going
execeptionally
outside
reasonable
goals
even

when

being
unassertive
saves
horror

["I was excited when i saw the commercial for those and shredded miniwheats. but then i read an article about how wal-mart is lobbying for the acception of using certain "natural" chemicals in their brand of organic products. there are certain guidelines that are supposed to be followed when terming something "organic" but not really a governing body regulating it (besides the usda, which is a governement organization that i don't really trust). It seems organic food is the new trend, so now all these companies are going to start calling everything, including crap, organic. but at least the country is recognizing that consumers don't want to be fed chemicals. I'm sure most organic labels are authentic, but i'm not going to be trusting walmart. Oh yeah, another reason why walmart sucks is because they are going to import "organic" ingredients from other countries, so they can charge a cheaper price for their organic brand. Half of the reason to buy organic is to support organic farmers, and now people are going to be buying cheaper from walmart, and put local and american organic farmers out of business.

Sorry for the rant!"]


Not one word of this email was changed.

Didn't you say you had nothing to say?

This post Isn't Anything

It's been listening to so much My Bloody Valentine lately that it's almost not fair to other bands. So much so that my speaking has become jumbled and incoherent and my walking bassline-y. Just kidding, but I really like J Mascis, too, and I feel like I actually discovered him. Let me explain. Out of nowhere, Scott tells me to reveiw Witch, which led to a confused eye roll. Turns out, it's amazing, and the best 'stoner rock' in years. Whoops. Then he says the drummer fronts Dinosaur Jr., who I find to be subtely pretentious but wickedly luminary. All of this of course, is okay, because they never really went uberfamous, (i.e. Mudhoney, who garndered and 'invented' a sound but never really got credit for it cause so many other younger and more attractive dudes perfected it.) Mascis and Kevin Shields were the masterminds behind the sound of a little outfit called My Blood Valentine (picture Smashing Pumpkins, but not concerned with commercial success.) What does this all mean? That J Mascis is as relevant today as he has ever been. And that I have two favorite songs named Sometimes. Isn't that weird?

Cat Power

Chan Marshall's voice is like glass. It cracks if you ask too much of it and both are beautiful until they are broken. And I do mean broken, Marshall has been known to break down on stage into tears, and for the first years of her performances in Memphis, TN, where she was raised by a dusty cowboy of a father, she performed with her back to the audience.

Those days are over, and Marshall now faces the audience, and she does it with a flair that is rarely seen and is embraced by even those that have photos of Marilyn Manson on their blogs (scroll down). But this Cat is effing good and her latest album, The Greatest, has made lots of noise on critics' 2006 Best Of lists. With 2004's You Are Free and this year's The Greatest, Ms. Power is the author of two incredibly whole bodies of work. Each still has its own dynamic, and seems to want to go in spasming directions, and each resemble a Counting Crows acoustic set if they had candles and a beauty in a tank top.

Marshall sings the same way she walks on a hardwood floor in the middle of the night--very carefully and not wanting to make too much noise. Unfortunately for her, the secret is out.

These are the most recent reviews on Lollipop Magazine.com:
http://www.lollipop.com/article.php3?q=clint+goulden

Hunky Dori

Faced with a life changing decision, I decided to completely ignore it and just be unfortunately emo today. I watched the Oakland A's battle the Minnesota Twins and listened to Beirut all day while writing a review of Saosin's crappiest and newest self-titled recordings.

After a good hard smoke, I realized that where I am emo, my parents were as much hippies; as I was named after a hard-ass 70s actor now still a hard-ass in his actual 70s, and my sister is named after David Bowie's actual best album, Hunky Dory, which precedes his 1972 masterpiece The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars. Not that that is relevant, but I just think its a really cool album title. I bet they never expected to live to see such a photo, when they named this little boy.

English Beat

I recently came upon a journal I kept when I lived in England for six months during Sophomore year of college. Actually, it is more of a datebook that I scribbled in daily and made into a journal, perhaps exercising some foresight that I wouldn't being able to remember pretty much the entire trip. Chroniciling each day from January 29 to June 10, 2002 and through no intentions of my own, it makes for some actual interesting reading. Somehow, it not only records the misdoings of four mad men and the reverbarations of heavy indulgence in all things illegal, but it mistakely defines the most naked human conditions and samples relationships. I hope to publish it one day. This is Sam or, Sambo. He was and I'm sure continues to be an incredible human being. I'm the less attractive manboy on the right.

The God of Fuck

All of my serious musician and music critic friends absolutely love Marilyn Manson. And not just his music, or his weirdo 1998 phase where he resembled both Shirley Manson and Marilyn Monroe (all coincidence in relation to his name, er, I think) but virtually everything he has touched (including Rose McGowan). Every decision he has made (starring in 2002's Bowling For Columbine, where he wisely advised that privledged America probably should have listened to these misguided youths than turn their backs on them) and his return to shock rock, six-feet stilts and loads of drugs. I almost want to pretend I never liked him, so I could say that I used to think he was weird, but now I understand and embrace him; but I am worse. I purchased 1996's Antichrist Superstar and was lifted to greater heights by its premise--despite my inept and flippant reasoning for buying it--he looked crazy, and I thought that Beautiful People was cool. So I've been interested since his public inception, even if he drew me in by what he hated the most. Manson is no longer the God of Fuck, but just a God, a rock God understanding his role, and embracing it, which only makes me realize that no one has done it in a very long time. Manson rose above the rolling hills of sleepy Ohio to become a poet, a teacher (Temple University) an author, an actor, a painter, a auteur and a director. Oh, and he does it all on loads of drugs. God love him.