Videos

WE GET TO WORLD PREMIERE THE NEW VIDEO FROM CREAM DREAMERS THEIR OCEAN? OH BRO JOY! Their Ocean have that dreamy, whispy shit going on something serious. The calm softness of dude's voice paired with the emotionally intensive songscapes these fuckers drop is uncomfortably serene. I've had a bro-crush on Their Ocean for a few years now, and we're jacked to see a new album on the horizon (July 6th, 2015 bro), we just don't know how long we can hold off on acting on this secret love bro. With the vocals being both distracting and calming, Their Ocean make me want to write their names in my trapper keeper John Cusack style. THEIR OCEAN, STOP HITTING ON ME, BUT NEVER STOP HITTING ON ME, K?

I love how this video sounds like something so deliciously 80s it's making me want to flip up my collar and throw snaps at everyone in my fuckign way. Whoever the hell Stella is, I want her to know I've considered wearing leg warmers in the summer and I'm back on track with wearing black spandex (MANDEX FOR ME) twice a week just for kicks. If you listen to this song and don't dance like the lady towards the end, you are fucking dead inside and I want you to apologize to yourself in the mirror for being such a piece of fucking shit. I love Stella. Call me.

Haiku Salut have been a guilty pleasure of mine for a few years. They're the perfect "stare out the window when you're supposed to be working" or "imagine yourself playing a glockenspiel when you're supposed to be bathing three children and getting them ready for bed" or "shaving a spruce tree with a rhododendrum when you should be paying your taxes". You can see how magically delicious their instrumental music is to me because I'm talking out of my ass all over again, and I'm perfectly okay with that shit. I love you Haiku Salut, please include a sharp intake of breath in EVERY song from here on out. That'll be the way I know you're writing all this music for me. Sort of like how when I'm on live television and I touch my heart with my ankle, that means I love you from me. Right? And...

Whoever the fuck Whale Bones are, I have a whale-sized bo- WAIT NO I'M NOT TAKING THE EASY ROUTE TO GIGGLETOWN. I DO NOT HAVE A WHALE SIZED BONER BRO. I AM AN AMERICAN MALE AND I DO NOT HAVE THE LARGEST PENIS OUT OF ALL THE OTHER PENISES, I JUST KNOW THAT THIS ONE'S MINE. THIS IS MY PENIS. IT IS PERFECT THE WAY IT IS. But this fucking song tho bros. This is the rock of my dreams, where there's this splash of Jimmy Eat World meets the Heavy Guilt and I'm fucking doing that foot tap thing where the ball of my foot is planted firmly on the floor but I'm flapping my ankle to and bro. Fuck fro, this foot is going to and bro, bro. Whale Bones, I am now a fan, and I hope you continue to impress me so I can brag about having liked you before everyone else jumped on this fucking band's wagon. THIS...

These guys can absolutely do no wrong. Both have reinvented rap careers. Not that they ever quit or fell off. But being open to the transformations in their own art and identity has been fascinating. Sometimes even more than the music they're making. I was at their show at the Echoplex last year and was struck by the amount of Coachella types. You know what I mean. There was some EDM guy opening and me and a large black man were sitting on the back bench sourly nursing our beers like we came for some mother fucking gangster shit tho. Oh, they gave it to us. Once laptop trance boy finished, we were both right there, necks wrecked, right along side the v-necks and flower garland headbands. Run the Jewels is as fucking bombastic and rugged as they come. You can't marry two smarter yet...

LA Jeff, who are apparently from fucking Massachusetts, submitted this ditty and I'm wondering how the fuck they got ahold of my diary. This song, off their upcoming record Holidaze Inn, is how I feel every single fucking time I go out. Ever! Me and Del and Lang all huddle in the corner putting out the vibe, with awkward abandon. Me, stirring my Jameson ginger ale way too aggressively. Del, sucking on the drawstrings of his Hood Internet hoodie, and Lang drawing dicks on his arm with a sharpie. All this while Johnny fucking scores all the hotties, and Tom looks on disapprovingly. This is like that bee girl video from Blind Melon, only the complete opposite. It's like about the kind of guy that would eventually pollenate that little bee girl's vagina in high school behind the PE...

These dudes, Smug Brothers, caught me in a good mood.  And honestly the guy in the video and I could be related. I know bro, sorry.  Plus, I mean, sometimes a little, lo-fi rock joint is just want you need. Or, what I need, more accurately.  Plus, fuck you!  Smug Brothers: Super Mario Brothers bedded the little brother of The Smothers Brothers and The Blues Brothers' lovechild's roommate.  Pick up there new record, Woodpecker Paradise, on Bandcamp (link below).  Love, Brando

My boy! LA rap-reptile, Turtle, quietly released the high-quality LP Flightless Birds (Who Fight With Words) on Keep the Feel records late last year. His new baby is in the form of a video for, "It Never Leaves," and it listens like that time Green Lantern and Flash teamed up for the Blackest Night crossover. You get super heroes, their own powers in tact, combining forces to fight a mystical force ridding the planet of emotion. REAL STORY! Turtle's ability to paint pictures with his lips makes him up there in terms of interesting with that internet elephant that can paint pictures with his trunk. Gajah is the human credit card commerical terms and regulations agreement voice. And Anthm towers above on some BATMAN DIDN'T DIE AT THE END OF FINAL CRISIS AFTERALL TYPE shit...

There's a huge part of me that's all smarty pants, and weird hair, and nerd glasses, and craft beer. Then there's this small part of me that hates all that and smokes blunts on bridges built over freeways and covered in chains. Hat cocked to the side, I recall a time before the term artisan entered my life. It was simpler then. Bub Styles brings me back every time. I literally thought, what ever happened to my bomber jacket while watching this. Greener's hook goes, "I spend my time trying to figure with is greener, the money or the reefer." There's no nuance there. No witty wordplay or intellectual parlance. This is that grab a homie and do dirt shit with. Hannibal King's production brings that stoop to Cali and has me New Jersey driving on the 110 freeway, god! I love this Bub...

Leitbur holds a special place in my loins. The dude drops undeniably 80s throwback electro with super cool juice spurted and squirted all over its upturned blublocker-bespectacled face. If I had the chance to date Mr. Leitbur, I can almost bet on the fact that he'd pick me up in one of Mr. Miyagi's classic cars, and he wouldn't ask for a handy, as I'd already have my hands where we can't sees ems, na mean? While the creepy cartoon faces in this video capture a cynically gleeful side of Leitbur, I assure you this dude is tap tap tapping away at his Commodore 64 and planning the next episode of War Games bro.  Love his music? Fuck yes. Trust this sumbitch? Only to turn me on and leave me wanting White Castle afterwards.