Articles

Maybe I was raised to simply shut the Fuck up when shit doesn't go my way. It isn't that I feel everything that happens to me is a direct result of my own actions, or that I don't deserve the occasional free pass due to illness or something going on with my family, but I've learned to keep my fucking mouth shut rather than unloading into the universe that Joely needs a huggie. I remember when I was a kid my dad looking at me and saying one word "Quitcherbitchin'", and I don't necessarily always live by that motto, but the problems I deal with don't tend to involve the people I consider friends. Sure, sometimes I'll call Burnout when I had a flat tire and broke a nail while changing it. I'd like to think Pauly and Tim are close enough friends that I can call and bitch about something or...

The first time I heard Frank McGinnis, or Time Travels as he goes by now, I had randomly skipped ahead to a track on his album that was both vivid and fucking intense. It surprised the fucking shit out of me in a way I don't remember any other artist doing. All at once he portrayed this innocently transparent musician who is both haunted and inspired by his surroundings and experiences, and it touched me in places no one's been since before I gave up Catholicism for just not being a fucking asshole and striving to be a decent muthafucker. This time, Time Travels, or Francis McGinnis as I calls hims, on this his cover of the Pretty Woman soundtrack standout King of Wishful Thinking, will do all of the following: disarm you with his raw "I bet he needs to spit" voice, impress you with his...

For better or worse, I was borned 'n raised in the Detroit-area suburbs and got introduced to the Insane Clown Posse at an early age. Due to the fact that I was all of about twelve years old and obsessed with video games such as Doom, it is easy to see where the appeal of two guys dressed as clowns spitting explicit, juvenile lyrics about nutsacks and violence originated from. Hearing tales of how the older kids on my street went to the group's autographing event at the local record store and got soaked in various flavors of Faygo (the budget-brand soda found throughout most of Michigan) sounded like nothing short of promotional genius to me. While I never went so far as to actually procure any of ICP's physical recordings (nor any merchandise, despite how highly coveted...

As much as I try to make it out to see cool bands, all scarves and sweaters and leather pantsed, as often as I trek out to some mystery, converted loft space to see the flavor of the month DJ, hit up the swanky soul Sundays here at the bar, or get so wasted that dubstep is dope, I keep going back to shit venue after shit venue to catch unknown emcees flow over mediocre beats to lackluster crowds. What is it? Why do I continually do this to myself? It must be how alcoholics feel opening the door to an empty, loveless apartment clutching a fifth of vodka in their cold, twitching hands. I love underground hip hop! I don’t think any other genre of music puts up with what us devotees of underground hip hop deal with. Underground hip hop is like the worst husband ever: out late, gets drunk,...

Over the past year or so I have become a full fledged addict of Podcasts. At one point I think they were all I listened too. I was subscribing to about 19 or so, not including the ones I would only listen to at work (I’m looking at you PTI and NBC Nightly News). It started out with the BS Report, Bill Simmons wildly popular ESPN podcast that covered the world of sports and pop culture, pretty much the pre-cursor to his site Grantland. Being that it is one of the most popular podcasts, I don’t think I am alone in this one. Like with anything, I feel into the rabbit hole and found more and more podcasts that I liked. They took over my listening habits and eventually started blending into each other. I decided I needed to walk away from a bunch of them*, it is not that I don’t like...

1996: In high school, I was in a band where the bass player was a what I would like to consider a super-fan of the band Tool. We used to sit in his car in front of the house where we rehearsed and listen to Aenema on repeat really fucking loud. For hours we would sit there and listen to the tape, staring out the window, playing air drums, inhaling his numerous yellow tree air fresheners. It was a waste of time, sure. But when you're baked out of your mind and in lust with a band as mysterious and thrust-worthy as Tool, well, I'm thankful I sat still and soaked it all in. Every person that sat in that car in front of that house knew every fucking riff, drum breakdown, creepy calliope intro part, lyric and/or vocal inflection of our dear Maynard James Keenan. 1997: When I enrolled in...

When people say they're "dropping" a "mixtape" I'm usually leery of giving it anything more than a skim because I always interpreted it as kind of a half-assed attempt at releasing music. It's like, either go all the way and put out an EP or an LP or even a fucking single, but don't fucking give me thirty second or a minute and a half shit tracks that you aren't happy with in the first place. If I wanted lazy music, I'd make it my fucking self. That said, I've been proven wrong. And I'm not only okay with it, but I'm seriously excited about other people hearing this dude. Milo, a college student from the wilderness of Northern Wisconsin, is a fucking nerd with a philosophy major to trudge through. Fortunately, for his grades and my ears, the dude can write his dick off. Combining...

Teen Wolf was a movie that always made me want to own a milk truck. I mean, I've had my peeps dancin' on my car roofs in the past, but being up so high and being so visible to the community would make le roof dancing all the more impressionable upon the peoples. The championship game scene in any 80's movie is always the most dramatic, and Michael J. Fox's performance during Teen Wolf was no exception. It was filled with slow motion cut scenes, missed shots, the fat guy from Pee Wee's Big Adventure, and one of those truly inspiring soundtrack additions that made you want to wrestle Matthew Modine. Then there's Wes Restless. It is a crime that this dude is relatively unknown outside of Chicago, but his work with Dynamic Vibrations, The Gent$, The Jordan Years and even his...

Gashcat, and this month's submission for Pop Cultures Collide, As the World Falls Down, represents everything we set out to accomplish with the original idea of pop cultures collide. Taking the Aqua Net sheen of David Bowie's classic song from the soundtrack of the nightmares and wet dreams of our youth in the movie Labyrinth, and pairing them with the barefoot wonder of Gashcat: this song is absolutely perfect. Perfect for PCC. Perfect to swallow up that last bit of summer before the frost starts inching its way up your inseam to force-hibernate your fucking balls up near your throat. Listen to what a few of us think to be the best Pop Cultures Collide submission yet. And if Gashcat is your favorite new band because of it, TELL EVERYONE YOU KNOW ABOUT THEM. And then go...

I recently discovered producer/instrumental hip hop artist Knxwledge and I have been delving deep into his sound since this discovery. Knxwledge is a muthafucking genius at crafting his signature sound that is full of glitches, left turns, brilliant instrumentation, wild vocal samples all melded into a cohesive sound that reminds me of a marriage of the production work of Dilla, MF Doom and Bob James. It is a kinky marriage that invites outsiders over for key parties and will randomly sunbath naked on the roof. Tanlines suck bro. I absolutely love Knxwledge's production style, everything across his numerous albums just bangs front to back. It is anchored in an emotional realizm that exposes other producers and their in ability to break out from a specific mold or genre. He is able to...