Sweaterfunk...MuhmuhMEEE!

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

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

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

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

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!!!!!!!!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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