A few friends and I, every year for the past three years, set up this music festival in the small town where we live. We book the bands, brew the beer, pitch the tents, invite the vendors, arrange the volunteers, cross our fingers for no rain, you know, we put on a fucking music festival bro.
While it might not seem like it from the outside, booking the bands is always the most difficult. You weigh their cost versus their value and sometimes you take a chance and pay more than you'd want to for a band that hasn't shown you shit, and sometimes you pay a band you know will murder for less than they're worth just to be able to play the show for you. Thankfully we do everything we can to make the weekend enjoyable for all of the...
I loved the beat when this started, and then I loved the first dude's everything when he started, and now here I am wondering why more good people can't put collective albums together like this.
This is how you build a scene people.
Get all of your talented friends, have them prove that they're talented, document the proof, then share that shit in a way that is both visually and audibly appealing.
And then make that first dude on the basketball court promise to be my bestie. Dude is just fucking COOL.
Not sure who all of these people are, but this track jams, the hook is fucking titties, and no one is wearing a coat. I both hate them and admire them for not having to wear three layers right now.
Go buy this entire All Your Friends' Friends project at KRECS.
Then take four hours of your day and start liking/following all of the people involved in this shit. And I bet he likes nachos like I like nachos.
Mike Arson came to my attention from the homie Masai. And bro, I'm a Masai fan boy. I have Masai jorts, a Masai tankini and a shitload of Masai beverage coasters around the crib bro. I even reference my genitals as if Masai himself had circumcised me.
Seeing as I have a hidden camera in the ATG mansion out in New York (pronounced New YOK bro), I sort of swindled my way into getting the world premiere of the new Mike Arson video titled "Rooftops", which features my favorite human with a brain and a mic, Masai.
If you've never spent time with the boys in ATG, I think this is a fucking delcious place to start. You've got the subtle bounce and drive beat bangin', but it's the feeling of "I already know this track" that sets me off when it comes to most of the ATG tracks I put in the holes on either side of my face.
LET US ALL SWARM MIKE ARSON WITH HELL YEA AND SHARE THE EVER LOVING SHAT OUT OF "Rooftops" SHALL WE?
Remember to hit up the release party that's happening on 11/29 at Ship's Pub in Albany!
AND WHAT? THE ALBUM DROPS TODAY TOO?
Go scoop the album Playing With Matches at http://atg518.com/ asap brohammers.
Follow ATG on Facebook for more stalker action!
Allow me to preface this fucker by saying I have no idea who Flight Facilities are/is/be. Del always slyly slides me shit to listen to that I don't really care to research a history of who is who, I just wait for then good musics to fondle my side-face holes, I giveth no Fucks who you are. But, I responded to a friend's question about what I was listening to that very second while working on some mind numbing data entry shit at worky work.
I was listening to Flight Facilities that very second.
In fact, when dude was asking me what I was listening to that very second, that second I was actively skipping the track I was on because it was absolutely...
I love it when I'm on the toilet and a video link pops up from an email address I don't recognize and I'm all "well who knew I had seven minutes to burn?". So I clicks the links and I let the video load and I start half-watching/half-yawning.
Until I'm not. (The following is an accurate reenactment of my toilet experience.)
THIS LADY IS OBVS A DOORMAT.
HOLY HELL HER FAMILY SUCKS! SHE FINNA SNAP!
OH HELL BALLS SHE SNAAAAAAAAAAPS!
Why am I cheering on a music video?
How does one achieve an erection while defecating?
How did it all come to this?
WHY AM I MAKING THE SCRUNCHY FACE?
WHY DO I WANT TO RUN IN SLOW MOTION TO THE CORNER STORE AND BUY A GANG OF fucking FUNYUNS?
Jesus balls the beat on this song is making me want to break fax machines, like, all fucking over the place. What started out as cinematic and beautiful is now whisper-screaming in my ear to kill all of the technology. I SHALL PUT MY FISTS THROUGH EVERYTHING! YEAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Who the Fuck is BiPolar Junction and where can I get a hug? I'm so much everything. Confused. Aroused. Excited. Completely terrified.
I WANT THIS FEELING TO KEEP HAPPENING EVERY FIVE MINUTES AND TWENTY FOUR SECONDS!