Thursday, December 31, 2009

Dawson MEGAPOST Addendum

I have impending blisters on my heels. Or my... lower calves? The area of foot-relative flesh adjacent to my wayward toes. I can't remember whether the term "heel" is in reference to the bottom of the foot or the you know what no one gives a shit I'll start over.

I have new boots! They're 20-eye towers of excess from legendary podiatrist Dr. (Acronym) Marten himself - currently digging their crisp, plastic-y folds into the aforementioned mystery regions of my feet with a tireless abandon only patience and big, horribly infected blisters will tame. With that, I feel obligated to imbibe from the text reservoir to bring to your attention how overtly punk rock this boot transition has been. Y'see, my last pair were purchased at the semi-local Army/Navy shoppe a week prior to beginning my first semester at the community college I haplessly agreed to enlist in after discovering I was too damn poor to afford any of the top-tier art colleges I was accepted to (40K grants notwithstanding). Little over a year and a half later, those 150 USD kicks built to protect America like foot-condoms for our chillun' on foreign soil fucking SPLIT from the soles like I'd spent the past year on a rocky plane of heightened gravity. So then I was like "SO MUCH FOR AMERICA, HUH?", dropped out of school, began working full time and picked up these working man's boots to conquer the remainder of my life with. Oi!

S'anyway, I just realized yesterday what a disservice I did to the few readers I have by not including this delicious little morsel of scratchy, vaguely funky, crispy, post-punk perfection in my Dawson MEGAPOST of a few months prior. "MEGAPOST"?? YEAH, MORE LIKE MEGAFRAUD!!! I don't know, shut up. This EP is great, albeit arguably inessential if you own the holy trinity of Dawson lengthy-players already. What I didn't realize until recently however, is what the missing ingredient from my Scot-Punk equation was - the UK's bIG fLAME. If I'm not just 100 years late to figuring this one out, I urge any fans of the Minutemen, The Ex, or Dog Faced Hermans to give their post-humous compilation Rigour a listen - I'll probably give it a place here in the near future, even.
Romping Egos is a not-so-hefty 6+ minutes, so it may confuse you that it required such a surplus of text to introduce it, but on the other hand, most of you just skipped directly to the link. YER SCROLLING FINGER ACHE, HUH? FUCK YOU! Listen to that insane guitar tone, though. Sounds like it would lacerate your fingertips and give you tetanus, no?

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Rites Of Spring - s/t

So you might notice that I haven't updated in forever.

As such, here are a list of things of unfortunates you may attribute to the reasoning behind this:

1.) Detoxing
2.) Friend dying a pointless and abrupt death
3.) Dropping out of college
4.) Working constantly
5.) Having my license suspended for not obliging to a court date I was never informed of through the reliable ol' postal service
6.) Having that court date as a result of an extraordinarily rare production anomaly that wouldn't allow my car to pass inspection via the computer that reads my odometer since last battery replacement
7.) General disillusionment, loneliness, and unrest due to distaste for the tradition of American life, ongoing lack of companionship, and the sloshy, ugly, mess that defines a New York winter, respectively


Needless to say, I'm not really prepared to deliver my usual stew of lame wordplay and awful strikethrough-text based jokes - but wait, here's one that would've predated this sentence if I hadn't called attention to it's absence beforehand:

Needless to say, I wonder if anyone has made a lame pun involving the word "needless" and the phrase "needle-less"

So we're all really anticipating the next round of those ever-rib-tickling strikethrough text gimmicks, but today you'll just have to settle for one of those albums I feel is topical at the moment - Rites Of Spring's s/t album. 13 songs of disillusionment, longing, nostalgia, hopefulness, introspection, sentimentality, and heartache, all conceived with a gorgeously undated sound that "kicked off the now glamourized "emo" subculture".
- Me, 2006

No one actively participates in the "emo subculture" anymore, do they?

Oh, and if it makes any difference to you, this goes up on my figurative "top numeral of all time" list since it's been keeping me company since I was 16.