M.I.A. sneaks in thru da back door...

"I can tell jokes. I can talk to the audience. I can relax. I can change my songs whenever I want. I can change the tempos. I can change the mood, because I'm in charge."

-the late Robert Goulet

This one's for you, big papa...

M.I.A. - Paper Planes (Rene Goulet's Golden Girl Conspiracy)

RENEGOULET.COM is here!

Yes....I've been away for quite some time (last post was March?) but you'll have to forgive me. I've spent the last 6 months drowning my libido in Vegas (aka Las Vortex). Twenty-three redheads and seventeen pounds of bacon later, I bring you RENEGOULET.COM

Please excuse me; I'm a wee bit frazzled and need to soak my nerves in a big, fat tub of porn.

But fret not; I will be back momentarily with new posts, new reviews and more tracks. In the meantime, a nice little bandstand banger to keep your arse warm.....


M.I.A. - Boyz (Goulet's Backside Bump)

Fergie In A Blender / Under The Influence Of Giants

It’s been four score and seven minutes since I last updated the Cylinder. I don’t have much of an excuse for my absence, other than the fact that the wind simply disappeared from my sails, which left me struggling to find a port suitable for the girth of Goulet’s Love Boat (yes, I did make a cameo on the ill-fated series in the 70s).

After months of introspection, I now realize that it is futile to live in the glory days of overflowing mammaries and bountiful bedside pharmaceutical bowls; I must shake off the doldrums of ice and snow and pray for the global warming phenomenon to rear its ugly head. Oh sweet, delicious iceberg, how you melt in my mouth like an aspiring showgirl…

Alas, Goulet has been quite productive during these winter months. Now I shall follow the Astrological path of Nostradomus while paying homage to the genius of Richard Johnson of PageSix fame. I love little baby lambs, so in hopes of overseeing herds of these scantily-clad creatures in due time, I hereby present the feather that will tickle the lion’s most sensitive nerve endings into a menacing roar. Or a horrifying meow…



Various Artists - Fergie In A Blender (Goulet's Self-Indulgent Clusterf*ck)

This one is easy to explain. I simply threw 20 darts at my record collection and vowed to include a sample from each pierced jacket in this subsequent cluster-f*ck. However it does not end there. As a result of this twisted mess, I am planning a benefit that will feature a live performance of this overwrought, self-indulgent ego-stroke to benefit my favorite charity, MABS (Moms Against Breast Sag), which provides enhancement to those who have been ravished by the risks of self-provided child nourishment (SPCN). It’s an epidemic that’s affected millions of mothers around the globe, and I urge you to give what you can. And, yes, that is the Barney Miller theme.






Under The Influence Of Giants - Mama’s Room (Goulet’s Bandito Mezcla)

This remix was influenced by the Golden Girls, Andre the Giant and a trip to Cuba on THC Airlines. Have you traveled with them before? I highly recommend it. It’s like Virgin Airlines for those who are definitely NOT virgins. Free Love in the sky, my little pogo stick.

NY Fashion Week Playlist

I’ve heard that fashion is simply the art of buying clothes you don’t need, with money you don’t have, to impress people that you don’t even like. Now if that’s not sexy, I don’t know what is. However I think that this criticism is a bit harsh; after all, I would argue that if it works for overweight punch-buggies smuggling tires in spandex, then I must applaud its merits. Touche Fashion!!!
Now check out a sampling of the music that shook vanity to its knees….

Marchesa Fall 07 - a frightening marriage of Jesus & Mary Chain, The Good, The Bad & The Queen, Clockwork Orange, Portishead, The Smiths, Heart, Requiem For A Dream, Death In Vegas, Led Zeppelin, Pan's Labyrinth, Pink Floyd & Tricky.

Music from Marchesa Fall 07 Presentation

Diane Von Furstenberg Fall 07 - pop sugar goes to Spain, amigo. Audrey Hepburn, Robin Thicke, Coco Electrik, Mika, Domino, Rossi De Palma, Lady T & Lionel Richie Flamenco Styleeeee.....

Music from Diane Von Fursternberg Fall 07 Show

A coming of age story...

At the behest of a friend who shares a similar love of all things sordid, I purchased the New York Times Bestseller "Confessions Of A Video Vixen." I don't know where Karrine Steffans found time to hone her craft between all the Rusty Trombones and Cellophane Surprises, but this girl writes like Emily Dickenson with a belly-full of Shakespeare's offspring. I could go on and on, but I'll let the text speak for itself:


On Vin Diesel:

"Reminiscent of a scene from Gone With The Wind, he pressed his lips firmly against mine, then as they parted, our tongues touched and then danced. I melted in his mouth as the sun began to set over Zuma Beach. I wanted to feel my skin and soft, round breasts against his hard, lean muscles. I wanted more than I could have at that moment, but what he was giving me was powerful just the same."

On Jay-Z:

"I felt comfortable around him and felt that it was all right for me to accept his invitation to take a ride with him down from the house and onto the beach. We hopped in the back of his chauffer-driven Mercedes S55 and took the windy road back to the shore of Zuma Beach. We continued to talk for a while until his driver parked on the beach and exited the vehicle. After a few moments of silence, Jay pulled out his penis, covered it with a condom and placed his hand on the back of his head. I was being a good girl, thanking him and proving my worthiness of the kindness he had shown."

On Bobby Brown:

"We had lunch at beachfront restaurants, in plain view of the world, and on one occasion, we fed each other raw oysters for two hours at a popular seafood restaurant close to the Santa Monica pier. He never missed an opportunity to tell me he loved me, and my eyes would dance as I returned the notion. But there were still many things about Bobby that worried me."

I'd live with the bad teeth to be a Brit....

Why does it seem that the publishers of American music magazines are of the Jerry's Kids ilk? Because they are, my young patriot. That's why I tune into the Brits for all of the latest dirt. Wanna know how many doodies Pete Dougherty did today? NME (answer: none cos the H binds him up). A sense of humor? Q. Reviews? Mojo.

You might be saying to yourself, "Goulet - I REALLY like Blender! They give me ALL the news about Gnarls Barkley!" For starters, you probably prefer the American version of The Office to that of the Brits. And you're probably a fat kid whose trailer is decorated by the sweet smell of candy bar residue.

A few examples of the American press juggernaut:

From Blender:


Well, you kind of are a handjob, Dane, so I guess that makes Blender a collective of handjobs for actually putting you in their magazine. I typed in "dane cook sucks" in Google and guess what I found? A website named - you guessed it - danecooksucks.com. Wow. This mag should be called "Blunder."




From URB:

First of all, the word "HOLLA" was put to rest a long time ago, chico. We need to find you a new word, one that's NOT as played as your dirty skeevies. And the review? I'm surprised that your house has not been torched for comparing Hot Chip to the Beatles. You just peed on the graves of every Brit that has ever passed beans-and-toast inspired gas, my friend. Touche.

And on the Brit side....

From Q:




Now that's some funny shit. Period. And it really does make you think - wouldn't someone as high-maintenence as Mariah Carey afford herself a nice WAX from time to time? Apparently not, which makes her an enemy of the State of Goulet. Tisk, tisk Mariah. Well done, Q.







From NME:


Again, the Brits show their flair for prose. Commenting on a poster that was included with NME (how many American mags do that? Not since Bananas and Scott Baio!!!!), the Brits want answers. Which makes me think: It would take a lot of dirty fingernails for Kate Moss to register a Courtey Love score on the Stank-O-Meter. But that doesn't preclude Courtney from doing a little modeling on her own....

Apparently, it's Goulet and Courtey's cooch...

God damn I love advertising, especially when is smells of sweatshops. And who better to capture that odor than Courtey's cooch? Although she claims to be sober, there's nothing more intoxicating than a sweet whiff of her nethers, so the good folks over at Apparently American have signed her on as their newest model. What's that? Who's the striking fox in the gold lame tights? None other than Goulet and his insatiable appetite for the animal kingdom.

Goulet and JT get it on...

Here I am kickin it with JT and Timbaland up in Club Dunce Cap on the outskirts of Dublin. True, it looks a bit randy but rest assured; JT was simply picking my pockets so he could get up in some deviled eggs at the bar. They make da eggs so nice at the Dunce Cap! Tim looks a bit excited, but that's only because he was taken by Goulet's scintillating star-power. After I made my way thru the bevy of red-headed knob-seekers, it was time to drop some pain on the dancefloor. Let's just say I found this mix while digging for Xanax in my man-purse...

My Love (Goulet's D-Cup Send Up)

rUSs Weekly - Incest Is Back!

Oh god. I don’t know how this happened, but apparently the rules of biology have been thrown out the door and Darwin is nothing but a babbling lunatic. Brothers hit skins, give birth to rappers and suddenly Pete Doherty’s pharmaceutical game of pot luck has lost its luster. Russ is smoking pap smears again, but at least he didn’t kill any embryos in the process.

So in an effort to enlighten the plain, poorly decorated room that most people in this realm call the "blog-o-smear" I've decided to create a musical accompanyment to the recent findings of the always-clever pig greaser, rUSs.

Wax "WonderDogg"

or download it:
Goulet-"WonderDogg"

Playlist - Fat Women To Inhale Runways

So I went to a birthday party for a skinny model the other day. And guess what? The cake jumped out of the girl. Laugh now, but know that the day of the 80-lb POW look is soon to be kicked to the curb. Well, maybe not kicked…the wind will probably do just fine. In hopes of sending the “right” message to women around the world, protesters are demanding that healthier women walk the runways. Does this mean that I will no longer have to provide beats for 14-year old, prepubescent stick figures draped in fabric? Will I FINALLY get to see some Tits and Teeth??? Or will the Pink Mafia respond by sending the Russian Olympic team down the runway? Do you care? Would you rather have the media focus on important shit? Personally, I will let the self-righteous media spank-bags moan about that one. I just wanted to make a funny picture, ya know? C’mon, you know it’s funny.

Here's a sampling of what got waxed for the Spring 07 shows:

The Gossip - Listen Up! (TOC remix)
Teddybears vs. Hall + Oates - Cobraeater (Goulet mix)
Bugz In The Attic - Move Aside
Dollyrots - Be My Baby
The Grates - Science Is Golden
Pony Up! - Matthew Modine
The Blow - Pile Of Gold
Soho Dolls - Stripper
Sexy Finger Champs - Go Robot Go
Love Is All - Motorboat
Coco Electric - Sex Shooter
Razorlight vs. Bloom - Eyeliner In The Morning (Goulet Mix)
Planning To Rock - Bolton Wanderer
Jahcoozi - Shake The Doom
Neurotic Drum Band - We're Gonna Rock NY (Glass Remix)

And since you're so bi-specially curious, I've posted the music from Nathan Jenden, which contains a few arbitrary samplings of utter randomness. The first person who can name all of the tracks wins a date with Sumo Judy!!!! I'll give you a hint - the first track is somewhere on this blog. Now run along, children....

Wax Nathan's Spring 07 show:

or download it:
Nathan Jenden SP 07

Allow me to wax your earlobes...

Girl Talk – Night Ripper (Illegal Art)

Don’t you love it when someone comes along with a red hot poker and shoves it straight up the record industry’s pale, wrinkled old keister? Kinda touches a nerve, and as we all know, the nerves are a bit sensitive down there. (C’mon. You know.)

Gregg Gillis comes from Pittsburgh, which means he somehow found time to create this masterpiece between hammering steel and drinking cases upon cases of Iron City Beer. The press release says that there are a few hundred thousand different samples on this record, which is a bombastic 42 minute mash up consisting of tracks as varied as Boston, Biggie, Elton John, George Benson, Jermaine Dupri, Paul McCartney, Spandau Ballet, M.I.A., Naughty By Nature, Billy Squier, Steve Winwood, Smokey Robinson, Gwen, Pharrell and others. You say that mash ups are over, but ‘tis not the case. While most are simply an opportunity for some hack in the UK to put an a cappella over a beat using $5 software, when done with skill and creativity it can be genius. Greggie’s mixing is seamless, the beats are chopped like suey and the result is a party mix that will shake the mole off of Aaron Neville’s forehead. Although limited with his choices of a cappellas (most of these are available on a site called Limewire, which I’m told has some sort of sharing technology), he still manages to rattle the poker with reckless abandon as A&R people scream in excruciating pain.

So is this what music has come to? Is this type of record (along with Dangermouse’s Grey Album) a viable format-without-formats, or is it simply a knee-jerk reaction to the record industry’s penchant for sucking every last drop of creativity out of music? Is a man that conducts his frenetic DJ sets in sweaty tighty-whities the embodiment of a pop-culture renaissance? I don’t really know because I forgot what I was talking about while watching these idiots jump around on treadmills on YouTube. That bald guy is funny!!!!! Touché, Greggie. Now you get to keep the attic and Marcia can stick a poker in Charlie’s keister.

Wax it if you like: watching middle aged men get flogged with pokers
Wax these: wax them all, swine!

Check out "That's My DJ"

or download it:
That's My DJ



Brazilian Girls – Talk To La Bomb (Verve Forecast)

The Brazilian Girls are not Brazilian. But I LOVE Brazilian Girls. They adhere to a clothing-optional policy and have some sort of law that you are not allowed to by shy about your nether regions, which are usually...you guessed it…WAXED!!!! Any country that has a style of Waxing named after it gets Goulet’s vote and is a permanent member of the Goulet Nation. OK – so now I will grace you with my thoughts on this record. First of all, I don’t want to talk to ANY bombs. The title is truly un-American and will only inspire terrorists. Titles with the word “bomb” in it should be banned, let alone one that condones speaking with one. Truly evil. But, given the Brazilian connection, I will forgive. But maybe they want to talk to the Bomb and convince it to stay at home? The song says “it’s never been easy,” and while I’ve never spoken with one, I would imagine that it is quite difficult. Is this band a political movement? Hmmm. This record is deep and I haven’t even talked about the music yet. I’m simply trying to wrap my head around the whole Waxing vs. Bomb thing right now while the record dances around in the background.

And I must admit that it does dance quite nicely. Much less Hotel Costes-y than the first record, and so many languages! The instrumentation is refreshingly organic, but the production takes it into a lunar jaunt that makes Pharrell look like a hot dog vendor. A bit dirty, a bit twisted and pretty damn sexy. But I think one of the titles is wrong. Sexy Asshole should be Sensitive Asshole. Refer to Girl Talk’s review for explanation.

Wax it if you like: multi-lingual habberdashy
Wax these: Jique, Sexy A**hole, Le Territore

Check out "Never Met A German"

or download it:
Never Met A German



Fratellis – Costello Music (Import)

For the past year, I’ve been haplessly teased by a deluge of titillating adverts for the Fratellis “forthcoming” record. A different Vargas-esque vixen would grace a quarter page of my weekly Koran (NME), which only served to stoke the flames of days long gone. (And believe me, it’s hard enough getting past the story on the color of Alex Turner’s poo.) Her name was Trixy, and she was a Vegas showgirl who subscribed to the Vargas school of pin-up. The nape of an angel and a hands-free kung fu grip that maimed many a weak man. But not Goulet. Goulet managed to tame her shrew like…enough about me, no? After a number of singles, the record has been released and I am no longer a slave to the whims of the US Postal Service. And I’ve got all of the adverts meticulously placed above my headboard. I must admit that I listen to this record with an underlying bias, but if I were able to remove myself from my loins, I would still manage to sing its praises. The Fratellis write songs. Check. They can play. Check. They like women. Check. Women like them. Check. These Scots are somewhere between T. Rex, The Libertines and Arctic Monkeys, however they’re not trying to be like any of these chaps. The first singles “Chelsea Dagger” and “Henrietta” are clearly standouts, but this is not a collection of singles; it’s a well-tailored collection of driving songs that will surely have hooligans smashing windows in pubs across Scotland while Goulet shags all of the women that they leave behind. Thank you lads.

Wax it if you like: T. Monkatines
Wax these: Chelsea Dagger, Henrietta, Vince The Loveable Stoner

Check out "Creepin Up The Backstairs"

or download it:
Creepin Up The Backstairs



Scissor Sisters – Ta-Dah! (Polydor UK)

I love a guilty pleasure. Kiki Dee. Golden Girls. Melrose Place. Glory holes. Ah, guilt is so damn sexy, ‘init?!?! So in the spirit of harmless fun (except the glory holes – they’re a tad risqué) I bring you the new record by the kings (or is it queens?) of camp, the Scissor Sisters. Picking up exactly where they left off with their debut album, they once again channel Honky-Cat-esque Elton John, the Bee Gees, Rickie Lee Jones and Kenny Loggins into a scrumptious cheese-filled gumball draped in gold lamé. The Sisters make no mistake about their intentions. They want people to come to their shows, leave their problems at the door and have a good time. Goulet likes a good time, so what’s not to love? By managing to not take themselves too seriously (which isn’t difficult when you’re draped in gold lamé), they’ve sold 100,000,000,000,000 records in Europe despite an American market continues to elude them. Must be the name. A “Scissor” can be used as a weapon, which will only inspire terrorists to carry out random attacks of violence on the American people. Whew…I’m relieved. Middle America is saved! So where will these almost-breeders be in 10 years? Will the AM Radio kitsch wear off or will it sweep the world like a monkey with the clap? I’m not sure, but it’s really only a small, frilly, lacey detail on the dashboard of a pink armored car that continues to deliver bags of Euros to the Sisters’ front door. Touché, you gender-smashing bon vivants.

Wax it if you like: Elton John-flavored dental dams
Wax these: actually, just pick up that Melissa Manchester/Kenny Loggins joint...

Check out "She's My Man"

or download it:
She's My Man



Kelis – Kelis Was Here (La Face)

Kelis seems to be a one-trick pony, and quite frankly, ponies are boring unless you like little kids, which makes you a screaming pedophile that should be locked up and treated with a testicular voltage cocktail. But let’s pretend, for arguments sake, that we lived in Austria where pedophiles are welcome with open arms. OK…this isn’t funny anymore and you are sick for bringing up this sensitive matter. You pig.

Kelis came out of the gate in 1999 as a welcome reprieve from the flavorless R&B shite that plagued the airwaves. With the Neptunes, she turned the genre on its coochie, offering a cosmic blend of hip-hop, rock and electro that shook muffins worldwide. The formula worked. Fast forward to 2006. Pharrell is busy losing the plot, Kelis’s vocal range is the size of my attention span, yet she tries to dress up the pony one more time. Only the pony is now a horse and would rather be sent off to the glue factory. Simply put, “Kelis Was Here” is what happens when you throw 18 tracks against the wall and try to make them stick. But they don't, so you pull out your handy can of fresh glue and apply accordingly. So there you are, looking at a wall covered with randomly-placed shite tracks, which are barely visible under the thick coat of fresh horse glue. And it sticks to high hell. So in walks your mom, who says, "What in God's name are you doing with a fresh can of glue AND all of these stinky-ass, shite songs? And by the way, where's Mr. Ed?" But you don't know what to say, because you just saw a burly Polish man dump Mr. Ed into a tree shredder. I digress.... While there are some standouts (“Bossy”, “Blindfold Me,” “Talkin That Shit,”) the record falls flat while losing itself in a fat tub of mediocrity. Will I Am’s pop-production kitsch is the antithesis to Kelis’s nastiness and manages to suck any hint of sexy out of Kelis’s repertoire, while tracks like “Awww Shit” and “Goodbyes” are impersonations of days gone by that barely fill up space.

This is not to say that you won’t enjoy the record. I mean, being a one-trick pony isn’t bad if you look at it the right way. Remember Mean Gene the Dancing Machine? Love him, but wouldn’t want more than one lap dance from him. OK maybe two cuz he’s pushy…

Wax it if you like: the key of C
Wax these: Bossy, Blindfold Me, Like You

Check out "Like You"

or download it:
Like You


AND FOR THOSE OF YOU WITH A-D-D…

Favourite Sons – Down Beside Your Beauty
I reluctantly get past the blaring New Order riff from the first track, only to hear this chap start talking about horses. And since he’s already thrown me back in time, I’m now pressing stop and putting on Echo and the Bunnymen. Because I prefer it when they dance. Thanks.

Kasabian – Empire
A solid sophomore effort. When will everyone realize that strings are a good thing?

Golem – Fresh Off Boat
Thanks to Borat, Eugene Hutz, Ukranian Abba cover bands and Beruit, someone actually thought that the whole Eastern Kitsch thing deserved a big, fat hipster hug. What took so long? I suggest you check out the Klezmer All-Stars, cuz they’ve been here forever, Moishe…

James Figuirine – Mistake Mistake Mistake
You said it, schmeckel-boy. Now make it stop. Please.

The Anti-Viagra

Eva Langora is not hot anymore. Ladies…take some advice from Goulet. The quickest way to encourage limpness is to either:

a) profess your love of the “new” Bon Jovi track; or
b) say that you don’t like Stevie Wonder

I speak from experience. You see, I once went on a date with a lost young girl who mentioned in passing that she did not like Stevie. Really? You don’t like Stevie? Then you obviously kill helpless animals and eat little children for fun so this date is over, you taste-deprived wench. I went back to the scene of the crime the next day and obtained this audiotape from the establishment, which was clearly trying to recover from the damage. Although you can’t hear the girl's senseless babbing over the roar of debauchery, you will surely hear when everything went Pete Tong...

Wax at your own risk:

"I Don't Like Stevie"

or download it:
I Don't Like Stevie

Music Reviews: July 2006

Muse – Black Holes and Revelations (Warner Bros.)

This album fucking rocks. Bleep. Oops. All of Muse’s albums deserve an expletive, for they are the rare example of a band that continues to grow hydroponically with each album. Kinda like JC Chasez. On their fourth effort, they deliver a cohesive stroke of greatness that can best be described as a spacey rock extravaganza. I am not saying that this album is better or worse than their previous efforts; I am simply stating that you are a toothless gimp if you do not buy this immediately. Although they haven’t met the Pope or saved African villages, Muse IS one of the most important rock bands of the past decade, worthy of Radiohead-like worship and Michael Jackson hall passes. So why haven’t you heard of them? Probably because some people thought they copied Radiohead, and nobody likes a copycat. I say those people are whiny losers that hole up in chat rooms all day in their underoos. If anything sets Black Holes… apart from previous Muse albums, it’s Matt Bellamy’s focused lyrical themes and the varying styles that weave throughout. Produced by Rich Costey (who produced Absolution), the band indulges in Rich’s enormous sonic palate, which includes productions for Mars Volta, Franz Ferdinand and My Chemical Romance. “Take A Bow” starts off like an ABBA-meets-ELO cosmic frenzy that makes the following, Britpop-flavored “Starlight” a bit more palatable. Such a great song with so many damn hooks that I even forgot about the Coldplay-esque piano hook for a second. The single “Supermassive Black Hole” is a pounding, Evil Heat-esque banger that finds Matt Bellamy pulling a rare falsetto that sounds somewhere between Prince and Spoon. (What? Dunno. Just kinda came out.) After starting with a nod to Depeche Mode, “Map of the Problematique” snakes its way into an operatic prog monster while “City of Delusion” is a string-laden, flamenco-tinged bomb that will cause mood swings worthy of a prozac-less Sebastian Bach. Shit I just fell off of my chair because I’ve been deluged by so many hooks. Ouch and ahhh. Ouch and ahhh...

Wax these: “Take A Bow,” “Map Of The Problematique,” “City Of Delusion”
Wax it if you like: Radiohead and Mars Volta in a Bizarre Love Triangle

Check out "City Of Delusion"

or download it:
City Of Delusion


Shy Child – Only With The Sun (P-Vine)

Shy Child is comprised of two dudes from Brooklyn. (A band from Brooklyn? Go figure.) Using only keyboards, drums and vocals, these guys deliver a relentless bombardment of moog-infected dance-pop that would surely shake the ice off of Condi Rice’s left boob. While Nate Smith lays down the slinky beats, Pete Cafarella drops a barrage of synth delights a la Herbie Hancock on E at the Hacienda, topped off with an eclectic vocal style that sounds like the lovechild of Jack White and Conner Oberst. (Hey, I’m not condoning Connor Oberst here. I’m just making a comparison, knowing full well that if Jack and Connor ever hooked up, Connor would get kicked to the curb before carrying the child for 9 months.) Even with limited instrumentation, Shy Child manages to fuse Daft Punk, the Neptunes and Timbaland into a playful stew of twisted beats and burning gristle. And the titles are so damn apropos! “The Noise Won’t Stop” is a broken-beat, saw-toothed orgie that will deliver the average James Blunt fan to Bellvue’s doorstep, while my fave “Break Your Neck” transforms an infectious vamp into a head-nodding volley that begs you to pull out your teeth with unbridled delight. Just as you’re about to jack your face full of novocaine, “Echo and Throb” rolls through your nerve sockets like a hijacked freight train commandeered by a rogue group of nursery school drop outs. You know, the shy ones that you could never quite figure out. OK, so the ballad at the end is a wee bit out of place, but I’m willing to forgive and forget. Shy Child is not easy listening. It’s a mental workout.

Wax these: “Break Your Neck,” “The Noise Won’t Stop,” “Echo and Throb”
Wax it if you like: Conner and Jack’s love child fronting a radio un-friendly Killers

Check out "Break Your Neck"

or download it:
Break Your Neck


Lily Allen – Alright, Still (EMI)

Unless you’ve been living under Ruben Stoddard’s chin for the past few months, you’ve heard the name Lily Allen. You haven’t? Well damn, son; unfold the folds!!! Simply put, the Brits churn out guilty pleasures faster than a greased hot dog sliding down Courtney Love’s hallway. And that’s a pretty big hallway. Following in the herb-laced footsteps of fellow Brits Louchie Lou & Michie One (“Rich Girl”) and Althea & Donna (“Uptown Top Ranking”), Lily takes the rock-steady reggae vibe, throws in some other worldly spices and drops an album teeming with clever pop anthems that SHOULD have been Ms. Dynamite’s second record. Dyna dropped the ball. Lily took that shit, stuffed it in her belly and knocked out this pop jem just in time for summertime’s stanky back-end. The comparisons to Mike Skinner are inevitable - - real tales from the streets of London, delivered in a sweet-yet-tough vocal style; clever & witty, yet sharp enough to cut the mole right off of Aaron Neville’s forehead. In addition to the heavy rockers vibe, Lily doesn’t discriminate against a good sample: “Knock ‘Em Out” turns Professor Longhair’s “Big Chief” into a rant against that tool with no teeth that tried to jack your number the other night; “Everything’s Just Wonderful” twists an easy-listening 60s Esquivel vibe into an uptempo boogaloo gem with a vocal that makes me think of Pink. Not her package, her voice, son. The single “Smile” is a laid-back rocker about the joy of seeing her ex-bloke cry like a pansy, and reminds me of a more bangin’ version of Lauryn Hill’s “X-Factor,” minus the crazy-ass vocal chops. Damn I’m full of comparisons today. Speaking of which, where the fuck is Lauryn? Anyway….this record is like that cute bird in the bar the other night that ripped off your clothes with her eyes and shagged you with a pool cue…was that a pool cue? That might explain my chalky bum. Translation: this is the right record for the right time. Not groundbreaking, but deliciously fun.

Wax these: “Smile,” “LDN,” “Everything’s Just Wonderful”
Wax it if you like: a lost weekend of finger darts with Miss Dynamite, Michie One, Posh Spice and Pink

Check out "Everything's Wonderful"

or download it:
Everything's Wonderful


Hard Fi – Hometown Hi-Fi (mixmag)

Are you sick of me talking about Hard Fi yet? If so, I suggest you start a perpetual purge of last nights’s Olive Garden salad bar and listen up, cuz there is no end in sight. Don’t remove your finger just yet; Song Airlines just went out of business so I’ve got enough barf bags to last Nicole Richie 10 lifetimes…Hometown Hi-Fi came with last month’s Mixmag. I don’t usually buy the rag, mainly because they only write about how many hits of E you need to drop to see Tiesto in Ibeeee-tha, where it usually goes all kindsa Pete Tong anyway. Life begins at 125! Bollocks!!!! However when I saw this CD I made an exception. Mixed by DJ Wrongtom (www.wrongtom.com), this is perhaps the finest summer ass-shaking initiative since, um, Lily Allen’s record? Seamless mixing don’t mean too much without great tracks, and Wrongtom goes above and beyond the norm with this jammie. A crazy dancehall remix of Billy Bragg (!) starts it off, before settling into a track by the funkiest crate-digging honkies, The Nextmen with Dynamite MC. Hard Fi’s “Dubbed Up Too Tight,” which is on the In Operation CD injects some dub stylee, followed by Eek-A-Mouse, tasty remixes of The Kills “No Wow” and Justice’s classic reworking of Franz’s “The Fallen.” Wrapping up with electromatic Uffie’s “Ready To Uff” and some aural jizz by Spank Rock, this CD is worth the Pacha-worshipping rag that you’ll have to carry under your arm before you can actually get home and twist one up. Right-O, Wrongtom. Now please send me another.

Wax these: wax ‘em all, mate. It’s a mix.
Wax it if you like: not being a wanker

Check out Nextmen w/Dynamite MC's "Bloodfire"

or download it:
Bloodfire


Other Waxables…

Razorlight – Razorlight (Universal)
I’ve only given this a quick listen and it’s quite randy. But Johnny Borrell seems to think that he’s the second coming of John Lennon, so no matter how good this record is I have to say that you are mistaken. Organic production and great songs that sound like a mix of early Modest Mouse, Costello and a less-punky Clash. You can print that.

Journey – Live in Houston 1981: The Escape Tour (DVD/CD) (Columbia/Legacy)
Steve Perry hitting notes like Ike Turner’s temper, Neal Schoen with a denim-encrusted package and Steve Smith wearing jeans up to his armpits. Utterly classic concert. And you can NEVER, EVER get away from “Stone In Love.” Thank you Mark “Darkness” Miller for letting me dance around your living room like a little school girl on myspace.

Dirty Pretty Things – Waterloo To Anywhere (Interscope)
The less-sober Libertine, Carl Barat shows us what it’s like to actually show up to the studio sans crack pipe. The result? A full-on, rocking debut from a band that will hopefully stay away from Kate Moss. Picture an English pub full of hooligans and horny birds grinding their sweat-drenched bodies across a Guiness-soaked floor. They scream “You Fucking Love It.” I scream “Yes I fucking do.” Mentally addictive.

Thom Yorke – The Eraser (XL)
The press can’t seem to remove their firmly-planted mouths from Thom’s johnson, but my jaws hurt so allow me to vent. Yes, this is a good record. However, when I hear a solo effort I expect something that sounds a wee bit different than the artist’s respective band. Does this mean that Thom’s sound is Radiohead’s? Maybe so, but I would love to hear Thom backed by nothing but a guitar, a dollar and a dream. Hey, you never know. Does it mean that Thom and Nigel are lovers that can only hold hands under the blippy, computerized moonlight? Well, that kind of explains thing a bit better. C’mon, Thom. Bring some grime next time.

rUSs Weekly - Why Chunky left the Monkeys

The Cylinder is expanding like Courtney Love's coochie! You know what they say: the bigger the waistband, the deeper the quicksand... As I was traveling through the backwoods of Kentucky last week, I met an interesting fellow. Russ. He is a living, breathing Ned Beatty character - complete with a greeaazy pal named Cletus. Anyway, Russ gets ALL the dirt and has agreed to let me share it with you. You won't find it anywhere else, unless you go to his house and manage to escape without becoming his Gimp. He knows my work on the Vegas stage, so I was spared the intrusion. Ladies and gentlemen, the Cylinder presents the first installment of rUSs Weekly - Why Chunky left the Monkeys...

THE NEW TASTEMAKER

Everybody’s a DJ, right? Wrong. You see, even if you have the most jacked Ipod in the world, the simple truth is that you can’t buy taste. And even if you do have good taste, we all know that it’s completely subjective, which means you probably wasted your money anyway. Plus, I’d rather not listen to your “creative” scratching of the “Under Pressure” a cappella breakdown over I-can’t-even-remember-cuz-I-ran-out-of-the-spot. But you meant to do it in the wrong key with no regard for rhythm? Sorry, I forgot. You’re so avant-garde.

It seems that this “taste-optional” trend has infested NYC nightlife, rendering it limper than Rush Limbaugh’s Viagra-less ding-ding. You’ve got the W. 27th Street outer-boro playlist, (aka “tunes for shaking overstuffed sausage bags to”), the NME-toting, I-look-like-Karen-O playlist (aka “Paul Epworth remixing Arthur Baker dropping a deuce?” “Yes!”) and an occasional bad Parisian dream complete with downtown hotel lobby “vibes.” While there are some notable exceptions, the overriding taste factor is about as bland as a Saltine cracker dipped in Evian.

Fear not, poopy pants; I’ve found the perfect solution. As tasty as a Wheatsworth topped with Foie Gras and Velveeta; unassuming, yet flirting with Studio 54 eccentricity. Where? Key Foods on 4th & A. I don’t know who’s dropping the beats at this culinary mecca, but I stopped coming here for the food a long time ago. Where else can you hear a set filled with Dazz, Billy Idol, P Funk, Alan Parsons, Romeo Void, Tribe, ELO, D Train, Heavy D, Tito Puente and Supertramp, all served with the random deliciousness of an all-Boars Head deli counter? Ah, but it seems as though the secret’s already out. The Pope, Reverand Al and the Heatherette dudes are regulars already. They even brought back the Studio 54 doorman? Is Susanne Bartsch behind this? I don’t know, but you better get there before the promoters come in and demand an all hip-hop frozen foods jubilee.

The Death of "Holla"

Goulet and Rick Rubin have a lot in common. We’ve both rekindled the career of a living legend. We also wear boxers. At least I imagine a man of Rick’s commanding girth would choose boxers over the all-too-constricting “brief.” In 1993, when Craig Mack ruled the airwaves, Rick decided that the word DEF had been co-opted by pop culture in such a way that it needed to die. So he had a funeral and laid it to rest. DEF was five years old, which is 50 colloquial years (human x 10 = colloquial years). Ask Hawking if you don’t believe me, boo.

Fast-forward 13 years and we’ve got another word that needs to die: Holla. (aka Halla, Hollaback, Challah). Holla started out in 1757 AD as a term used for a yearly gathering of Sikhs in India. Picture a Bollywood Coachella. “Where you at?” “Holla Mohalla!” This made sense, because homeboy was actually there. The term lay dormant for a few centuries, until a few peeps (careful, this one’s next) unearthed the term to add some flava (you too) to their vocabularies. Jay-Z, Biggie, Fabolous and other hip hop artists made the term ubiquitous with hip hop culture, however this time with a different meaning. While Goulet doesn’t condone yelling at people, “holla at me” was not simply a passive request to contact the solicitor. It was a plea for understanding. That’s right, hip hop has feelings, too. You remember LL’s “I Need Love?” I could get all Nelson George on you, but I’ll leave that one for Spike Lee’s next joint.

Suffice to say, “Holla” soon took on more meanings, from a form of punctuation (“My toe! Holla!”), to a seal of approval (“Me like Mike & Ike! Holla!). This is when shit started getting out of control and “Holla” began to wear out its welcome. Martha Stewart used it with Busta on some vapid MTV-VHS award show and then some skinny girl from the Valley gave the word international exposure while flanked by Harajuku dancers. Had she gone Bollywood she would have brought Holla back to its roots (sorry - unavoidable pun), but she didn’t. Have you seen a map lately? Then, just as the death bell started to toll, I was suddenly awoken by the grating sound of a nail being pounded into the colloquial coffin. Somehow, “Holla” became “Challah.” Look, Goulet is an equal-opportunity entertainer. I enjoy a nice Challah French toast with a side of Manischewitz syrup as much as a trip to Sylvia’s Uptown for catfish. However, some things were never meant to go together. Like syrup and catfish. The tipping point had been reached, and “Holla” tipped its raggedy, confused ass right into a giant bowl of Absynthe-flavored irrelevance. When it emerged, it didn’t know its name, much less where it came from. The end has arrived, and it is my duty to put “Holla” out of its befuddled misery. Off to a better place, where you can run hand-in-hand with DEF as “Beeyotch” lies in a nursing home with tubes in its nose…

“Holla,” lived a long and colorful life, name-checked by hip hop stars and homemakers, rockers and rabbis, and was used to pepper many an entry in Rene Gouet’s blog. “Holla” was 60 colloquial years old.

50 Cent to star in Hammer of the Gods

So I spoke with Senator Tang the other day. You still haven’t met him? Your bad. Just don’t mention his name if you ever find yourself hanging by your genitalia in a Thai prison. Tang tells me that a rogue group of South Korean film students are currently filming the big screen adaptation of “Hammer Of The Gods,” the unofficial Led Zeppelin biography. In case you haven’t read it, there’s a scene where the band catches a mud shark from the window of their bayside hotel in Seattle after a show, circa 1978. Like good Christian boys, they turned the shark into a rabbit, which was then used to penetrate the innocence of a very suspecting (and willing) groupie. Minnows for foreplay? Tang tells me that 50 Cent, who apparently received numerous Korean awards for his stunning portrayal of Johnny Cash, has been chosen to play the groupie. I tried to tell him that 50 wasn’t Johnny Cash, but Tang threatened to gouge out his own eyes if I didn’t acquiesce. As further evidence, he gave me this photo and recording, both taken from the infamous shark scene. When I saw the horrified expressions of Mobb Deep and heard the Deliverance homage at the end of the track, I knew Tang was right again. You go, Tang.

Check out "Whole Lotta Shark"

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Whole Lotta Shark

Music Reviews: June 2006

One-Two - Love Again (Four Music)

Frederic Beucher and Severin Tezenas Du Montcel are the French duo One-Two. True to tradition, they sing in the International Language of Love...English? Au Bon Pain!!??? Fear not, my little flower; while they do sing in English, their French accents add to the playfulness of their sunny tunes, which are devoid of gruyere-flavored pretention. I get the feeling that they speak the recently-annointed official US language with ease, however their penchant for placing the em-PHA-sis on the wrong sy-LLA-ble from time to time is all the more endearing. Touche, Les Halles. Linguistics aside, One-Two crafts deliciously edible pop tarts with just enough electronic production to hijack the sand from even the tightest bikini. Their songwriting is an unabashed nod to the 60s pop of the Beatles, Beach Boys & The Kinks, while their production follows in the footsteps of Air, Phoenix and Zoot Woman. (Stephane Briat, who produced Air and Phoenix, contributes to the record). “Blissful Boy” is straight-up Paul & John meets Brian, complete with lush harmonies and finger snaps, while “Emma Needs A Love Song” drips farfisa-fied mooginess and oozes pop perfection. On first listen, I thought of the scene from “Better Off Dead” when Layne “Wenie Man” Meyer pimps his Camaro to impress Monique, the vixen French exchange student. They cut out the scene of little Ricky sniffiing her panties, but at least his mom’s face gets blown off, no?! Ahhh...John Cusack. “Oh Yeah, Alright” takes the romper-room vibe new heights, as One-Two channels Oingo-Boingo into a frenetic beach-blanket-orgie, complete with Bea Arthur in drag. After all, they sing about “dirty socks for golden girls,” so it’s either this or an ode to Betty White’s menopause. I’m not sure, but you gotta hand it to the Frenchies.

Get these: “Blissful Boy,” Emma...,” “Oh Yeah, Alright”
Wax it if you like: Air on a speedball

Check out "Emma Needs A Love Song"

or download it:
Emma Needs A Love Song



Sam Wynch - The Lullabadeer (Down Pony)

I’m told that Sam Winch lives somewhere in Wisconsin. Then I heard something about a bowling alley outside of Philly. Doesn’t matter, because the truth is that Sam Winch is a burgeoning circus performer who is fully versed in the “Carny Code.” If you don’t know what that is, you haven’t woken up next to a bearded woman named Stingy. Hormone coctail, anyone? Those circus performers sure are wacky. Sam couldn’t throw knives or swallow fire, so he stole a guitar from a dancing monkey and learned to craft a tune. Now it seems that Sammy is all growns up and has perfected that craft. From the album’s title track, Sam sets off on a roadtrip through the nether regions of the heartland, complete with box cars, mechanical bulls and a keg full of elixir sold by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney. (Before the sex change and divorce, respectively.) A true storyteller, his songs are peppered with vivid and colorful lyrics about netless trapeze acts, black and blue eyes, bad breath, love & loss along with a take on Pachabel’s Canon. Anchored by a 10-piece band, this is the closest thing to The Last Waltz that you’re gonna get without actually pulling the the lump of coke out of Neil Young’s nose.

And in true medicinal form, a few of these nuggets served as background music for Izzy’s 36Ds in Grey’s Anatomy. Hey, it’s not like he played at the Peach Pit on 90210, but I hear that hospitals RAWWWKK!! Morphine drips all around, orderly! You know what I like most about Grey’s Anatomy? All of those cute little medical terms sandwiched in between sexually charged shenanigans? The volupuous 85-lb figure of Miss Grey? Promiscuous bedside manner with release? No, silly; it’s that feisty little Sideways girl and her ability to put a smile on my McJohnson. Ohhhh, Sandra tickle my humanity!

Get these: “The Lulabadeer,” “One Two Three,” "Julio”
Wax it if you like: The Band, Little Feat, Menudo (just checking)

Check out "One Two Three"

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One Two Three


Primal Scream - Riot City Blues (Columbia)

Bobby Gillespie, the chemically-inclined leader of the Scream, once answered a reporter by saying, “you should take some California sunshine acid, whoever you are, and find out the answer for yourself. Then tell me, because I don't fucking know." Words to live by. Always willing to wing it, I’m told that Bobby simply dips his hand into a hat box full of meds and whatever he picks serves as inspiration for the next project. Starting with “Sonic Flower Groove,” “Primal Scream” and the incredible “Screamadelica,” Bobby went from Bart Simpson acid to MX-missles; “Give Out But Don’t Give Up” and “Vanishing Point” started out with Jim Beam-laced bong hits before working its fingers over to any-given-opiate, while “XTRMNTR” and “Evil Heat” saw a new school of modern pharmacology, as Bobby combined heavy doses of microwaved horse tranquilizer with crushed ritalin. For the latest installment in Bobby’s Rite Aid fetish, he dips his hand and...wait a minute...Advil?!?! Apparently, the grinding electronic pulses of the last two records gave Bobby a headache. On “Riot,” the Scream revists the no-frills organic sound of their earlier recordings, and while little ground is broken here, it still has the potential to shake 19 yr old girls out of their new “vintage” rock tees all over the LES. Starting with “Country Girl,” Bobby swaggers through a simple, Stones-esque bluesy romp that’s catchier than a malaria wading pool. “Nitty Gritty” tries to recapture “Rocks,” (aka Get Your Rocks Off) which is like trying to catch a greased pig. A tasty one that you plan to eat, of course. And while most of “Riot...” tips its hat to the New York Dolls, glam Bowie and mid-70s Stones, tracks like ”When The Bomb Drops” (produced by Will Sergeant of Echo and the Bunnymen) and “Little Death” breathe fresh electronics into Bobby’s little pill case. Sure, he sings about priests choking on rosary beads, but he’s only kidding, right? On paper it may appear dated or sound like a Hooters record (ouch), but somehow the Scream manages to make it as refreshing as a post-gumbo Tucks pad. If it were winter, I might’ve been a bit more critical, but I’d rather not alienate girls in rock tees, especially since this record has the potential to liberate skin from unnecessary clothing all summer long. Please enjoy before Bobby grabs a bottle of Absinthe-soaked Xanax.

Get these: “Country Girl,” “When the Bomb Drops,” “Little Death”
Wax it if you like: the Stones, New York Dolls, Diamond Dogs Bowie

Check out "Country Girl"

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Country Girl


Lee “Scratch” Perry - Divine Madness Definitely! (Pressure Sounds)

When I read today that Gnarls Barkley will only be photographed dressed as movie characters, someone said, “That’s twisted.” My dear friend, you obviously don’t know Lee “Scratch” Perry. If given a chance Lee would dress like E.T. everyday with Wonder Woman underoos on the outside as if it were his destiny. One of the true innovators of Jamaican music, Lee had his hand in the evolution of reggae, most notably as the innovator of dub. Employing only a 4-track mixing board, Perry showed us what a pound of kind, sticky herb actually sounds like by dropping deep bass, reverb-drenched guitars, screaming baby samples & cosmic phasers all over the mix. He produced a ton of records (including Bob & The Wailers’ Trojan recordings), had a number of chart hits in the late 60’s & early 70’s and then started bathing in Ma Brown’s mushroom tea. That’s when shit just got weird. While in his backyard studio, the legendary Black Ark, not many people blinked an eye when he blew ganja smoke on a microphone before burying it under a palm tree to record its heartbeat. But when Lee started worshiping bananas, drinking gasoline, christening people with garden hoses and built a duck pond in his drum booth only to burn his studio to the ground, people started to wonder if he was an alien. Like a Rasta Michael Jackson of sorts. Hmmm. The early stages of Lee’s pending lunar launch are evident on “Divine Madness Definitely!” which focuses on his early productions and features rare cuts along with the dubbed-out versions that were surely inspired by terrestrial fits of Red Stripe. While back-to-back versions of the same track get a wee bit tedious, his influence can be heard in everything from the Clash (who he produced) to Massive Attack and beyond. A true mad scientist despite the absence of the crutch we call technology.

Get these: “Dub Fa Ya Rights,” “Africa Dub,” “Kingdon of Dub”
Wax it if you like: King Tubby, the Slits, early Trojan recordings

Check out "Dub For Your Rights"

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Dub For Your Rights



Hard Fi - In Operation (Atlantic/WEA)

So you want a little more dub, huh? Hard-Fi, who managed to fuse Oasis and Blur into the best Brit-Slop album of 2005 (see October 2005 review) gives us a breath of fresh air with “In Operation.” The main component is a DVD that I haven’t watched. My fear is that they’ll do something to compromise my lofty view of them. For instance, Richard Archer might have an unsightly mole or bathe in runny egg yolks for breakfast. Kind of like how Evangeline Lilly is dating the hobbit from Driveshaft on “Lost”!?!? I didn’t need to know that; it kind of ruins the show for me, although Angie needs to meet my Other. You get my point. So...I moved right over to the accompanying CD, which is - surprise! - a dub version of Hard Fi’s recent album “Stars of CCTV.” (I try to connect the dots so you don’t have to overexert your pretty little frontal lobes.) This isn’t the first time that a band from the other side of the pond has infused their music with rude boy riddims - The Clash, The Slits, Primal Scream (you go, Goulet), Stereo MCs and countless others have all fallen under an occasional dubby haze. Massive Attack released a dub remix version of the album “Protection” (entitled “No Protection”), however this is the first time I’ve heard of a band making such a departure from their original sound, nonetheless as an entire dub remix concept. I shouldn’t work, but somehow this record is pretty damn sinister. Sinister like the bad guy you love to hate. The production is so tasty that I can almost hear Lee “Scratch” Perry digging through the ground to bury Richard’s microphone. Peppered with his reverb-drenched vocal textures, deep, droning bass, blunted horns and a bombardment of analog keyboard tweaks & bleeps, this is a great modern dub record. All of the tracks are laced together seamlessly, anchored by the spooky, uptighty version of “Cash Machine,” the rocking cover of “Seven Nation Army,” and mooged-out “Dubbed Up Too Tight.” Get this record and you will get lifted.

Get these: “Dubbed Up Too Tight,” “Seven Nation Army,” “Dub of CCTV”
Wax it if you like: Mad Professor, Scientist, Dub Sound System

Check out "Seven Nation Army"

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Seven Nation Army


Action Action - An Army of Shapes Between Wars (Victory Records)

The marketing sticker states that this CD is “for fans of Depeche Mode, Interpol, The Faint and The Killers.” Wow - they’re just setting themselves up for comparisons, no? They should’ve thrown in The Bravery to round it out. The problem is that Action Action can’t seem to decide what kind of band they want to be, so they end up sounding like everyone else. This is not to say that the record is a wash. When they remove the unnecessary layers of electronic noodling that may (or may not) evoke the above artists, a few of the songs are quite catchy (“A Tornado/An Owl,” “The Game”). But it’s still difficult to figure out how a dude from Long Island can adopt a lazy 80’s Morissey-meets-Thom-Yorke-tinged British accent. I guess it has something to do with Thomas Friedman’s contention that the world is flat... Besides the lack of originality and dull lyrical content, perhaps the most puzzling part of the CD is “120 Ways To Kill You.” It’s actually an embarrassingly sappy love song, but what’s up with the title? I’m beginning to think that this dude spent too much time in the underground parking lot at Nassau Colliseum. Hint: if you want to get the girl back, you probably shouldn’t kill her. 120 ways, nonetheless. Not very sexy. But before they head back to Strong Island, I've picked out Action's best Oasis impersonation for you to check out... J-E-T-S, Jets Jets Jets.

Wax it if you like: following instructions on the sticker...

Check out "The Game"

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The Game

Music Reviews: May 2006

Flaming Lips – At War With The Mystics (Warner Brothers)

Holy shit. Heavenly bowels. Cosmic leftovers. The Flaming Lips have made a career out of twisting peoples knickers into a frenzied state of confused bewilderment. On “At War..” they twist a little harder, leaving skidmarks that must have been the divine work of Picasso himself. Ahhh, sweet Downy… Following up one of the most critically-acclaimed concept albums EVER, “Yoshimi…” here the Lips concentrate on the songs and let their signature style of tweaked production and flair for arrangement tie everything together. And the production… I would love to be a fly on the wall in their studio. I picture elves wrapped in 2-inch day-glo tape, fairies with moustaches and mermaids with hairy legs all presided over by the mad conductor, Tommy Coyne, holding a velvet wand that coaxes his technicolor whims to fruition. People seem to think that Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd is sprinkled all over this record. While I see the similarities (especially on “The Yeah Yeah Song”), the influences range from T-Rex pomp & Queen glam to Beach Boys sunshine pop and everything in-between. “Free Radicals” sounds like a Mooney Suzuki / Jack White tweakfest (no it doesn’t sound like Prince, as Amazon.com likes to think – what’s up with their Prince fascination, anyway??) while “The Sound Of Failure” tips its hat to Todd Rundgren. “It Overtakes Me” is an epic piece, harking back to “Yoshimi…” with its cinematic arrangement. My only question – what will they do next???

Get these: “Free Radicals,”The Yeah Yeah Song,” It Overtakes Me”
Wax it if you like: the air that you breathe, g

Check out "Free Radicals"

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Free Radicals



The Raconteurs – Broken Boy Soldiers (V2)

Jack White likes Coke. Yes, the man who penned a catchy little jingle for the syrup-and-corn wielding, tooth-rotting juggernaut is back with a new band. Just don’t call it a vanity project. Jack has ditched the face of Marc Jacobs and formed a sort-of all-star band with Brendan Benson and some guys from the Greenhornes. Given the lineup, I wasn’t surprised that the Raconteurs rely mostly on their retro-rock influences. The lead single, “Steady As She Goes” starts off like a Joe Jackson tune and…well, it kinda rocks. Unlike the Stripes, the groove is a lot slinkier (sorry, Meg, but white chicks aren’t funky) and the additional vocals of Benson are a welcome change. Simply put, these guys sound like a band. “Hands” is a cross between “The Bends” and Bad Company (what did I just say?); “Intimate Secretary” features some interesting retro-meets-modern production, sweet-as-coca-cola harmonies and the best arrangement on the record. And then there’s “Store Bought Bones.” Brendan and Jack’s voices are like a Reeses peanut butter cup. Not sure if Jack got his chocolate stuck in Brendan’s peanut butter, but I’m not gonna explore that one. I’ll let NME start the rumors. But it’s nice to see each of these artists stretch into new territory. Granted, it’s not far from the comfort zone, but I’ll take it.

Get these: “Steady As She Goes,” “Store Bought Bones,” “Intimate Secretary”
Wax it if you like: Cheap Trick, Joe Jackson, The Guess Who

Check out "Store Bought Bones"

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Store Bought Bones




Cibelle – The Shine Of Dried Electric Leaves (Six Degrees)

Cibelle is hot. Let’s get that out of the way, because I really fancy a shag. But unlike most misunderstood, arm-candy “vocalists” this Brazilian-born vixen can sing you into sweet submission. Cibelle was introduced by the late-Brazilian producer Suba and released a loungy, Bebel-ish record on Six Degrees a few years ago. This record is a complete 180 degree turn. The production is incredible - - clean, organic, yet experimental and tweaked enough to bug you out if you happen to smoke a binger and zone out with your new Bose noise canceling headphones while walking up First Avenue. Sacre Bleu!!! The brazilian-slanted cover of Tom Waits’ “Green Grass” is gorgeous. Devendra Bernhart shows up on the silky, yet twisted “London, London” and Seu Jorge compliments the hooky “Arrete La, Menina” with background textures that have an air of desperation. Yes, the cover looks straight outta Berlin, but this is definitely not a Miss Kitten record.

Get these: “Green Grass,” “London, London,” “Arrete La, Menina”
Wax it if you like: Suba, Bebel, Maria Rita

Check out "Green Grass"

or download it:
Green Grass



Dudley Perkins – Expressions (20. 12 A. U.) (Stones Throw)

Dudley is one of the most original artists in hip-hop. Period. His first record, A Lil Light, was dubbed-out, dissonant hip-hop on Thom Yorke-flavored peyote. And while Dudley’s eccentric-leanings are still intact on Expressions, he leans more toward the soulful side of the street with stellar results. His raps flow like a stream of conscience, anchored by Madlib’s crisp beats and minimal, old-school soul samples. Dudley’s delivery is smokey with a flair for the melodic; what I like most about his style is how he tosses in falsetto lines, which, almost random by design, make for a truly original style. Like most of the releases on Stones Throw, this is not some Puffy-babble. (Diamond-encrusted backpacks from Jacob – holla!) The first track, “Funky Dudley,” takes a riff from Ohio Players’ “Rollercoaster,” breaks it down and serves as a bed for Dudley’s profession for all things funky and sticky. “Get On Up” takes a similar turn, while “Dolla Bill” makes a mockery of hip hop’s obsession with the Benjis; however his rhymes would probably go over the heads of those he mocks. The last line of the song, “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of being broke” serves the bling community with dose of reality before he flips it on “Inside,” which extols the virtues of what drives him: music. Oh, bittersweet irony, thou hast spoken. Merci, sweet Dudley.

Get these: “Funky Dudley,” “Dolla Bill,” ”Me”
Wax it if you like: J Dilla, Mad Lib, Stones Throw

Check out "Funky Dudley"

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Funky Dudley



Adam Green – Jacket Full Of Danger (Rough Trade)

With the release of his forth solo record, Adam Green (formerly of the Moldy Peaches) continues his journey down the road less-traveled, anchored by his own drumbeat that leads him towards an island of gleeful randomness. From the first note, I feel like I’m trapped in a dream conducted by Bill Murray riding a half-Eddie Rabbitt, half-Lawrence Welk centaur. Sounds strange, but when you hear Adam Green talking about smoking crack like Isaac Asimov while backed by a Burt Bacharach tribute orchestra you’ll know what I mean. There’s something perversely enjoyable about all of this, though. I have a thing for the bird that played the fiddle in Welk’s band, and “I Love A Rainy Night” is one of those songs that makes a trip to the dentist seem like a vacation. And Eddie’s hair is chic. Mr. Green is a quintessential musical humorist. But unlike Richard Cheese, who revisits modern-day chart toppers with a Holiday-Inn Velvet Lounge approach, his lyrics are clever and at times hilarious without being corny. “How many drugs does it take to find something to say? How many drugs does it take to find something to do?” Classic tortured pop-star etiquette. This may not be the record that you listen to over-and-over again as you get primp your cute little beehive and apply Enjoli to you nether-regions before you do the 27th Street shuffle on a Saturday night, but if you have a twisted musical sense of humor, you will definitely enjoy like Goulet.

Get these: “Pay The Toll,” Vultures,” “Drugs”
Wax it if you like: Burt Bacarach on Ectasy, Richard Cheese

Check out "Pay The Toll"

or download it:
Pay The Toll

Playlist: GenArt Styles 2006 @Hammerstein Ballroom

Big ups to the GenArt Massive. Yes, they picked a perfect stage for Goulet to peddle his wares. Granted, it’s not the Sands, nor is it the Tropicana, but Goulet is never one to shy away from skinny girls as they gallop down the runway with the resolve of the most determined postal worker. I’ve even treated you to a behind-the-scenes photo of my elusive DJ stance. Here are the tracks that fueled their erotic fury:

Madison – “Let’s Go”
The Rakes – “Retreat” (Phones remix)
Crazy Girl – “The Rebel” (Niyi Can’t mix)
Infadels – “Top Boy”
The Cramps – “You Got Good Taste” (Goulet’s Motrin mix)
Jahcoozi – “Shake The Doom” (original mix)
One-Two – “Heady Melody”
Shy Child - "Break Your Neck"
Sid Vicious - "My Way"

Coach + Ella =

Ooooh I’ve got that burning sensation again. But this time it’s not from that girl Sophie from Pigalle. No, it’s just that I’m sitting in a field in Indio, CA while the sun whittles my senses down to a dull pile of bio-degradable nonsense. God DAMN it is hot!!!!

Yes, there was a lot of hype around some of the bands that performed at Coachella 2006. Then Hard-Fi and The Subways cancelled. Wankers. Fret not, my pretty little flower; there was still enough music for even the most seasoned NME-reading, Pitchfork-gazing, body-by-Vice, tube-sock-wearing disciples to choose from.

And now for the awards…

PLEASE HAMMER DON’T HURT EM award:
Wolfmother. That’s all you need to know, skippy. They stuck their feet so far up everyone’s rumps that it felt like a night in Fire Island. Channeling the fury of Zeppelin, the vocal acrobatics of Geddy Lee and the ‘fro of Richard Simmons, this Aussie trio brought more pain than a kidney stone. “Who can it be knocking at my door?” Actually, they just kicked your fuckin’ door down, Colin. ROOOCCKKK!!!!

OK YOU JUST MAY HAVE LIVED UP TO THE HYPE award:
Gnarls Barkley. You know that song. Crazy. Number One downloaded blah blah blah. Frankly, I try not to get swept up in all the media frenzy, but suffice to say that Gnarls made me forget about that duo from Atlanta - - you know the one with the guy from Be Cool aka Get Shorty II? What's his name? Backed by a full band, backup singers and a string section (all dressed as characters from The Wizard Of Oz, nonetheless) Cee-Lo and Danger Mouse’s Memphis-meets-psychadelic rock-hop set whipped the crowd into a frenzied orgy complete with naked midgets and pudding. At least that’s what I think I saw. The 45 min set was perfect; I’m not sure if I could’ve handled another set of Cee-Lo. No offense, but I think he was a wee bit excited and peed his pants.

TRANSCENDING THE HIPSTER BANDWAGON award:
Tie: Yeah Yeah Yeahs / Bloc Party. Say what you want about these kids, but they know how to write snappy tunes and have the stage presence to back it up. And they’ll probably be around for longer than you can say “Primates in Antartica.” Thank you sir, may I have another.

THANK GOD YOU PLAYED IN THE EVENING award:
Daft Punk. Imagine having to wear full space gear in the 100-degree heat. No thank you, mon ami. Dirty, sweaty, grinding, uncontrollable mayhem. No, I’m not talking about Courtney Love’s urine sample. I’m talking about two fine Frenchmen that turned the desert into a 5 million gallon hot tub filled with champale and debauchery. Touche!

TRUE BLUE BALLS award:
Madonna. 20 minutes late. Five songs. Two featuring her on guitar. Sure, her butt looks great, but I think she’s entering the next phase of her career: menopause.

HIGH SCHOOL PEP RALLY award:
The Go! Team. These guys brought me back to the days of Kids Incorporated and cheerleading tryouts. Everyone thought Goulet was a bit fem for being on the cheerleading squad, but I’d rather look up a skirt than take a snap from stinky boy, oui? This band looks like they fell out of a Benetton ad, minus that goofy rugby with the word “Benetton” on it. You know you rocked that, you middle-aged hipcheck! The Go! Team isn’t about crafting unforgettable tunes, but what they lack in the hook department they make up for with their energy and unparalleled eclecticism. Bravo, young lads.

Honorable mention:

NOT YOUR AVERAGE JULIEN LENNON award:
Damien Marley. Proof that roots never die.

I DON’T UNDERSTAND A WORD YOUR SAYING BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER BECAUSE MY FEET CAN’T STOP MOVING award:
Amadou and Mariam. Transcending language barriers and showing everyone that Africa is where it all started.

THANKS FOR THE ALMOST 19TH NERVOUS BREAKDOWN award:
Cat Power. Her set was amazing. Backed by the guys who played on her record, there was only one meandering moment of weirdness. Well done, Ms. Power.

HELP I’M WRAPPED IN GOLD TINFOIL award:
Jake Shears of the Scissor Sisters. But at least it was designer tinfoil.

WHO SAYS YOU NEED A BAND? award:
Tie: Jamie Lidell / Imogen Heap. Can you pronounce her name? I can’t. Don't care. Feed me more.

WHO DID YOU HAVE TO BLOW TO GET IN HERE award:
James Blunt. Product placement at its worst.

PLEASE PLAY ANOTHER SONG FROM YOUR NEW ALBUM award:
Tie: Depeche Mode / Tool. Because they need the money.

LIKE WATCHING PAINT DRY award:
Tie: Sigur Ros / Massive Attack. Look! He moved! Wait…My bad.

HA HA WHITE PEOPLE DANCE FUNNY award:
Kanye West. What a riot. All jokes aside, he tore the place apart.

HUMILITY DOESN’T GROW ON TREES award:
Kanye West. Makes me forget that he tore the place apart.

MISS KITTIN, WHO? award:
Lady Sovereign. One of the most exciting performers in hip hop. Yes, she looks like one of the Spice Girls. Yes, she will beat you to a bloody pulp if you tell her that.

I’M KINDA TIRED. CAB FARE IS ON THE DRESSER award:
Franz Ferdinand. Do do do I really want to? Want to what? Change the channel? Yes, please.

YOU PLAYED TOO DAMN EARLY SO I MISSED YOUR SET award:
Tie: Nine Black Alps, Infadels, White Rose Movement, Be Your Own Pet, Mates of State. But I’m sure you all did fine in the 100-degree, 1 o’clock heat.

Music Reviews: April 2006

Who the F*** is Pete Doherty? – directed by Roger Pomphrey

You’ve probably heard Pete Doherty. Although the British music press anointed him the second coming of Lennon after he and his former bandmates, The Libertines, released “Up The Bracket” a few years ago, it’s his appetite for any ingestible substance and a short lived snog-fest with Kate Moss that has fueled a British tabloid frenzy. Kind of like Page Six soaked in a vat of swine, ‘init? His daily diet is public knowledge: an ounce of coke, a tub full of H and a few gallons of whiskey topped off with handful of E-bombs and enough crack cocaaaaiiine to set Pookey Bear off for a year. He gets arrested every time he leaves his house and can’t seem to go anywhere without wrecking the place or crashing a car trying to get there.

All of these sordid accounts have turned Pete into the most famous junkie in the UK. While they have taken the focus away from his prolific talents, they’ve also added to the mystique of an often misunderstood artist who some call a genius. This is the theme of “Who The **** Is Pete Doherty?”

The sheer influence that he has over his fans is mind blowing. When he decides to show up, he throws himself into every crowd, engages his followers at every show and once had fans line up outside his bedroom so he could play personal requests for each one of them. And the candid footage of him riffing on the guitar is almost as chilling as his buddy’s upper row of teeth.

After seeing this documentary, I honestly think that Pete should get a life-long hall pass from any and all incrimination. Kind of like how Jacko is allowed to molest whomever he wants for having recorded Off The Wall and Thriller. But first he’s got to make it past 27. Jimi, Janis and Kurt couldn’t do it. Maybe history will repeat itself…

“Who the Fuck Is Pete Doherty,” by Roger Pomphrey (57 min) – the Real Player stream is available FREE and worth every second. Absolutely genius.

Check it:
Who The F*** Is Pete Doherty?



Prince – 3121 (Universal)

God damn this record is hot. However I just read a review on Amazon.com that claimed “Prince is the black Beck.” Right. And Stevie Wonder is the black Jamiroquai. Now please excuse me, dipshit, while I write something intelligent to the short man perched atop diamond heels, draped in chiffon and dripping in sex:

Dear Mr. Prince: Thank you for listening to Purple Rain, Controversy, Sign O’ The Times, Lovesexy, et al before you went into the studio. Thank you for not inviting Scott Storch, Linda Perry, Missy Elliott or Fantasia to pitch in. Thank you for inviting Maceo Parker. Thank you for not covering “Devil’s Haircut” because that would have added validity to the above-referenced review by the handjobs over at Amazon.com.

I could go into particulars about each track, blah blah blah, but I think you get my point.

Get these: “Get On The Boat,” “Fury,” “Love”
Wax it if you like: bashing the dude who made the Beck comment

Check out "Love"

or download it:
Love



Jarvis Cocker & Steve Mackey – The Trip (Family Recordings)

If I hear one more “Late Nite With…” compilation I’m going to…um…I don’t know, get all existential and shit? Que dramatique! These comps usually seem forced and pretty damn boring. Enter “The Trip.” Brilliantly compiled by Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker and Steve Mackey, this is the most random selection of music I’ve heard since Captain Kangaroo ate LSD and played Zamfir covers on his balls. From classical noise to murder pop; droning girlie rants to psycho-billy, this collection of songs (yes, songs) is not simply out of the box, it doesn’t even know what a box is. But unlike the Captain, this collection draws you in like an online predator that just needs someone to talk to. (You being the vulnerable teen, of course.) There must be a more elaborate story behind this acoustically twisted mix than the liner notes lead me to believe, but it’s probably stuck somewhere between a twitch and a vice deep in the tweaked collective psyche of its creators. If you’re looking for a tweaked collection of songs you’ve never heard, this is for you. However, if you’re looking to extend your new Arctic Monkeys fascination, you might want to pass. Whatever the case, just don’t listen to it before you go to sleep because you will wake up with no head.

Get these: The Beach Boys “Feel Flows,” The Human League “Rock n Roll,” Dion “Purple Haze”
Wax it if you like: complete randomness

Check out "Feel Flows"

or download it:
The Beach Boys - "Feel Flows"



Fred Thomas – Turn It Down (Ypsilanti Records)

Some artists spend tons of money to harness the lo-fi sound. Others just set up some mics in their bedrooms and push record. While the latter approach can yield truly scary results, Fred Thomas pulls it off with wonderful ease. Fred is a member of Saturday Looks Good To Me and runs Ypsilanti Records out of what I would imagine to be his little crib in Michigan. Probably nowhere near 8 Mile, son. The songwriting is amazing. The instrumentation is sparse, anchored by acoustic guitar, minimal percussion, strings and Fred’s humble melodies. It’s definitely poppy in an early Ben Folds vein, but ultimately veers favors the eclectic more so than most emo-ish outfits. Yes, he does sound like that Conor Oberst dude, but minus the relentless whining. I’m sure you’ll hear this on the OC Anatomy soon, so get it before it gets thrown into the shoe-gazer abyss…

Get These: “Synthesizer Parts,” “Turn It Down,” “Throw Me A Line”
Wax it if you like: Modest Mouse, New Pornographers, Conor on meds

Check out "Synthesizer Parts"

or download it:
Synthesizer Parts



Madison – EP (dunno)

Finally, a girl that can rock and still be sexy. The Donnas tried to do it, but their packages ultimately got in the way. So did Courtney Love, but her cooch had other plans… Ah, but then there’s sweet Madison. When I first heard “Let’s Go” I couldn’t make up my mind if I wanted her to punch me in the face or simply use me like a wet nap. Pain or hygiene, you ask??? Oh, sweet confusion, hath thou no remorse? Madison manages to make lines like “I like it dirty/I like it sweaty/I like to win a little competition” sound flirty without having to hike up her skirt like Clay Aiken. “Personal Porn Star” is a bit, um, contrived and would be better suited for Paris Hilton’s album, but Madison is allowed one mishap, no? After all, for a fleeting moment she made me forget that people like Fefe Dobson and Ashlee Simpson ever made it past the olive in their daddy’s martini. The songs are catchy. The production is tight. Not unlike Courtney Love’s rash or stretched forehead. I’m told that her EP is available on itunes, but it appears that some of the songs I have in my frothy little hands are unreleased. No worries – get the songs as long as you don’t mind being shackled to the wall by Steve Jobs.

Get these: “Let’s Go,” “Radiate”
Wax it if you like: Shirley Manson, Transister, Pat Benatar for the Millenium

Check out "Let's Go"

or download it:
Let's Go




Various – Monsieur Gainsbourg (Revisited) (Universal/Barclay)

Ah, the French. Somewhere between Johnny Haliday and Jerry Lewis they managed to find time for Serge Gainsbourg, who has become a national icon since his death in 1991. After a flood of reissues commemorating the anniversary of his death, his catalog is “revisited” by a truly eclectic mix of artists. All sung in English. Huh? Oh, well – so much for French pride. Regardless, the collabs are different and daring: Jarvis Cocker and Kid Loco, Marianne Faithfull w/Sly &Robbie, Franz w/Jane Birkin to name a few. There are some interesting results: Franz and Jane turn out a mysterious, sensually rocking version of “A song for Sorry Angel” Feist’s “Boomerang” breathes sex, and Jarvis and Loco’s track is a true homage to Serge’s legend. But I must scratch my cabbage head over some of the choices. Brian Molko from Placebo, whose voice makes me want to convert to celibacy, is Serge’s antithesis. The Rakes cockney rock doesn’t exactly embody sexuality, and Tricky is just…Tricky. And did I forget to mention that all of the songs are in English? It would have been nice to get some contributions by some other frenchies (Keren Ann, Air, Zoot Woman, etc) but overall it’s definitely worth checking out before you go and riot for your right to keep a lifetime civil service job, no? Touché!

Get these: “Boomerang,” “I Call It Art,” “A Song For Sorry Angel”
Wax it if you like: eclectic tribute records

Check out Franz and Jane's "Sorry Angel"

or download it:
Franz and Jane - "Sorry Angel"



Jane Birkin – Fictions (EMI)

Moving on with the Frenchies. Well, kind of. Jane Birkin was actually born in England but has lived in France for the past 40 years. Apparently it was something about the food. Ms. Birkin is best known for her breathy background vocals on Serge Gainsbourg’s recordings and has released a number of records on her own, most recently “Arabesque,” which “revisited” songs from Serge’s catalog with a Middle Eastern slant. Seeing a pattern? Nothing gets past Goulet. Honestly, I don’t know much about Jane, but when I heard that my idol Gonzalez produced this record (he of Feist, Chilly G and the Kitty Yo crew), I immediately threw off my clothes, painted “J’Adore Jane” on my nether regions and ran through the Tompkins Square Park like a man possessed. And the music? Quite lovely. Her version of Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon” is gorgeous. The arrangement is lovely, the instrumentation is refreshing and she makes the song her own. Tom Waits’ “Alice” gets similar treatment, as do new tracks like “Steal Me A Dream” (written by The Magic Numbers) and “Waterloo Station” (written by Rufus Wainwright). Oh, and did I mention that she sings in English? I’m beginning to think that the Frenchies just want to be like us after all…

Get these: “Harvest Moon,” “Alice,” “Steal Me A Dream”
Wax it if you like: Keren Ann, Carla Bruni, Feist

Check out "Harvest Moon"

or download it:
Harvest Moon



Secret Machines – Ten Silver Drops (Reprise/Warner)

Secret Machines made a splash with their debut album “Now Here Is Nowhere,” drawing raves from Bowie and comparisons to Pink Floyd. Their follow-up, “Ten Silver Drops” starts off on a more personal note than the first album - - they sing about love, loss and heartache - - and seem to have ditched the other-worldly Star Trek lyrical vagueness that made “Nowhere Again” and “First Wave Intact” so infectious. This is not necessarily a bad thing. Actually, it works pretty well for most of the record. The first cut “Alone, Jealous and Stoned” finds Ben Curtis in a more personal, vulnerable space without detracting from the intense arrangements and sonic cluster-fucks. “Lightning Blue Eyes” hits you with so many hooks that you’ll almost forget to grab the bong in time for “Daddy’s In the Doldrums,” an eight-minute blues-tinged trek through the bridges Of Humboldt county. “I Hate Pretending” finds Ben doing his best Chester Bennington imitation over odd time signatures, but by then you might have passed out face-down in your meat in a purple haze. And if you don’t eat your meat, you won’t get any pudding. Thank you sir may I please have another.

Get these: “Alone, Jealous and Stoned,” “Daddy’s In The Doldrums”
Wax it if you like: Floyd, Embrace, Kent

Check out "Alone, Jealous and Stoned"

or download it:
Alone, Jealous and Stoned

Hooray for Hollywood? - LA Fashion Week

You might not know this, but LA is not just for blow-up dolls, fast-talking sheisters and botox addicts anymore. That’s right, kiddies – it’s all growns up and has its own fashion week, which to many signifies a city that has come full circle. In this case, the circle is packed with rhinestone-studded denim and fire-breathing dragon jackets. So in order to prepare you for any upcoming trip to LA, I’ve come up with GOULET’S LA FASHION SURVIVAL KIT. Click the link and you will be given all of the tools you need to fit into this fashion-saavy culture. Now, for the music. Between naked jaunts in countless hottubs, I managed to pull together enough music to keep the ladies walking for days. Which is nice, because you really need a car in that town. The highlight was a freaky, bedazzled mix of PJ Harvey, Grace Jones, Goldfrapp, Blondie, Destiny’s Child and Jim Morrison that graced the runway of Taverniti. I must say that Jimmy Taverniti is truly a special man. Inspiring, creative and full of kindness. Touche, Jimmy. And thanks to Gregg “The Doctor” Fine for helping us pull this one off in a day…

Check out an excerpt from the Taverniti show:

or download it:
Taverniti

THE STAR SPANGLED FLAV

So I’m on the phone with my good friend Senator Tang the other day. A word of advice: If you ever go to Bangkok and care to roll the dice, Mr. Tang is your man. You like anonymous Blumpkins? Tang. An Ice Stocking desert topped off by the Pastry Chef? Tang. You get my point. The Sentator has a penchant for exaggerating, although sometimes I can’t really understand him because he has no tongue. Anyway, he told me that Flava Flav showed up at the World Baseball Classic a few days ago and performed a rousing rendition of the Star Spangled Banner for the Korean / Japanese game. What the hell is a World Baseball Classic anyway? Apparently Flav is really big in Asia, but since he didn’t know their national anthems, they were fine just to have him. Yes, it is hard to believe, but then Senator Tang forwarded me this mp3. There’s even a guy jumping out of the bleachers, a gong and a toilet (???) I’m not sure what to believe anymore, but this gives me hope.

Check it out:
"The Star Spangled Flav"

Music Reviews: March 2006 - Old Men Rock

I heard someone say the other day that the Rolling Stones should just hang it up - - watching them is like watching a bingo game at the Elk’s Lodge. Then I heard someone call U2 “dad rock.” I’m perplexed. I suppose these people didn’t notice when MTV, the arbiter of good taste, cut to commercial in the middle of David Gilmour’s “Comfortably Numb” guitar solo during Live 8 last summer. If that had happened during one of Omarion’s new joints the shit woulda hit the fan! Ah, to be young and stupid again.

Maybe we can all learn something from aging rock stars. And I’m not just talking about Keith Richards’ blood transfusion. Beats the shit out of a facial, no? From an artistic perspective, these guys need to perform. Actually, that’s all they know how to do. Can you picture Mick Jagger waking up in the morning without a gaggle of bi-sexual hussies in his lair? Neither can he - - the thought of the same breakfast on a daily basis must scare him back to the road. Plus, these guys definitely need the money. Over the years, they've figured out how to fuse art and commerce seamlessly. And I’m not only referring to the sublte deals with Microsoft, Fidelity and Apple. They’ve actually managed to bury the shit in their songs. That’s right. “A Bigger Bang.” Straight up Viagra pitch. “Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own.” Assisted living, son. These guys are on pharmaceutical payrolls and they’re not ashamed to talk about it. I guess somebody’s gotta pay for all the the hookers...

With this in mind, I would like to share some releases that prove a point - - old men rock.





David Gilmour – On An Island (Columbia)

Gilmour is one of the most prolific artists to ever grace the stage. If you say you don’t like Pink Floyd, I say you’re a pansy. On his first solo effort in 18 years, Gilmour does what he does best - - writes, sings and plays guitar. His wife Polly Samson, who contributed lyrics to Floyd’s first post-Roger Waters album “The Division Bell” pens the lyrics. And while she doesn’t share the whimsical wordplay of Waters, lyrics like “So break the bread and pour the wine / I need no blessings but I’m counting mine / Life is much more than money buys / When I see the faith in my children’s eyes” seem to reflect Gilmour’s existence in a post-Floyd world. Many years have passed since the glory days of Pink Floyd, and you can hear the maturity in his voice. This isn’t to say that he sounds older; he is as silky-smooth as ever and his signature guitar is fully intact. After the mesmerizing opener “Castellorizon,” David Crosby and Graham Nash stop by to drop some dream-like harmonies on the title track. This Heaven” is a bluesy romp that proves there is more to Gilmour than heady arrangements. The rest of the album paints a mesmerizing picture while Gilmour’s unforgettable voice provides a unique narrative. Lush orchestrations, incredible guitar work (duh it’s David Gilmour) and enough sonic wrenches to make the most avid Floyd fan happy.

Get these: this is an album, g money.
Wax it if you like: ummm, Pink Floyd?

Check out "This Heaven"

or download it:
This Heaven




Neil Diamond – 12 Songs (Columbia)

This is definitely NOT the Neil Diamond that you’ve heard at countless frat bars, his voice blaring “Sweet Caroline” to which everyone shouts “Ba Ba Ba!” as if to answer the man with the feathered hair and gold lamee Vegas jumpsuit. Nor is this the Neil Diamond that dazzles the dollar slot beauties with his apple-sauce rendition of “America.” You see, before Neil was making his rounds on the blue-haired chitlin circuit, he was actually an amazing songwriter. This is what producer Rick Rubin (LL Cool J, Chili Peppers, Johnny Cash) aimed to extract from Diamond, and he does so with amazing results. Most of the tracks were recorded in one take, with Neil playing guitar and singing at the same time. (I’ve heard he can chew gum and walk, too.) Neil’s voice is up-front and personal – you can hear the joy, pain and vulnerability come alive. Rubin enlisted an eclectic array of studio musicians, from soul-stalwart Billy Preston on organ (he wrote “You Are So Beautiful” that Joe Cocker made famous) to members of Tom Petty’s band. The songs are intimate and the lyrics are astounding – “12 Songs” proves that Diamond is a true songwriter. From the opening lyrics “If you’re thinkin’ my life / is a hoot and a holler / from the start of the day / to the dark of the night / that it’s ringin’ bell / that you only wanna follow / better trust me when I say / I’m just tryin’ to get it right,” Diamond and Rubin paint a picture of a true artist that was hidden beneath bad hair and puffy shirts for too many years. Let’s hope he doesn’t show up on TRL next week. Cherry-O, baby.

Get these: get them all
Wax it if you like: the unexpected

Check out "Hell Yeah"

or download it:
Hell Yeah






Paul Weller – As Is Now (Yep Roc)

You might not know who Paul Weller is. Suffice to say, without Paul Weller, the Spice Girls would still be making records and England would only be known for their amazing cuisine. As part of the ground-breaking trio The Jam, he inspired everyone from The Stone Roses to Oasis, The Arctic Monkeys and beyond. And he’s still making great records. After leaving The Jam at the ripe age of 25, Paul went on to form the Style Council and began recording solo records in the early 90s. Since then, he’s released a number of critically-acclaimed solo records, played guitar and sang backup vocals on Oasis’ “Champagne Supernova” (the Gallagher brothers nicknamed him “The Modfather”) and continues to tour like a 19-year old. But don’t expect him to implant a Nicole Kidman face-tightener on his head anytime soon. “As Is Now” is a great record – from the Kaiser-Chiefs-esque “From The Floorboards Up” to a few stirring ballads, Weller is in old form. His songwriting, guitar playing and vocals are top-notch and remind me of the youthful energy of The Jam. A few tracks teeter on Style-Council honky-soul, but he thankfully saves them for last. Do yourself a favor - - get “The Sound of the Jam,” “Stanley Road” and “Wild Wood” and you will soon realize why Paul Weller is a true legend.

Get These: "Blink," "From the Floorboards Up," 'All on a Misty Morning"
Wax it if you like: Britpop, Kaiser Chiefs, Arctic Monkeys

Check out "From the Floorboards Up"

or download it:
From the Floorboards Up

Fashion Week Playlist

If you were in New York City last week, you might have noticed a large white tent erected in the middle of Bryant Park. This tent caused lots of confusion. One bewildered tourist thought it was the Ringling Bros circus. “This must be it,” he said. “There are clowns jumping out of cars!” No silly. That was Linday Lohan and her cronies. And clowns don’t drive Escalades. Another out-of-towner mistook the tents for a UN medical outpost. “Look!” she exclaimed. “They must be feeding all of the malnourished villagers!” Sorry, babe. Those are the models. And they’re actually paid loads of money to look that way. Any guesses? That’s right - - NY Fashion Week. What an event. Just check out the pic of Anna & Andre hanging with the Golden Girls, Kate Moss and her new boyfriend, Kofi Annan. Say Chez! As part of the ONDA crew, I bang out the beats so the villagers don’t have to walk in silence. And what would this week be without music? Like a trapeze act without appendages. Here are some selections from the runways of Miss Sixty, DVF, Nicole Miller, Theory, Michon Schur, Nathan Jenden and DDC Style Lab.

Dolly Parton – 9 to 5 (that’s right, playa. The original Triple D mix)
Manilow vs. Ciara – Copa2Step (ReneGoulet rmx)
Jachoozi – Black Barbie
The Presets – Cookie
Gorillaz – Dare (Jr. Sanchez rmx)
Smiths vs. Radiohead - How Soon Is Idiotech? (GreggFine rmx)
Meleni – Pop the Cherry
Roisin Murphy – Ramalama (Blumpkin rmx)
The Kooks – You Don’t Love Me
The Cure – Love Song (ReneGoulet Strung Out Version)
The Wonder Band – Whole Lotta Love
Merry Clayton – Gimme Shelter
Hard Fi – Cash Machine (Chicken Lips rmx)
Chaka vs. Prince – I Feel For Doves (ReneGoulet rmx)

And since you’re so special, I’ve posted my fave show or the week. From the DDC Style Lab show, an interplanetary space-rock extravaganza featuring The Smiths, Radiohead, Pulp, Interpol (just a guitar line—I left out the Morrissey imitation. Don’t worry; I haven’t gone mad), Muse, Patti Smith and Secret Machines. Play loud.


Or download it:
DDC Style Lab

Music Reviews: February 2006

Little Barrie – We Are Little Barrie (PAIS)

How good is this record? Well, I was blasting this earlier today and my neighbor knocked on my door. However, she didn’t want me to turn it down. She wanted to know what it was. Seriously. Now read on…

White kids from the UK have been co-opting the sound of the Mississippi Delta for 50 years, all with varying degrees of success. Led Zeppelin & the Stones nailed it in the ‘60s. Little Barrie takes it one step further in ’06. This debut from the Manchester three-piece is ACE!!! Simple, rootsy, organic, bluesy rock with hooks galore. Singer Barrie Cadogan, who sounds like a cross between Donovan, Van Morrison & Dylan works his way through well-crafted lyrics and tight, funky arrangements. Wayne Fullwood and Lewis Wharton lay down loose, bouncy grooves and producer Edwin Collins (from Postcard and Orange Juice) sits in on a number of tracks. The mix on this record is so damn crispy that it makes me wonder why Edwin Collins isn’t taking some of Paul Epworth’s gigs. My prediction? These guys will open for U2 next year. Put your ass in a drop top and bump this record immediately.

Get these: every last one, chico
Wax it if you like: Van Morrison, Donovan, The Blue Van, G. Love

Check out "Free Salute"

or download it:
Little Barrie - "Free Salute"




Bettye LaVette – I’ve Got My Own Hell To Raise (Anti)

Bettye LaVette has been around the block. She’s recorded with Otis, toured with James Brown and dropped a fair share of records over the years that you’ve probably never heard of. Although she had a few hits, she never reached the heights of Aretha, Tina, etc. But she never gave up. Now in her 60s, Bettye was recording a few records for a small European label when fate walked through the door. His name was producer Joe Henry. While Henry is much younger, he won a Grammy for reviving Solomon Burke’s career in 2002. Oh, and he’s Madonna’s brother in law. In true Rick Rubin/Johnny Cash-style, they decided to make a record of covers that Bettye could make her own. But here’s what gets me: had I not read the liner notes I would have thought that Bettye wrote these herself. Until I got to Fiona’s track. Hollaback Girl, Interrupted!!!!!! Backed by minimal, Stax-style production, Bettye sings her heart out as if each song were pulled from past heartaches as she scraped her way through the music business. The emotion is so real that it makes the original versions seem like half-hearted covers. This record is astonishing.

Get these: all of them or Bettye will beat your ass
Wax it if you like: Betty Davis, Aretha, Ike & Tina

Check out "Joy"

or download it:
Bettye Lavette - "Joy"





Urbs – Toujours le Même (G-Stone)

Ah, the froonch. You know, Rene Goulet is froonch, so I will try not to be biased toward my crepe-loving friends. Touché mon ami! As described in the press release, “The music of Toujours le même film is a haunting tale of love lost and found. A majestic soundtrack to a film that would be Paul Nawrata’s (a/k/a Urbs) life.” The record was co-produced by Peter Kruder (of Kruder & Dorfmeister/Tosca fame), and although I thought this was a recipe for K&D-style downtempo tracks, I was definitely surprised. First off, the artwork, which looks like a Jean-Luc Godard film poster represents the music perfectly. (And the guy kinda looks like a cross between Marc Jacobs and Jason Schwartzman macking on a young Angelica Houston, the original rump-shaker.) Employing a three-piece cocktail band for most of the record (drums, upright bass, piano), the tracks come alive with lush string arrangements, tweaked grooves and warm electronic textures. The first track, “So Weit” is hypnotic. It sounds like it came straight out of “Belle Du Jour” right after Catherine Deneuve turns her first trick. Girl works hard for the money, ya feel me? “Tu Moi Aussi” takes a dramatic twist, with heavy bass, beats, string hits and a beautiful piano melody. The rest of the record goes through an entire range of styles, covering everything from the Baroque take on Duran Duran’s “The Chauffeur” to the French 60s spy-pop of “The Incident.” If you like French cinema of the 60s, this is your record. If you don’t, you need to NOT watch Old School for the 101st time and get some damn culture, son! Sacré bleu!!!!

Get these: “So Weit,” Tu Moi Aussi,” “The Chauffeur”
Wax it if you like: Tosca, RJD2, Rob Dougan

Check out "So Weit"

or download it:
Urbs - "So Weit"




Clearlake – Amber (Domino)

Ahhh. More music from da Brits. I knew nothing about these guys before hearing this record,, so I won’t bore you with comparisons to their past work. I’m just going strictly on what I hear. Alright, champ? The first thing that strikes me is the left-of-center instrumentation. Dense, distorted guitars fill most of the tracks, complimented by haunting string arrangements, harps, pounding beats and subtle harmonies. Kind of like Coldplay. Ha ha. I’m just kidding. The tracks definitely have a Britpop slant, but the instrumentation adds a bit of cinematic drama that keeps it fresh before ultimately losing fluidity. “No Kind Of Life,” the opening track, is infectious. Kind of reminds me of REM had they run everything through a fat distortion pedal. “It’s Getting Light Outside” takes a left turn - - but damn (!!) this dude sounds like Morrissey! From Michael Stipe to Morrissey? Cheers, mate. “Good Clean Fun” is another sonic orgy - - imagine Blur’s Song #2 mashed with the Jan and Dean. There are definitely some nods to Oasis in here (“Finally Free,” “Neon”), but hey, at least it’s not Coldplay. No you didn’t! Yes I did.

Get these: “No Kind Of Life,” “It’s Getting Light Outside”
Wax it if you like: Oasis, The Doves

Check out "No Kind Of Life"

or download it
Clearlake - "No Kind Of Life"




Tiga – Sexor (PIAS)

Tiga was the poster boy for the electro burp, and here we see Tiga rocking a mullet while trying distance himself from the soulless kitsch of electoclash. I admit I was psyched to check this record out; after his amazingly camp cover of Nelly’s “Hot In Here” I thought that Tiga’s record would break a few boundaries and offer something fresh. Not quite. After an intro skit (?) that announces “imagination rules the nation, rain washes you clean and sexy lightning always strikes twice” Tiga breaks into some cutesy schtick that almost sounds like Dave Gahan singing over Giorgio Moroder beats. This is not to diss the production; it’s quite nice actually. “You Gotta Want Me” featuring Jake Shears (Scissor Sisters) is a nice electro-pop effort and “Louder Than A Bomb” lets loose an old-school Newcleus-style workout that will bump clubs around the globe. Then comes “Down In It.” Nooooo!!!! Think LL Cool J’s “I Need Love” sung by a fledgling preschooler with a casio piano. No joke. Now put on your dunce cap. While “Sexor” has a few tracks that will work great in the big room, as an album it suffers from taking itself too seriously. And I read that this record took three years to record. I guess this is acceptable. If he was only allowed to record on the 10th day of every sixth month, that is.

Get these: “You Gotta Want Me,” “Louder Than A Bomb”
Wax it if you like: Soho Dolls, Mylo

Check out "You Gonna Want Me"

or download it:
Tiga - "You Gonna Want Me"

Goulet's Music Conspiracy Theories

THEORY #1
Sammy Davis, Jr: Shot Dead By The Cast Of George Orwell’s “Animal Farm”

Allegedly, Sammy Davis, Jr. died on May 21, 1988 from throat cancer. This was simply a cover-up. In this stunning audio tape that was secretly recorded that night in Las Vegas, you will hear the shocking truth.


Or download it:
Sammy Davis Jr. Killed by Animal Farm


Pretty crazy shit, huh? Don't ask me where I got it. Just know that it came from a coked up ex-cop who lives under an assumed name in Reno. So why did the cast overthrow Sammy? Let me explain:

“Animal Farm” was published in 1946. The “farm” represented Communism, with Mr. Jones (the farmer) portraying Czar Nicholas (the old regime) and Napoleon the pig representing the “new” Communism of Stalin. I could go into more detail, but you’ve had a long day and you look tired. Suffice it to say that the animals led a pretty sweet life after the book was published. Communism was flourishing, McCarthy was on a witch hunt, Napoleon had an incident named after him in Cuba (the Bay of Pigs) and the USA was on edge. During the Cold War the animals were rock stars, complete with a never-ending supply of Charlie and a brothel full of hot Russian models.

However, things started to change in the 80s. Russia’s economy was in shambles and it simply couldn’t afford the arms race. The wave of democracy swept thru the bloc and then the wall came down. And everyone wanted their MTV with a side of Big Mac.

So what the fuck are you talking about, Goulet? A-ha! At this point I present my hypothesis that explains this disturbing event. Towards the end of the 80s, the cast of “Animal Farm” realized that Communism was about to die. They were old, but they had to make a statement. A big one. They looked to America. “Hmmm,” they thought. “Vat person represents ze ‘Amedikan Dream’?” screamed Napoleon. They turned on their television (yes, Commies watched TV) only to happen upon “Cannonball Run II” (yes, they only got bad TV). And there he was. Sammy Davis Jr. Napoleon’s eyes lit up. Here he saw the perfect target: a Jewish African-American that graced the big screen and the Vegas stage. If that’s not an “only-in-America” moment, I’d be hard-pressed to find one. Sammy had to die.

The animals hopped the next cargo ship to America and booked a suite under the assumed name “JT Leroy” at the Sands. After a few drinks and a round of poker, they made their move. First they dosed the audience with high-powered LSD so they wouldn’t find an animal ambush to be out of place. They’d think it was just a bad dream. The KGB is so sneaky! As Sammy introduced the band, the animals slowly swarmed the stage, overpowered Sammy and pulled the trigger. They got away. Ever try to catch a greased pig? Tragic. In the audio tape, you’ll hear Sammy’s voice start to deteriorate, thus the assertion that he died of throat cancer. Not true. This is actually the sound of Moses (The Crow) in Sammy’s esophagus. Listen at your own risk!

APPLE EARBUDZ MAKE YOU SKELETAL!!!!!!!!

Like, being deaf is so HOT!!!
According to a new study by Dean Garstecki, chairman of Northwestern's communication sciences and disorders department, "the earbuds commonly used by iPod listeners can boost an audio signal by as many as nine decibels -- comparable to the difference in sound intensity between an alarm clock and a lawn mower," Garstecki said. Damn!

Yet, the earbuds do not always fit snugly in the ear, but often allow background noise to seep in, which causes listeners to crank up the volume. In turning up the volume to drown out background noise, however, people "don't realize they may be causing some damage" to their hearing," according to Garstecki.

Damn!!!! No you didn't!!!!! That's what I been saying all along, but mainly because those damn earbuds make people look like assholes. And the sound quality sucks. So, in the spirit of Edison, I would like to recommend the ones I've been using:


These are made by Ultimate Ears and are available at Guitar Center. For $99 bucks they have clean, clear sound, great bass response AND they cancel out noise so you don't have to be that busted-up chump that made me listen to K-FED's new single on the 14A bus today. Most importantly, you won't look like Nicole Richie, because all that noise will make you go deaf so you'll NEVER hear the dinner bell. The pic above proves my point, son.


NEW VIDEO ALERT!!!!!!
Death From Above - "Black History Month" (Sammy Danger Remix)
I like Sebastian and Jesse. I've never met them, but I can still like them, oui? They're a might fine canadian duo that allegedly lives in a gay funeral home that doubles as a midget prison at night. That what I heard, which would explain their name. If "gay" and "midget" were tagged onto the end, that is. Hmm. I've seen them play live before - just bass and drums - and it was pretty wicked. Kinda like the White Stripes but without that dude with the thing or the chick that looks confused. Anyhoot, they recently released an album of remixes - so '05 - but obviously didn't check with Diddy beforehand, because I've heard that he actually invented the remix and therefore holds some sort of copyright. Oh well I hope I didn't get them in trouble. This video is pretty damn sweet, if I must say so myself. Don't worry, I'm not gonna get all Gondry on you and make comparisons. But I can tell you that the director stole some shit from Scorsese, because my film friends tell me that everyone does. So I'm just assuming that it's true.


Feist - One Evening (ReneGouletMezcla)
Yes, it's true. I am a triple threat. Commanding the stage in Vegas, dominating steel cage matches and twidling the knobs with innocent delight. I recently kidnapped Miss Feist's lovely voice, hijacked the Desi Arnaz band, put them in a room and pressed the record button. Look! I even took a picture! Que Magnifique!!! You might call this self-inflicted cronyism (?) but I beg to differ. I am simply letting you into my little world, where the women dance the cha cha cha and the men aren't invited. Touché!

Check it out:

Or download it:
Feist - One Evening (ReneGouletMezcla)

Music Reviews: December 2005

Ahhh. The holiday season. So nice and sticky. The first few installments of the Cylinder were met with a wide range of emotions, so let me make a few comments.

1) To the lovely lady who questioned my use of “The Bravery” and “sucks” in the same sentence, I reply that these words were meant to be used in close proximity. However if you read it in context you’ll see that it was not I that made the claim. Now get back to boozin’, ya mooch.

2) To all of the other bloggers who responded to my efforts in linking to their blogs, thank you for rolling out the red carpet. I mean you no harm and come in peace. We can co-exist like frank and beans. Touché.

3) You'll notice the addition of audio to the Cynlinder. Edison would only have it as such. Now you can hear what I’m screaming about. I got enough butter to spread around, so baby come back.

Now, the reviews....



Mara Carlyle – Baby Bloodheart EP (Accidental)

I’ve got to admit, I bought this 4-song EP based on a mash-up. That’s right. Some Jay-Z, Linkin Park shit. Holla! Not really. More like Mara singing Amerie’s “1 Thing” over a Pixies track (named “Piximerie”), which, unlike the Hova rhyming over a sea of anger & Ritalin, works brilliantly. However, there are 3 more songs on this jammie, so if she can pull off that slice of randomness, there might be something else here… I do some research on Mara to find out that she released a record called “The Lovely” on Herbert’s label. If you don’t know Herbert, he did a record called “Bodily Functions,” where he sampled the sounds of his body (no farts, jackass), which serves as the percussion tracks for his record. (Quick Herbert review – get it). She produced and arranged her record (the anti-Britney) with the help of trip-hop, electronica stalwarts Plaid (Plaid quick review - get “Not For Threes), shared the stage with Bebel Gilberto and, most importantly does not like Dido. (She has a track called “I Blame Dido.”) I love this girl already. Now on to the music – the title track, which was taken from her record “The Lovely” is intoxicating. A soothing torch-like voice that weaves in and out of an eclectic, endearing trio of upright bass, jazz drums with simple brush work, a ukulele and a smattering of organic keys. “He Makes My Day” is a little syrup-y, but the simplicity of an acoustic guitar, beautifully written lyrics an infectious melody keeps me around for the 3:31. “He just has to smile to blow my cares away/he just has to touch my hand to make me stay.” Mmmm. Nice. Rene wants to touch Mara’s hand now. The last song, a cover of Jamie Lidell’s “Game For Fools” (see the November review of Jamie’s record) is the jem here. Broken down to a bare-bones bed of bass and ukulele, Mara sits her sweet little ass down on a porch in the Delta and gets the sistas in a twist. She loosens it up, hits some high notes (damn girl!) and then some sicko sneaks in with a theramin! Who is that guy? I want him on Goulet’s team. The sistas get inspired and join in - - they drop some gospel knowledge in the background, start clapping, shouting and testifying for the cute lil’ white girl who can BRING IT.

Get these: it’s a 4-song EP, just get the whole damn thing, skippy!
Wax it if you like: Kate Earl, Edith Pilaf, not liking Dido





Rewind! Vol. 4
Original Classics, Revisited, Rerecorded and Rewound (Ubiquity)

God DAMN this is a hot record! Rewind! Is a collection of tracks – some obscure, some not – covered by a random selection of artists that you’ve probably never heard of. Unless you’re Matt Pinfield. Isn’t he cute and shiny? Look, I love a good cover, but so many times they come off as straight kitsch. Take Nina Gordon’s cover of N.W.A.’s “Straight Outta Compton” – funny at first, but the idea of a skinny white girl saying the “N” word is like Gilbert Godfried poppin’ and lockin’. I’ll take Crazy Legs, thank you. And if I hear it again I’ll call the NAACP. This comp, on the other hand, is pretty ace. The Sharon Jones cover of “This Land is Our Land” makes me think of a campfire with BBQ s’mores and a wood paneled love-nest where the naughty counselor holds court. Holla! “Evil Vibrations” by Rebirth is tight neo-funk – you might remember the sample from De La’s “A Roller Skating Jam Named Saturdays.” The “7 Nation Army” cover has been floating around for quite some time on 12”, so here’s your chance to hear Alice Russell channel her inner-Janis in a broke-down Mississippi shack. Strictly buttttah. Wills’ rendition of “Word Up” is truly a gem that wasn’t mined in shackles. And Shawn Lee doing Nick Drake’s “River Man?” Thank you sir, I’ll have another. Yes, there are a few dull moments, but not enough for me to put down this gun that I’m holding to your head right now, with a bullet that says “buy this, cocheese.”

Get these: read the review, skinny!
Wax it if you like: hmmm. Well-done covers???





Cheikh Lo – Lamp Fall (World Circuit)

Simply put, this is my favorite album of the year. Period. Yes, it is way outside your typical, run-of-the-mill MTV shit. However, I’ve found that there is actually amazing music that exists beyond our pre-packaged, force-fed, format-driven American music culture. I swear. You just have to look for it – and that’s what the Cylinder is all about, g. Cheikh Lo is a vocalist/instrumentalist from Dakar, Senegal – the same country that made Youssou N’Dour and Baaba Maal international stars. Cheikh is undoubtedly next in line for the crown. Senegal is known for the musical style mbalax, a driving, melodic pop sound that’s anchored by the best percussionists (and musicians, for that matter) in the world. That’s right. The world. If you’re not familiar with African music, you’ll find that each country and region has it’s own distinct style – reggae in the Ivory Coast, high-life in Ghana, Afrobeat in Nigeria, etc. However, a lot of these styles have either relied on staying rootsy while forsaking innovation or, at the other end of the spectrum, become a bit polished in order to appeal to a more international audience. Along comes Cheikh, breaking every one of these molds. He draws on influences from across the region & the world – Salsa, Rhumba, Soukous, Merengue, Reggae, Samba, Jazz and Folk – and puts them together with astonishing results. The percussion parts are staggering, led by the crack of the sabar drum, a staple in mbalax. Cheikh sings in a style reminiscent of Baaba and Youssou – soaring melodies, infectious hooks that float over a bed of lush acoustic guitars, funky electrics, organ, vintage keys, pulsating horns and bubbling bass. All done with an ease that makes his songs seem like ongoing conversations. Somehow you can understand what he’s saying regardless of the language barrier. What I love most about this record is the production. It sounds like Cheikh and his band set up in an old, analog studio somewhere in the middle of Dakar, plugged in, opened the windows and started playing. Over the course of the session, the streets outside of the studio filled with kids, families and the assorted town drunks, who all joined in the party. Kind of like the spirit behind the Buena Vista Social Club. No judgements, no critics, no bullshit. Just music. Fucking magical. Get this record.

Get these: “Kelle Magni,” “Bamba Mo Woor,” “Senegal-Bresil”
Wax it if you like: Buena Vista Social Club, venturing outside of your familiar surroundings





Neon Blonde – Chandeliers in Savannah (Dim Mak)
Raawwwwwkkk!!!!!! I just listened to this CD and I think I want to bash something. Oh, look what we have here! A Bright Eyes CD! Farewell, sweet Conor. Damn that felt good. A side-project of the Blood Brothers (raawwwk), Neon Blonde’s debut reminds me of the movie Grease re-interpreted by England’s The Young Ones. (Yes, the TV show that used to play late-nite on MTV in the 80’s, smiley. Before the MTV started spewing shows like “Next!” which is simply a guilty pleasure of mine.) I could probably pull something from my overflowing river of musical knowledge and tell you who influenced these guys (Spin says Bowie, but that’s like saying a bear shits in the woods), but here’s something in more accessible terms: these guys burned plenty of ants with magnifying glasses in their kiddie days. And they somehow took that sound of a screaming insect and managed to lay it down on tape. In fact, this record would be a perfect score for a twisted high school science class. Mr. Vargas up in the house!!!! Now wasn’t that useful? Neon Blonde is completely original – and once you’ve managed to digest the relentless falsetto of Johnny Whitney, you’ll find intricate arrangements that would make King Crimson proud. The songwriting and arrangements? Brilliant. The title track is like Benny and the Jets covered by The Mars Volta (haha Spin. I one-up’d you). “Headlines” gets under your skin like a fuzzy little tapeworm named Sweetness. The production? Twisted. Static drum machines, warm pianos, woodwinds, paint cans, typewriters, Altoids dispensers, pipe bombs and whipped cream. I think. But I must forewarn you – this is not a record for the passive listener. This is strictly for the aggressive nut job that keeps me up all night on St. Marks Place.

Get these: “Black Cactus Killers,” “Chandeliers in Savannah,” “Headlines”
Wax it if you like: Mars Volta, Arcade Fire (with iron-clad balls)



Out Hud – Let Us Never Speak Of It Again (Kranky)

Out Hud is an outfit that consists of members of !!! (ChkChkChk), vocalists Phyllis Forbes and Molly Schnick. If you’re not familiar with !!!, they’re part of the punk-funk movement that has been led by James Murphy and LCD Soundsystem, The Rapture, etc. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and probably be lambasted by the H.P.B. (Hipster Press Bandwagon), but this “movement” just doesn’t do it for me. I’m not saying it completely sucks; I actually like a few tracks from that camp & I think Mr. Murphy is talented. The genre just seems to be more about it’s anti-image than the actual music. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I like songs, hooks and melodies. But most press people are too damn busy praying to the altar of this “new” sound to know otherwise. I heard James crapped in a bag, postmarked it from Williamsburg and NME gave it a 10. That’s dubious, unless it was indeed an epic dump. OK. Enough poopy jokes. Suffice to say that the association with rhythmically challenged white indie kids does not do Out Hud any justice. They’re actually quite enjoyable. The production is really thick, relying on dubby, electro-disco beats, chunky bass, strings, guitars, and enough synth-poppy sprinkles to amply cover all the junk in Nell Carter’s trunk. And how many bands feature a harp on an entire track? The songwriting is impressive as well; while the vocals at times border on the electro-kitsch of everything Larry Tee, et al, the tracks are not linear exercises in monotony like so many others of this so-called “camp.” And p.s. to the HPB – Fishbone is punk-funk. Recognize, son.

Get these: “It’s For You,” “How Long,” “A Zillionth Watt”
Wax it if you like: the idea Annie fronting New Order, Fun Boy Three w/Bananarama, Le Tigre on a good day




Alice Russell - My Favorite Letters (Tru Thoughts)

Alice where have you been all my life? I want to have your children only so you can sing them to sleep every night. And so I don’t have to read that stupid-ass Blue’s Clues to my kids. Them Smurfs is scary! This girl has soul – she’s released some pretty funky tracks on the Tru Thoughts label over the past year, including a pretty randy version of “7 Nation Army” (see 1st review). While I think this record is pretty solid, the production can get a little stale. Almost acid-jazzy. (Ouch! Jamiroquai alert!!!) I kind of wish that Alice hired Ike Turner’s band and rubbed some dirt up in these joints; something about two older brothas that toured the world with the Motown Revue just makes a drum loop sound, well, loopy. Regardless, there are some keepers here – and her vocals are so damn tasty! The opening track, “All Else Can Wait,” is an obvious nod to Mr. Steveland Morris. Precious. “Humankind” is straight out of the Miss Dynamite “It Takes More” songbook, with equally impressive results. “Munkaroo” sounds like the O’Jays rammed thru a Fela Kuti filter. This track drives like Danny Bonaduce on steroids. What the hell does that mean? Dunno. But it’s hot. And I met Danny last week. He’s cuddly. “High Up On The Hook” sounds like Ella Fitzgerald remixed by Koop. Calm down, playa - I’m not saying she sounds like Ella; I’m just sayin’, ya know??? Now come over to my house and make some babies with Goulet, woman!!!!

Get these: “Humankind,” “Munkaroo,” “All Else Can Wait”
Wax it if you like: Miss Dynamite, Estelle, Sia Fuller in a good mood

Music Reviews: November 2005

Jamie Lidell – Multiply (Warp Records)
Mr. Lidell is one-half of SuperCollider (w/Christian Vogel) and has been making brilliant experimental/pop/electronica records for years. When I heard he was releasing a soul record, I didn’t know what to expect. I thought Jamie was setting himself up for crucifixion, especially since his catalog is more at home in Berlin than Memphis. What’s more, he’s a white kid. (Hey, I’m being honest. Lock Otis and an Everly Brother in a room and see what happens...) And then I listened to the record. Holy shit. It’s as if Mr. Lidell dropped my nay-saying ass off in church and said “I Told You So.” Classic soul harmonies and instrumentation with just
enough modern production flavor resulting in a pretty tight record. Testify, my soul cracker!

Get these: "Multiply," "When I Come Back Around," "What's the Use"
Wax it if you like: Otis Redding, Stax, Rick Astley if he didn't suck


Jennifer Gentle – Valende (Sub Pop)
Magically twisted. Beautifully warped. I want to have dinner with Ms. Gentle, because I’m sure I'd end up eating with my hands. Great songs, an unforgettable voice and Sgt. Pepper-esque production that creeps up on you like a nice big rash. Only it’s not a rash. It’s a kazoo!!! At least I think that’s a kazoo. Seriously, there's a Kazoo. Marvelous. I imagine Frances Bean Cobain will make a record like this one day when she's touring the vaudeville circuit.

Get these: “I Do Dream You,” “Hessesopoa,” “The Garden”
Wax it if you like: Coco Rosie, The Ronettes helmed by a present-day Phil Spector, Judy Tenuta, being medicated


Jim Murple Memorial – Five ‘n Yellow
This is a truly random summer record. Or winter. Fuck it - music shouldn't be seasonal, but I can't listen to this right now cuz it's cold. Anyway, picture a 1930s Janis Joplin fronting an early lineup of the Wailers. Occasionally in French. I’m sure that this is blasting out of every café in St. Barts, but I’ll probably never find out because airfare is so damn overpriced due to our handjob President who… Oops. Sorry. Thought I was writing my moveon.org entry.

Get these: honestly, they all sound the same...
Wax it if you like: the idea of sitting on a beach in St. Barts watching Janis fronting the Wailers


KT Tunstall – Eye to the Telescope (EMI)
Someone said Ms. Tunstall reminded them of Dido. They are both women. At least I think Dido is a woman and not a Flintstone's character. That’s where the comparison ends. Perfectly crafted songs, simple instrumentation and a remarkable voice powered by a little set of nuts that she must've borrowed from James Dean. Acoustic rock with a little twang. “Black Horse and the Cherry Tree” evokes the same strung-out southern emotion as Jeff Buckley’s “Be Your Husband,” which is no easy task, especially since she’s from Scotland. Shit I sound like David Fricke. Sorry.

Get these: “Black Horse and the Cherry Tree,” “Heal Over,” “Another Place to Fall”
Wax it if you like: Sia Fuller (from Zero 7), Fleetwood Mac


Ray LaMontagne – Trouble (RCA)
Ray holed up in a studio in Maine for a few hundred years and came out with this. Seriously, just look at the dude's beard. Now that’s what I call a creative process. As a result, this record is free of any shout-outs to Jacob or Access Hollywood babble. This guy sings about love, both lost and found, like it’s his last day on earth. If you don’t feel the emotion you’d better check your pulse. This record is real and it would be difficult to do anything other than sing its praises. Bravo, Mr. LaMontagne. Now lock your ass in a shack and make another one.

Get these: “Trouble,” “Shelter,” “Burn”
Wax it if you like: Jeff Buckley, Van Morrison, Neil Young


Sidestepper – 3AM (In Beats We Trust) (Palm Pictures)
This record has been the hold music at the studio for a while now, and I wish I had a dollar for each time someone asked me who it was. I’d probably have 50 bucks. A true fusion of Cuban son, dub and dancehall anchored by blissful, atmospheric production. I can honestly say that I have yet to hear anything like it. And it's perfect for hanging out in Tompikins Square with all the crusties.

Get these: “Deja (Mary),” “No Me Gustas,” “Mas Papaya”
Wax it if you like: Ruben Blades, Chaka Demus and Kruder/Dorfmeister in a blender


The Spanish Harlem Orchestra – Across 110th Street (Red Ink)
There was a time when a Salsa bands ruled the world. And I'm not talking about the crap they play on NYC's La Mega 98.9. From the VIP room at the Copa to the underground Mamacita in the Bronx (I made that place up but I want to go there anyway), throbbing percussion and banging horn lines would transform any room into a tropical paradise. This Grammy-winning record is evidence that Salsa never went away, it just got overshadowed by the Lambada and, more recently, the truly forgettable Reggaeton. If we are to learn anything from this, the message is simple: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Featuring Ruben Blades, this record twists your arm and forces you to shake your ass.

Get these: “Un Gran Dia en el Barrio,” “Escucha el Ritmo,” “Te Cantare”
Wax it if you like: a beach filled with hot Latin chicas (or chicos; not sure what you're into)


Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah! – Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah! (Self-Released. Fuck yeah!)
I miss my childhood. Ice cream trucks, amusement parks and some scraggly clown on acid trying to hypnotize me into his mini clown car. Wait a minute… Oh, I’m sorry. I was just listening to the first track on this record. Yes, these guys are hyped by the HPB (Hipster Press Bandwagon) but the first track alone makes it a must-have. Winding, hypnotic melodies. Simple, playful instrumentation. Not compelling, and we’ll probably forget about these guys by yesterday, but…wait…what was I writing about???? Oh, clowns. Clowns are scary. Did you see Capturing the Freidmans???

Get these: “Clap Your Hands…,” “Is This Love,” “Over and Over Again”
Wax it if you like: early Talking Heads, Arcade Fire, Clowns on acid


Innaway – Innaway (Some Records)
I was speaking to someone the other day about the lost art of making an album. It seems as though no one has the time to sit through 10 tracks as an entire work, but this record begs you to do so. The core of instrumentation is very organic – bass, drums & guitars – but they manage to twiddle the knobs enough to create a dream-like atmosphere that ties the songs together without sounding forced. “Tiny Brains” sounds like a Chris Isaak/Air mash up, so kudos for pulling that off.

Get these: "Tiny Brains," "Follow Moon," "Strings of North Egg"
Wax it if you like: Pink Floyd, Radiohead, Grand National

Music Reviews: October 2005

Hard Fi - Stars of CCTV (WEA/Atlantic)
You ever wake up next to a smokin' hot chick/dude/goat/whatever (I can't discriminte) only to scream out loud "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??!!!"? That's exactly what I said when I got this little sparkplug in the mail. Sure, the comparisons are inevitable. Stereo MCs. Kasabian. Blah blah blah. But I don't care, because in one way or another, everything sounds like everything. Just ask anyone who prays at the altar of Quantum Physics. And anyone who can rhyme "picture window" with "Heathrow" gets my vote. OK, at times Kelly is a little lyrically challenged, but he's so dreamy!!! Seriously, though. The songs are infectious, the production is crunchy and the instrumentation is outstanding. And NME likes it, so it must be good!!!!

Get these: "Cash Machine," "Tied Up Too Tight," "Unnecessary Trouble." Actually, fuck it. Get the whole damn album.

Wax it if you like: umm, waxing it?


Ambershades - Clap Clap Clap (Import)
Forget whatever the hype of the moment is. A good song never dies. These guys write songs. And play them. Well. And do plenty of cocaine. Well. I was a little worried at first (not about the drugs, silly!); the title track starts off like a post-Lance Sheryl Crow (yikes!) but quickly corrects itself and slinks its way into a stadium-worthy anthem with a nod to 70's AM sunshine rock. "Where were you/where was I/when the shit began to fly..." But I don't condone their sporadic endorsements of the Yayo, and I don't mean Tony. (That's some inside hip hop shit, holla!)

Get these: "Clap Clap Clap," "My Darling," "Kicking and Screaming"
Wax it if you like: Squeeze, John Lennon, Brian Wilson, big, fat-ass harmonies, songs named after VD


Feist - Let It Die (Mushaboom)
This record has been out for some time now, but since this is my first review, you'll have to pardon my tardiness. Frankly, this record could've come out 10 years ago and I'd still be writing about it. Leslie Feist is a singer-songwriter known for her work with Broken Social Scene, but don't expect to hear Joan Baez whining about death and taxes or Aimee Mann bitching about....well, death. Leslie Feist is the leader of a new pack of sultry, eclectic genre-crossing female artists that seem to be popping up like boy bands. But I'm not complaining. Her voice is warm, syrupy and comfortable. Like challah french toast with an extra egg. The production is what really gets me - so simple and tasty, but produced by Gonzales? Of Kitty-Yo? The man who sang about showing his chest hair if he ever gets to Broadway? Wow. The world really is flat.

Get these: "One Evening," "Tout Document," "Inside Out"
Wax it if you like: Keren Ann, Esthero, Cat Power


Brooke Valentine - Thrill of the Chase (unreleased) (Virgin)
This didn't make it onto her album, Chain Letter, which defies logic. The commercially-available CD is hot, but it makes me wonder: Who's doing A&R over there? Helen Keller? Oh, I'm sorry. It's actually the dude on the left. Is it a dude? Those A&R people sure are tricky. Oh well, I guess it didn't fit into a format. Regardless, this is one of the best tracks I've heard from the new wave of Anti-Ashanti R&B singers (all of whom I welcome with open arms). Finally, an example of an R&B track that doesn't limit itself to re-sampling a sample that was sampled a few years ago. Rock, soul and even a flirtatious one-drop breakdown. Delicious. And the girl can sing. But it didn't make it onto the album, so you'll have to write your local Virgin Records A&R guy/girl and tell him/her that he/she needs to holla at me for some free tips.

Wax it if you like: Kelis, Amerie, Trina


Antony and the Johnsons - I am a Bird Now (Secretly Canadian)
You've read a billion reviews in every other magazine about this record. Or maybe you can't read but the A&R guy at Virgin lent you his brail keyboard (see Brooke Valentine review.) In a nutshell, the critics love Anfernee. I mean Anthony. I mean Antony. Therefore, to be different, I won't review this. And I don't really like it anyway. Reminds me off an off-Broadway perfomance in West Chelsea. New York, that is.

Wax it if you like: Yentl, Barbra Streisand impersonators


Be Your Own Pet - Damn Damn Leash (CD Single) (Beggars/XL)
These guys make me think of hopscotch and No-Doz. I don't know why. But I like both, so it can't be a bad combination. Nothing fancy, just fucking rock. Will they be remembered next year? Who knows. But I don't care because I'm all about the moment. Aight? I feel dizzy.

Get these: there's only three songs, duh
Wax it if you like: Blondie, Glass Candy, The Kills, Morningwood


Ben Folds - Songs for Silverman (Sony)
Ben had a band called the Five although they were only Three. I loved that record. There's no doubt that Ben can pen a song and play the hell out of an upright piano, but something about this record reminds me of Chapel Hill, North Carolina. You know, when it was a burgeoning music scene. A little too whiny for me. Put it through a rat-pedal and dirty it up a bit, Ben.

Wax it if you like: Um, Ben Folds?


Bloom - Osinner (Fighting Records)
Simply put, Cheap Trick passed the torch to Bloom. Guitar, bass, drums, and hooks to spare. (Maybe they can toss some leftovers to Interpol. Ouch, that hurt. Don't tell NME.) Please send this record to every mediocre 80s-retro-power-pop band in the world, chop it up into little pieces and have them ingest it. Maybe then it will sink in. I haven't seen these guys live, but I assume that they're fucking rock stars with a bevy of 17 yr old models feeding them champale-soaked grapes. Ah, but it didn't come easy. You see, these guys got beat up by football players for wearing black eyeliner. Best lyric? "More than a miracle, it's a god-damn work of art." Genius.

Get these: "Don't Tell a Dead Man How To Die," "Black Eyeliner," "Sew Your Own Hands On"
Wax it if you like: New Pornographers, Cheap Trick, Robert Plant's package showing thru his pants


Electric Eel Shock - Go America! (Import)
What is up with this? I'm scratching my head, trying to figure out if I should join the Hipster Press Bandwagon (the HPB) or really speak my mind. Then I hear "S.O.S." I am falling out of my chair because this guy is hilarious. Is he Danish? Elf? I'm trying to decide if this actually a band or some sort of Lynyrd Skynrd / Jello Biafra / Glen Danzig mash up. Then I find out that this is a band from Japan and now I want to meet them and kiss their feet. Somehow they manage channel the Blues Brothers as they plea for "Suicide or Rock n Roll." Jim Belushi chose the former, which might be better than having to sit thru another Puffy Ami Yumi marathon. Purely novelty. Like Japanese Rockabilly. Just don't give these guys a variety show, unless you want to see day-glo mannequins with enlarged organs.

Get these: "S.O.S.," "Suicide or Rock N Roll"
Wax it if you like: scary munchkins with Danzig t-shirts

Playlist - New York Fashion Week (September 05)

As part of the ONDA crew, I've tried to make the fashion world sound a little more fab since 2000. Dropping beats in the hopes of helping the malnourished hobble down the runway is no easy task. Oh, but YOU'RE a DJ now. I see. So you think you’re pretty damn stylee, rockin that busted-up whatever designed by what’s-his-name. 8th Street in the house! Damn you’re so fashion! Well, in an effort to keep you on the cusp of something, I've decided to compile a list of our favorite tracks from the recent NY Fashion Week. Now you can live your life to the soundtrack of the Pink Mafia. Kiss kiss. (ps-this chic photo is a vice "don't." However, I think there is a little bit of "do do" in there, oui?)

A sampling from the runways of Diane Von Furstenberg, Catherine Malandrino, Kai Milla, Hilfiger, Michon Schur, Nicole Miller & Naomi Campbell’s Katrina Benefit.

Product 01 – Heart of Glass
Espen Horne – Ain’t No Sunshine
Urbs - Su Weit
Billy Joel v. Jay Z - You Had to be a Big Pimp
Jessica Fletchers – Summer Holiday
The Blood Arm – Say Yes
Ladyfuzz - Oh Marie
Riton – Candy
Gobsausage – Hitchin’
Smoove – All This Love
Shannon v. Nino Rota – Let the Otto e Mezzo Play
Eurythmics – Sisters Are Doin it For Themselves
Meleni – Meet me in the Bathroom