I've taken a few weeks off of my interview game to focus on what's important: organic farming, beekeeping, and masturbation. Maybe one day I'll graduate back into what interviews used to do for me, but when you send out 50 interviews and get 5 back, shit starts to wear on you.
Don't these musicians and bands realize how important SYFFAL interviews are in the grand scheme of lifez?
SYFFAL interviews are the green manure in the compost heap of the music business. Once bands start realizing that no one gives a flying Fuck about them as people, yet appreciate seeing them shoot the shit, shit like this can sometimes turn someone on to their music because, hey, we all shoot the shit.
Quite possibly one of my favorite interviews of the year, right here, is with Hang Glider. Hang Glider put out an album I have yet to stop listening to, and more importantly, I've single handedly turned about 52 people onto his charismatic blend of chill, hell yeah and dude totally.
Want to know what a SYFFAL interview is supposed to read like? Go head.
HANG GLIDER INTERVIEW GO:
SYFFAL: Who are you Senor Hang Glider? Are you Armenian? And what does your daddy do?
Hang Glider: My name is Mike and I live in Los Angeles. I myself am not Armenian, but I live near a dense Armenian part of Hollywood, strangely called 'Little Armenia' (seems a silly name to me). They sell this interesting form of string cheese in the shops there. It's like a wad of thickish cheese twine.
My dad is a former war hero and current family hero. He can sing very well.
SYFFAL: Are you afraid of condiments?
Hang Glider: Not most.
SYFFAL: Fuck you Mike Glider. When was the last time you baptized some bitches? I always read articles about electronic artists out in Californiaz baptizin bitches. You seem the baptizin type.
Hang Glider: About three weeks ago. It was Wednesday night, a 1 AM baptismal in the Roosevelt Hotel pool. We installed a curvy orange water slide for it. Pauly Shore was there too.
SYFFAL: Pauly Shore was my confirmation sponsor. The name Hang Glider insinuates that you are bird like, and after stalking your facebook profile, I do not agree with this insinuation. What happens when you insinuate Hanger?
Hang Glider: No flight photos on Facebook. I fly naked, so they get taken down.
SYFFAL: Mmhmm. Speaking of hangars, what is your opinion of the, now deceased, underground rap group Hangar 18? That fat white guy is fucking awesome, has never read a self help book in his life, and is one of my best friends.
Hang Glider: You know, I never got a chance to check them out. But it's great he did his thing without any self-help books. I can't so much as put socks on in the morning unless I've read a few pages of Stephen Covey.
SYFFAL: Hunger Potter Games question: Team Edward or Team brown hair guy?
Hang Glider: I haven't seen that movie or read the books. Not super up on my Potter either. I'll say Team Brown Hair Guy, because to me that is a better name for a team.
SYFFAL: Fuck you. I, too, believe that children are our future, and I hope to treat them well, but will for fucking shit fucking not let them lead the way. When I let my 4 year old pick out movies on Netflix it's always Power Rangers and shitty cartoons that have 77 episodes per season and never ran on any fucking channel for longer than two fucking episodes, so there's a reason why it's on fucking Netflix. What is your opinion on Bradley Cooper's eyes?
Hang Glider: Agreed, our kids should watch the same gritty programming that we watch. If I had a four-year-old, I'd show him/her the 'bathtub scene' from Breaking Bad (S1) and then we would have a good talk about it.
When Bradley Cooper threw his Tommy Burger wrapper at my feet before jumping into his Porsche, I failed to get a look at his eyes. Next time I'll engage him. He is always at Tommy Burger.
SYFFAL: re: Breaking Bad tub scene: C'mon, I'm not a sadistic shitcock, I'd go with the part when the ATM falls on the dirty bearded dude bro dude bro.
I love hip hop, but I hate rappers. Is it possible, in Hang Glider's reality, to have one without the other? How would one, statistically speaking, check tha mic without a rapper saying "uuuuhhhhh" or "yo" or "it's all good baby bay-baaaaaay"?
Hang Glider: In Hang Glider's world, rappers ditch the peacockery and sing echo-ballads about childhood memories and failed relationships. So rap is a little different over here.
SYFFAL: Peacockery was my nickname in Greek School. My last long term girlfriend before I met and wifeyed wifey used to put her chewing gum behind her ear when she was interrupted in gum chewing by a delicious meal or pass of the bing bong. This was both disgusting and appreciated, as sometimes when we were attempting the coitus, I had a snack waiting for me, yet most of the time it was unwelcome because it would end up stuck to the seat of my el camino. What is more telling: that chick's are disgusting outside of the vaginal area, or that this muthafucker interviewing you had a motherfucking el camino?
Hang Glider: I'm jealous. I would really like to drive an El Camino around. I was helping a friend car shop a few weeks ago, and this place in Gardena had a sick one, freshly restored. Twas some temptation, there.
That's pretty gross about the gum. But a snack during the no-pants-dance can be good sometimes. A few years ago I knew this girl who came equipped with fresh made saltwater taffy. And I suppose that stuff is sort of similar to gum. But better. I don't really chew gum these days. And saltwater taffy always reminds me of being a kid. They don't know shit bout salt water taffy in LA. What bullshit.
SYFFAL: I can't lie to you Hangy, it was a Honda Accord station wagon with a SOCCER MOM sticker on the window and an I Love Ferrets license plate holder. That, I am being completely honest about. My vehicle was the most inconspicuous shit ever. I could pull a two footer and exhale into a cop's fucking face at a stop light and the dude would nod, tip his cap and say "Ma'am". Where do you rank on the jealousy meter right now? Are you now considering a station wagons?
Hang Glider: No. I like my 1987 Mazda 323 hatchback just fine.
SYFFAL: SYFFAL's rise to awesome was a combined effort between my friend Tim, his brother Kyle, our Jew friend Del and seventeen blow-jobs. Most of these blow-jobs went to Kyle, as he designed the site and keeps it from crashing all the timez, but 4 or 5 of these blow-jobs were sent via UPS to Tim and Del and myself. If you were a betting man, how many blow-jobs did the Jew receive? How many has he used? How many does he keep on his bathroom mirror to look at, but never use, to make himself feel cool?
Hang Glider: Seeing as how he shared an initial allotment of 4 or 5 with you and Tim, I'm going to say he got two, and used them both. I'm guessing his bathroom mirror is tastefully decked with vintage Swedish landscape photos. Like this other Jewish guy I know.
SYFFAL: I'm sorry Hangdangler, the answer was poppycock. SYFFAL was created to keep our friends abreast of the music we found absotitly titties. Who are three bands/artists you've been in lust with lately? I'm a pussy for In The Whale, Night Beds and Rapewolf.
Hang Glider: I listen mostly to old stuff. Simon and Garfunkel and shit. And nails-on-chalkboard free jazz.
SYFFAL: I see you and my friend Del will get along swimmingly. Will you participate in Pop Cultures Collide by covering the Diff'rent Strokes theme song as a chillwave electronica song?
Hang Glider: That is simply a terrific idea.
SYFFAL: PRove it. What is next for you, Hang Glider, besides the Pop Cultures Collide and remaining absofuckinglutely adorablez?
Hang Glider: An ambient project where I mic up seeds as they germinate and sprout. Tremendous gain so we can hear what's going on. I'll process the living daylights out of the sounds to make it sound all psych-like. Then maybe have some poets recite over it. About childhood memories and failed relationships. Natch.
SYFFAL: As a friend of the Vatican and a subscriber on Church Upskirts dot com, I bid you hello, is it me you are looking for? I can see it on your eyes. I can see it in your smilez.
Thanks, as always, to New Day New Dick for the cock.