilson "doesn't do much for them". Scotch is like the fire to the flame of a poorly executed arguement. Its so fun to drink, especially on a Wednesday night when you should be at home doing something productive (or nothing at all, just not falling victim to the drink). Scotch turns my moderately sized nose a tad bigger, and often makes it red. It has accounted for some of the dumbest things that I have ever done, and I'm sure that I am not alone (ex: stealing alcohol from an open bar, asking out a women point blank without even speaking to her once beforehand and without properly constructed sentences, and some of the most mindnumbing two day hangovers in the history of liquid recovery). Regardless, it's still my favorite hard beverage, and even in my slow work coma state, I'm declaring June national scotch month. I don't even need to look for some dumb shit, as scotch simply makes the dumb a lot clearer.

Speaking of beverages, in looking for a pic to put up for this post I came across the following article. Apparently Andre the Giant was on a legendary alcoholic kick; I think its worth a read, despite the douchiness of a mag like Modern Drunkard.

Today's track is pretty straight ahead, with little metaphoric interference. It's about the lead singer Robert Brookins' desire to fill his female counterpart up with his love paint.
Afterbach - Wanna Fill You Up

Japanese Comments

2010-06-01T12:01:00.000-07:00

For whatever reason every time I put a post, some weirdo leaves a comment in japanese with a link to japanese porn. As much as I adore japanese porn (despite the fact that it rarely delivers), I am curious if this is a problem that faces the blogging community. I know that spam is a nuisance across almost all internet platforms, but I'm curious more as to whether its a strictly japansese porn thing thats hittin' the blogs. Is it specific to certain types of blogs, is it omnipresent, or is it just my blog that seems to be targeted. Since I am not well connected in the blog community (whatever that is) I'll probably never get to the bottom of it, but since this spamming fucker is somehow targeting my pithy blog, 私は日本のポルノへのリンクであるコメントについて興奮することにうんざりです。あなた自身とセックスしに行ってください。.
Kermit - The Rainbow Connection

Mantra

2010-05-28T11:19:00.001-07:00

Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism. Hedonism.

UnRelaytEd, BUT wHen TEENage GURLZ tYpe LiKe thiS iT is REALLY TiTE! Also, it probably takes them a lot longer to think through the best ways to spell things wrong and capitalize random letters.

If Andrew W.K. did disco he'd probably do a song like this. He'd be great for the genre too, come join us Andrew.
Gary's Gang - Party Tonight!

Losing

2010-05-21T10:44:00.000-07:00

Weird stuff is happening in my mind and body. I feel as if I've somehow graduated from anti-social to lurker, and my thoughts are getting streamlined and condensed; hammering repetitiously though my brain day in and day out. I need a light at the end of the tunnel. I need to set something on fire. Coffee and muffins no longer excite me and the disapproving looks that I'm receive while I mutter obscenities under my breath, are beginning to become more frequent. I've been watching people around me grab it and run with it; have they already attended that creative writing workshop in the sky? Does any of this make any sense? Are these rhetorical questions? At what point did the Motorcycle Boy drift from being a softspoken mystery-stud to a Joan Rivers nightmare? Can coffee throw you over the edge of sanity and into a pit of fast-paced and frequent bathroom trip despair?

Alright, so shit is messy and its clear to see that the cliff ends a few inches away. Luckily for me ebay has been the safety rope reeling me back in, and although my bank account would like to slap me in the face, bank accounts are not exactly tangible things that can act out on emotion and reason. Like a true American, I've found consolation in consumption.

The Whispers - Tonight

Keep It Alive

2010-05-10T09:13:00.000-07:00

Alright, Alright. Gonna let blog breathe again. Caresse his clammy, regressed shoulder blades with lotions and oils in a candlelit room. All the bullshit that kept me from putting more than 5 minutes of effort into this thing per week has now (hopefully) ended, and although I still feel like a total crook for posting up MP3s, I guess I'm just gonna keep on. Blog feels naked and fragile without them; it's almost as if Mark Wahlberg doesn't have a penis, but you wouldn't know it because he's always wearing underwear, but the next thing you know, you are viewing a fully frontal Calvin Klien ad of him completely naked (and penis-less) with his underwear slung over his shoulder in a typical Brando pose. It'd be horrifying, sort of like the sex scene in The Man Who Fell To Earth, but it clearly makes more sense for Bowie to be neuter than Wahlberg. In the picture above, he clearly has a penis (as you can see, he is grabbing it, Edit: Photobucket apparently blocked the photo of Mark grabbing his cock, as it was just too lewd and crude, but here is an equally awesome one of him looking extra tough with a ciggy-rette and showing us some ink. Just search Mark Wahlberg on google images and you'll easily find the aformentioned photo), but I still think that my hypothetical parable still serves as a good example.
Shogun Assassin - Lone Wolf's Theme

Grow Up Self Promotion Volume 4

2010-05-03T13:35:00.001-07:00

I know I've sworn off the whole blog thing for the moment, since I feel that with the new copyright laws around the corner I am A) encouraging illegal downloading and B) putting myself up on the chopping block to receive a $50,000 fine of sorts. Granted I am a very small fish in a very large pond, but my luck is horrible and erratic to put it mildly... I feel extremely guilty for contributing to a culture that no longer goes to the record store to search out the real deal; a culture that feels no guilt what-so-ever about straight jacking an album's worth of music from an artist, that is probably working 2 shitty jobs for a full year so they can have 2 hours of studio time. Or their label gives them a fat advance with out explaining to them, that all money spent on the album needs to be fully re-couped, and that they will ultimately receive no promotional help, and are now trapped into a manipulative contract for the next 5 years. Like blog, he is probably now starving to death, delusional, dreams ablaze; all faith for the future of music now charred and disgarded.

In happier news, Grow Up is this Wednesday, May 5th, 2010. Its Cinco de Mayo and we've got a Filipino male DJ (Marky) and a live set by a Polish lady (AmyWhoa). At least the flyer is festive. Maybe we'll tar and feather someone, but substitute the aformentioned ingredients with Guacamole and Chips. Is that a patriotic May 5th statement?

Still Breathing

2010-04-21T12:01:00.000-07:00

Weeeeeeeez...cough..cough...(still breathing)...
Hey, its blog. Help Me! I'm fucking suffocating...dying...bleeeeech (sounds of blood bubbling and vomit), gargle...
Dexter Wansel - Theme from the Planets
Tik Tok - Cool Running

Late

2010-04-15T09:24:00.000-07:00

Not even blog thought he was coming back from the grave today, and it sucks to provide him with a false sense of resurrection. He already threw in his cards, especially after I let that last picture run for a full week (sorry, that pic is messed up). I've pretty much given up at this point. Blog looks like Christian Bale did in The Machinist. It took me a full year to figure it out, but my opinion and thoughts on music, fetish culture, the workplace, smells, and young adult-angst, amounts to about 2 minutes and 13 seconds of time for 18 individuals, likely looking for something else entirely. So fuck you blog, all you've ever done for me is waste away the time at work that I no longer have available.
Skip Spence - War In Peace

Jerk

2010-04-09T14:04:00.001-07:00

The only thing that I could potentially write about at the moment is how much of an asshole I can be when I am nervous. I don't want to write about that, even though it would likely cause me to confront my demons, and possibly work through/move past them.

Instead, lets close our brains, forget progression, open our ears, and strap on the jammy pack!
Billy Ocean - Another Day Won't Matter
Giorgio Moroder - Night Drive (from American Gigolo)

Massive Aggressive

2010-04-06T11:43:00.000-07:00

Rain blows, with the exception of its rare byproduct, rainbows, which rule. Rain makes friends not see you DJ, and granted, it is a valid excuse (I too have used the rain to not go out, so, this is by no means a passive aggressive attack upon 95% of my readership). If only rain could somehow be limited to the 3am-6am time period and days where I need not be tempted outside by nice temperatures and activities... Anyways, Grow Up is this Wednesday, April 7th, 2010, at Madrone Lounge, and forecast is clear, with 9mph winds, 54F, and if that prediction holds its course, I expect to be emancipated from any of the weather related excuses mustered by friends who have guarenteed attendance.

So I'm gonna be upfront about it: I'm reposting up a track that I got off of the following blog, which totally kicks ass, Kefir80s. It's all in Russian, but it does have an autotranslate tab, which I might add is very progressive (OMP and most American blogs, alike to American citizens in general, assume that every visitor is gonna roll over for the English language, and to a certain extent that follows suit with a worldwide trend, which has been imposed upon you all by marketing, occupation, and whole host of other factors). I'd put Kefir80s up on that sidebar which shows all the blogs I dig, but I can't, since I only update my bitchass cry baby of a blog at work. The computer that I'm provided with is kind of a dinosaur (Dell Optiplex 210L), and it tends to crash whenever I open up any type of pop-up style window in IE. So I'll just shout them out and update it at some point in the future.

Some Library Business, re-edited by Alien Delon who runs the aformentioned blog. I'm gonna just leave up his tags on the tracks. Is that proper form in blog etiquette, or is it better to just link to the post? Who knows (who cares)?
Garnegy & Maties - Dominique Et Darina (Alien Delon Extended Edit)

Discount

2010-04-01T10:38:00.000-07:00

It's nice to know that my Bachelor's Degree was utilized today to its fullest potential. I was asked to remove staples from a packet of 20 handouts for my superior officer! I was really able to put my motor skills to use! I love it how at work, when I am asked to do a relatively complicated task, they address me very professionally, with even a tad of respect, and direct me like a normal human being. However, when I'm asked to do something ridiculous and insulting, I am instructed to do so as if I am retarded. Like today, I was approached with this tantamount staple-removal task, and instructed at an ultra loud and slow pace, with every word enunciated to its extreme. I'D LIKE YOU TO REMOVE THE STAPLES...AND THEN...REMOVE THE LAST PAGE...AND THEN...RE-STAPLE THE PACKET...DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE THAT? Oh and also, can you please send us the budget update for the entire quarter, with all net gains and losses highlighted, and provide an explanation of the reason for any negative loss.

New edit up...some acidic business.
Mr. Lee - Pump Up London (Hotthobo Edit)

Sweaterfunk...MuhmuhMEEE!

2010-03-31T11:11:00.000-07:00

Getting self-promotional up on blog again. Even when I'm not promoting myself as a DJ, I'm promoting my feelings or lack thereof, by spewing my soul out through my fingertips, here. Cathartic! (and trite). Not that feelings need to be promoted to random net surfers that I don't know. I'm getting off topic...

So, probably my favorite weekly night in SF, Sweaterfunk is having me DJ on April 4th, which is quite a task as well as an honor. The Sweaterfunk crew is composed of a bunch of "tightly knit" DJs, record diggers, and producers who know their shit so to speak, and I've always been impressed with the high level of rare expensive wax that gets thrown down, as well as the obscure dollar bin boogie jams, that only see the light of day (actually the dark of night, since its in the basement of the Li Po Lounge) at that spot. So, I gotta dig out all the jams that I think will both rock the party and impress the judges, which has reduced me to a neurotic and critical mess (but I'll pull through though). I'd seriously be there every Sunday if it wasn't for my robotic 9-5 work schedule, and the fact that I live on the exact opposite side of the city. Anyways, check the flier and come out to lay Easter Sunday to waste.

I'm putting up the A and B side of a jam that I'd love to play at a night like this, but won't, as it's too warped for me to really mess with (without having to pray that it doesn't become a skipping nightmare).
Master Jam - Dancin' All Night
Master Jam - Dancin' All Night (Instrumental)

Back It Up

2010-03-29T11:32:00.001-07:00

So for the eight-billionth time, I needed to get on my skateboard to escape my life, and I wound up re-injuring my back (I was sort of aware this would happen, as, being down & out and impulsive, makes for having little to no self-control). Unfortunately, skateboarding and booze are my only two outs for current problems in my brain, and they both damage my body. What the fuck? In order to remedy one, I have to damage the other. Odd how that works, but I guess its fitting, in a very sick way (thank you God, I hope you are laughing). Buying stuff is another go-to method of coping, but that hurts the wallet, and actually doesn't really help the brain, unless your new material possession somehow tricks the brain into thinking that you are now somehow improved (this is the mind frame that capitalism feeds on; my insecurities ultimately make others rich!). Of course, music helps too, and I don't think that there is a much better tune to post up (that hits some of the sentiment expressed in self-healing, at least lyrically) than A Rock 'N' Roll Fantasy by The Kinks. For an extra added bonus, I've included another track of sheer sublime beauty, Jennifer, by Faust. These two are getting me through tough times of pain and anguish, so hopefully they'll do something for you.
The Kinks - A Rock 'N' Roll Fantasy
Faust - Jennifer

Other Blog & Mix Shout Out

2010-03-24T14:06:00.000-07:00

So other blogs are better than this one. They write about the music, man. They don't go into personal psychosis and daily observation consistently. Instead they feature artists and DJs and do real interviews with them. This blog does not. Blog does not promote itself much, and when it does it is infrequent and unconfident. I've told him to suck it up, and lose some face. Whats the worst that can happen when you say, "Hey other blog, I love you so. I link you on me, perhaps you can link me on you". I guess they say no, or worse yet, nothing at all, and desecrate your soul. The world is tough, it is time to get used to it.

Just today I found some cool synthy mixes on better blogs/cooler websites with money:
Like this dude Tommyboy and his mix
Or another mix by Jonas Reinhardt
Or an older one from Altair Nouveau
Or this Gavin Russom one

Blog needs to up its game, and somehow convince a relevant artist to make a mix specific to it's internal parts. So if you are a relevant artist, and want to make a mix specific to blog, send over a 1000 word manifesto explaining your merits, and why you should be chosen to put up your mix on OMP. Really sell yourself! I mean, your gonna need to, in order to set yourself aside from all the other applicants.
The Crash Crew - Rock The Spot

Nada

2010-03-22T15:11:00.000-07:00

I don't wanna write a post today, but I am, in order to let any devout OMP followers (there are currently 3 of you, world-wide) who frequent the blog know that I am down to go outside of my comfort zone, to blather solely for your (actually "my") enjoyment. I made a very impulsive late night choice over the weekend, which has prevented me from computing at normal speeds. Plus I've been substituting my normal dosage of coffee with toffee, so my energy levels have 5 minute bursts, and are now at an all-time low. There is nothing kicking about my feeble brain, other than that I can't think up anything to write about, so, that is today's topic. Nothing... Booooooo.
Tasha Thomas - Hot Buttered Boogie

Negative Trip

2010-03-16T15:12:00.000-07:00

I’m in that mood, where I’d like to kill someone (and it is one specific person), but I’m too burned out to even really feel the rage. In reality I should be more annoyed and be able to just move on with it, but all emotion lately has turned to a sense of anger, which I’m luckily too subdued and lethargic to act upon. My feelings are very back-seated and piteous. This is a result of my coffee buzz wearing off, and I’m literally afraid to delve into the caffeinated zone again, since I absolutely need to re-energize for my extra-occupational tasks later today. I’m sorry, but having 3 large cups of coffee in one day is kinda disgusting in my mind. I once had a power-tie boss (I was working for his start-up outside of his real power-tie job) and was dealt the burnt end of his coffee addiction by just being in his vicinity at 6pm. By that time he was about 5-6 large coffees deep, with the most putrid coffee breath and body odor imaginable. Fucker loved to get right up in my personal space, and give rapid fire instructions, basically dressing me in his foul coffee essence. I don’t wanna be that guy, and I’m therefore living in this emotionally vacuous void, bordering somewhat on this new condition that I just learned about, called Alexithymia (which I guess is somewhat prominent in males). I’m not quite at that point yet, but I’m definitely somewhat abridged in the mental.

Ups to Jon Blunck from Sweaterfunk for clueing me into today's track by Halo.
Halo - Let Me Do It To You

MEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

2010-03-14T17:44:00.000-07:00

This is a me post, and I don't even want to pretend that its not. Me!!!!! Anyhow, Amywhoa and I worked on an edit of this weird song by The Seiko Brothers, called Children of the Universe, which she grabbed over in Scotland (solely cuz the record [a compilation called Exiled] had a cool logo). Pat Les Stache over at American Athelete put it up on his awesome blog, so go here and download it now.

Scumstache

2010-03-09T16:29:00.000-08:00

There are a ton of little bullshit tasks that I wish I could somehow eliminate from my life without ever having to deal with any of the consequences. The ones that really seem to provide me with the most anguish deal primarily with haircuts and shaving. I’ve already provided blog with a long account of my hatred of haircuts, so now it’s time to rant about something that happens even more frequently, and granted, has less risk. I mean if you get a shit haircut, it’s the pits for at least 3 weeks, or until you buzz your head down to size. Shaving is more like a constant mosquito nipping at you ever two days, reminding you (at least in my case) that you could never grow any impressive facial hair other than a scumstache (thank you 25% french canadian heritage) or the dreaded neck beard. Plus blood will be drawn, occasionally, which always seems to happen before a wedding or a (court) date. I can’t foresee any time in my life that I would actually grow anything out and keep a mustache, beard, muttonchops, etc…; sideburns are the extent of the facial look for me.

I’ve actually considered getting the laser hair removal on my face, as the thought of not having to shave 120 times per year seems on the surface to be an nice advantage. However, perhaps having a neck beard will be the new scarf in 2020, and I’d hate to not be adequately equipped to participate in any fledging trend. Laser hair removal is pretty tight though. I mean, if I wanted to, I could permanently etch something cool and simple, like a music note, into my cheek, and people would say "Hey, that dude, likes music". All at once they would understand my bond with sound waves. There was this one dude at my high school, and I forget his name (but it was something epic like “Jazz” or “Turbo”), and not only was he mature beyond his years (both physically and mentally), but he could pull off an entire neon green Sean John jumpsuit with neon green Saucony Shadows (in the exact same hue), and also rocked cool designs in his facial hair, like half a basketball, or a diamond. All the girls loved him, he like, knew all the janitors by their slang/street names, teachers cut him slack, and everybody was giving him 5 at all times.
Golden Dawn - I'll Be Around

Weird Weekend Post

2010-03-06T11:19:00.000-08:00

Selfish ass blog kept me up all fucking night, pouting about how he only got one post this week. I was like, "Shut it blog, don't even act like you didn't get two comments on that last post". I mean geez, that fucker gets so damn lonely sometimes that it borders on the pathetic, but regardless, he did manage to inject a strong dose of guilt through my membrane. Just enough to goad me into a very rare and uninspired weekend post (while doing the most cliched thing possible in San Francisco: sitting at a cafe drinking coffee, using the free internet whilst alone at my Macintosh laptop [in a sea of other Macintosh laptops] writing my super-unique blog. Ouch).
Special Request - Salsa Smurf

Plugs: Grow Up

2010-03-02T11:37:00.001-08:00

The Monthly Shameless SELF-PROMOTION post has hit again. Yes lemmings, Grow Up is upon us, on March 3rd (2010 btw. 2011 and beyond people, take heed), at Madrone Lounge in San Francisco (and its free!). Maybe its best to just copy and paste the last post I did for Grow Up and save myself that extra bit of time (I just tried to do this by the way, but it turns out it'd be much easier to just write it). So this month we've got heavy-hitter Altair Nouveau (of super label DFA btw, and Solardisco) who will be doing his last DJ set here in SF, before moving to NYC to actually live his life to the fullest (we all know that you can only partially live it up in SF). Also guesting it up, is SF producer/DJ, The Beat Broker (SENTRALL, Flexx, Hands of Time) who has been on fire lately putting out a bunch of new 12"s. I'd like to point out, and this is entirely coincidental, that Myself (Hotthobo), Altair, Beat Broker, and Fenstar, are all (under)graduates of the University of California, Santa Barbara, at different points in time, from '97 - '05 (I think). So we've all experienced the negatives and positives that accompany living in a place comprised mainly of rich whites and working class Mexicans, with perfect weather and an intense, yet homogeneously flawed nightlife and culture. I'm sure this will somehow be reflected (abstractly) in our selections.

So, for this Grow Up, the same rules apply. If you show up, and I don't know you, and you tell me that you're attending Grow Up solely due to the blog, I'll be obligated to buy you a cheap beer. Last time, no one did, but people (I'd never met before) did introduce themselves, a few of whom, even told me that they'd seen OMP. This leads me to assume that either they were too modest to ask for a free drink, or they checked it out once, said "eh, whatever", and brought it up solely for the sake of conversation, not knowing that they could get free beer outta me. Either is okay with me. There are some rules though. Like once you get the beer from me, you can't tell all your friends it worked. Honor system applies people: I'm actually trying to save up some cash right now in preparation for taxes, so don't be fucking with my bank account in order to realize some sly hustle (that I'm calling out right now anyways). If you do that, its both trite, and rude.
Etienne Daho - Il Ne Dira Pas

Percentage Drop

2010-02-26T11:29:00.000-08:00

According to Google Analytics, my fucking visitation percentage is down 0.28%. So I need to figure out a way to up my visitation without being a complete knob and buzz-wording my way into readership. That never really works anyways, as you get people for a split second, and then realizing that they’ve been duped, scoot the fuck outta my little slice of heaven, and back into hardcore bondage or whatever specificity they are actually seeking.

Instead, I’ll try to post jams, and keep on unfettered. I’ll try not to shed a tear when nobody downloads the sickest Junior track (as a tip, search out the music video for this cut on youtube, if you want to see the groundbreaking technology employed in Who Framed Roger Rabbit shattered).
Junior – Mama Used to Say

Super Juice

2010-02-25T14:09:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I get so fucking juiced up on an album that I actually get “happy”, and my legs go all dumb and jumpy. Someone today was like “What’s wrong with your face”, and I was like, “I’m smiling” (first off that is a bitten joke, and nobody has even talked to me today). So the album that has gotten me mega pumped up to the maxxxxx is Correlations by Ashra, formerly Ash Ra Tempel (remember how I used to write incoherently about music occasionally on this blog?). I read on the nets that Manuel Göttsching (lead guitarist and general creative force behind Ashra) basically set the tone for modern techno with that E2-E4 album of his (the one that has the minimal checkered covered and goes for a buttload of cash), but this is not that album. This shit is that pulsating, psychedelic, synthy, proggy, hypnotic, melodic, druggy, material that I wish I could have experienced the first time around in Germany, but instead I’m stuck at bar I fucking hate (like Amnesia in SF) going to see Jonas Reinhardt (which isn’t a bad thing, those dudes absolutely kill it regardless of the territory) do it 30-odd years later.
Ashra - Club Cannibal

Hate

2010-02-23T16:29:00.001-08:00

Fuck you blog. I've got much better things to do with my life, like bend over backwards for a bunch of people I get paid to assist. When do you ever pay me? I've given you eveything, and you've given me nothing more than an outlet to a repetitive, simple activity (in an otherwise endless void). I'm starting to loathe the pointlessness of it all (anyone looking for ad space?), and I'm thinking that instead of spending time developing sentences, I should be bidding on abused puppies on the internet. Ya'know, start my own kennel: do something worthwhile.

In re-reading this garbage, I've realized that this should probably be posted in missed connections on craigslist instead of up here (even though it isn't a missed connection, crap like this gets posted there on the regular, with bad poetry, youtube links, dick pics, giberish, etc... I think thats why they created rants and raves, but nobody seems to check those out). Ahhhh, I'm running low on time and creativity today, and I'm sorta mad at blog for some reason. I've been told that winners don't make excuses...
Xavier - Work That Sucker To Death

Compromised Ethics aka Blog Sympathy

2010-02-18T11:33:00.000-08:00

I post up music onto the blog and people do not even care. That is not to imply that people care about my blog either, as I feel that the only people that really frequent it, are people I actually know (and they probably only check it out, because I’ve referenced it and reamed it into their minds in the real world. Sorry about that, cohorts). Enough sympathy rambling for the moment, as there is an issue that I want to explore.

So I record a track or two off some album that I like from the mid 70s or 80s or whatnot, and feed it to the blog. In theory I understand that, without their permission, I am officially stealing and screwing over the artists by posting up their songs (if the albums they reside on are currently in print). Like, if you could buy the Wah Wah Watson album Elementary right now, brand new, from the record store, I’d be preventing a potential buyer from purchasing the album since getting a free taste might just compromise the impulse to make the purchase (especially the case if the whole album is available), even though the album as a whole is pretty amazing and recommended. I do agree with that concept, but, since his album is not currently in print, is it still negative for me to post up one MP3? I’m not putting up the whole album, and even if I did, the artist would not stand to make a penny from an interested buyer. That buyer would have to seek out the album (99% likely it’d be used) in a record store, or on ebay, and there is no chance what-so-ever that a dime from that exchange is going to get back to the artist.

So what does the artist prefer? The free promotion, to get readers interested to either find their albums used (which will get them no money), or to purchase reprints/current albums (which will get them some dough hopefully, based on how they negotiated their deals), or to have no tangible/downloadable auditory presence on the net, and simply be based in print. In my case, it does not matter much, since no one downloads anything off my blog anyways. It’s seriously pathetic how little people are moved by the shit that gets me into the boogie groove, chills me out, etc… It’s almost as if everyone just gets to the blog by accident and then reads a couple seconds of my bullshit and then peaces.
Change - Hold Tight
Wah Wah Watson - Good Friends

100

2010-02-16T14:44:00.000-08:00

Well, One Man’s Problem, has made it to its 100th post!!!! Big fucking deal, right?!? Perhaps not to you, but for me, it’s like defeating that one level of Mega Man that gave me such a hard time as an adolescent. There were no significant changes in my life after the boss had been defeated, and it wasn’t like I’d beat the entire game; it was just a checkpoint that I could officially lay to waste. So, at this instant, if “wasting time at work” was a legitimate sport, I like to think that I’d be drafted into the minors, or at least on the radar of some respectable scouts. I mean there is something about the number 100 that is more significant and relevant than say 87. I’d like to say dignified too, but, I could’ve just dug up my 100th grave to have unprotected necrophiliac sex. So I’ll settle for significant and relevant.

On my way back from lunch, while brainstorming a topic to include on my 100th post, I was able to come across something a bit off topic, which I have to include, that I think holds true to many of the sentiments expressed here on the blog (mostly, how extremely depressing events [that don’t involve physical pain or destruction] that don’t relate directly to my personal life, often juice me up. I hate to say that I wallow in others’ sorrow, but if there is a certain sense of humor in that sorrow, where it becomes bittersweet, it just destroys me in the best way). As I just walked back to work from my lunch, I saw a bum in the corner of a packed parking lot, slumped over with his pants half off, singing (loudly and surprisingly in key) “Let’s Get It On” into a Schlitz microphone. I know it's messed up, but it couldn’t have made me happier: instant smiles, among a crowd of horrified tourists.

So, despite the fact that one of my least favorite holidays, Valentine’s Day, occurred over the last weekend, I was still able to have a relatively epic time here is San Francisco. V-Day is always, and I assume, will always, be a tough day to cope with, regardless of relationship status. It either affirms a sense of pathetic loneliness, creates guilt for any half-way, unfulfilling or strictly sex based relationship a person might have (which are either entirely doomed or pointless), and/or hustles one's brain and wallet in an intense rush to sheepishly meet any televised or government-ordained, neurotic Valentine’s Day criteria that has been consumed and accepted by lovers across this continent since birth. Regardless, I was able to spend some money on my true (and partially tangible) love at the KUSF Rock n Swap Record Fair. I could probably write a couple pages that outline just how weird I think these events are, and expand about all the record collector/reseller stereotypes and anomalies that you’d observe in the period of an hour. Perhaps I will in the future, and hopefully I can get that article published in Sweatpants Quarterly. I’m sure that I fit the exact mold of your common record nerd, with impulsive/feeble budgeting skills and odd neurological social ticks, and I could also expand on that. But, for now I’d like to just list a couple stand out moments from the two hours that I spent stimulating my eyes and ears with my so-called “peers”:
1. Watched a guy scratch his balls for a full minute while explaining his pricing system to me.
2. When I asked if the price could be negotiated for a particular record, some seller psyched me out saying he’d sell a $40 dollar record to me for $15 bucks. When I said “really?” with some excitement, he looked me dead in the eyes, paused, and said “No!” and snickered. For the record (not to get literal, waka, waka, waka) I’d never met or talked with this guy in my life before our little conversation.
3. Observing two nymphets (possibly aged anywhere from 15 to 22 years old) in short shorts and revealing tops pass by a table of ugly old men, and watching as all of them stopped whatever conversation or browsing was occurring, to focus their communal energy on staring at these girls' assess in unison.
4. The guy that told me that the DJs are the only ones who buy the “Queer” music off him.
5. The guy, who didn’t have a record under $30 for sale, who lectured me with a straight face (and without me even asking) that his definition of “VG” or “Very Good” condition trumped all other sellers in the building. To put it in his words, “My VG is everyone else’s Mint. Some of these guys wouldn’t know a Mint record if it was still sealed”. I assume he uses that line often.
6. Two jazz aficionados arguing loud and arrogantly about which label was the most relevant: Blue Note, Verve, or Prestige.
7. Lastly, the sweatpants/balding long hair combo, who dropped his piece of pizza, face down onto the dirty carpet (that everyone had been pacing around on all day), and then rapidly picked it up and ate it with no hint of remorse in front of everybody there.
The Three Degrees - The Runner (Loose Shus & Hotthobo Edit)
Incredible Bongo Band - Bongo Rock
Split Endz - Poor Boy
Dynasty - Here I Am
Dynasty - Revenge
Herbie Hancock - Magic Number

Nightshades

2010-02-12T15:25:00.000-08:00

I just found out that eggplant has nicotine in it. What the fuck. I seriously fiend for eggplant dishes on the regular, and get them in some format at least once (and often twice) a week. I had a baba ghanoush sandwich today, and a co-worker had to run her mouth about its nicotine content, with the intention of instilling the sentiment of the eggplant as my enemy. There was an episode of the Simpsons where a hybrid crop of tobacco and tomato was accidentally created (dubbed “Tomacco”), which is a hilarious concept, except for the fact that it’s predated entirely by the eggplant which harbors tobacco’s main active ingredient. Tomatoes, Potatoes, and Chiles, which are all categorized as nightshades, also contain nicotine alkaloids. So feel free to never, ever eat them again, and spend countless hours substituting other vegetables in to replicate the recipes that you love. Or, maybe, open a non-nightshade restaurant for all the other dietary cultists, who are also repulsed by trace elements of nicotine in their food. I mean, grrrrroooosss, right?
David Grusin - Condor
King Louie & Baloo - I Wanna Be Like You

Torture

2010-02-11T10:48:00.000-08:00

What do you do when you tell someone (in a very professional setting) that what they did was uncouth, and they listen to you attentively, process it, apologize, swear it’ll never happen again, and then do the same fucking thing a week later? Do you throw a fit? Give them the cold shoulder? Do something equally fucked up to them out of spite? Maybe I should just dump a full canister of scalding hot coffee in their face, and pretend like we both just won the super bowl. Of course that would be a waste of coffee, but unlike boiling water, it burns, smells and stains. I’ll probably just hold it inside.

Sorry blog, I’ve got a date with Microsoft Excel today.
Brenton Wood - I Want Love
Brenton Wood - I Think You've Got Your Fools Mixed Up
Codek - Tim Torum

State of Shock

2010-02-09T12:20:00.000-08:00

Again, no time for blog, but I’ll take a moment to rant in a caffeine induced frenzy. My job has bent me over, thrusting rapidly, and unfortunately there is no “safe” word that will bail me out. I’m just gonna have to take it until the job gets off, or becomes raw and sore. Not the most pleasing imagery, but it’s also not the most comforting situation, and I felt the need to use the “everyday man’s poetry” to describe my anguish. I’ve somehow become a pawn in a battle of employers and employees; people are acting extremely vague to lead me like a lemming into “traps” which will either justify or prevent the flowage of money from/to the aforementioned parties. I fear that I will be to blame regardless of the outcome (by the group that fails to benefit) and I have the desire to hide under my desk in fetal position, like it’s an earthquake drill. In true American fashion, instead of making a steadfast decision, I’ve just been pretending that the situation does not exist.

I'm putting up one of my alltime favorite Zappa songs (check the guitar solos: fucking EPIC), and make sure to check the bassline on Forgotten Town. If anyone has a dub or instrumental version of that track, lemme know.
Frank Zappa - Uncle Remus
The Christians - Forgotten Town

GROW UP

2010-02-03T11:49:00.000-08:00

So GROW UP, the night that I co-promote with some friends, is back in effect, and I'm excited. This may be a repetitive notion, but promoting the night on my blog, will have no effect. The chance that someone from the Bay Area (that I don't already know) will stumble upon this posting and decide to go to the show is highly unlikely. Any Vulcan could tell you that.

So, Come to Madrone, Wednesday February 3rd, (2010, incase you are a year late or something) from 9:30pm - 2am. Special Guests, Loose Shus (Plant) and Pat Les Stache (American Athelete, Cabana Disco) along with residents, Sick Face, ME! (Hotthobo), and Fenstar will be providing the tunes. If I don't already know you, and you tell me you are at the club solely based on this blog, I'll buy you a drink.

Regardless, I have a disco mix that I made at least a month ago or so, which I didn't put up on the blog initially, because I thought that some other blog with higher readership would be interested in it. Ended up not being the case, due mainly to my own laziness and humility (and inability to cold email people the mix and suck on their knobs about how their blog is the greatest and how I'd feel super priviledged to have my mix up with their site's amazing content, yadda, yadda, yadda). So the mix is in its right place, here on One Man's Problem, available to the very few people that accidentally stumble upon the site, based on some combination of words they looked up on google.

Download my mix below!
Hotthobo - Disco Misco

Counter Culture

2010-02-02T11:22:00.000-08:00

While at the video store the other day, I noticed that the clerk was moaning under his breath, as a couple near the register discussed whether or not to rent the movie A Mighty Wind. Dude, was fed up with all these fakers not renting the right stuff, and it was clear that he has that complex which a lot of peeps in the retail world have: no one understands me/you people are all idiots. I get it, as I had the same complex when I worked at a record store, and I’d have to ring up Radiohead CDs and listen to people spew about how Thom Yorke changed their lives. But dude, you gotta just step back sometimes and think, I work at the place that harbors all the things that I love, and while it may be an outlet for retards with horrible taste to cop “tip of the iceberg” cinema (or fill in the blank with a specific product), when they could dig for some real meat, it is still a haven for obsessives (like you) to geek out. So to all the underpaid ‘tards who work at places that foster the things that they are actually passionate about , perk up for a moment. You are where you belong, and if your boss and/or management are dicks, just start stealing. It really makes that abuse tolerable.
Kurupt - Calling Out Names

Sputum, Phlegm, Mucous

2010-01-27T11:37:00.000-08:00

Writing stuff while sick is so trying on the brain. Things don’t flow languidly, you second guess any word or passage, and nothing feels right. That juicy feeling that I sometimes get when writing about whatever bullshit I’ve chosen to dissect for the day, is entirely lost, and every word typed feels contrived. To the chagrin of my co-workers, I’ve been attending the office all week despite being a sleep deprived, hacking, putrid mess of phlegm and mucous.

Now, what is the difference between phlegm and mucous? According to the first two sites that appeared on Google, there is some heated controversy as to whether they are the same or different. According to the first site, they are one in the same: phlegm, which is sometimes called "sputum", is mucous found in the throat or expelled from the lungs/bronchial passages by way of a cough. Now the second site argues that phlegm is primarily composed of mucous, dead bacteria and virus, dead white blood cells, and various tissues and cells. The difference between phlegm and other mucous is that phlegm comes solely from your lungs, and mucous from your nasal passages. Exciting!

Here's a jam from Cuba Gooding, daddy of Snow Dogs own, Cuba Gooding Jr! Also, a track from Escape from New York from '84 that you won't find anywhere else (other than the original Rollerball 12" single, a one sided re-press 12", or a shitty quality MP3). Wait, I guess you can easily find it.
Cuba Gooding - Happiness Is Just Around The Bend
Escape From New York - Fire In My Heart

Acid Scouting

2010-01-25T12:09:00.000-08:00

I’m so tired right now that I feel like I just gave blood. I’m seeing spots in the periphery, and certain things appear larger than normal, specifically people’s faces when they are talking up in my personal space. I have been in this state before, and it’s a mixture of extreme sleep deprivation and a sonic dosage of caffeine, mixed with a couple paper tabs of acid that I took in high school, which still occasionally affect me to this day. My first really bad acid trip, occurred a week before my Eagle Scout Review Board Defense, which made that experience a little more peculiar than normal. I was extremely paranoid and nervous that I would not pass the review for some reason, as ultimately you get grilled by 5 guys in their 60s regarding your devotion to Scouting and the important lessons that you’ve learning along the way.

In the middle of the interview, I got the saucer eyes going, and one committee members’ (who was asking me a direct question about my experience as a Patrol Leader at the National Jamboree) head swelled up to about twice the size that it should normally be, and it was sweaty, distorted, and bulbous. I had to ask him to repeat the question like 3 times to wrap my brain around what was being requested, and miraculously I pulled through. General warping and melting was going on around, weird smells and vibes were in the air, and that sense of total panic, where you feel as if your mental control has evaporated entirely into the void, had permeated my system. Just when I had internally given up all hope, and had generally accepted that I had to ditch the interview immediately, and roam the streets for eternity in a psychedelic/schizophrenic dimension, it came to an abrupt halt, and everything was as velvety smooth as upscale cool ranch dressing. Although I don’t remember what I muttered during my flashback portion of the interview, I do remember getting some very uncanny looks from these old geezers for the remaining few minutes of the defense.

Regardless, they passed my hippie-ass, ultimately promoting me to the upper ranks of the underground adolescent loser society.
Tommy James - Meet The Comer
Tommy James - Quicksilver

10 Minutes

2010-01-22T14:33:00.000-08:00

Sorry blog, you get 10 minutes tops today. No brilliant social commentary, no sassy-frassy-lassie fat girl gossip remarks. Just pics I took from other peoples' sites, John Carpenter, and the Incredible Bongo Band.

Also I'd like to give big ups to La Spiaggia in North Beach for making me the best roasted eggplant sandwich in the history of my life today. I'd say it made top 10 alltime (not that anyone could give a shit), with a bullet.
John Carpenter - Chase Across the 69th Street Bridge
Incredible Bongo Band - Pipeline

Larry

2010-01-20T16:01:00.000-08:00

Don’t ever name your child Larry. I think at this point people are pretty hip to that, but just in case, let this passage serve as a reminder. I don’t remember any contemporaries of mine named Larry in grade school, although there might have been a Lawrence or two (and they fucking preferred it that way). The Larrys I’ve known are at least 10 years older than me (for the sake of argument, around 40 years old or older), and always the sleaziest motherfuckers to claim hetero-male status. I think that the name sort of dictates the life events and decisions that ultimately derive you of morals or any sense of right or wrong. For example, one Larry that I (would prefer not to) know, is a friend of my parents and is probably about 60 years old now. When I first moved to SF 7 years ago, he insisted that my parents give him my phone number in case of an emergency (which makes no sense, as if anything went wrong, I would need his phone number and not the other way around). To put things into perspective, up to this point, this jerk-off had moved his entire family to Amsterdam (he was a consultant that ultimately made millions of dollars off of large companies, by doing basically nothing except trivial amounts of research) so that he could smoke weed all day, and get hookers. His wife and kids hated living there, and as a result, his wife developed a vicious drinking problem, and his kids stopped talking to him. After 2 or 3 years, she filed for divorce and took the kids back to the states. He also had to return to deal with the divorce, which is where I enter the story, at 22 years old, freshly arriving in San Francisco, and getting a phone call from some friend of my parents, that I had met maybe 3 or 4 times in my life (who was in his mid 50s) to “hang out”. At this point in time I didn’t realize that the name Larry itself would likely harbor negative effects on its subjects. Still I had no desire to hang with a 53 year old in San Rafael for no apparent reason. After a few months, and several weird phone calls (and a few which I had to duck), I ended up having to go over to the dude’s house to drop off some of his stuff which he had left (purposely?) at my parent’s house, which they insisted I return to him. Long story short, he invited me to jump on his trampoline, got me a beer, smoked me out, and then told me that he wanted to hit bars with me in the city and meet girls “closer to my age”. Sleaze!

Now, I’m aware that everything that I’ve just written relates to one person named Larry, which is no reason to tarnish the name, but, there are other Larry’s of recent history which also validate my sentiments: Larry Flynt, Larry the Cable Guy, Larry Singleton (Rapist and Mutilator), Larry Eugene Phillips (Bank Robber), Larry Craig (Vile Republican Senator of Idaho), Leisure-Suit Larry (it was a video game about a gynecologist, but I think the programmers really hit the nail on the head), the character Gary Shandling played on the Larry Sanders’ Show was pretty shady in his own regard, Cyclone Larry (a destructive category-5 cyclone in Australia in 2006, resulting in nearly $1 billion in damage and one fatality), etc… Even saying the name Larry aloud, conjures images of polygamy, connivance, and freaky sexual deviance.

In other news, I just checked google analytics, and it’s nice to see that the word “mangina” is still getting my blog a significant number of visitors.
Sister Sledge - You Fooled Me
Sister Sledge - Pretty Baby

Just Bad

2010-01-19T13:09:00.000-08:00

My roommate just purchased a huge screen TV with the works, yet, we do not have cable, and the last movie that he bought was Beverly Hills Chihuahua (which is apparently “good”, according to a friend of mine, so perhaps I should not judge solely upon the title/cover). Such I've been subject to a bunch of flicks lately, and the last few I’ve seen, whilst being visually stimulating, also stimulate vomit to come up onto my lap (with the exception of District 9, which did make me want to throw up, but solely out of joy). That last sentence was cheesy, but not as cheesy as my last two weeks of movie watching (newest Star Trek and Avatar, fyi). Waka, waka, waka. Obviously the FX are the nuts, and the 3D boobs (or bluebs) on the aliens are procuring rock hard boners on 13-50 year old males world-wide (and after draining them, they’ll be saving up all their cash to get those hair tassel things implanted, so they can link up to flying pterodactyls), but the plots to these movies are sooooooo fucking cheesy that I almost need to regress mentally just to endure them. The wholesome and sociopolitical messages directed at the audience are so ludicrous that they are similar to a Care Bears Movie, where the power of a smile transforms pure evil into a shiny sailboat or something. Ah fuck, just like America I’m a clone, shamelessly blogging about movies and Avatar. That hurts, and while it’s true that I could forgo posting this, I’d rather just point out my lack of originality (which in itself is original, right?). I can only blame this on the fact that I drank tea today instead of coffee. Hmmmmmmmmm.

Let’s talk about sythnthesizers for a second (or more so, summarize some shit that I read on Wikipedia that I found interesting. I don’t wanna claim it like this is some first-hand info that I am privy to). For me, synths are responsible for some of the best non-traditional music ideas to come up in the last 40 years or so. I had always thought that the first synths were a product of the late 60s (I mean people credit Moog as being the first one specific to music, more or less), but apparently the first electric synthesizer was patented in 1876 by Elisha Gray (best known for his development of the telephone prototype, a by-product of which became the Musical Telegraph). Gray accidentally discovered that he could control sound from a self vibrating electromagnetic circuit and in doing so invented a basic single note oscillator. On December 29, 1874, Gray gave the first public demonstration of his invention for transmitting musical tones and transmitted "familiar melodies through telegraph wire" according to a newspaper announcement. This was the first electric music synthesizer using self vibrating electromagnetic circuits that were single-note oscillators operated by a two-octave piano keyboard. The "Musical Telegraph" used steel reeds whose oscillations were created by electromagnets and transmitted over a telegraph wire. Gray also built a simple loudspeaker in later models consisting of a vibrating diaphragm in a magnetic field to make the oscillator tones audible and louder at the receiving end. Basically the guy is an inventor/gangsta that paved the way for bands like Tonto’s Expanding Head Band to wreck shop on my speakers.
Tonto's Expanding Head Band - Tama
Tonto's Expanding Head Band - Cybernaut

Unggggggh, Na-nah Na-nah

2010-01-15T10:53:00.000-08:00

Instead of thinking about/writing up a post, here are the lyrics to Make 'Em Say Unggggggh:

No Limit Studios, whassup?
Who dis is? Who dis is?
Nigga, this Rappin 4-Tay, who is this?
Oh dis P
P?! *said with disbelief*
Yeah dis P!
P?! (Yeah) If this P lemme hear ya say ungggggggggggh
UngnGNGYAHAHgngnnghh *voice cracking*
This ain't no motherfuckin P!
Man, hang the phone up

[MP] Ungggggghh, na-nah na-nah
[MP] Make em say UNGGGGGGH (UNGGGGGGH)
Na-nah na-nah (na-nah na-nah)

[Master P]
Nigga, I'm the colonel of the motherfuckin tank
Y'all after big thangs, we after big bank
3rd Ward hustlas, soldiers in combats
Convicts and dealers, and killers with TRU tats
Never gave a fuck bout no hoes on our riches
And niggaz come short, I'm diggin ditches
M.P. pullin stripes, commander-in-chief
And fools run up wrong, nigga I'm knockin out some teeth
I'm down here slangin, rollin with these hustlers
Tryin to get rid of all you haters and you bustas
Steppin on toes, break a niggaz nose
In the projects niggaz anything goes
Breakin fools off cause I'm a No Limit soldier
At ease now salute, this pass me the doja

Chorus: Master P and No Limit

Make em say UNGGGGGGH (UNGGGGGGH)
Na-nah na-nah (na-nah na-nah)

(repeat 3X)

[Fiend]
Fiend exercisin this right, of exorcism bustin out the expedition
Bullets choppin haters business to about the size of prisms our mission
They heard we scary, No Limit mercenary
No tellin how bad it get, because the worst'll vary
I heard you make em worry, that this for the loot
They intimidated by the rounds that the tank shoot
Tank Dogs salute! Every robbery in store, cause they know
everything Fiend know, mean mo' money mo'
Little Fiend still want the greens, the cornbread and the cabbage
In your hood, remindin you bitches of who the baddest
Definitely the maddest, so the crime gon' stick em up
My UNGGGGGGH went twice (ungh, ungh)
And ended with nine, get em

Chorus (2X)

Make em say UNGGGGGGH (UNGGGGGGH)
Na-nah na-nah (na-nah na-nah)

[Silkk the Shocker]
P gon' make ya say UNGGGGGGH, I'ma make you say OWWWWWWWW
I'm not Eric B but guaranteed to Move this motherfuckin Crowd
I stay on like light switches, money, cause I like riches
Hittin nothin but tight bitches, call me, I might hit ya
Nigga make em say nah-nah-nah, don't trip
After I bust yo' shit, then after that say na-nah-nah-nah
I hang with niggaz, I do my thang with niggaz (unggggh)
They wanna know if I gangbang, cause I hang with a whole gang of niggaz
So when, we connect bitch better respect this, I step quick
Cause I got a, vicious right hand but ya know what? My left is quick too!
Silkk, you the type of nigga that promotes violence? You might be right
cause I'll step in the club and say somethin
to get that motherfucker start to, fightin!! (Bout it!!)
Bad as vogues, I'm cold, extra see through
?P-G? never fuckin knockin niggaz cause I make em all see 3-D
And P-D's the game that I spit, No Limit Soldiers got my back
I run this motherfucker, TRU niggaz
And I, betcha y'all niggaz ya say, "Bet!"

Chorus (2X)

Make em say UNGGGGGGH (UNGGGGGGH)
Na-nah na-nah (na-nah na-nah)

[Mia X]
We capitalize and monopolize on everything we see keep pistols drawed
and cocked, we got the industry locked, we can't be stopped, too hot
Check the spots that we got, on Billboard
This Tank can set up roadblocks, we fadin all you hoes
Want some mo? Then let's go, stretch you out like elastic
Zip that ass up in plastic, have ya folks pickin caskets
We drastic, our tactics is homegrown in the ghetto
So feel the wrath of this sista, it's like you fightin 10 niggaz
Forget the baby boys, it's the biggest mamma Mia
The Unlady Like diva, lyrical man eater, believe her
Or see her, and get that ass embarrassed
If you're a decision maker, guaranteed you'll get carried away
So stay in yo' place, when ya hear mamma speakin
Cannon spray, clear the way, when ya see The Tank creepin

Chorus (2X)

Make em say UNGGGGGGH (UNGGGGGGH)
Na-nah na-nah (na-nah na-nah)

[Mystikal]
Hi
I'm that nigga that rappers look up to when they won't know how to do it
You could be the little bitty skinny motherfucker with the braids in his hair
Usin limos on Tchoupitoulas
I done paid my dues, but still played the blues
Nigga play me like you was scared to lose
I'm still a fool, you ain't heard the news
I was a No Limit nigga, makin major moves
I won't stop now, bitch, I can't stop
You can't stop me, so bitch don't try we
We TRU soldiers, we don't die
We keep rollin, na-nah-nah-nah-nah
All aboard, bitch it's like a choir inside
The group goin hallelujah
Niggaz goin to war, got to fightin and shootin inside rumors
Bitches be sayin he there, we there, BEWARE!!!
C there, Silkk there Fiend there, Mamma there, P there
Ain't no salary cap, on top of my dollars
I roll with nothin, but them No Limit riders
I gets down nigga, I hold my tank up high
Watch how many bitches get wild, na-nah na-nah

Chorus and fade

Make em say UNGGGGGGH (UNGGGGGGH)
Na-nah na-nah (na-nah na-nah)

Brothers Johnson - This Had To Be

See It, Feel It

2010-01-14T11:03:00.000-08:00

The idea for today’s post is complete garbage and I know it. Usually this would be more than enough incentive for a person to move on to something more productive, but wasting time is the name of the game today: this may be the most productive that I get. Besides I need to write this out so I can stop thinking about it; it has plagued me all morning, and I really need to advance my train of thought to something above a 9th grade stoner level.

Sooooooooooo, I think that people should be able change the MPAA rating system of movies when they are zooted, as a precautionary warning for those whose brains are in a delicate state. For the most part, if a movie is PG-13 or above, you can push it up a rating (like from R to NC-17), and if its PG or G, you can push it down (so a movie like the Swan Princess becomes G ÷ 2, unless the main character’s father dies. Then it gets a bit emotional, and you can actually reverse it, and even push it up to PG). Had I known that the amount of violence and gore in certain movies would be so rampant, I probably would not have taken bongloads in my buddy’s civic in the parking lot of the Tarzana AMC in ’99, especially before going to see a movie like Payback, with Mel Gibson. They hammer off his fucking toenails one by one in that movie; can you imagine the horror I faced internalizing how that would feel. I mean the whole point of that movie is to watch Mel Gibson get the shit kicked out of him (to the point where he would die about 10x over from internal bleeding) and while Gibson is currently at a point in his no-one-can-touch-me-anti-Semitic-power-Christian-career, where that type of thing would be more enjoyable to watch, at the time I was somewhat rooting for Mad Max and whatever his character’s name was in Lethal Weapon. Maybe there should be a warning in the previews, like do not see this movie impaired, you will internalize the pain and own it. Some violence is the funny kind which I can handle without any problem. For example a movie like Kill Bill, where Uma Thurman slices open about 300 ninjas in the span of ten minutes, is somehow hilarious to me on the reefer. I think the difference is that the pretext for over the top gore and violence is set up to be funny, or to reference some classic movie/scene. Since it’s an homage to older kung-fu and samurai movies, where blood and guts are pretty fake looking, and blood sprays out of a dead ninja’s neck like a fire hose, the brain does not fire the message to your own neck, making you cringe and feel that slice. Movies based solely around gore and violence, which are created with the sole intention of making the audience grimace (due to its supposed believability), become like kryptonite to the stoned (while Payback is not a believable movie in anyway, the pain displayed is somehow tangible). Watching Payback stoned is on par with watching open heart surgery sober.

R.I.P. TP Cruiser. I know all the other blogs are writing out lengthy, thought provoking eulogies and posting up your shit. I chose instead to write about Mel G, Payback, and being stoned at movies, and I’m gonna own that choice. Besides I already posted about you. That being said, your jams touched me, and you’ve got some of the best intros in the business. Just ask Mobb Deep (From the Cradle to the Grave, creepy).
Fat Larry's Band - Here Comes The Sunshine
Hydro feat. Lorna - Stop Your Teasing

Photo

2010-01-12T14:08:00.000-08:00

Looking at personal photo blogs by decent photographers in LA makes me feel pretty insignificant. They have photos of relatively cool underground celebrities and musicians that they can use to tell celeb-infused stories to girls at parties (nonchalantly, without any pretense) and all of their normal “close” friends are disgustingly stylish and beautiful. Plus they are constantly travelling the world on someone else’s dime, and they are always the nicest, most down to earth, superior, sensitive people of all time. If only I had photo talent, I could officially end any perspective clouds in sight.

Here is some more audio heat from Fenster’s collection.
Nytro - Atomic Funk
Nytro - Where's The Party

Facebook

2010-01-11T11:17:00.000-08:00

Fucking Facebook is the ultimate validation of popularity. I never felt that I was particularly popular, but I did at one point feel that people I know would respond somewhat (whether positively or negatively) to my attempted jokes and banter. There is nothing worse than typing up a quick soliloquy summarizing your agony, or posting a link that defines your sentiments concretely, and receiving absolutely no response, while Cool Girl 87 posts up “I love tacos” and gets 15 responses from her peer group, affirming that sentiment like she deserves a Nobel Prize. On Myspace, I felt that my relatively low friend count, made me selective, as opposed to pathetic. But with Facebook, that shit is ultra-tested to the max, as you can have tons friends (who don’t give a shit about you) and you basically bomb your audition to entertain them, every time a post goes unanswered. It’s a harsh-ass barge, and a high school-esque dose of reality ("Facial...Disgracial" to be muttered with a Valley accent).

Tracks this week are all courtesy of Fenster a.k.a. (DJ) Fenstar. Dude has an epic record collection, and I’m already hyper-stoked on the jams that we recorded the other day. Even back in the day, he was waaaaay ahead of his time; anyone who has seen the Pineapple Man freestyle homevideo knows that even as a teen, he was destined for great things. Today’s track is a dollar bin find, of synth geek Don Muro, and as a bonus, there's a Fatback track I've been meaning to put up, which if I don't put up now, I'll surely forget and then be wasting 8MB of space in my Divshare account (which would be wack, since I'm all about keeping that shit tight and tidy).
Don Muro - Squash
Fatback - (Are You Ready) Do The Bus Stop

Baño Con Carne

2010-01-07T15:43:00.000-08:00

The bathroom at work smells like freshly grilled carne-asada again. Public bathrooms should not smell like delicious food: they should smell pine-fresh if at all possible, but unfortunately, they usually smell of excrement, urine, hobo, or that odd humid shower smell (or a combo of all). I should not get hungry upon entering, and then start ducking under the stalls to see if someone left their lunch around (no pun intended). Quickie post, as I got more important things to do on g-chat. Sorry blog.
Nate Dogg - Puppy Love
The System - Sweat
The System - It's Passion

R'n'R

2010-01-05T14:22:00.001-08:00

Nothing says angsty cock-in-pocket rock'n'roll better than a drunk possum.
Sonic's Renedevous Band - Do It Again
Sonic's Renedevous Band - Electrophonic Tonic
Sonic's Renedevous Band - Sweet Nothin'
Sonic's Renedevous Band - Earthy

Music Reviews

2010-01-05T13:52:00.000-08:00

I’m writing real music reviews again (without the pretense of comedy, unfortunately) which is the lowest form of scum that I can commit to text. I’m embarrassed, and I can’t think of a better way to get over it other than to rant about it on my pathetic blog. The only possible benefit that I see from a music review is just the information that the album/artist exist, and maybe getting some knowledge of the label and the genre. Outside of that, everything written to praise, rate, compare or deny the album is beyond subjective and relative entirely in sphere to personal tastes, experiences, and influences. How the fuck is anything that I have to say about an album even closely relevant for someone who is entirely obsessed with octave bass-lines. I think that shit is hack, but that’s not to say that I did not at one point enjoy it (electro-clash anyone?). The purpose of the review is to ultimately make you want to buy or avoid the album, right? I’ve probably wasted thousands of dollars in my lifetime buying crap that I read was great, which I ended up hating, dismissing, and returning. I’ve also probably avoided albums that I totally would’ve dug, due to 20 sentences written by some college-educated dipshit (like myself) with obvious comparative skills and feeble technical knowledge.

There are tons of bands that I’ve absolutely hated from the get go, which are revered by music dorks everywhere (like Yacht), and conversely bands that I love which get more hate than I think they really deserve (unfortunately none are coming to mind, but they do exist; maybe think along the lines of simple synthy 80s stuff). Also what happens when I am not familiar with the obscure band that the new band is blatantly ripping-off? Do they deserve credit for ideas that they did not even attempt to develop into something slightly more unique? Am I a shitty writer because I didn’t realize it? Yes. Oh, okay.
Wuf Ticket - Ya Mama
Wuf Ticket - Ya Mama (Instrumental)
S.O.S. Band - S.O.S. (Dit Dit Dit Dat Dat Dat Dit Dit Dit)
S.O.S. Band - Take Love Where You Find It
Pino D'Angio - Ma Quale Idea

Night Mind

2010-01-04T11:39:00.000-08:00

Lately I have not been sleeping much, due to my mind racing out of control with brilliant ideas. At least they seem brilliant when I’m in that state, so brilliant that I will actually stay partially awake in bed developing them to intricate degrees. I fear in those instances that the act of getting up to write the stuff down, will prologue my sleeplessness, and instead I just opt to think the ideas through repetitively so that I’ll remember them in the morning (the act of which also prevents me from sleep). Often I do remember, but it’s always just a fragment of the general concepts, and all the real night juice and details are lost. Here is an example of some scribbled notes that I took after waking up:

"Night Mind, idea for movie/comedy about transgender lieutenant, lyrics to songs, restless lack of sleep, Avatar pact with America - James Cameron's balls come out in 3D for credits and IMAX theaters are equipped with salty mist so audience can simulate ball licking, pic of Ren with mind device."

I slightly remember having a dope title and most of the story worked out for the transgender lieutenant movie, and I know that I had written the lyrics to an entire song in my head that night, and all I was able to recount in the morning was “lyrics to songs”. I know that'd it would benefit me to actually get up and just hash it out, and just be at peace with it. Although actually opening my eyes and writing it all down, would prevent the Night Mind from further developing the concepts, so maybe at best I’d be able to capture what I’d just thought of, and quit then. What needs to be developed is the Helmet that Ren wears in the Space Madness episode, which records the Captain’s Log straight from his mind. That way I could just lay down and record the Night Mind in real time.
Drugs - Deep Down In The Dumps

Heart of Gold

2010-01-02T03:28:00.000-08:00

Whatahhhhhha, Whataaahhhhhhhhaaa, Water. Can't sleep. Don't Care. Damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't but I love you. I'm talkin' Alan Parsons. I'm talking late night, drunk, cigs, spitting, dancing, rapping with cab drivers and getting their phone numbers. Fucking Avatar, and America and violins. Drunk post (obviously) and I told myself never, but I'll let it ride for the day after new years. If you are stalking me, then absorb this shit (right now). I run my 300 viewership to the fullest, heed my words. If you know me personally, then this is not a cry (for) to help (seriously, its ok). I'm talking listening to cds on my tv, laying down with the laptop on and the backspace key. This one is out to all my mates abroad, keeping shit massive, and the shirtless dude wearing elvis glasses that didn't think I was funny at the club (i was on point tonight dude). Ups to divshare, google images and photobucket, without you I'd be the same but without this international voice. Next track is mad gay, but Padded Cell sampled it, and even so, gay shit is cool.
Lime- I Don't Wanna Lose You

Appraisal

2009-12-30T08:03:00.001-08:00

The reason that I'm sitting here at 8 am, by myself in a cafe, typing this shit (on a Wednesday morning that I have off from work no less) is due to the fact that some dip-shit is in my apartment doing an appraisal. Which leads me to the paranoid feeling that in the near future either my rent will be raised, or the place will be sold: the end result of both will cause me to move yet again. When I moved into my current apartment, my motto was "this will be the last time". So, lets briefly, vaguely, and indiscriminately run through my moving/living situation over the last 7 years since I initially moved to San Francisco. Yet another ME! post, so read it or fuck off and scroll to the bottom and just get the free track (its a real good one today).

1. After couch surfing for a few weeks, I found a rich young adult with a great place on Craigslist, that paid 2/3s of the rent on a shared unit in which I got more space than him(?). Although he was on par with some of the shittier drunks I've met, it was honestly rarely a problem since we didn't hang much, and he had money (drunks without money suck, duh). Everything was fine until some pill popping alcoholic piece of night trash from Long Beach moved up to go to SF State, asked to sleep at ours for a few weeks till she found a place, and ended up staying for five months. With every last dollar I could muster, I saved up to take a trip to Japan for two weeks, and upon my return I found that my roommate had gone on a bender, taken our "guest" to Vegas, married her, bought a house, and was moving out in two weeks.
2. Having just enough to cover next month's rent I hit up Craigslist like a fiend, and found a shithole with a roommate somewhat in my age range who did not need a deposit. Parts of my room went down at a 30 degree angle, but I took it out of desperation. Upon moving in I discovered that I'd be living with an unfixed pitbull that was afraid of everything and everyone (she probably needed glasses, but they don't make those for dogs. Actually, I stand corrected), and a roommate that did coke every other night and dated a stripper, that he lambasted for her career choice and alleged infidelity (although he brought home random bar skanks, and genuinely nice girls home on the regular behind her back). My friends hated coming over, and after 3 months I bounced,
3. To end up with some kid fresh into City College whose Dad had just jetted from his house to move in with some model. It was the kid's first time living alone, and anything seemed better to me than where I was before, until I got my bank statement a month later with 6 checks (totalling only $140) on it that I didn't write, made out to said kid, with my signature forged. He said he needed money to buy weed. So left that arrangement, and took a bunch of the nice furniture that he had at Daddy's place as a consolation prize.
4. Moved in to a crazy nice but sketchy place with a guy that grew weed (a lot of weed) inside, and a graphic designer. Best place ever: cheap rent, super huge, immaculate detailing, jacuzzi tub, free laundry, but everything I owned always smelled like weed, and everyone always thought I was high (and I kinda was as I was getting free pot).
5. Moved after a year and a half (longest place other than my childhood home that I've ever lived in) to get a place with my then girlfriend.
6. Moved everything into the unit upstairs after about half a year due to the downstairs neighbor being adverse to any music at anytime of day ever. I used to get blamed for my then upstairs neighbors' music all the time, in conjunction with my own, and she had the landlord's number on speed dial (I felt worse for him than anybody actually) and had a therapist girlfriend who used to like to confront me about how "I was restricting the freedom from flowing in their apartment". After the move up things from a neighborly perspective improved, but these were times of extreme mental anguish and paranoia.
7. After another 6 months moved again, across town, as the gf wanted a larger place with a yard.
8. After another 3 months gf and I parted ways. I spent two of the shittiest months of my life living with her while looking for a new place and then moving into the place which I'm in now, which I like.

I know that nobody cares. Still, I recounted all of it just to simply state that I don't want my rent raised, or my place sold. I am very broken in regards to the moving thing, and although it is a basically a constant ritual in my life, I'd like to break the cycle for a moment to save my back and my bank. I guess I could have have written about Phreek, and classic underground disco, like a proper disco blog, but seriously just google Phreek, P & P, and Patrick Adams and you'll find a wealth of more relevant info on other pages which'll be waaaaaaay better than some half ass plagiarism by me.

Phreek - I'm A Big Freak (R-U-1-2)

I'm Outta Here

2009-12-24T10:36:00.000-08:00

Its getting to be time to leave when:
1. A stranger starts a conversation with you by saying "Don't you love this bar? I mean everyone here is so cool, right?", but they are not being sarcastic.
2. You need to exit the freeway in a couple miles, so you put on your blinker and the guy to your right speeds up specifically to block you, so you can't get over. So you chill for a mile and wait for another gap, put on your blinker, and the same guy speeds up again to make sure you can't get over. And now he's mad dogging you and staring through you with the intensity of the devil, and you just missed your exit (btw, I'd been driving in the same lane for 20+ minutes so I didn't cut the dude off earlier or anything).
3. You're at a party in a hotel room with 20 people smoking indoors with no windows open.
4. It takes 30 min. at a minimum to get anywhere you are planning to go to.
5. Your favorite mom and pop owned stores and restaurants from your childhood are now the GAP and Verizon, and you drove 30 minutes in traffic just to find that out.
6. Certain males and females about town (at night, and specifically downtown), rock a touch of fake blood across the throat or under the eye for the sake of fashion (or maybe Halloween nostalgia?). You also have to hang out and conversate with them.
7. Your childhood bedroom, now looks like the posted photo.
8. Your mom gives you a pamplet titled "Best Sex In The World: A Guide", and tells you to check it out...and you do.

I Heart Los Angeles!
Mitch Hedburg - Soda Pop

Look At Your Life

2009-12-23T18:52:00.000-08:00

Drive, Eat, Drink, Drive, Wait, Drive, Wait, Smoke, Wait, Drive, Drink, Drive, Sleep. Then skin the shit out of your forearm skating a 4 inch curb in front of your parents house (so it looks like you took a cheesegrater to it), and think about the fact that you are a 28 year old man. Then write up a pointless blog post. Then sulk.
D.O.C. - The Grand Finale
Heaven 17 - Let's All Make A Bomb

Blog Vs. Vacation

2009-12-21T14:10:00.000-08:00

Blog thought that he'd be getting some concentration and content, seeing as I'm on vacation and still in touch with computers, but his thinking is wishful at best. I need to be forced in front of a computer for a long period of time in order to really make this thing happen, and the only angst I'm feeling to get those psycho-lexical juices flowing has to deal with my family (which I'd prefer not to write about, but probably will. The apex of angst should hit this Friday, so we'll see how things play out).

Anyways, here are some endearing tunes by Jonathan Richman, who was previously the front man of the Modern Lovers (and is now still very relevant and poetic in his own solo right). I went on a date once at a Jonathan Richman show, and I thought that I dug the girl, cuz the show was good and she was smiling. But I was fucking fooled by the show, as I was just having a good time because of it, and not her, and it took a full hour after the show to shake that daze outta my brain and realize that she was a 'tard.
Jonathan Richman - A Higher Power
Jonathan Richman - Velvet Underground

Destroyer of Evil

2009-12-17T11:19:00.000-08:00

I don't have much time for a post today, since I have my office holiday party (which they are doing at work, and during lunchtime this year, instead of at a restaurant or club or someplace that normal work places go to. I guess the T.E.T.s [tough economic times] strike again) to attend in a couple minutes. I'm expecting it to be a tad weird, as they will be serving us booze this year, for lunch, and then an hour later, we are expected to return to our desks, and actually do real work. I wouldn't say that I am planning on getting slammed at lunch today, but based on my past experience with open bars and awkward situations, I wouldn't be surprised when I'm on my third drink in twenty minutes (and I'm probably not the only one). Based on an office rumor I overheard, last year's holiday party was alcohol-free, due to the fact that someone threw up and embarassed themselves two years prior. Apparently the guard has changed, and this year, the fun committee or whomever plans these things, decided that it is again fine for us to drink liquor amongst other co-workers, but lets just limit it to lunch time, and then we can schedule legitimate business meetings directly following.

The tracks for today are from 80s Bronx electro producer Hashim, which in Arabic means "destroyer of evil" or "one who attracts women". In later forms of Arabic I can also be translated into the equivalent of the English word "sexy".
Hashim - Chateau Vie Remix (Castle Life)
Hashim - Al-Naafiysh Remix (The Soul)

Productive Waste of Time

2009-12-16T10:57:00.000-08:00

It’s the pre-holiday week, and work has reached the grandeur of all-time fucking pointlessness. I’ve shown up on time, and I’m now alone in my cubicle staring at my calendar for today, which only lists one meeting of the Green Committee, now marked as cancelled. I did bust my ass to accomplish a couple things and meet some deadlines (which ended up being irrelevant in the long run) and now I am here trapped in purgatory, waiting desperately for the holiday break to begin. On days like this I seriously have no need to show up. I could just paste my cell phone number on my computer screen, and have two boxes for people to put paperwork, one which says “Done”, and another which says “You need me to actually do something with this, right?” The fact that I’ve trekked an hour in the rain to get to work today, solely to get paid to bitch about that aformentioned process on my blog (while listening to Italo and Eric Burdon jams on my Juster Hi-Fi Speaker System), and then write about taking cold showers, borders on the ridiculous.

So, what’s the deal with taking cold showers in the morning (cue Seinfeld bass line)? Seriously though, this is my topic for the day and I’m gonna take it there and back with some ferocious intensity. I think that something is fucked up with my hand (which is the water temperature tester for the shower) where it is incapable of helping my brain make the right decision not to enter. There have been a shitload of instances lately (and it’s much more apparent since it’s been colder out) where I’ve been entering the shower prematurely, and then have to linger shivering and anticipating the point at which the water will shift from cold to scalding (which can take anywhere from 30 seconds to 2 minutes +). The worst part of the whole ordeal is that moment when you’ve entered and gotten half of your body or any part of your hair wet. At that point you are not allowed to turn back; you are officially the shower’s bitch, and it’s up to him to decide how much torture you are going to have to deal with before your flesh starts to bake from the radical temperature change. I mean I guess, you could technically, get out of the shower all dripping and stand there like a wet dog awaiting a more accessible atmosphere. Fuck that. That might even be a more miserable situation, and if you grab a towel to dry yourself off before re-entering the water, you are a pussy, plain and simple. One technique, which you can impart while trapped in the shower awaiting resolute temperatures (which doesn’t completely work), is to pee on your legs. Your pee will be lukewarm to warm at best, and may improve your situation around this area for 15 to 30 seconds (If you are a man, I wouldn’t suggest peeing up for the heat benefits, as there is something about taking your own pee in the chest or face area that just comes off as incorrect, even when its rinsed directly by water). Some people would consider that gross, but I think it’s safe to assume that all of you have peed in the shower at some point. If you get out of the shower to pee and then get back in, your priorities are seriously out of wack; it all goes to the same fucking place, and the process that applies to water washing your pee out of the toilet, works here as well. It would only get really gross if you use your shower as both a toilet and a shower regularly (as opposed to using a toilet at all), or if you have a large build up of hair in the drain, which is constantly getting filtered by the butt end of your human waste. Anyways, eventually the water does change temperature, and for about 10-20 seconds, it’s great. Then it passes the point of perfection, and within a split second jumps into the danger zone, where you have to either get out of the water stream (which is also cold) or adjust the temperature knob. My adjustments are usually jerked and unrefined, which accounts for the overcompensation in temperature, and suddenly I’m back where I started, with cold or lukewarm. At this point I am usually pretty fucking fed up, which allots me the mental/physical capacity to really take control of my situation; by concentrating on the exact degree specifications on the temp knob, I can pinpoint the precise spot for epic showering over the next couple minutes. Since we are on the topic of showering, wouldn’t it be nice if they streamlined the shower process across the board, so it’s more intuitive and constant. There have been multiple times where I have been at a hotel or a friend’s house, and spent 5 to 10 minutes just figuring how to get the thing not be at either extreme: piping or frosty. It’s almost an embarrassing experience, where you feel so fucking dumb that you can’t figure out an appliance that has only two knobs tops (and sometimes the bath/shower flip switch thing) which you’ve used almost every day for the entirety of your life.

I’m posting up some Italo business from Electric Mind for today. The B side of the 12”, is really the Dub Version of the A side, even though they name the B side something completely different, which I don’t get. Like, is it cool to be misled for 5 seconds, thinking you got a dub copy of an alternate track, but then you put the record on and it’s totally obvious that it’s the same?
Electric Mind – Pick Me Up (Can We Go)
Electric Mind – ZWEI (Dub Version) aka Pick Me Up (Dub Version)

The Fountain

2009-12-15T14:23:00.000-08:00

Thanks to the wonders of science and research, I can finally take something that has haunted me my entire adult life and (possibly) turn it into a positive. I look young, to the point where the average doorman, assumes that I am A) not 21+ and B) not in possession of a legitimate ID, and therefore he or she must put me and my ID under the most scrutinous of tests. Staring, flexing, flicking, and black-light torture is subjected upon my poor ID, and I concurrently get asked every question under the sun, “what’s your birthday”, “what’s your sign, “what’s your driver’s license number”, etc… and then the follow ups to that process are baby face remarks, laughing, and utter disbelief. For the record I am not retarded or physically deformed, so I don’t look like the midgets from Time Bandits or anything. I used to get jealous of my friends who looked 30 when we were 18, but after some contemplation, my lot in my life ain't too bad. Conversely, I actually prefer to just continue to put up with all the shit and remain somewhat precocious looking than to be like Robin Williams in JACK. Apparently Danish scientists have found that people who look young for their age actually live longer. According to the following article it has something to do with these pieces of DNA called telomeres, which I am not going to explain, because you should know how to fucking read and follow links. Thanks to science, I can now confidently look forward to outliving most of my peers in solitude, and I now have some scientifically-bitchy condescension that I can insecurely recant to door-people during my nightly interview process.
ZZ Hill - I Created a Monster
ZZ Hill - That Ain't The Way You Make Love

The Emancipation Of Mimi

2009-12-15T11:09:00.000-08:00

I woke up with a ton of ideas today that seemed very well formed initially, and I attempted to work them out in my head in that “snooze” period, which lasts exactly ten minutes (between when I push the snooze button on the alarm and go back to bed, and then when I wake up to the alarm again). I scrambled to an unopened envelope and wrote down “Fetish Skate Video” and “Mariah Carey” on the back thinking I’d be able to remember all the minute details. I am now at work, and they seem not only extremely hazy in comparison to the earlier dream format, but also less interesting/funny and waaaay more retarded. I’ll attempt to develop them anyway, as I am not looking to really do anything with my bloggings, other than get my fingers moving.

The first retarded idea dealt with the very homophobic world of skateboarding. Being openly gay and a into skateboarding is a definite no-no amongst most skaters (the majority of whom are probably in their teenage years, and very influenced by a number of things outside of their own mental capacity to make reasonable decisions). This is often a product of some working class, ignorant, macho, derelict, Pabst-blue-ribbon, flannel shirt type of vibe that a bunch of skaters tend to subscribe to. They say that statistically 1 out of every 10 men is gay; I’m sure that within skate culture the ratio is much lower, as it is not an activity that really speaks to a large variety of people outside of heterosexual males, and additionally its probably very intimidating for those who are outside of that category that it does interest (but within that category, it is at least racially very open; not so much across gender and sexual orientation). Regardless, it is fun to do, and all people like fun. So I was thinking maybe we need a gay skate video, with some pros (there must be a few who are secretly gay) coming out of the closet. It’d be a big Fuck You to skate culture. Sadly it’d probably end their careers, as I remember hearing rumors at skate spots from time to time about which pros are “confirmed gay” followed with some negative sentiments, and I figured that maybe the Gay Pride Skate Video would not work on its target audience. Instead, why not just go a couple steps beyond attempting to educate a few kids of the ignorance of homophobia (besides the vid would probably just become a target that they could use to reinforce what they already believe, unfortunately), and instead just blow a few minds by coming out with a hardcore fetish themed skate video, that will show some ripping: not only in the street, but in the club and the bedroom. It’ll be a place where skaters land and turn tricks, often in the same line. It’d showcase leather fetishes, circle jerks, cruising, all types of shit that skaters would generally be turned off of, but kids would totally buy it, thinking that they are gonna be really hardcore, for having a video with events and topics well beyond their sexual comprehension (Kind of like how it was cool to watch Faces of Death when you were 15, even though it is in no way enjoyable). Shit. In re-reading this BS, I don’t even know if I should put this out there, but if I don’t, I would have wasted a whole 30 minutes writing all of it up. If anything, it’s the homage to my thoughts on the astral plateau, which I cannot deny.

The second idea was “Mariah Carey” and beyond the name that’s all I can remember, which sucks because I’m pretty sure that I had a brilliant concept that would have put the fetish skate video idea into the trash can. I do remember having that song Touch My Body stuck in my head when I woke up (which was actually in a skate video). I also know that Mariah has an amazing Sanrio collection.
Fatback - Keep Your Fingers Out The Jam
Fatback - Want To Dance
Fatback - Get Ready for the Night

Huntsville

2009-12-14T10:12:00.000-08:00

No sleep. Dark circles. Coffee. Work. Suck. Blues. I’m feeling real country today, because I’m wearing a denim shirt with pearl buttons and listening to Jim Ford. I’m just connecting on that mental plain, which is odd, as I have little country experience, outside of going to summer camp in Maine for 3 months when I was 9 and being involved in the Boy Scouts during my adolescence (not that being in a Boy Scout troop in Studio City is country, but we did go on a lot of trips to country type places, which will no doubt be blogged about at some point). Country is stereotypically floods, farms, animal shit, Wallmart, sheriffs, church, whiskey, beans, sagebrush, snus, wranglers, fires, smells, and a bunch of other shit that I really have no real experience with. Nowadays, country is IPods, online purchases, Nickelback, meth, and mini-malls.

More coffee. More Suck. Based on what I’ve already wrote, I should probably put up some country shit to draw a parallel between the content and the medium. But One Mans Problem is sometimes deliberately a letdown in multiple departments, and my denim shirt is just not enough incentive for me to tie things together. Screw it. I’ll do the obvious, and in doing so I will actually blow everyone’s mind with my self-proclaimed and pointless reverse-reverse logic. I’m having problems keeping my eyes open at the moment, and in re-reading what I have written up to this point, I realize that it’s time to stop writing and close this moment in blog history, so as to avoid falling asleep with my face on the keyboard with the zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz key depressed. So here is the obvious: two dollar bin jams from Christopher Cross. Whether or not this qualifies as country or yacht rock is up to you to decide (fuck it, this is denim shirt music).
Christopher Cross – Ride Like the Wind
Christopher Cross - Sailing

Why Bother

2009-12-11T12:43:00.000-08:00

Busy again, so go read Loose Shus' article on the cycle of suck. Essential reading, for the readers.

For the Downloaders:
Juicy Bananas - Badman
The Plugz - Reel Ten

Open Letter To Blog

2009-12-10T09:17:00.000-08:00

Dearest Blog,
I am very sorry that lately I have not had sufficient time to contribute to you. My schedule at work has shifted so that I am actually busy, instead of just desperately seeking out ways to kill time while appearing assiduous. The odd thing is that I actually resent my superiors for putting a few large projects on my table with firm deadlines, as if my job is supposed to be comprised solely of me surfing the net and aimlessly wandering the building with a couple papers in hand as if I have "something to do". I understand that you have seen little sunshine and are not eating as regularly as you would prefer. I just wanted to let you know that this is not deliberate, and I still love you.

Faithfully Yours,

Hobo

P.S. I know that I could potentially feed, bathe, and play with you after work, but that would cut into my schedule of booze and skateboarding, and additionally go against the very nature of your conception (i.e. killing time while trapped at work). So hang in there, make sure to eat the stale corn nuts I'll occasionally toss down (and it'd be tactful not to forget to ration those), and please sweep all of your excrement into the corner of your coop.
Tha Dogg Pound - I Don't Like To Dream About Getting Paid
Tha Dogg Pound - One By One

Prog Fusion

2009-12-08T12:25:00.000-08:00

There is this older dude at work (who is a jazz fusion bass player in a pretty heavy group in the bay area), that I’ve been trading music with. The guy has a story about the spiritual/cultural relevance of every band/artist he “turns me on to”, which usually starts with “This guy’s a heavy doper, but…” or “He put the rest of his talent into his arm if you know what I mean”. Dude holds the torch to Bitches Brew Era Miles Davis, Tony Williams, and John McLaughlin/Mahavishnu Orchestra; that’s his shit right there, and I’ve probably heard the same four stories about the three aforementioned guys ten times each. All of these stories last between 15 – 20 minutes, and while initially interesting, it’s a long time to spend in a hallway en-route to the copy machine, especially when you know all the details already. I’ve always thought it was somewhat rude to point out to an elder (like dad or grandpa) that I’ve already heard a story multiple times. Even at my relatively young age, my memory is already very fleeting, and I often make the mistake of recounting tales I find interesting or humorous multiple times to the same person, occasionally in the period of a week. I am likely destined to become an old shit with four stories locked and loaded that I can and will recount at any moment. Whether or not they relate to previous conversation will be completely irrelevant, and additionally I’ll likely pepper them up with lies to make my relatively mundane existence, and the events/culture of my generation, seem breathtaking and electric (like how the 60s and 70s seems to those of us born in the 80s). Of course it will be quite obvious that my tales are faulty upon the third or fourth listening, when I’m no longer the awkward guy that took a piss next to Ice T in an alley behind the Roosevelt Hotel (a very significant moment in my life), but now I’m telling children that I played bass on a West Coast tour for Body Count. To ensure a boring and awkward time for everyone in my company, the diarrhea mouth will likely flow, and while everyone else tactfully searches for outs, I’ll probably be fantasizing mid-thought about how enthralled everyone is with my Shakespearian fabrications.

This post goes out the dudes with intense music knowledge about shit that most people could care less about, and the long (although sometimes tangent and arduous) stories that accompany that knowledge.
Stanley Clarke - Concherto For Jazz/Rock Orchestra (Short Version)
Neil Larson - Futurama
Larry Young -The Moontrane

Tear It Up

2009-12-07T16:13:00.000-08:00

My body is not as resilient as it used to be. 4 hours of serious skateboarding with a bunch of dudes who are 7 years younger than me has left me humbled, with my legs throbbing in pain (days later in fact). I could have been the token older guy and just benched myself in the corner at every spot smoking cigarettes and talking shit, but I felt the need to show these fucks that the slightly older generation still grips it and rips it (that’s just how I live my life). These dudes had video cameras and were intent on documentation, which brought out the mental beast: I could prove that I still rip and have the evidence laid down permanently on a gigabyte somewhere. I felt driven to show that the inkling of skate skills which are cryogenically frozen inside me could be reheated and released to course through my veins again. Well, if anything I’ve proved that I am not able to kick it in that environment anymore, the shredding to comfortably walking ratio is outnumbered by at least 20 times; not a particularly even trade. So I have to kick myself off of any dosage of heavy shredding and simply accept shred-light, which I guess is like making the change from regular Cola to Diet. Not quite as tasty and satisfying when it’s all gulped down, but absolutely necessary to ward off the devils that require its consumption.
Cameo - Please You
Bernard Fevre - Dangerous Mixture
X=R7 - XR7

Gormandize

2009-12-03T10:59:00.000-08:00

What the hell is going on with people’s dietary choices. This little asian girl (a very FOBby one at that) told me that she was feeling sick today since all she ate yesterday was sugar. I laughed thinking that she just over indulged a bit, but then she explained that she had two donuts for breakfast, a pastry for lunch, and then had cake for dinner for someone’s birthday. That was all that she fucking ate yesterday. As shitty as that sounds, it caused me to ponder whether it is worse to ingest sweets all day long, or to omit from eating completely, and just drink beer and liquor continuously. One path gives you acne and headaches, and the other makes you into an irrational weirdo with nothing to vomit, that passes out and then wakes up with acne and headaches. Unfortunately I tend to favor the latter path every so often, and although it seems much worse on paper, it just sort of happens sometimes without much of a plan (it still seems better to me, even when I have my fingers rammed down my throat hanging over the toilet for five minutes, with nothing coming out of my mouth. For the record I’ve gotten better about not making that mistake). I think the sugar route tends to be more premeditated, but I guess it can also be coincidental (that only sugary products are available for consumption in a given day). People don't realize that sugar is a fucking drug, slanged out on a massive scale by huge corporations to the youngest of children, and the oldest of adults. Its effects, though not as jarring, last longer than something like nitrous or even salvia, and when used unremittingly, may be responsible for conditions like diabetes mellitus and for thousands of dollars to be wasted on oral maintenance. Take heed, sugar destroys lives.
Eazy - Project Funk
Eazy - Project Funk (Instrumental)

Mr. Toad's Wild Ride

2009-12-01T14:45:00.000-08:00

If I wanted to write a longer, sharper post today, I’d have to get some more coffee right now, and honestly I’d prefer to be a zombie for the rest of the day. I did the two cups thing yesterday, and my digestive system was not too pleased with my choice; I’ve already had one cup today, and then I had a bunch of dried fruit, so I really have to make sure that I make the proper dietary choices for the rest of the day to avoid a liquid surprise later (fiber and coffee is a deadly combo. I wonder why people don’t read my blog?). Anyway, I’m putting up some Gil Scott Heron tracks today from the album 1980 which he did with collaborator Brian Jackson. I took a little trip over to Wikipedia to see if I could dig up any ridiculous trash about Heron (which there was plenty), since he is hypocritically living the life that he prophesized and warned against in his earlier albums. I’d heard from friends that his recent show in SF was among the more negatively awe-inspiring they’d been to. The picture posted above, is of Heron at the aforementioned show in San Francisco, where he looks very similar to the Toad from the Wind in the Willows (see pic below. Also note, that in the pic, Mr. Toad is accompanied by a police officer: possibly for a cocaine-related charge or parole violation).

Gil Scott Heron - 1980
Gil Scott Heron - Push Comes To Shove
Gil Scott Heron - Alien (Hold On To Your Dreams)
Gil Scott Heron - Willing

Lurkage

2009-11-30T11:46:00.000-08:00

Is it weird to go to a notorious gay/tranny/drag club by yourself (when you are straight), dance (also solo), drink large quantities of hard liquor, and remain silent the whole time? Oddly, it felt kind of inherent to me, which sadly and officially signals my return to lurker status. I’m not gonna sit back and let my friends (who have no interest in going out) prevent me from being detached and creepy in places that I don’t necessarily belong.

Lately I’ve been thinking deeply about my presentation on the dance floor. I really wanna know what I look like when I dance, cuz sometimes it feels so innate, but alas, it likely looks very unnatural. I’ve danced in front of a mirror in my room, and it did not look very fluid, so I doubt that when I am out that I am somehow channeling Crazy Legs, James Brown, and/or Gregory Hines (which is how it feels in my mind). Not that it matters, as the shirtless guy in the sport coat with the cowboy boots had no problem giving my ass a squeeze, despite my raucous movements. As violating as that was, it played into my insecurities like a college girl with an absentee father.
T La Rock - This Beat Kicks
T La Rock - Bass Machine

Undue Praise

2009-11-25T11:15:00.000-08:00

How are you supposed to feel, when everybody thinks you are doing a great job and you think you are performing atrociously? I just received back a performance review (where I rated myself dead center or satisfactory) where my boss and the administration gave me all these stellar reviews stating that I’m surpassing my job description, and that I perform every task perfectly in a timely manner. They are giving me all this over-the-top praise that I do not deserve, and the message that it’s sending to me is that I am the golden child, who can do no wrong. So now I feel that I know longer need to watch my back in any way: I am invincible, and the workspace is now my play place. I’m gonna start looking at porn at work, openly writing blog, reading books at my desk, and additionally (just to pepper up my techy reputation) I’ll search out incurable computer viruses that I can ultimately unleash upon any shared drive. I’ll show these fuckers how satisfactory I can truly be.
Maurice - This Is Acid
Tyree - Acid Over
Armando - Downfall
Phuture - Acid Tracks
Dj Pierre - Box Energy
Sleazy D (Marshall Jefferson) - I've Lost Control

Music Isn't Free

2009-11-24T16:01:00.000-08:00

No time for a legitimately frantic post today, I'm getting my balls torched by the demons at work. (Ups to Loose Shus for the last two tracks)
Information Society - Running (Dub)
Aphrodite's Child - Hic and Nunc
Aphrodite's Child - Altamont
Art Of Noise - Moments In Love (45 rpm)
Brian Auger & The Trinity - Pavane

Busy: Blog Hates

2009-11-23T10:27:00.000-08:00

I've returned from a little vacation to my city of birth. It left me tired and sore, and now I've got an intense amount of work to do, so I'm just gonna have to get blog the literary equivalent of Arby's as I do not have the time to hash out a home-cooked feast. He's pissed, but still alive, breathing, and no longer starving. If only he would only stop whining; it's getting annoying, and daddy has business to take care of. Posting up some retarded-ass shit today: this group called Circuitry featuring Sam Bostic. Sometimes you just have to buy an album based on the fact that you think its gonna be horrible, which is why I bought Circuitry for $2. To a certain extent it is deplorable, but at the same time, really fun to listen to (its focused mainly on technology and freaky sex shit), and the album harbors the track name of the year: "My Baby Gives Good Phone". Sadly, the year in reference is 1983.
Circuitry - Computer
Circuitry - Seduction
Circuitry - My Baby Gives Good Phone
Circuitry - Driving Me Wild

Hiatus

2009-11-18T10:52:00.000-08:00

Every single day of my life at work, this one guy says "Good Morning, Ryan" to me in a very pompous and proud manner, as if to suggest that he is the only cool, older, distinguished gentleman that graciously greets the surfs of the workplace (to set himself aside from the others, who could care less about us peons). Unfortunately that is not my name, and I know that I've missed the window to correct him, however I had no idea that he was even talking to me in the first place for a full two weeks. Once someone has made that particular mistake that many times, the fault falls into your lap if you decide to correct them that late in the game. Anyways, right above my desk, my name is displayed in at least a 72 pt. font size, so he is either oblivious or has a vision impairment of some sort. I must look like a furry ball of colors to him, which prompted me to thinking about how odd and psychedelic it must be to live in a world surrounded solely by tinted fuzzy spheres that talk.
Skying High - Getting Off On Your Loving
Musique - In The Bush (Remix)
CAM Stati d'Animo - Indian Feeling
CAM Stati d'Animo - Psycho Feeling
SPEED - Tremplin
Distortions Pop - Microchaos

Feline Fine (Sorry)

2009-11-17T11:39:00.000-08:00

Blog has drained me. I’ve put everything into it and recouped absolutely nothing. Not once has blog bought me lunch, invited me to the bar, given me a ride, or lent me a dollar. I know for a fact that blog would not take a bullet for me, despite the fact that it survives solely on my nourishment. Blog even kicks me when I’m down, and spreads nasty rumors about me to strangers. To say the least, we have a complex relationship, based mostly on enabling. Blog encourages my mind to speak freely and in return I allow him to incessantly torture and plague my thoughts.

Music selection for today, is a couple themes from the movie Cat People (which was actually an erotic remake of the original from 1942), written by one of my heroes, Giorgio Moroder, with some vocal work done by another music genius, David Bowie (unfortunately the tracks featuring Bowie are not the strongest on the soundtrack). The plot to Cat People is off the hinges: The Cat People originated way back in time, when humans sacrificed their women to Leopards, who mated with them. Cat People appear similar to humans, but they must copulate with other Cat People, otherwise they turn into panthers after mating and then must kill in order to take human form again. Pretty harsh dilemma, especially when the population of Cat People is few and far between. The movie, Species, pretty much has the same plot, except they substitute Cat People with an Alien, and the soundtrack’s not that great, so my suggestion is to go with the ’82 remake.
Giorgio Moroder – Irena’s Theme
Giorgio Moroder – Leopard Tree Dream
Giorgio Moroder – To The Bridge

Worst Post Ever Pt. 2

2009-11-16T10:39:00.000-08:00

Just to make this clear, the whole point of blog is to share music with people, and attempt to get a laugh in here and there. Any type of tirade against any subject is for the most part my caffeine addled brain sending some shit out without too much thought or recourse. I’ve lately been thinking about starting another blog: one which is completely vulgar, abstract, and offensive, and then having this one be PC, formulaic, self-promotional, and safe. Of course this would be a further step into pointless blog-dom; I don’t know how much more schizophrenic I want to get in cyber space, as my mind lately has been rather delicate. Part of this is due with the fact that the feedback I’ve received has either been overwhelmingly positive, or drastically negative. If everyone just said that blog sucks, then it’d be easy to just give it up and move on to something else that is equally as pointless. The only people that seem to “get it” are people that already know me, so obviously they are inclined to support me with positive feedback. I wonder, are they plotting against me. By simply encouraging me to open the caverns of my mind, knowing full well that I do not function well when it runs rampant, are they merely using me as tool to control the oxygen supply on Mars. I never should have done that appointment with Recall, as it is now tough to tell if I am living in reality or not. Kuwato and the rebels claim to need what’s inside my head, the cab driver has five kids to feed, and my wife (or is it?) is pleading with me to take a pill which will act as a symbol of my will to return to reality.
Bits & Pieces - Don't Stop The Music
Kenny Clairborne and the Armed Gang - Are You Ready
Kenny Clairborne and the Armed Gang - Funky Fever
Kenny Clairborne and the Armed Gang - Say Yeah

PLAYER ERROR!

2009-11-13T13:08:00.000-08:00

This about as self promotional as I get, but... My newest mixtape Player Error is up on the Beat Electric Blog right now. This blog is far superior to mine, both in terms of readership and the consistent quality/rarity of tracks they post, so I'm pretty juiced to have my mix up there.

Check out and download Player Error here.

The Complete Package

2009-11-13T11:12:00.000-08:00

I’m clearly in dire need of more caffeine. I’ve been listening to disco all morning, drinking coconut juice, and staring at a blank computer screen, as a result of last night’s love affair with scotch. Scotch pretty much guarantees that the next day is gonna suck, but that doesn’t seem to matter to me, as I clearly have no foresight into any resultant consequences; everything has got to be pleasure now, now, now. My partial dedication to Thursday night hedonism is both impulsive and retarded, and now my eyelids feel heavy and my mind sluggish. If there is a lesson to be learned, it’s probably that just because someone offers you something free does not mean that you have to take it.
The music selection for today is two Johnny Wakelin tracks from the album Reggae, Soul, and Rock n Roll. Usually I try not to post up a picture of the featured artist, as I find it a bit more fun to search out some picture that relates more abstractly to the sentiment of the post, but this guy is such a goofball that I kind of have to post up at least a few pics (the top one is from http://www.johnnywakelin.co.uk/, which is the funniest/saddest site I’ve seen in some time. Anything that highlights 3 semi-hits from 30 years ago with a current pic is getting into some pretty laughable territory). The album has one of the coolest logos of all time, which is supposed to be some dude in a beanie dancing with a lady (although it totally looks like he’s taking her to the bone-zone; check the expression on his face). I’d first heard the track In Zaire on this comp that Jarvis Cocker put together a couple years back, and I never really put together an image of the singer in my head. It’s weird how you can hear a song and not assume that the singer is gonna look a certain way. Then when you see a picture of the dude, you are absolutely astonished by the way he looks for some reason, despite the fact that his looks are merely an extension of the way he sounds. I mean when you hear some guy like Tony Benet or even Afrika Bambaataa, they are dead ringer visually to complement the aural experience. Why I was surprised to see some huge white weirdo in a cowboy hat singing this shit is uncanny, since that’s exactly what he should look like.

Oh yeah, fyi, by now I’ve had so much coffee that I am basically in the future, and my pet turtle seeks solace in the drains.
Johnny Wakelin – Reggae, Soul, and Rock n Roll
Johnny Wakelin – In Zaire

Blog's Position On Blog

2009-11-12T11:11:00.000-08:00

In posting music, I often wonder if there are rules or no-no’s within the music-geek blog community. Obviously these rules can and are broken constantly, but I’m sure that certain types of blog activity is frowned upon and mocked by the senior bloggers and purists. In skateboarding (and life; deep I know), you can pretty much do whatever you want on your board that is physically possible: push mongo, do ho-hos and handplants in the parking lot behind Sears (that’s actually pretty cool), launch benihannas, and do kickflip sex-changes. Any of the aforementioned tricks would probably result in a harsh mocking by seasoned skaters, although this trick degradation is solely a social construct. God or some underlying universal force did not will any of these things to be good or bad; a couple influential people did. So I started to wonder if I’m currently breaking any of the unwritten blogging rules myself. Here are a few things that I occasionally do which might make the list:
1. Repost tracks that I’ve downloaded off other people’s blogs. I don’t do this too often (and especially not if the track is tagged. How embarrassing, right). If I seriously can’t find the record, the track has a high sample rate, and it’s a stone cold jam, I will commit this crime. Whatever dude, I’m like a music blog Robin Hood.
2. Post up shit that I’ve uploaded from CD. Doesn’t seem like such a big deal, but, some folks claim that unless you record it from the original vinyl it doesn’t count. While I do feel that having the original vinyl copy is crackerjack (I got that term from the Merriam-Webster Online Thesaurus by the way, in searching for a synonym for “excellent”), I don’t think it is absolutely necessary. Besides, if you are actually concerned with supporting the artist, it’s probably better to buy the CD brand new from the store (if it exists), as some of that money might actually make it back to them (depending on how they negotiated their deals).
3. This is a music blog, right. So what the fuck am I doing whining, complaining, praising and ranting about non-music related things, like Laundry and Haircuts. I should be whining, complaining, praising, and ranting about music solely, as my music related opinions matter! They do, right?
4. Posting the same artist’s stuff over and over again. For example I’ve posted a lot of Bohannon, and I’m gonna post more in this post, and I plan to post even more in the future. What can I say, I’m a fan, and although I should space his shit out more, I’m super impulsive.
5. Posting really obvious pop music, that everyone knows and has heard a billion times. I haven’t done this too much yet, but I’m sure I will be posting up some Madonna in the future.

Shit, that’s all I can think of. My blog may be in the red, but it’s not the worst (I could provide some links to some of the worst I’ve seen, but that’d be fucked up and subjective), although One Man’s Problem is still completely un-respected and unknown, which is fine. Still, I’d like others to tell me the rules of blog and what else I am doing completely wrong. On the converse, here are some of the things that I see constantly on other blogs, which I feel violates music blog convention:
1. Posting up music at a low sample rate. Yeah, I fucking love it when the drums (and everything else), which are normally thunderous and heavy, sound like metallic high frequency garbage. Plus I use Serato (which I will likely get hated on hard for using. Is it still lame to use Serato, when I record all my vinyl at the highest sample rates to disc, and I get to use other MP3s, some which I will likely never find anywhere on vinyl in my lifetime, as well? I know the answer is yes [that it is in fact lame as hell], but my back is likely to be in better shape at the end of the day) which means that there is no way I’ll ever keep or play out anything from your blog (which may be your intent, to just tease, expecting that if you like the track enough you’ll go out and find it, which (if that is your intent) I respect (sort of, but still it’s a bit greedy). In that case, why not just go the extra distance and just put up snippets of the track, to really tease, ensuring that a false MP3 copy will never be misused. I’m sorry for the overload of parenthesis used in this passage, but my writing is very fragmented, and I want to accurately include all that shit.
2. Posting twice a month, or less. Actually, I think less than four times a month is kind of pathetic. This is relatively self explanatory, unless you are dropping serious amounts of blog-age in those posts, to tide peeps over till the next one. I understand that you are a busy person and maybe don’t have time for blog. If that is the case, then you DON"T have time for blog: give up, as nobody cares about you or your blog anyway (just as nobody cares about me, or my blog, and yet for the time being, I persist).
3. People who post up all the new 12”s and singles which are being released in the present. I know it’s tempting as there is some good stuff coming out (most of which sounds like it could’ve been released in the late 70s and early 80s, which is bittersweet I guess) but nonetheless, these dudes stand to benefit from the money that music dorks like me would normally spend on their output, as opposed to the money that I’ll now spend on something else, since I just downloaded a high quality MP3 off your blog. This maybe the case to post the low quality MP3, but I feel like many will still be satisfied with the free, yet crap quality version. Just post up the snippet, and/or shout it out and link to the Juno download or some online shop. If you are cool with the artist and they give you permission to post it up, or if they already offer a free approved download via their own label or site, that’s justified also. I know some blogs are popular (unlike this one), and may actually have the power to promote the artist, song or album, but I also know that in my case, if the track is just sort of cool (as opposed to essential heat), and I already have the high quality MP3, I’m not gonna be buying a hard copy.

I could go on, but I’m a total hypocrite and I’ve likely already done everything that I’m speaking out against, or will in the future (perhaps in this very post; irony is a strong theme here at One Man’s Problem). Besides I’ve already spent the whole morning writing this, and I’m sort of out of decent ideas. So going on would mean more babble; live and let die.
Bohannon - Dance Your Ass Off
Bohannon - The Groove I Feel
Bohannon – Party People
Mandonna – Into The Groove
Doris D and the Pins – Shine Up

Dribble

2009-11-11T11:45:00.000-08:00

Since I'm not at work, I'm basically breaking my own rules by putting up a post today. So instead of thinking/writing out a real post, you'll just get these tracks (I highly doubt anyone is complaining). I'm well aware that the Mutiny tracks kind of sound like they were recorded in a cave, and instead of blaming me, you can blame recording engineers Bruce Hensal (Miami), Neal Teeman, and assistant engineer Hugo Dwyer (NYC), as well as Stanley Kalina who mastered the record on the CBS Discomputer (TM) System.
Gary Wright - My Love Is Alive
Mutiny - Will It Be Tomorrow
Mutiny - The Ballad of Capt. Hymbad

There's Too Many Words

2009-11-10T11:01:00.000-08:00

It must suck to visit blog with the sole intention of downloading some tunes for free and having to scroll down through all the pointless text to get to the real meat. In our current, fast-paced, instant gratification world, One Man’s Problem does not always instantly gratify, and I assume that the average net surfer would tire of the extra 5 to 10 seconds they are wasting with their finger depressed on the clicker. I mean this in all seriousness (I know that I have a penchant for sarcasm which doesn’t always translate well in type, since it’s hard to enunciate text; you have to use CAPS, underline, or color the word, and even that doesn’t always drive your point as intended. There was a Mr. Show episode where David Cross writes to some cereal company about how much he LOVES their cereal, so they keep sending him free cereal boxes, and he’s all pissed that they don’t get it. Conversely, once a person gets accustomed to the sarcasm in print, it’s also tough for them to ever take you seriously again. I guess I’d still prefer the latter) and the main criticism I've received regarding blog (other than "its a pointless waste of time") is that the posts are too long. I guess in order to somehow focus the downloader’s attention I could post the link within the text (color-coded of course, otherwise, they’d get flustered and just 86 the site, without free tunes), so they’d probably have to at least read that particular sentence. I could pepper up the sentence with either some radically interesting factual information (like every other blog, and only if it exists), some bizarre fiction about the artist, or create some fake internet award to suck the reader in and procure a click. I was going to provide examples, but I’m over it, as the track You Can Do It by the band Five Special, who I’m posting up today, is totally uninteresting, aside from the fact that they were produced by Ron Banks of the Dramatics, older brother to band member Brian Banks. Then I found out that shortly after recording the dub version of the aforementioned song, You Can Do It (Dub), band member Steve Harris photographed the world’s first unicorn in a barn adjacent to his house just outside of Dearborn, MI (this was quickly covered up by the FBI). If you are reading this now, you are the 1,000th viewer of this post, and you are subject to a $10,000,000 Dollar Cash Prize: Click here to claim your prize, Five Special – Sexy Lady.

Metaphors

2009-11-09T10:19:00.000-08:00

It always happens that just when I think that I’ve heard every amazing cut put out by a certain artist (and I’m ready to close the book) I get nipped inside the ass (as opposed to on the exterior), and find myself listening to the same song on repeat for an hour straight. I picked up a copy of Here, My Dear the other day, and I had to again confront the fact that Marvin Gaye had somehow tapped into this cosmic sexual vortex of understanding. Some shit that despite race, gender, etc… 95% of English speaking people can probably feel and connect with. I guess you could probably speculate the sentiment of the song without understanding the lyrics, as he definitely has “the voice”, but it’s not within my realm to be able to surmise a person’s reaction/connection without them having the necessary language skills (and they’d probably just assume all his songs are love songs, which is not the case). I’ll leave that to a pro to figure out, and besides it’s completely irrelevant to this post, and again I’ve gotten off topic. Fuck. This particular album is the summation of Gaye’s divorce cut on wax, a somewhat cathartic outcry that evokes the hidden beauty of pain, rejection, and anguish (not that doing that is a first or anything, a large chunk of pop music deals solely with this type of stuff). Outside of being a performer and vocalist, Gaye was probably just as retarded and insecure as the rest of us, and worse, he was an arrogant, delusional, coked up asshole, whom in his last days (according to http://www.findadeath.com/. Seriously, that’s where I went to research this post) was known to frequently don a bulletproof vest out of fear that he was being stalked by murderers (The article also mentions that while staying at his parent’s house right before being murdered by his father [irony], “He was strung out, doing loads of cocaine and spent hours watching porn videos in his bedroom). It’s not that his lyrics are especially keen either, but as Coach McGuirk puts it in the above video, “It's called creative use of words. It's like poetry, you know? Robert Frost. Stopping by the woods. On a snowy fucking evening. That kind of shit. But it’s my poetry, it’s the everyday man’s poetry. Alright, cuz we can’t find good metaphors like the woods, or the snow, or the horse, or that kind of stuff.”
Marvin Gaye – Time To Get It Together
Marvin Gaye – Falling In Love Again/When Did You Stop Loving Me, When Did I Stop Loving You (Reprise)
Marvin Gaye – Is That Enough

Nerd Out

2009-11-06T14:35:00.000-08:00

Time to turn this crap back to being sort of music related for at least a post. Enough about urinals and tools for the elderly. To either the delight or chagrin of the reader/downloader, I'm putting up some 70s jazz fusion today. I just picked up a record that kind of blew me away the other day, and I'm gonna put up my three favorite tracks from the album. The album in question, is the first album from The Eleventh House (called Introducing Eleventh House), which features Larry Coryell on guitar, Alphonse Mouzon on Drums, and this guy Mike Mandell on synths and piano. The bass player and trumpet player are on point too, and I don't remember their names or have the record in front of me (and I'm too lazy to look them up), so sorry to those two dudes who aren't getting some just props. For all the nerds out there, Mike Mandell mainly used the ARP Odyssey on most of the cuts here and that thing serenades the future and fucks it in space. I don't have much else to say, I'm busy and tired, and if thats a problem you can all suck it.
Eleventh House - Birdfingers
Eleventh House - Yin
Eleventh House - Right On Y'all

Low Brow

2009-11-05T13:43:00.000-08:00

When you use a shared bathroom with the same people 5 days a week (and a large group of people), you start to understand the high traffic times for restroom usage, and whom to avoid in a restroom tete-a-tete if at all possible. I know not to use the bathroom between 12:30 and 2, as it’ll likely be crowded and/or smelly, with few or no stalls available. All the shit I'm about to talk about relates directly to experiences in the Men's bathroom, as I have very little experience in the Women's arena, except when I'm drunk at a bar, the Men's room is full, and I really have to go. I’m of the disposition to prefer a certain extent of restroom solitude (this does not necessarily mean that I have to be alone), especially in the case of the dreaded Number 2. I don’t want to share that type of anguish/embarrassment with another in the same situation in close proximity, and I don’t find the restroom a good place to bond for any reason imaginable.

There are certain people that I’ve learned to avoid in the restroom, based solely on their interior etiquette. These are all people that I have no problems dealing with outside of the lavatory, but once inside they change drastically into vulgar, insensitive, classless weirdos who have no regard for the fact that others are also relieving themselves. I’ll provide a few situations and examples. A small wiry man, who resembles actor Wallace Shawn from The Princess Bride (the one that was in cohoots with Andre the Giant, see pic), does this thing where he goes to pee (and this guy probably pees about once every 45 minutes so you kind of have to time your pee around his, since he’s always in there), and performs this odd ritual. He always uses the urinal against the wall, and then while peeing, puts his arm up on the little wall that divides the urinals and stares down the line at the other three urinals, which breaks every rule in the fictional urinal etiquette handbook (I think there was a Curb your Enthusiasm episode that got into this territory once). You are not allowed to make eye contact and stare at anyone else’s dick or face while you are peeing. Additionally, you can’t enter another man’s stall/personal space, and the arm over the divider breaks that contract. Plus, if you are looking at me, that means you are not looking at your dick and monitoring where your pee is going. So you could potentially be peeing on the wall, your pants, or your shoes.

Another couple of guys like to have conversations with me and others in the bathroom. I find this to be a very grey territory, and I’ll try to illustrate what is okay and what is not. Two friends or acquaintances enter the bathroom talking, pull up at the urinal (still talking), and they both piss and continue their conversation. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that this is okay, and I don’t really know why. It just feels okay, and why let piss get in the way of your stream of consciousness or flow. Piss is flow; just let it combine with the overall flow of the convo (rhymes!). New example: one guy is pissing, the other friend or acquaintance enters during the guys’ piss and starts talking to him and starts pissing as well, in an adjacent urinal. Whether or not this situation is valid depends on the depth of their friendship. You have to be pretty close with someone to talk to them mid-piss (literally as well; you cannot pull up to a urinal and talk to someone over the head of someone else pissing in between); exemptions being a bizarre event just occurring, an emergency, or maybe you are strangers both drunk at a baseball game (and even that is iffy). What is completely off limits, is talking to someone mid-piss that you know but have not achieved a friendship-type of relation with. Not Fucking Allowed! Even worse, giving out work assignments or even talking about work in a manner where one has to pay attention mid-piss, is un-fucking-warranted. What do you want me to do, write it down with my dick in cursive? This has happened to me multiple times in the bathroom and by the same two offenders that just don’t seem to get that this kinda shit should not go down ever, for any reason. One guy even pulled up to piss, farted, and then instructed me to put something together for him. Because of people like this, I need to be spry and alert when I enter the bathroom, and use all of my faculties (literally, waka waka waka) to be quick and avoid any awkward relation.

I don’t think that people really talk to each other in a public restroom while shitting. I haven’t witnessed it recently, and I don’t even want to get into it. It’s always rude and wrong, but it has the potential to be way funnier in certain contexts (the last one I can remember is two drunk idiots in an airport restroom yelling at each other, with some poor unrelated guy was trapped in the middle of their two stalls). On the contrary, if you have to use a urinal trough, all rules are null and void and guerilla tactics can be applied. You can talk, yell, eat, text someone, talk on the phone, stare at someone’s dick, pee on others, and even take a shit into it if you please. The trough is the one of the lowest of the civilized male human bathroom experiences (other than being the janitor that cleans and maintains it, and at least he/she gets paid), so it can therefore be treated with the most low brow behavior possible: either to enact revenge on the bastards that cheaped out and installed a trough in the first place, or as a haven for all the creeps that already break all the aforementioned public restroom rules.
Omni feat. Conni Draper - Out of my Hands
Kebekelektrik - War Dance (Greg Wilson Edit)

Brilliant Observation

2009-11-04T11:02:00.000-08:00

I was watching a lady with a walker today, and I noticed that the tennis ball is basically the standard issue accessory to use as a glider for the back legs of the apparatus (I already knew that, but it was reaffirmed). Does a brand new walker, come with a free Pringles can of tennis balls, or has this just been adopted by the elderly, as some insider trick (like how scratch DJs used to [and some may still] balance their needles by putting a penny on top of it)? The tennis balls on this lady’s walker were extremely faded and dilapidated, which was in complete contrast to her rather expensive attire. I would expect her to have the crème de la crème of tennis balls adorning her walker, but this was not the case, and to top it off, she was out in public (as opposed to in a home or hospital, i.e. safe havens for the elderly). This poses the question of whether new tennis balls function better, worse, or the same as worn down ones on a scale of walker glide-age. I mean how often do you see a walker with that fresh neon pop from a pristine box of Penns? Hardly, I’d assume, but I hardly ever see walkers, so it’s a double rarity for me. By now, it'd be wise to market a more durable walker glider type of ball or pad, and the product is out there, but the final commodity seems kinda retarded, as they’ve designed it to look exactly like a fucking tennis ball (it even has those lines that tennis balls have which doubtfully has any positive impact on the traction, see pic).

Although an effective tool, the tennis ball cheapens the image of the walker and its inhabitant, and its time for a change! If you drove a decent Acura, I don’t think you would choose to deck the rims out in protective Styrofoam, when there are a ton of better looking and more durable products out there for rimmage. Well, maybe when it comes to walkers the rules of high school apply: if everyone else is doing it, it just becomes acceptable and often desirable. I guess the elderly community is very similar to the kids in that show the Hills in that respect, in that their walker decisions are highly influenced by peer pressure and homogeny. I think it’s time to step it up and create the high end, classy version of the walker tennis ball. Market it to all the cool kids at the elderly home, and start the frenzy.
Supermax - Fly With Me (Ichisan Edit)
Eddie Drennon - Disco Jam
Adonis - To Far Gone

Parasites

2009-11-03T10:57:00.000-08:00

If you’ve ever recorded a mixtape as a single track (as opposed to cutting it up into multiple tracks, which is way cooler, and I still haven’t figured it out), it is often very surprising and saddening to see what happens as your mix comes up in iTunes. There are literally hundreds of thousands of single track CDs and mixes that have already been uploaded to the Gracenote Media Database, so not only has a single track CD to the exact time specification of your mix already been uploaded, but it is also likely on the fruit boot tip. The new mix that I just recorded came up as Cosmic Girl – To the End of the Earth, but luckily I forgot to delete the last 20 seconds of silence which extended after the end of the final record. After deleting it and bouncing it to disk, it now comes up as Deejay DAI – The Platinum Mix 2009; a significant improvement but not quite the marketing/notoriety that I’m looking for with a Hotthobo affair. I don’t want Deejay DAI blowing up on account of my selection, and I’d like to think that I have the Midas touch (although I have yet to use it). Maybe I should be optimistic about the mislabeling of my mixtape. Perhaps just mentioning Deejay DAI on blog will somehow boost my page views significantly, and we can have a symbiotic relationship where I burrow into his skin and function like that hookworm that you get from wading in urinals in Papua New Guinea which cures your allergies. As a hookworm, in the end I will multiply and conquer Deejay DAI, as explained by Dr. Hotez in the hyper-linked article above, “If a kid is infected with 25 hookworms, he’s being robbed of his daily iron requirement, and because the worms suppress the immune system, they can increase the host’s susceptibility to diseases like AIDS and malaria,”. I guess it’s not symbiotic when I end up killing him in the end (but at least I sort of win).

Moving on I’ve realized that I need to somehow identity-proof blog, so that real world interactions are not traced back to me personally, and so I am ultimately not fired from my job and judged by people that do not know me well. I've alluded to this in earlier posts, and with all the shit I talk about all the time I waste at work, it’s probably best that people at work do not read blog, as the post times (which are well documented) validate the fact that I often spend about as much time crafting this as I do doing whatever it is I’m paid to be doing. This means removing any promotional linkage on facebook, myspace, gmail, etc., and although this absolutely breaks my heart, it is necessary for my survival to go back into the depths (and let the fame come naturally. It will, I guarantee it!). I was told by a friend to also double check that blog’s filthy mug does not pop up when you google your real name (which I checked, only to find that some idiot with the same name as me has the worst Twitter page of all-time. Twitter never did anything for me unless it was some lunatic hobo lurking the streets with a Bluetooth and PDA. Then it’s kind of amazing). In that sense I am in the clear, but maybe like 4 people at work do know my DJ handle, and although there is virtually no chance of them ever googling that to find any information for any reason, the possibility does exist, which has given me the fear. Before you judge me, take into account that you are currently reading this and are hopefully entertained by my tales and logic (or lack thereof). I work free for you, boss, and although you have no creative control over the final product, you can always post a comment (I always get giddy when I see a new one), and you can download of bunch of tunes at high bit rates. So stop thinking about others, and get selfish for a sec: One Man’s Problem benefits you.
Charlie - Spacer Woman
Doris Norton - Personal Computer
Devo - Smart Patrol/Mr. DNA

Post Halloween Post

2009-11-02T11:26:00.000-08:00

In the wake of Halloween, I’d be outright lying if I claimed that I acted appropriately around random strangers, or even my friends. I feel downright filthy for some of the things that I thought of, performed, exploited, and viewed last weekend, and from what I can tell, my behavior was in some way more controlled than some of my incorrigible Bay Area peers. I think you are allowed a hall pass of sorts, to traverse to the wild side during these festivities, which becomes more and more endurable and valid following large amounts of liquor, and the mental confidence/insanity that a costume can furnish your psyche. Regardless, it is still important to hold on to a fraction of decency in these situations, and not completely lose track of all intuition, humanity, and ethics. If you outright lie, cheat, or defraud a friend (or stranger) on Halloween, the “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” mentality does not excuse your behavior. Here is a short and vague list of a few things that I personally did this weekend, which make me feel vile in retrospect:
1. Fabricated a lie because I thought it was funny. Instead, it just made everyone worried and doubtful.
2. Danced very lewdly next to a girl that actually seemed to enjoy my company (at least until then) ultimately ushering her disappearance, and likely grossing her out.
3. Said or screamed some very blunt and tasteless things to get a reaction.
4. Lit a cigarette backwards.
5. Used a computer inappropriately to entertain people.
6. Hocked a loogie on a guy by accident. He was cool with it (thank god).
7. Generally suffered from poor judgment decisions for 3 days straight.

So in order to make up for my shit behavior, I need to tip the scales in the opposite direction for the next 3 days, to correct the evil balance opposition I’ve created. Maybe I’ll go feed a baby deer in the forest, tip really big at the coffee shop, or listen to my mom give me her top three picks of graduate schools for marketing or account management. I’m sure I could be a little more valiant than that, but at least it’s a good start.

Another way I’d like to give back is by posting up one of my favorite party jams, The Cars That Go Boom by L’Trimm. A great song, about Bunny D and Tigra being infatuated with guys that spend a lot of time and cash on their car stereos; until this point, I don’t think that that specific group of guys had really gotten their due. I never understood the name, L’Trimm, but I did always think it sounded super cool. Trim is a slang word that can mean either an attractive girl, having sex with a girl, or vagina. I’ve occasionally heard Bay Area homies proclaim “I pulled hella trim last night” and high fiving, or throwing the rock while riding the bus. I don’t think that L’Trimm were attempting to evoke the slang meanings of the word trim in their moniker, and I would assume that the aforementioned usage of the term “trim” came later on in the mid 90s. Plus there are two Ms in Trimm, so maybe that lends itself to an entirely different meaning all together. I’d have to ask someone who was active in the club scene in Miami in 1988, and I’m not that resourceful.
L'Trimm - The Cars That Go Boom
Eddie Trauba & M.M. Greco - Macaroni Radio
Human Egg - Love Like This

Too Toasted To Post It

2009-10-29T14:04:00.000-07:00

One Man's Problem is giving you tomorrow's post today (sans any type of jarbled pronouncements or passages and straight to the meat). Blog is progressive.
Jerry Williams - Crazy Bout You Baby
Fresh Band - Come Back Lover
Patrick Cowley - Sea Hunt
Sweat Band - We Do It All Day Long
Sweat Band - Body Shop

Torture your Co-Workers

2009-10-29T11:12:00.000-07:00

I work in a cubicle, and I listen to music at work on speakers, which means that everyone around me has to listen to it as well. They are cheapo computer speakers, which look like they are from the mid 90s (the brand is JUSTer, and they claim to be a HI – FI Speaker System), and they definitely aren’t anything great, but they get the job done considering that I can’t exactly bump. I don’t use headphones at work as they are much too restrictive: I can’t hear people walking down the halls, which is essential to me minimizing incriminating windows hastily. Plus they start to hurt my ears after an hour of pumping up the jams. Lately I’ve been listening to either disco/boogie/italo, stoner metal, or Wu – Tang, which means that all 3 people that work directly in my cubicle, and the 4 others in the adjacent one are listening to the same shit. Every other day, this one girl tells me to turn it down, but I am so nice and polite to her that it’s not really an issue; she asks me to turn it down simply because it annoys the shit out of her at that moment, and she tolerates it the rest of the time, so I really can’t complain.

I’ve been pondering how the music that I listen to in my cubicle, while I write these posts and sometimes do actual work, reflects what people think of me; specifically my sexual orientation, my habits, my lifestyle, how I spend my money etc. If I was Joseph or Gina Normal, and I heard a majority of disco coming from a specific office space, I’d probably assume gay without much hesitation. The Wu – Tang stuff, which is probably not appropriate for work, equals stoner with low ambition, and the stoner metal stuff obviously fits in a similar category. Which poses the question of which is more high brow? Who gets the promotion: the white guy at his desk, dressed in appropriate casual work gear listening to Wu, or a similar fellow listening to Electric Wizard? This may be rhetorical (but probably neither).
Pierre Henry - Psyche Rock
Dusty Springfield - Thats The Kind Of Love I Have For You (Disco 3000 Edit)
Dinosaur - Kiss Me Again (Original Edit)

Also, the pics in the post don't correspond to any of the content, and maybe I could have held off, untill I could relate something to car surfing, but I am very impulsive and have very little patience. I guess car surfing is kind of like ghostriding the whip for white people. Its both dangerous and entertaining, and if you have ever seen a ghostriding accident live (which I have, in the Fillmore on Fulton and Webster, and nobody died or got seriously injured, so it was officially hillarious) you'd know what I'm talking about. I know there are a ton on youtube.

Oh god, it goes nowhere

2009-10-28T10:22:00.000-07:00

I’m not sure if I’m currently depressed or just bored, but my current lifestyle seems to be permeated by both. I don’t mean to lay a sympathy trip on anyone but, the successful, fulfilling, enticing life that we all dream of as kids sort of fades sharply when all you have to look forward to after a grueling day of work, is a 24 of Pabst, and a trip to the Laundromat. You can only put off that Laundromat trip so long until you have no boxers or jeans left; when your only option is to raw dog it in a pair of dress pants with mismatched socks, it’s time to do the fucking laundry whether you feel up to it or not. The Laundromat down the street from my house is basically a homeless shelter that closes at 10pm. There is literally a 2 x 3 foot crevasse between where the rows of washers end and the dryers begin, that is usually occupied by a bum (unrelated, but I just looked up the word “bum” to see if there were any cool synonyms, and while I was only supplied with the word “tramp”, the dictionary did grant me with a definition and sentence to illustrate the meaning/usage of the world, which is real gold: “Meaning: a homeless wanderer who may beg or steal for a living. Usage: I feel sorry for bums and occasionally give them money”). I assume that it is quite warm in there, but it’s also jackhammer loud, which likely makes sleeping near impossible. I guess part of being homeless, is learning to acclimate to your surroundings. As a relatively well-to-do member of tax-paying society, I can basically just buy my way into sleeping relatively comfortably, and even then I still do not sleep well regularly. Hearing any type of noise is legitimate ground for my mind to focus, ultimately keeping me actively awake (I don’t think I’ve ever passed out during a movie, except maybe out of sheer exhaustion). Part of being a good vagabond, is possesing the ability to sleep in any context.

I’m not really sure where I’m going with this, so I’m just gonna stop with whatever I was attempting to go for. Any good writer knows that it’s wise to ditch your efforts when you’ve procured absolute crap, but it’s hard for me to do that when I’ve spent a full twenty minutes developing a topic (even when it’s pointless). Additionally I'm not a good writer and it’s not like I have anyone to impress. Since I’ve accomplished relatively little (in terms of tangible things; I guess blog isn’t exactly tangible, but you can read it) if I were to get mauled and raped to death by a mob of stray leopards today, all that would actually stand out to embody my life is a 4 month old blog, and a couple mixtapes (and the fact that I was mauled and raped to death). In death, would my gibberish, suddenly be exalted (god, I hope not)? I’ve read portions of a couple books by famous dead writers, which should not have ever been published, but were solely based on the pulse of interest that accumulated with the arrival of their tombstone (usually someone finds a bunch of letters or a manuscript discarded among their belongings, and without any hesitation publishes it. Then I impulsively buy that book used, since I like the writer, read a little bit, and my image of this impeccable literary giant is diminished as a result.). For me, blog is probably the thing that should not be out there, but unfortunately I do not have any polished work that stands diametric to my prattle. Also this fantasy that I'm pondering where you feel completely insignificant, but then you die and suddenly you do matter (you fucking showed them!), is the trite fuel of millions of studio apartment losers and impulsive suicide cases. Worst post ever, sorry.

Also it was my intention to post a bunch of depressing ass music today, but since I'm at work, I only have mostly dance music, which doesn't exactly translate the sentiments of the post. I was able to dig up something non-dancey, but I wouldn't exactly consider it depressing, as much as inspired by fantasy, since all the music posted today by keyboard whiz Bo Hansson is based on the Lord of the Rings. I haven't had any coffee yet today, so I'll probably feel great as soon as I do, and feel sort of embarrassed that I wrote all this downer shit. If anything I hope someone gets a laugh out of it (and like all those motivational types always say, "If I can just get one person to smile then it was all worth it") :) Smiley.
Bo Hansson - The Black Riders & Flight to the Ford
Bo Hansson - ShadowFax
Bo Hansson - The Horns of Rohan & The Battle of the Pelennor Fields

TP Cruiser

2009-10-27T11:36:00.000-07:00

So I received that box set, Love Train (retrospective of the Philly International Label ) the other day in the mail (for fucking $12.99 shipped by the way. I must say these recession prices are off the hinges, although my copy was unsealed and clearly defective, all the CDs work fine, which is alright with me), and although I dig it, I think that either they didn’t go to much length to pull out the stops to find the rarer stuff from the label, or maybe I’m just much more familiar with their stuff than I had previously thought. The tag line on the box set reads “Motown had the polish, and Stax had the grit, but Philly International had both”. Unfortunately both Motown and Stax are just superior labels, Zing! Alright, leaving that suuuuuper opinionated comment behind, Philly International did have some pretty unbelievable jams; most of which have obviously been kicked to death by radio, advertising and marketing. My major critique of many of the songs featured in this box set (and a lot of soul/R&B songs universally have the same problem across the board, especially in the 70s) is that they often extend for an extra 2 or 3 minutes longer than I feel they should (The Jones Girls’ song posted is a perfect example of what I’m talking about). The 3 minute pop song was created for people with ADD (like me), so that they wouldn’t get bored hearing the same hook over and over and over and over and over and over again. While I credit Gamble and Huff (and other associated musicians/writers on the label) to having an amazingly developed and cultured sound, they suffer from overzealously beating the shit out of a dead horse. If anything, you need to leave your audience wanting more, not skipping to the next track at the 3 minute mark. I am open to the possibility that people in the 60s and 70s, having not been raised with the expectation of instant stimulation, customization and gratification (like I was), were more relaxed, accepting, and patient with their music. Plus these songs actually mean something, many have lyrical character that relate to a specific sentiment that I cannot identify with, being middle class, white, a melancholiac and relatively un-experienced with any real oppression. Perhaps I am just the wrong audience for this type of music, even though I’d like to pretend that I can understand and identify with it.

There is another trend that seems to be present on a decent quantity of the songs in this set, which is that redolent speech, usually featured in the beginning of the track (but occasionally in the middle or at the end), that could last anywhere from 15 seconds to a full 2 minutes. This is the message, the whispering of sweet nothings, the sensitive truth, that absolutely needs to be directly narrated (I guess for fear that while any metaphor in the lyrics may potentially be misinterpreted, this passage, which sets the mood, is as sharp as a razor), before being pontificated by the ultimate explosion of crooning, emotionalizing the whole passage. Bobby Womack is probably the most notorious for this, but Marvin Gaye, Leon Haywood, Al Green, Barry White, Jimmy Castor, Jerry Butler, Joe Simon and countless others, are all guilty of evocative narraration (although it’s not a crime). Shit, I’d hire James Earl Jones to narrate the intro to my record. Nevermind, he has the voice, but lacks the feeling. Off topic, but how cool would it have been if James Earl Jones was actually the actor that played Darth Vader when he removed his mask in Return of the Jedi? They should have just left it completely unanswered that he was black and Luke white, and I guess it would go against all those prequels they make where Darth was white, but those should never have been made in the first place. Neeeeerd.

My all-time favorite artist on Philly International is Teddy Pendergrass. TP Represent! If we were in a room together and he sang me “Close the Door”, I literally would, and relinquish my flower to him if he requested it. I would “let him do what he wants to do” as alluded to in the song. He has that power in his voice, and I’m pretty sure that even though he is currently paralyzed from the waist down (and to the utter disbelief of the medical profession in general) he still gets rock hard erections. That picture of him that was on the cover of Wax Poetics (in the hooded fur coat with all the rings in the snow, see above), should be featured somewhere as a visual representation of the term “alpha male”.
Teddy Pendergrass - Close the Door
Teddy Pendergrass - Love TKO
Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes - Don't Leave Me This Way
The Jones Girls - Your Gonna Make Me Love Somebody Else

Haircuts

2009-10-26T11:16:00.000-07:00

Haircuts are the bane of my existence. Unless I go bald, which isn’t exactly the route I’d like to go, I’m gonna have to get one every two or three months for the rest of my fucking life. I hate them so much that I always put it off until I have this horrendous mop of hair that covers my eyes; since my hair gets curly at certain lengths, wind and sweat cause me to get these forward curled bangs in the front with a fro pluming behind. I always wonder why people stare at me sometimes at the skate-park or bus stop (look, it’s often windy at the bus-stop), and then I get home or arrive at work and look in the mirror. After a few embarrassing encounters with my own “do” I finally throw in the towel and consider getting a haircut. En-route, I get these horrible visions of the ghosts of haircuts' past; my track record for a decent haircut is probably 1 out of 3, so you can imagine the fear that ensues as I arrive at Premium Clips with my fingers crossed. People have advised me to shell out $40-$60 bucks and get a hipster haircut somewhere, and honestly I’m such a cheapskate, that I’d rather roll the dice, and deal with the panic-attacks and fear associated, which makes my bitching null and void I guess (and the stylist would probably still fuck it up, but I’d look like Mugatu instead of Private Ryan). Usually it’s always the same situation that occurs which totally screws everything up. You tell them not to cut the sides too short or even short at all, and they take out the fucking clippers, fake like they are gonna cut the back (which is perfectly reasonable), and go straight for the sides (I think this a famous tactic used by low-end hair stylists, who probably learned the trade against their will in the armed forces, or following rehab). The other tactic is to just turn you around, so you can’t see yourself directly in the mirror, and then you can’t object to whatever is happening to your hair, because you can’t see it. Another negative that absolutely blows about haircuts, is having to talk to a 45 year old lady about your job or what you had for lunch. For a little while, when I got a talkative stylist, I’d just start making up shit about my life, just to have a little fun with procuring pointless lies. Nothing too outlandish: just make up another persona, that somewhat mirrors my life but isn’t me. Instead of being from Los Angeles, I’m now from Los Alamos. Instead of my current job, I’m now the manager of a fitness supply store, and although I really had a salad for lunch, fuck it, I’d tell them I had Pho. Stupid shit like that. One time this totally backfired on me, mid haircut, as the lady asked me where I was from (after I told her that my son was having his fourth birthday party tomorrow and I wanted to look good to impress his friend’s moms. That lie in itself was a huge mistake, as it is highly doubtful from my apperance that I have any attributes that would be considered fatherly). I told her I was from Seattle, and coincidentally, she actually was from Seattle, specifically from Maple Leaf. So I was totally fucked, having never been to Seattle, when she asked me what neighborhood I was from. Not knowing even one neighborhood in Seattle, I guess I could have replied Maple Leaf, which was safe, since she kind of paved the route with that one. Instead I told her, after pausing and thinking for 30 seconds, that I couldn’t remember (which illustrates my own failure to think on my toes), and then I sat there with her and shared this eerie silence for the next 10 minutes, while she gave me one of the worst haircuts of my life.
Alan Hackshaw – The Sound Of Speed
Cheech and Chong - Earache in my Eye

Sex vs. Power

2009-10-22T13:07:00.000-07:00

Obviously Sexual Harassment is not a particularly funny topic, but I think that about 1% of my sexual harassment training could be interpreted as funny (to a certain extent, and as they say in the training, "different people often have quite different perspectives on harassment". True that). So, the following is funny to me. I assume this makes me a bad person.

Here are a few of the no-no’s I liked:
· grunts, wolf whistles, catcalls, hoots, sucking noises, lip-smacks and animal noises
· looking up and down (elevator eyes)
· winking, licking lips
· uninvited neck massaging
· stalking

Here is a really tough question:
For the past two years, Denise, a file room clerk, has been subjected daily to fondling, hugging and kissing from her supervisor against her will.
Ask yourself:Is this behavior severe, mild, or somewhere in between?
Then ask yourself:Would a reasonable person judge this behavior as sexual harassment?

Sadly, I got a kick out of this story:
First, we will consider Jan, the outgoing, older woman, who pays a lot of attention to Roy, the young man with a mental disability. Jan’s attentions include exaggerated flirting and even touching and rubbing against Roy. The young man is very uncomfortable with this behavior and does not reciprocate. Do you believe that Jan would behave in the same way if Roy were someone she considered her equal? Someone her own age and status, with no impairment and who may assertively tell her to back-off? It is unlikely that Jan would continue the aggressive sexual behavior toward such a person. It is only Roy’s image as someone vulnerable or helpless that gives Jan the feeling that she may continue the behavior, even when it is clearly unwelcome to Roy

The following are a list of emotions that one might feel after being harassed at work. Unfortunately I feel these emotions daily without that harassment:
· depression, anxiety, shock, denial
· anger, fear, frustration, irritability
· insecurity, embarrassment, feelings of betrayal
· confusion, feelings of powerlessness
· shame, low self-esteem, self-consciousness
· guilt, self-blame, isolation

I thought there would be more funny to put up, but apparently that’s it. That and all the pics posted are the extent of the chuckles of the sexual harassment training. The shittiest thing is its online and takes about 45 minutes to complete, but there is a required timeframe of 2 hours before you can take the test while you have to be logged in (and you can’t be on any page for longer than 3 min, so I’m writing this and switching pages every so often to kill the timer).

If you are in SF tonight and wanna get down to disco and boogie in a club full of low-lifes and hustlers, come check ME! ME! ME! djing with BT Magnum at 800 Larkin. ME!
Eddie Tour - Heartache (Instrumental Re-edit)
Jo Jo - Mind Games

Scale of Evil

2009-10-21T15:19:00.000-07:00

Sorry to the two people who visited blog today but I’m again too busy for a legit post (that in itself has been a reoccurring theme, sorry dudes). I have to do my mandatory sexual harassment training, so I can learn how to proficiently hit on people at my work, without fear of getting fired or the establishment getting sued. Hopefully I'll learn how I can compliment someone's boobs in the most appropriate, proper and polite way possible.

I was invited to the following conference today, and I don’t really know why I find this funny, but:

Guest Speaker:

Dr. Michael Stone

Friday, November 20th, 2009
12:30-3:00pm

Dr. Stone appears on Investigation Discovery in a series called MOST EVIL

· He developed a scale of evil to rate serial killers, murderers, and psychopaths
· Maximum opportunity to meet with Dr. Stone and learn more about his research interests:
~He examines and profiles the minds of notorious killers
~Network with other faculty and students
~Ask the questions you’ve always been curious about

It probably has something to do with the part that mentions that he “developed a scale of evil”. Does it start at Snarf from the Thundercats and work its way up through greedy stockbrokers to eventually get to Jeffrey Dahmer, Pol Pot, and Ted Bundy. Also, not only do we get to learn about the minds of absolute and pure evil, but we get to network with faculty and students. I’m hoping snacks are provided. Shit, gotta go.

Toba – Moving Up

Alan Parson's Project - Mammagamma (Instrumental)

Ray Parker Jr. Bites

2009-10-20T12:21:00.000-07:00

Ah coffee. I can feel it coursing through my veins. Pumping my heart rate faster, stirring my bowels, thumping my feet. Again short on a real concept for the day. I think I understand what musicians refer to as the curse of the 2nd album. You have every idea, song, and influence from life to use on your first album. If you are 25 years old when you record it, you can ultimately use 25 years of experience (whatever it is that you are able to remember of course, but I’m sure that there is a bunch of stuff that’s completely lost somewhere in your brain that is somehow able to contribute). So when you are done with that, you’ve completely exhausted yourself of everything contributing to that very point, and now you have one year or so to create all new stuff, having to start completely from scratch unless you want to rehash all your old tarnished ideas (which hopefully you don’t, of course there may always be room for remixes and improvements). I feel I’ve finished the metaphorical equivalent of LP 1 of One Man’s Problem; my general themes of coffee (which is a theme I will unfortunately always regurgitate, as it is my inspiration and fuel), the duality of being super arrogant, confident/timid, meek, and self-doubting, personifying blog like its a person, pointless insight into random topics and similarly pointless negative ranting concerning whatever the fuck I can think of (I hate this, I hate that, etc.). Maybe I should just end it at that.

I’m posting up a flyer for a night that I co-promote and DJ, in the very off chance that anyone that checks this blog does not personally know me, lives in San Francisco/Bay Area, and likes to party. If you come to my gig solely based on the blog, I will not only be extremely surprised and grateful, but also very embarrassed that all you know about me is the shit that I write here. I don’t know if my writing actually reflects accurately on who I am as a person; I’d have to bribe someone else to query a third party that knows me intimately to get to the bottom of that one. I couldn’t just ask that person directly, as they’d likely sculpt their answer in order to not crush my psyche. Enough! Look at the lineup though, we have BT Magnum, a reputable DJ with a respectable blog, Beat Electric, headlining.

Raydio is the fucking shit. About a year ago I’d never heard of them, and all I knew about Ray Parker Jr. was that he wrote the Ghostbusters Theme (direct quote from the song “bustin makes me so proud”) which featured Run-DMC on lyrics apparently (I always thought it was just some no-name rapper). Parker was accused and sued by Huey Lewis and the News for that theme song ripping off “I Want a New Drug” which was settled out of court as a somewhat hush-hush affair. Regardless of controversy, Parker went on to win a Grammy for the track in 1984. In 2001, RP Jr. struck back, and sued Lewis “for breaching a confidentiality agreement forming part of their original out of court settlement which prohibited either side from speaking about it publicly. Lewis had implied in a VH1 Behind The Music special that Parker had paid a financial settlement as part of the original agreement.” In my mind this pretty much validates that Parker did in fact rip off Huey and the News, and later sued him out of embarrassment, and I totally understand, as Huey is both a genius and a pioneer of hyper elaborate chart topping musical composition. FYI I pulled all of this supposedly “insider” info off Wikipedia, which means that it may not be true, and everything I wrote is just a poorly summarized version of what was there. None of this has anything to do with the band Raydio, who were an operating unit well before any of the aforementioned crap went down. Expect more Raydio posts in the future.
Raydio - It's Your Night
Raydio - It's In the Groove

Not So Great

2009-10-19T10:39:00.000-07:00

Depressed, tired and I don’t want to write anything. Even though blog has been waiting patiently for the weekend to end, he may have to wait some more for some real juice. This is just filler and I don’t want to pass it off as anything else. I’ve realized that the entry from a couple days ago, which was done in French, makes absolutely no sense at all. I used one of those online language translators to code all of my English into French, and I immediately just assumed that it was correct because it looked cool. A few days after posting it I decided to actually try to translate it back using the same translator I used in the first place, and all I got was a bunch of fragmented garbage that only hints at the intended concepts. Without the original English text around, I was basically unable to remember what I had written, and I felt small, dumb, poor, and cold. While this says a lot about my fore-sight and ability to reason properly, it also says a lot (or little) about the fucking translator. Online translators are like playing telephone with languages, but it’s a fucking computer, so it should be able to translate and revert the same text accurately. But it probably just waters down certain phrases and simplifies specific words during translation, and then does the same on the way back, resulting in a passage that looks like it was written by an 11 year old French immigrant with a dirty mind. In case you were curious the whole thing was about Manginas, as the title of that post suggests.

Today’s tracks are off the disco/boogie trail, as I feel that I’ve been getting a bit specific and homogenized when posting tracks lately. That is what all the great music blogs do, they pick a genre and/or genres (which are usually closely related) and juice the shit out of them. Fortunately for me (and possibly for you) One Man’s Problem is not a great blog, so I am completely unrestrained by any real guidelines, outside of my own mental boundaries (which are vast). I have no fans to please, so as long as I feel that I’m effectively wasting time at work, I’ve kind of succeeded in a way. All of these tracks below are produced and/or written by super-weirdo cult rock n roll guy, Kim Fowley, who has very scary eyes. I’ve seen a few interviews with him, and I always find myself hypnotized by his zombie-jellybean peepers, and I need to turn away often, so as not to get sucked into their tractor-beam void. Tony Robbins' teeth have the same effect on me. This is guy is responsible for a ton of great rock n roll tracks (from the late 50s to almost present day) that are beaten path material, and a bunch of hits too (Runaways, Cat Stevens, he produced a version of the first Modern Lovers LP, but they scrapped his recordings for the ones John Cale did. But they were later released on Bomp, and are pretty cool as a companion piece).
Kim Fowley - Animal Man
Kim Fowley - Bubblegum
Gene Vincent - Rainbow at Midnight
The Murmaids - Popsicles and Icicles
Cat Stevens - Portebello Road

Keyword

2009-10-16T11:23:00.000-07:00

In looking at Google Analytics, I’ve noticed that the number of page views specific to any post is higher based on some search term from an outside source. My most popular page thus far is the one where I mention the phrase “leather fetish” and I doubt that any of the traffic to the site based on that search was satisfied with what they got. So as an experiment I was thinking about cheating and just posting a bunch of keywords to get people here. But in reflecting on that super original idea I realized that its a pretty damn lame tactic. I mean once people get here they’ll just think my site blows and peace out; I personally hate it when that shit happens to me. I’m looking for some mp3 or picture, or whatever, and someone has the audacity to intuit that I’m a) gonna be searching for it and b) that once I get to the site and I don’t find what I want that I’ll even give a ¼ of shit about what they are peddling. So fuck that shit, trying to lure people to my site to get fame is like trying to jump-start a revolution. Its just gonna happen naturally anyways. Lycos Google Hairspray Anal Sex Horse Cock Fetish Disco Thanksgiving Kermit Slavery Radiohead Online Poker.
Giorgio Moroder – Knights in White Satin
Giorgio Moroder – Son Of My Father
Ramona Brooks – I Don’t Want You Back
Paul Hardcastle - King Tut

Mangina

2009-10-15T10:11:00.000-07:00

Donc je suis complètement hors des idées pour blog aujourd'hui. Je n'ai pas reçu de café encore et j'essaie vraiment de lutter contre le besoin comme je l'ai bu sans arrêt pendant quelques jours passés. Ainsi dans un essai d'être original sans concept général je vais avoir Internet traduisent mon poste dans le français. J'ai fait la même chose avec le poste que j'ai fait dans le code binaire, mais personne "ne l'a reçu" et a traduit les nombres binaires en arrière dans l'anglais. Je veux vous reprendre à une merde de type d'anneau de décodeur. Celui-ci sera sans doute beaucoup plus facile de trouver puisque les gens parlent vraiment le français (personne ne parle des nombres binaires sauf les robots et quelques programmeurs informatiques). Plus le français semble vraiment très frais copié et a la capacité d'allumer des filles d'une manière ou d'une autre. Si vous êtes une fille, j'espère que ce poste vous allume.

Ainsi si quelqu'un traduit vraiment ce poste et m'y appelle, je posterai en haut une photo de mon mangina sur le blog. Dans le cas où vous ne savez pas, mangina, est quand vous prenez votre pénis et boules et les glissez entre vos jambes donc il regarde (au moins du front) comme vous ont un vagin. Le Silence de Montre des Agneaux si vous avez besoin d'une référence. J'avais toujours l'habitude de prendre ces types de photos si je voyais jamais un appareil de photo attendre la fin non réclamé à un parti. Je glisserais la salle de bains avec l'appareil de photo dans le remorquage, prendrais la photo mangina et le remettrais ensuite juste où je l'ai trouvé. Je suppose, si le propriétaire de l'appareil de photo était un gars, ils pourraient devenir tout excités et ou ont réveillé le fait de se demander que le vagin la photo capturait et comment c'est arrivé là. Peut-être un admirateur bizarre le met là pour les recevoir considérant le sexe et le désire. Le type désolé, c'est juste moi avec dick entre mes jambes. Je ne sais pas qu'une fille penserait s'ils ont constaté que la photo sur leur appareil de photo au hasard, comme je ne comprends pas la voie les femmes pense (je ne suis aucun Mel Gibson). Appelez-moi donc sur ce poste avec un commentaire et je serai forcé à poster le mangina.

J'ai passé beaucoup de temps en essayant de trouver une bonne qualité mp3 la copie de cette chanson Brûlant En haut par le Skool Boyz et c'est devenu si baisant frustrant que j'ai juste dû dénicher l'album moi-même et le téléverser. Ainsi dans le de la chance que vous avez cherché cette chanson baisante aussi longtemps et durement que j'ai, vous êtes l'accueil.

Skool Boyz - Burning Up
George Clinton - Last Dance

Edits aka Me Me Me!

2009-10-14T09:19:00.000-07:00

Disco Edits currently take little to no talent to do. It is safe to say that because I’ve done them, and I have little to no talent. Back in the day, it was a pretty serious process, where you’d have to record the track to a reel to reel, then physically cut out the sections of the track that you wanted to use, and tape it to the other cut out sections in the order that you prefer. Anytime you wanted to loop or repeat a section, you'd have to re-record from the master and cut it out. When you are done, you'd just record your doctored tape reel and you have your edit. Understandably there were a lot of really crummy edits from the late 70s and 80s, partially due to the headaches of having to physically cut and arrange all that tape. There was no “Ctrl Z” to redo any of your mistakes, and I’m assuming it would be easy to spend all night in a coffee fueled haze, cutting and taping shit up repeatedly, only to find out that it doesn’t sound sonically believable or make sense in context to the rest of the song, or that some of your cuts are a couple milliseconds off, making it sound dodgy and amateur.

I think that they do serve a good purpose though; which is to make tracks more dynamic on the dance floor, and to remove the bits that the editor deems unsuited for the crowd or their own personal tastes. Basically juice up all the best parts with Gatorade and re-arrange them sensibly in the cliched dance-track format. Often times edits just make tracks mixable for djs, by just giving them a quantized intro and outro, and leave the meat of the track relatively unfazed. I get that, as I have a few cuts that are literally un-mixable, and therefore I pretty much would never play them. A lot of times the edits are totally pointless and do nothing but loop a couple sections and rearrange a few things with no regard to the impact that these changes will have on a listener, and the original basically takes a shit on its imitator.

In a recent interview, Juan Maclean deems disco edits to follow in suit with an “undercurrent of homophobia in the dance music scene”, and that the songs are then “de-gayed” and just the tough parts are left in. The edit that I'm putting up today is definitely de-gayed to a certain extent, but I left some of the gay in, as I wanted it to appeal to all sexual orientations, and I wanted some of the lyrical character of the song to remain for those that have heard the original. There is a certain type of threshold that I have with disco and club songs, where I can take a certain level of campy-ness, but once it eclipses that point (and it’s not that I no longer like the song) I just can’t really play it for people with a straight face. If that is considered musical homophobia, then I plead guilty. Maybe to make up for it, I should make two versions of any edit: do the version that I’d normally do, which would probably be about 50% as gay as the original (if the original is gay, which is not always the case), and then do another version that only uses only the gayest parts and make a “Megay-mix”. So posted below is the edit I did of Infatuation by Up Front. ME!!!!!! Ups to the drummer from Jonas Reinhardt (Damon, I think) who told me what it was when I heard it at a club, to any of the folks that have blogs that posted up high quality copies of the original so I could get it for free, Loose Shus/AmyWhoa for mastering help, and to Ebay for letting me score a copy for $6 so I didn't feel like a total fraud.

Also I put up a cool edit done by Danny Krivit of Dance to the Music by Sly and The Family Stone. It would be hard to say that this edit de-gays the original as the original isn't exactly gay, (its a funk track, not disco, not that funk can't be gay, but... I posted another Krivit edit of You Got Me Running by Lenny Williams a few posts back and you can test the de-gayed theory on that one). This is one of those impressive old school razor-blade edits which, when done properly, deserves much more kudos than anything done in Pro Tools.
Up Front - Infatuation (Hotthobo Loooooong Edit)
Sly and The Family Stone - Dance To the Music (Medley)

Really Slow Day At Work

2009-10-13T14:24:00.000-07:00

Today, I’m gonna post a couple pics that I have no reason to post other than because I wanna write about them. They’ve been sitting in the My Pictures Folder of my work comp for a while now, marinating, and rather than force them into the context of some other idea, they’ll just be the idea, which will also be forced.

I like this photo more than any photo I’ve snatched off the net in recent times. When you are about 8 years old, it’s cool to imagine that you are actually a super hero that fights crime, and run around your house body-slamming your dog, who against his will personifies your imaginary nemesis. I guess this is what happens when you are an only-child, and you obsess and idolize Calvin and Hobbes. But growing up in NYC, you can actually take it to the streets and at least attempt to realize your full potential. What I absolutely love about this photo is the fly-on-the-wall nature of it, which is very true to the Spiderman persona. Additionally it makes more sense for Spiderman to be small in stature; spiders are small creatures, and the resultant hybrid of man and spider would likely be closer in the size range of the kid in the picture, than Tobey Maguire. So technically he is that much more authentic.

With Halloween upon us, I’ve been considering a few costumes and nothing has really hit me like a ton of bricks. This happens every year…I tool around with a few ideas, and I’m usually too cheap to actually put in the money, and too lazy to actually put in the time. I pull something out of my ass at the last minute, and ultimately feel diminished and small by my procrastination. When I go out to Halloween parties, I cower in the company of great, thought-out costumes. Usually a day or two after Halloween I have that great costume epiphany, get mad that I wasn't able to put it together earlier, and swear to remember my idea for the succeeding year. About two months later it's totally forgotten. The following picture is not a great costume. This musician from the future of the 80s (see checkered guitar strap, power glove, color-blocked TV) is at a major loss, as his costume is not fucking believable. In what type of future do you have to plug all your shit in to normal outlets (I guess we still use the same type of outlets that were used in the 50s, but come on). I call bullshit. The future is at least cordless (as is the present; I saw a great blue-toothed couple the other day: he was rocking it in the right ear on her right, and she was rocking the left ear to his left. They had great symmetry!), and there is no way that you are triggering MIDI with that Playstation joystick.

This pic is the back cover of the self titled LP by the group Disco Circus. When I saw this album at the record store a couple months ago I really wanted to buy it based solely on the artwork, which represents one of those great Disney fantasies, where during the day all the animals are totally normal, and then under the cover of night, their true alter-human personas are revealed; in this case they are racy, alcoholic, party “animals”. On the front cover, there is a slutty female elephant wearing a super revealing dress dancing next to “Saturday Night” Cheetah. Unfortunately I was unable to find a working pic of that, since the only working version is tagged/ruined by discomusic.com [fucking cock-blockers], but here is the back cover with a leisure suited Gorilla getting down with a hoochie giraffe wearing “fuck-me” boots and a tube-top. Just look up “Disco Circus” in Google images and you’ll find the other pic; it’s worth doing just so you can view the detail they put into illustrating the elephant’s nipples. I fucked up pretty hard not buying it, as I was too cheap to shell out $7 for the LP (since I didn't really dig any of the tunes). Later I realized my mistake, and went back to claim it for my wall, but it was already gone (sob). I guess the message that can be derived from this tale is that if you are gonna have great artwork for your album, you might as well make the music good too: then it's a sure sale. In doing research about this album I realized that on the Discogs website, you can make a virtual record collection, by finding and adding the records you claim to own to your “collection” (you can also make a want list, which is actually a handy tool, as it seems like a pretty convenient way to remember all of the records you randomly look up, and Discogs is a pretty thorough site). Is having a large virtual record collection cool? Fuck, is having a virtual content site (blog) cool? No. Ahhhhhh, soooooo embarrassing.
Carrere - Discotheque (Disco Special)
Ronnie Laws - All For You
Rainbow Brown - Let's Go Another Round (Tom Moulton Mix)

No Relation

2009-10-12T16:09:00.000-07:00

In re-reading blog the other day, I realized that I am talking too much about the music lately, and I need to get the fuck outta that mind-frame. Nobody gives two shits that I think Prelude is a good label; thats pretty much a no-brainer if you are into this type of shit anyway. So, in other news (if you can call my mundane life news), I hurt myself skateboarding and have recently been receiving vicious middle of the night muscle spasms in my cavs. The kind that feel like your muscle has suddenly decided warp drive into a black hole and implode. About 30-40 seconds later, it realizes that it can't and slowly relaxes, leaving you drenched in sweat, praying that you never again experience that level of pain. I didn’t actually hurt my cavs though, I just bruised my heel, and I’ve been walking on my tippy toes for the most part to avoid pressing down on top of it. This attempt to sidestep heel pain has ultimately triggered cav pain and I don’t really know what is worse now, as I have to settle for both. I’ve been rubbing Icy Hot gel on the back of my cavs (do they have a front?) before I go to sleep, and last night I made the mistake of not washing my hands afterward, and then nonchalantly rubbing my balls with my Icy Hot hands. It is hard to fall asleep with fire balls. I should have been much more aware and weary of this predicament, as I was once present when a friend lathered his balls with Ben Gay after losing a bet. Within 5 minutes he was pacing around, cringing and hyperventilating, and eventually took his balls to the sink and attempted to wash the stuff off (which didn’t really work). This was truly a jarring experience to behold, so you would imagine that I’d be more careful around the stuff.

If you are thinking about purchasing a Sonic Care toothbrush two-pack at Costco for yourself and your girl/boyfriend (which really is a great deal in comparison to the normal retail price), it is imperative that you consider the time frame of your relationship. The two-pack only comes with one charger, so when your relationship folds and you have to move out, you will only have about a month or so (if fully charged) before you realize that your toothbrush is completely out of battery. One solution is to go on Ebay to find the right charger. Unfortunately there are a myriad of model numbers of the Sonic Care, and not all chargers work with all of the models. Since they do not clearly list the model number on the actual toothbrush, it leaves this ambiguous feeling of doubt: do I really want to take a chance and drop $30-plus on a charger that might not work with my brush? You may find that instead you are using the Sonic-Care as a regular toothbrush for the next month and a half, while scamming to find a way to bribe the Ex’s new roommate to let you come over undercover to charge it up. Basically I have another month before I’ve gotta figure out that situation again. If only they could make a battery that was powered by negative energy like the slime river in Ghostbusters II. I have plenty of that to dole out, and I’d probably feel way better in the end being able to divert my shitty moods and sentiments to the powering of electronic devices. That way, I could actually be proud of my anger and sulking (and harboring any type of negative feeling), and then build a bench with my newly powered drill.
Holzer - Pure Love
Love International - Dance On The Groove (And Do The Funk)
Pretty Tony - Fix In The Mix

Metro Blasting

2009-10-12T11:11:00.000-07:00

When I listen to music on the bus during my commute to work in the morning, it’s usually at a somewhat moderate level on my headphones. Most of the time, it’s doubtful that anyone in the vicinity can tell what I’m listening to; I use a pretty nice pair of Sennheisers with minimal leakage (at normal levels). It’s not a pair of those ghetto rigged earphones you hear sometimes (especially on the bus), which basically have speakers pointed in the opposite direction of the owner’s eardrums, so the whole bus can hear the high frequency range of the latest Messy Marv album. At that point you might as well just play the shit on your celly’s speakerphone (which people also do, especially on the 49, 14, 19 or 22 buses. For the record I’ve overheard some of the nastiest phone conversations on the 14 bus. I think a good deal of call girls with those back of the newspaper sex/escort adverts ride that bus since it transports them from the hood to the hotels. I think the 19 may have a similar situation, but I rarely ride that one. It’s scary). But on the way back from work it’s a different beast all together. I feel all angst-y and fucking hate everyone, so I often turn my shit up to 11, where it is sometimes painful. I'm aware that people have to hear and consequently be annoyed by that shit, especially if I’m listening to my angst-bus jams, like Cock in My Pocket by the Stooges or Accelerator by Primal Scream (seriously this maybe one of the loudest songs ever recorded). I do get shitty looks from some people, but seriously, die, it’s time to hate-fuck the bus with music (hate-fuck concept stolen shamelessly from Patton Oswalt: you should all buy his new album). This does have advantages though, as sometimes I get a two seat section all to myself, and the rest of the bus is completely packed! I own an iPod shuffle so I really have no control over what is going to play next, and often the volume range from track to track can be staggering. Also I usually have the iPod in my backpack, so I can’t exactly get to it easily (especially if it is crowded) to change the track or turn down the volume if needed. So, it’s always a bit embarrassing when the volume is blasting and fucking D Train comes on and suddenly I’m not sounding or looking so tough.

D Train has got to be my favorite band on the Prelude label, which says a lot, since Prelude released quite a few seminal dance LPs and 12s (and a bunch of crap too, but generally good shit). That being said, they are one of those groups that I always feel really guilty for liking in public. Like a lot of stuff outta the 80s the lyrics are just complete cheese sometimes (and the best type of cheese, a good brie or piave; listen to the lyrics in The Shadow of Your Smile), and this is especially true on their second, somewhat overlooked album Music, which is where I derived today’s posted tracks. On You're The One For Me from the first LP, I though the dude was saying "Bust a nut on a cloud and shout out loud, you're the one for me". I guess he wasn't though (was he?).

D Train - The Shadow of Your Smile
D Train - Keep Giving Me Love
D Train - Don't You Wanna Ride (The D Train)