Me and My Precious Feelings While Attending the 2012 Sundance Film Festival. Me, Me, Me. [Part 2]

Oh Parker Posey, you adorable urchin of independent cinema. When I saw you from below the staircase you were ascending, it almost felt as if you were treading on my heart. And where did you get that slim figure? Who knew that the improvisational comedies of Christopher Guest would make an actress burn so many calories! Too bad your boyfriend at the photo shoot likes the generic wanky reggae of Bob Marley. P-U! Dump him pronto and get a new beau with better taste in music.

Well, look at you Chris Kattan! You're such a tiny little thing, it's probably not such a good idea to stand next to Graham Phillips for too long. Oops, too late. He's already towering over you.

When I shook your hand, Vera Farmiga, I could tell you were completely interested in who I was and where I worked. It was as if the entire universe stopped at that very moment and you were consumed with making sure you heard every word I uttered. Call me...?

Thank you for taking the time to pose for a photo with my boss, David Duchovny. Your brain might have gone to Princeton and Yale, but that smirk will always be reserved for the undergrads.

If there is one thing you've got to love about William H. Macy (besides his flippy-floppity hair and the ability to stay glued for almost an hour on a single cell call) is the fact that he doesn't know who LCD Soundsystem is, thus allowing him to politely decline an invite to James Murphy's DJ set in the Bing Lounge. I wish William H. Macy was playing at my house.

Was that you, gay Bishop Gene Robinson, wearing that severely flashy purple Catholic blouse with the ornate cross on top during the private photo shoot? Just because there is a new documentary on you playing this year doesn't mean you get to hog the fashion spotlight from all those girls walking the streets of Prospector Square drunk in their Uggs.

Me and My Precious Feelings While Attending the 2012 Sundance Film Festival. Me, Me, Me. [Part 1]

Just attended the first screening of The House I Live In, a searing expose by Eugene Jarecki on America's so-called War on Drugs and its extreme effects on various racial and socioeconomic communities. There's probably more to this documentary than that, but I had been huffing goofballs all afternoon so the entire film is a haze.  I have a vague recollection that it has a happy ending.

The Snow Must Go On (Because Sundance is a Kind of Show, Surrounded by Inches of Snow.) (This Proves I am Clever.)

For the rest of the week, I will be writing you from the 2012 Sundance Film Festival. There is probably something more to say about this right now, but I'm too busy just hoping my cojones don't fall off from the cold.  If that happens, please don't mock me at least until I'm able to mock myself.

I Suck. You're Welcome.

The last day of every year always yields many dull and predictable events: nutter religious figures predicting the end times, over-zealous bargain hunters digging through bins of Christmas decorations slashed half-off, etc, etc.

Sadly, this little blog is no better.

Once again, I announce my sub-meager annual end-of-the-year CD compilation pulling together my favorite songs from the past 12 months.  This 2CD set (cleverly entitled Disco:Very 2011) has 40 tracks  of toe-tapping, head-slapping beauty guaranteed to make you dance around the house.

To get your free copy of this one-time-only gift, simply send your name (fakes accepted) and address to peecat at mac dot com and the package will be on its way.  Your name and address will be thrown away after your package has been sent, and will not be shared with anyone else.

It's the end of the year as we know it (and I feel fine giving away cheap CDs to random strangers).

It's Better to Light a Bulb Than to Curse the Darkness

Some Random Thoughts Upon Viewing Fucked Up Playing David Comes to Life in Its Entirety.

It's understandable that the lead vocalist Damian Abraham would remove his shirt during the first song--the room appears to be packed with slithery writhing bodies--but then why is drummer Jonah Falco wearing long sleeves? Does a drummer not work up a sweat? Does a drummer not bleed if you prick his skin?

What does the string quartet do in between their moments in this concert? When they're not playing, they are nowhere to be seen. Do they just sit there wearing earplugs and humming Handel to themselves? If I was a classically-trained cellist, I'm not sure I'd want to sit through an entire Fucked Up set, even at Union wages. I'd hear that cacophony of squall and think, "I went through Juilliard for this??

When lead vocalist Damian Abraham encourages the audience to finish his lyrics at the end of each line, or worse, gives each of them a high-five during guitar solos, it's the equivalent of Sting initiating a sing-along at a reunion show of The Police. I want it to stop.

Lead guitarist Josh Zucker looks a little bit like my friend Jeff Glave who, last time I saw him, was growing his hair out in a shaggy/ridiculous hippy-dippy fashion. I want it to stop.

Why does lead vocalist Damian Abraham put his shirt back on for the encore? I would think, after such a rousing performance, he would be more likely to stay stripped down, perhaps even getting more stripped down, as he did in the latest issue of Spin. Is this a cry for attention?

With Only 39 Years Left to Live, It's Time I Finally Got Around to Digitizing My Cassette & Vinyl Collection [Part 15]

Monopoly Queen - Monopoly Queen 7" (7" 45 on Sub Pop Records, 1994)

A one-off single composed and produced seemingly in a few hours by Lisa Crystal Carver (known to her parents as Lisa Suckdog) and quickly pressed by Sub Pop back when they were still flush with Nirvana cash.  The A-side is a duet between art-prankster Boyd Rice and Mary Ellen Carver (known to her children as Mama Suckdog).  Click on the cover art above to get the full story.  Am I the first person to post a rip of this oddball single?  If so, this maintains my reign as King of the Internet.

Live Blogging the 8,236,146th Viewing of Party Rock Anthem Kia Soul Hamster Commercial

I'll watch this dreck so you don't have to.

0:01  This landscape looks not unlike the Occupy Wall Street protest going on outside my office window right now.
0:03  Damn space aliens and their aggressive take-over-the-Earth rampages!
0:06  The two warring factions don't look all that dissimilar. Question: are the creators of this commercial imparting a deeper meaning?
0:11  Answer: The Kia has arrived so apparently not.
0:15  I saw some sneakers similar to this at Ross Dress for Less once but they only had them in size 12 so I had to pass.
0:19  Think of how much different our lives would be now if Run DMC had dressed in pastels and Iridescent Taffeta.  And also if they had been hamsters.
0:21  You can say whatever you want but those fucking rodents can dance!
0:28  Those killer robots work hard, but they party hard, too.
0:31  Look at that rave bro in the upper left corner!  He's all, like, "Hey! Ho! Hey! Ho!".
0:40  A Rastafarian hamster playing bongos at a dance-off in a war-torn landscape??  Now I've seen everything!.
0:47  I'm not sure what's worse: a future devoid of trees where aggressive intergalactic robots will wreak destruction upon our very souls, or a a future devoid of trees where aggressive intergalactic robots will wreak destruction upon our very souls where the only available car is a Kia.

Disco:Very Openly Invites Reader Hostility, Defends Most Hated Album on the Planet

The dirty diapers at Pitchfork went and gave Lulu, the debut collaboration between Elder Statesman Lou Reed and mosh mascots Metallica, their lowest available rating, and from the uproar one finds all over the music webisphere, Pitchfork is not alone in their disgust. Indie purists, please. Calm the fuck down. If there's one thing we've learned about Saint Lou over the years, it's that he's never going to stop merging his interest in highbrow literature with his passion for rock and roll. Stop insisting that he write another Sweet Jane and let the man fucking do his thing. If you can't slam your fists around the brutality which envelops the galloping Dragon or sink into the beauty of the lovely, lyrical 20-minute closer Junior Dad, then move along. Better yet, give it another spin, ignore Hetfield & Company and just pretend it's Robert Quine, Fernando Saunders and Doane Perry backing him instead.

Demise of R.E.M. Spurs Related Performers to Step Up Their Game

September 22, 2011
Disco:Very, Athens, GA

Yesterday’s surprising announcement by classic-rockers R.E.M. that, after 31 years of success, they will be calling it quits, led many in the music industry to mark the passing of an era.

But not so for the iconic dancers in the famous music video for“Stand”, who are now ready to take the spotlight for themselves. “Our group has been practicing day and night for the last 23 years, preparing for this very moment, and they’re now ready to shine!”, says Sandra Foley, representative of The Stand Dancers who, upon hearing the news of R.E.M.’s break-up, have scheduled a 6-month worldwide tour to coincide with renewed interest in the band.

Foley promises that every Stand Dancer will be present on stage, including fan favorites Tall Geeky Guy Wearing a Muscle Shirt While Being Skinny as a Q-Tip and Sporting a Most Unfortunate Ponytail and Token Dreadlock Woman Wearing a Questionable Choice of Knee-High Black Socks with Loafers While Wanting to Dance in a More Funky Manner But Is Clearly Held Back by the Half-Assed Indie Rock Rhythms.

“The popularity of The Stand Dancers has never been stronger,” Foley continues. “So to please their many fans, they’ll be performing everyone’s favorite moves: Kick, Jump, Arm Jive, Turnaround, as well as…well, that’s the only dance step they’ve got right now, actually.”

Because The Stand Dancers’ routine amounts to barely 2 minutes of screen time in the timeless video, Foley has promised that the rest of the 3-hour performance will be filled with appearances from other R.E.M.-related superstars, including: The Boy Rummaging Through the Detritus of a Messy Abandoned Home (the boy is now a bloated 33-year-old unmarried father of five children), Big Nosed Curly-Haired Woman Resembling Michael Stipe in Drag Who Dramatically Looks Left and Then Right, and Every Single Person Suffering in Silence During an Emotionally-Painful Traffic Jam.

Grandma Got Run Over By the Art School Performance Artist Equivalent of a Reindeer

Hmmm. Yeah, I remember the first time I watched Liquid Sky...

Great dancers are not great because of their technique, they are great because of their passion. (And their inability to realize how foolish they look.)

My pre-concert rituals are exacting and precise. The morning of the show, I greet the Sun God with some naked Iyengar Yoga while drinking Ashwagandha Tea, which combats stress and restores serenity. I dress myself in a pair of flowing Nomad Eco Pants (which I bought to wear at Burning Man five years ago) and a dark blue Onno brand organic bamboo tee. Right before bicycling my way to the concert, I smoke a heapful of Salvia for the spirit/flesh rejuvenation I will be experiencing. As soon as I am at the concert, I respond to the music with Ecstatic Dance and Spiritual Movement , letting my Chakra spell out the rhythms and lead me to an enlightened level of no return. After 9 hours of this, I usually forget where I parked my bike and I end up hitching home with one of my shoes missing.

Darling Indie Band Dies of Quirk Poisoning

By Disco:Very
Published: September 8, 2011

The Portland, Oregon indie band Jared Mees and The Grown Children have been found dead, local authorities say, due to poisoning from repeated doses of quirkiness.

Their compositions often consisted of mostly wacky, non-rock instruments (trumpet, plastic egg maracas, a girl percussionist who also sings backup while using hand signals to act out the lyrics, a band member's dog howling in unison on one of the songs, etc) as well as unending amounts of wordless ba-da-ba-da-ba-da choruses.

The quirk factor which so rapidly took their lives first infected them when the band's whimsical name was invented, and the killer cuteness only increased exponentially when the title of their debut CD Only Good Thoughts Can Stay, was christened. This quaint the-sun-will-come-out-tomorrow CD title was the first indication that the deadly quirkiness was spreading much faster than initially thought.

Their condition worsened with each charming live show and music video involving daffy hats and vintage eyewear. Friends and family of Jared Mees and The Grown Children knew it would only be a matter of time before the band was crushed under the weight of its own cleverness.

The final nail in the coffin was their decision (sadly all-too-common from most of today's indie outfits) to create a trailer for their latest album.

Because the band has influenced nobody nor made any lasting impact on today's popular culture, music lovers around the world, upon hearing the news of the band's demise, reportedly gave a collective shrug.

They are survived by Wes Anderson and Paste Magazine.

Live Blogging The 2011 Telluride Film Festival

I have an idea how Sony Pictures Classics can market their forthcoming Holocaust survival flick In Darkness: "It's Schindler's List...filmed in tunnel vision!"  Also, they should consider changing the title to the catchier Sewer Jews.


George Clooney is here in person, apparently. This caused several people to riot, burn down dozens of theaters and march through the streets with Ken Burns' head impaled on a pitchfork.

This year's Guest Director (and one of my musical heros) Caetano Veloso is signing autographs today, and I've brought several CD's for him to mark up. Here's how I hope it will go down:

Disco:Very: Good evening, Caetano. You are but a god.
Caetano Veloso: Thank you, Disco:Very. You are one of my idols.
Disco:Very: When you give me the signal, I will overthrow the U.S. Government and smash the capitalist pigs.
Caetano Veloso: The time to end America's reign of terror is upon us!
Disco:Very: Viva Los Gringos!

Here is how it will really go down:

Disco:Very: Good evening, Caetano. You are one of my favorite musicians and--
Caetano Veloso: [Quickly signs my CD with a rubber stamp bearing his signature.] Done. Next!!

A Doom Metal Announcement

[Sung to the tune of Seance by Furze.]

I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I wi-i-i-i-illlllll be-e-e-e-e-e-e-e
a-a-a-a-awa-a-a-a-a-ay fo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-rrrrrr a we-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-k
a-a-ate-e-e-ndi-i-i-i-innng The Telluride Film Festival

I-i-i-i-ffff I-I-I-I-I-I-I do-o-o-o-o-n-n-n-n-n-nt re-e-e-e-e-etu-u-u-u-unnn,
it w-i-i-i-i-lllll be-e-e-e-e be-e-e-e-eca-a-a-use
I joi-oi-oi-oinnned The Demonic Order in the Eternal Fascist's Hall.

With Only 39 Years Left to Live, It's Time I Finally Got Around to Digitizing My Cassette & Vinyl Collection [Part 14]

Thelonius Monster - The Boldness of Style EP (12" EP on Relativity Records, 1987)

Although they were often simply thought of as the West Coast version of The Replacements, the Los Angeles sextet Thelonius Monster never quite reached the ramshackle pinnacles of their Minneapolis counterpart (read: they didn't drink as much). This 3-track EP contains the college rock/funk single Walk on Water (produced by Flea, fittingly) from their sophomore LP and two unreleased tracks (one of which is a live recording and probably the only officially-released example of their who-gives-a-fuck live act.) Although a number of their other LPs are now available on iTunes, this one is not. Thus I feel secure that by posting this download, I will not be harassed by The Man. Will the band itself force me to cease and desist? Only time will tell.

Disco:Very Reviews an Amos Lee Concert in Limerick Form

There once was a Lee named Amos
His faux-folk schtick made him famous
His concert in our town
Made us all scowl and frown
His songs are shit--can you blame us?

Calexico was dullish backing band
Main ingredient: music quite bland
Slow beats and strum-a, strum-a
Makes for show of total bumm-a
Can't this type of stuff be banned?

At times, band numbered thirteen
Including pointless tambourine
Too many musicians
Urges one to petition
To replace them all with machines

Drummer looked like senior citizen
Makes for pathetic depiction
His balding grey head
Made him look almost dead
To play for whole show he needs insulin

Guitarist's dress code elicited "Why???"
Due to skinny jeans and skinnier tie
Looked just like a bloke
Who would play for The Strokes
Or Joe Jackson or Eye to Eye

One song was about "Our Troops"
It made me take mental poops
Flag waving refrain
Brought tears to my brain
Thought: "The level to which this man stoops!"

Audience was mostly white meat
Had trouble clapping to the beat
Lee wants to be Black
But true soul he does lack
His street cred a total conceit

With Only 39 Years Left to Live, It's Time I Finally Got Around to Digitizing My Cassette & Vinyl Collection [Part 13]

Alix Dobkin - xxAlix (LP on Ladyslipper Records, 1980)

Now that we have a Lesbian President, can we finally allow ourselves to have a laugh over this awesome aural relic? This is Camp of the highest order, every track dripping with irony-free earnest fist-in-the-air political fury (and all of it, remarkably, still available for purchase on cassette). How can you not love an album who lists the name of a key musician as River Lightwomoon and credits the album graphics as being "Typeset with Lesbian love by J. DeMaris Hearn, a Lesbian typographer"? As for the music, well, make no mistake about it: we're in total post-Ferron territory here. If you're a Grrrl wanting to get your riot on, you're about 20 years too early. For those of you reading this who are shocked by my audacity to poke some fun at what some would see as a sacred artifact, may I simply argue that my qualifications are in order. It would be remiss of me to defend myself by stating that some of my best friends are lesbians but...um, [ahem]: Some of my best friends are Lesbians.

With Only 39 Years Left to Live, It's Time I Finally Got Around to Digitizing My Cassette & Vinyl Collection [Part 12]

Carmaig de Forest - I Shall Be Released LP (Good Foot Records, 1987)

Mixing the bone-dry wit of Woody Allen, the rejected romantic disillusionment of early Elvis Costello and the scrappy political passions of Billy Bragg (if he was brave enough to play ukelele), the debut effort from punk/folk troubadour Carmaig de Forest should have been a much bigger hit than it actually was. One could say the stripped-down rawk arrangements could be attributed to the record's producer Alex Chilton, but music this acerbic doesn't need much more than what's already here to prove its point.  I wish de Forest was still making albums like this--in today's wacko political environment, his sardonic take is sorely needed.

With Only 39 Years Left to Live, It's Time I Finally Got Around to Digitizing My Cassette & Vinyl Collection [Part 11]

Los Jilguerillos del Naranjo - Los Jilguerillos del Naranjo LP (Canon Records, Unknown Year)
My shaky comprehension of even the most simplistic Spanish does not keep me away from an old-fashioned stripped-to-the-basics Norteño hoedown.  Forget all the hyped-up techno-electro schlock you hear from today's Conjunto acts.  This shit is the bomb--even more so since the "O" in the charming Canon Records label resembles one.  I know absolutely nothing about this band (I can't even figure out what the band's name means in English) and merely purchased it on its colorful graphics alone.  Does that make me shallow?  (And does this shallowness make my butt look big?)

With Only 39 Years Left to Live, It's Time I Finally Got Around to Digitizing My Cassette & Vinyl Collection [Part 10]

The Texas Instruments - The Texas Instruments LP (Rabid Cat Records, 1987)

It's almost quaint to listen to the debut self-titled album by Austin's The Texas Instruments and remember how, for some of us, this hybrid of souped-up post-hardcore and politicized country punk was going to somehow eradicate all the backwards governing during the years of The Gipper.  Now we have Michelle Bachman as a front runner for the 2012 election and the loonies are strategizing to run the asylum.  Oh well.  At least now I can upload this LP to my iPod and pretend it's making Zombie Reagan spin in his grave.

Would You Like to Try a Sample Or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

To those who are suckers for those moments when a band uses a noteworthy sample for a moderately interesting twee-pop song, be sure to check out Your Own Religion by TV Girl, which employs sections of Yama Yama by The Yamasukis. That is all.

That's Why Darkness Was Born

Thank goodness the dour art-damaged early-80's are over, allowing us the emotional distance to observe bands like Danny & the Parkins Sisters from a safe distance. The Mein Leben ist Scheiße Welt mindset on such tracks as This World is Bleak, War (Is On Your Doorstep) and On My Block (with its deliciously overwrought delivery of such couplets as Black boots/Bag o' loot/No one's gonna/Tell you the truth!) is enough to make you mainline Percocet. My own vinyl copy of this 8-track post-punk (but seemingly pre-rehearsal) masterpiece can now be sold to the highest bidder thanks to Chapter Music reissuing it on CD (yes, this occurred a year ago but don't mock me for only discovering this now--I've been very busy), even seeing fit to pad it with 10 extra tracks of live recordings and demos (such as We Are Indians, which has all the political correctness of a Sondra Lee dance routine). Buy this CD and relive the heady days when underground music was gleefully giving Reagan the finger with every note they played.

If There is a Jukebox in Heaven, I'll Bet It Never Requires Any Coins (Nor Would It Require Electricity) (Or Records)

Almost three years after the unbearably sad death of Lux Interior, I am now on Stage 6 of the Kubler-Ross Five Stages of Grief: listening to The Cramps Jukebox over and over and over in the vein hope that repeat listens of this 2-CD set will miraculously bring him back to life. Songs on this (authorized?) CD, such as Did You Mean Jelly Bean (by Joe Clay), Bila (by The Versatones), Real Wild Child (by Ivan), Olds Mo William (by Paul Peek) and Jennie Lee (by Jan & Arnie) are but a shallow balm for all the pain in which I am still very much engaged. I'm so terribly lonely and cold. Hold me.

With Only 39 Years Left to Live, It's Time I Finally Got Around to Digitizing My Cassette & Vinyl Collection [Part 9]

The Flies - Get Wise (LP on Homestead Records, 1984)

Your parents always pegged you as a lazy fuck, and I'm afraid I have to agree. You took too long to download Get Wise by Boston 80's indie rockers The Flies over at Wilfully Obscure and now it's all gone. As your mom and dad would say: "That's what you get for staying out all night and forgetting to call to let us know where you were." Don't worry, though. Disco:Very will help you out yet again, the way we always do. You can get the entire album (which sounds akin to The Standells if Bob Dylan was their lead vocalist) here, plus I'm even throwing in their debut single (and its quaint out-of-date reference to pay phones), which even Wilfully Obscure doesn't even seem to have. I'm betting they're as much of a disappointment to their parents as you have been to me. I hope you remember how much I helped you when I'm in the nursing home and need someone to drive me to CVS for my happy pills.

The Errant Charm of Soft, Mild Music, Gently Stirred So as Not to Upset Those Poor Souls Coming Down While in the Recovery Tent at Bonnaroo

When you sit down to listen to the new Vetiver album and its odd cover resembling the Matador Records logo, a most curious thing happens. There, amongst droopy tunes better suited to car commercials, bank commercials and dating site commercials, the boys of Vetiver actually stop gazing at their navels long enough to rock the fuck out (in a Velvets stylee). To quote my nemesis Oliver Twist, "Please, sir, I want some more. Only make sure the next album has a lot less gruel."

Lost and Found

The next time someone tries to sell you a rare copy of a Flying Lizards CD for $200, you just spit right in their mouth, mister, and let them know you have already have a dealer for that particular drug. In late 2010, RPM Records became a hero to New Wave record collectors everywhere by issuing a 2-CD set of the self-titled debut album by The Flying Lizards, as well as the much sought-after follow-up Fourth Wall. [Yes, I'm late boarding this trendy train because none of you bothered to tell me about it earlier, thank you very fucking much.] Both albums were only available as expensive Japanese imports and have been out of print for decades, and although this new reissue lacks a few tracks which the Nippon release included (specifically Glide and the Single Edit of Move On Up), I couldn't bear to live a life without this snappy 2-fer in my quivering hands.

Shelter Schmelter

The only question one can ask after viewing this eye-rolling/face palm inducing video: why didn't they get that dorky spaz-dancing-equals-world-peace guy to be in it?

With Only 39 Years Left to Live, It's Time I Finally Got Around to Digitizing My Cassette & Vinyl Collection [Part 8]

Bis - Everybody Thinks That They're Going to Get Theirs 7" (4-song 7" on Wiiija Records, 1997)

One could easily argue that this post-pubescent squeal-pop, excessively jacked up on youth and Kill Rock Stars-esque verve, doesn't hold up very well in today's aural landscape. However, one could just as well surmise that when the 18-year-olds of today want to revive the musical fads of the 1990's (as is their won't), Bis will be at the front of the parage. Prediction: the downtown traffic for this electro-ska/punk EP I'm offering will spike in about, oh, five years. [Click on images above to see enlarged cover art.]

With Only 40 Years Left to Live, It's Time I Finally Got Around to Digitizing My Cassette & Vinyl Collection [Part 7]

"The Madam" - The Sensuous Black Woman (LP on Kent Records, [year of release unknown])

A full-on NSFW soul sister instructional, backed by greasy, slinky grooves and enough X-rated pillow talk to make you get down with your bad self and turn even Redd Foxx a beet red. My cassette copy has grown old in the tooth, so it was time to bring it forward into the 21st century, but I can assure you, similar to those of you who only read Playboy for the articles, I swear on a stack on Rudy Ray Moore albums that I only listen to this album for the music.

Only in 3's

Because these things always happens in 3's, there will be one more music-related celebrity death by the end of today, and furthermore, just like Poly Styrene and Phoebe Snow, the third death will have the initials "PS". Based on this formula, here are my guesses:

1. Pete Seeger
2. Paul Simon
3. Paul Stanley
4. Peter Sframpton

Please don't send me any hate mail about this list. I am a music scientist, and this is my research.