Sheesh.

Photo still from Disney's Song of the South, released in 1946.

The world of Disney keeps making this a brighter place with their gadgets and uplifting movies. Next in line are some necklaces promoting Pirates of the Caribbean's Dead Man's Chest.

This is my favorite (as well as Bossip's):


That would be perfect with my Curious George Obama Oh-Eight shirt. Right in the city (well, Marietta) where I stay. The pride in my voice is thick.

The dude who started American Apparel is a genius.

Because while most blatant perverts catch cases and are banned from the book of being human, this summabitch becomes a multi-millionaire because he's a fan of pastel colors and snug tees. Really can't hate 'em for that.

But the consumers, on the other hand--well, that's another story. I'm not gonna sit here and bash all AA supporters, because you do what you want, but honestly, I'm a little (and by "a little," I mean "a lottle") over seeing half-naked chicks showing off their shapeless bodies with clothes that fails to make them appear they kinda have some sort of shape goin' on.

Yawn.

Where are we right now?

While I do believe Oh-Eight will be our year--by "our," I mean those of us who have brains and like using them wisely--there are a handful of idiots who still want to live through an out-dated perspective.

Exhibit 90 trillion: Bossip posted an article about North Dakota State University students putting on a theatrical performance that includes one white kid in black face portraying Barack Obama receiving a lap dance from a stripper. Then you got two dudes in the background posing as cowboys simulating anal sex.

Yeaaaaaaaaah.

I'm gonna need for people to stop being stupid, wake the fuck up and be merry. Nobody has time for that shit. Except, of course, when you post a blog entry stating that fact. But that's besides the point.

Anyway, is racism the only card ignorant people can pull these days? You can't just clown people for being imbeciles anymore? Now, you gotta insert someone's race to try to cut deeper? Come now--smarten up, y'all.

So this is how I've been feeling in the past six weeks:

Erykah Badu - Me

Just listen to it and you'll understand why I haven't been blogging as often as I used to in the past six weeks. I've been on a beautiful journey of self-discovery, and I'm loving it.

Love,
Amb

Video Vault: "Da Art of Storytellin" by Outkast ft. Slick Rick

Uhhhh, how can you go wrong with this video? Man. It's so underrated, too. People didn't even give a damn about this video when it came out circa 1999. They were too busy trying to "Tear Da Roof Off" with Busta-Bus (and understandably so--that album was the shit).

Uh, yeah, The Kills? May I have my brains back please?

Because you've blown them away. Three out of three ain't bad, babydolls. I was a little nervous because you graced the covers of Nylon magazine and was a featured artist on Myspace. Nope. The grit is still there. The sexiness is still there. The awesomeness is still there. I love this new album. I want to make silly, sweet love to it.

Listen:
Kills - Tape Song

Keith Olbermann, marry me.

He kills it. He abso-fucking-lutely kills it. From his rippage on Geraldine Ferraro being a dumb, victimizing cunt to Hillary Clinton pretending like she didn't know what the hell was going on with her campaign to references to Ferraro's comments back in '88 during Jesse Jackson's run to--ahhh, everything. His references, his viewpoints and objectivity was outstanding. He literally revived journalism with his near 10-minute calm tirade. Go, Keith, go.

It's strange, because I used to watch this guy every night at 10 CST for Sportscenter. Damn.

I've been really on edge lately because of this unraveling of the shitstorm that the Democratic primaries have become. Obama, rise above it. Keep doing you, boo-boo.

For those of you who don't know Sir Mix-A-Lot:

Yeah, yeah, he's a lame mutha now because of that lame-tastic "Baby Got Back," but he will always be remembered in my eyes for this song. The flow, the beat=flawless.

Girl, do you!

Raven-Symoné, you are a brilliant lil lady. You were once touted the "400 Million Dollar Woman" back in March 2007 on the cover of Ebony. That's a whole lot of money, and yet she manages to stay out of the negative limelight and lives her life like a level-headed human being. And what I love most about her is that people constantly tried to find ways to clown her, mostly about her weight, and she still kills it.

Yes, my friend. Do.You.

Great songs, Vol. 5: Goodie Mob's "Cell Therapy"

I had to add the video to this'n. You know how you love a song during your pre-adolescence because of something simple, like a hot beat or a wild video? "Cell Therapy" was that for me. I loved the video, loved the beat, loved the flows. But it wasn't until recently (check: yesterday), when I was doing my usual YouTube frenzy looking for old school hip-hop vids and noticed the heavy political tone of the song and video--I mean, on some for real New World Order shit.

AND THAT WAS JUST GOODIE MOB'S FIRST SINGLE!!!!

What I love most about this is that they weren't some Poindexter Negroes that could've been Carlton Banks' best friends, but some down home, Southern brothers dressed in Dickies and wife-beaters with grills. And that was their target in that song! They were saying, "Yo, I know you gotta stay on that grind, but if anything, don't become victims to the mind-controlling system that is our capitalistic society."

Prime example of that is during Big Gipp's part where he's in the convenient store and a woman in front of him buys a two-liter soda (sidebar: am I the only person in the world who grew up saying "cold drink" for sodas?), and that's acceptable, but when he goes to the counter with a newspaper, the attendant won't allow it, because that's the last thing America needs--an aware, knowledgeable black man.

Intelligence, my friends, comes in all kinds of packages.

And in the legendary words of Spike Lee a la Laurence Fishburn in School Daze: People...please wake up.

Let's get Texas and Ohio!

This is how I act on Karaoke Night:

Me, essentially. While people are prepared for their numbers and can look through the song book without much browsing, I sit and theorize how I would sound and if I'm actually in the mood for it. There have been times where I've, literally, nursed the song book for 30 minutes on end just to make sure I got the right song to sing. I take it very seriously, dammit!

Song karaoke gems:
"Stay" by Lisa Loeb
"Fell on Black Days" by Soundgarden
"Real Love" by Mary J. Blige
"Immigrant Song" by Led Zeppelin
"I Feel Like A Woman" by Shanie Twain (and killed it--don't hate)
"Forever My Lady" by Jodeci
"Don't Speak" by No Doubt

Honey Owens loves me.

Females in the drone/experimental/weirdness genre are automatic rules of the world. I went to so many stores Saturday trying to find Valet's newest album, Naked Acid, only to find out it drops tomorrow. I wept. Until, of course, I get it tomorrow. Shares the Kranky Records label with fellow weirdness/drone/awesomeness/experimental brother Bradford Cox of Atlas Sound and Deerhunter. Can't go wrong with that. Kranky's the new Jagjaguwar.

Check her Myspace.

Listen:
Valet - Kehaar

Since when was Jimmy Kimmel funny?

Because he's been pretty fucking hysterical lately. This rebuttal to Sarah Silverman's claim to fucking Matt Damon is golden.

It's got Don Cheadle and Brad Pitt and Macy Gray and Robin Williams and Josh Groban, et al. It's fantastic.

I want to dress Devendra up in my love.

When I saw this news item on Pitchfork, I had to jump on that shit pronto.

You can dress up Devendra Banhart! It's paper dolls online! And you get to see him in his underwear and his overwhelmingly bushy bush! *faints*

Check it out.

Then, of course, it gets old after 24 hours and you realize how you don't really have a life after that.

.........Yeah...........

Oh Mah Jeebus! Pt. 2

Photo courtesy of Re-Up Gang Records

Re-Up Gang, which comprises of Clipse and other collabos, is collaborating with Joss Stone. The world has ended.

Joss Stone reminds me of that particular white girl from every junior high and high school who tried so hard to be down that she dyed her blonde hair really dark and talked with a "blackcent" and dated only black dudes and tried to wear tight Baby Phat jeans to show she has a "black girl booty." Yeah, we've seen it all before, Joss Stone. Yawn.

TV Vault: The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and Bell Biv Devoe.

"I was trying to get to my room...Ty, what was you doin'?"
"I was tryin' to get in the video."

Classic.

Great songs, Vol. 4: Jay-Z's "The Takeover."

Greatest.Diss.Song.Ever. Know why this diss song is so great? Because Jay-Z isn't that great a rapper. Allright, before I get stones thrown at me, lemme explain. You've got your great flowers, and you've got your great wordsmiths. You've got your great singers, and you've got your great voices. Very fine lines. Anyway, Shawn Carter falls in the "great wordsmiths" categories. He can't ride the beat that well, but what he's saying is so powerful that you don't even bother to get technical when you listen to 'em. Shit, Jimi Hendrix couldn't read a lick of music, according to Miles Davis who said so in a Hendrix biography, 'Scuse Me While I Kiss The Sky.

Anyway, so I didn't respect Jay-Z as much as I do now until he dissed Mobb Deep and Nas in The Blueprint's "Takeover." Nas did allright with his semi-entertaining "Ether," but Jay-Z went personal and did the most damage, at least to me. He got down. He took it to the heart. And even though Nas said some shit too, as I mentioned, it doesn't matter, because Jay-Z is still relevant without he and Beyoncé showing up at an award show with the word "Nigger" written on their tees and jackets.

With that being said, listen:

In Retrospect: The Virgin Suicides, 2000.

I have an interesting viewer-director relationship with Sofia Coppola. I mean, I respect her as an artist, I truly do, but her movies tend to leave me with the same effect every time: I watch it, like it, get over it, then a few years later I get re-intrigued by it, then watch it, and absolutely love it.

That's how it was for Lost In Translation, I tried to sit through Marie Antoinette, but I'm sure I'll watch it again, and finally, with The Virgin Suicides.

I watched it for the first time in nearly four years last night and I was re-acquainted with Coppola's style that is oh-so simplistic yet oh-so profound. I mean, really, who couldn't help but cry "DADDY'S GIRL!" whenever you see her shit? But even with her short, Lick The Star, I enjoyed, and, again, had to watch twice to appreciate. That's true artistship right there. And for that, Sofia, I respect you for it.

The soundtrack of The Virgin Suicides is flawless. The film itself is impeccable, especially the above scene. Sofia Coppola is the only director to make Kirsten Dunst watchable and Giovanni Ribisi listenable.

Atlas Sound brings the good stuff.

If you don't own this album yet, shame on you! And for those of you are in Atlanta and are not going to his album release party tonight, shame on you, too! Actually, that goes for me, for I will not be able to make it to that show tonight, due to me spending all my money on Liars and Black Mountain last weekend. Luckily, Bradford Cox is local and will play here a million more times.

In the meantime, listen:
Atlas Sound - Quarantined
Atlas Sound - Recent Bedroom

Video Vault: St. Ides commercials were so gangsta.

Remember St. Ides? If so, I'm terribly sorry. During my short stint as a rebellious youth back in the sixth grade, I would go to the local supermarket and wreak all kinds of havoc. Everyday was like I was in the Smashing Pumpkins' “1979” video.

Anyway, I would go there and just open up cans of beer and feel like a badass and drink it and such. St. Ides was one of those beverages, and lemme tell ya—it was the worst damn liquor. As much as I hate saying the word, it literally was a “pussy-ass” drink. And the funny thing about it was the fact that they had all these rappers like Tupac and Snoop and Wu-Tang and shit doing the commercials.

I would catch these videos when I watched The Box all the time. Damn. The Box. Wow. That was for those like me growing up who didn't have cable at first so had to settle for The Box, and then forgot all about it when I graduated to Rap City. Ahhhh. It was a great channel, though. Wonder where it is now.

More:




Oh, West Coast rap. How I miss thee.

Black Mountain with Blood on the Wall, Feb. 15 @ The Earl

Blood on the Wall





Black Mountain:





Thoughts:
Whoa.

OK, so here's the thing: I am a fan of Black Mountain. Ever since their self-titled debut in 2005, I've been on 'em. I was even more stoked to hear that their first single, “Tyrants” off their newest album, In the Future, was an impeccable seven-plus minutes. Can't ever go wrong with that.

Honestly, after seeing Liars, I didn't think I'd have any leftover energy to see Black Mountain. It was one of those things where I rocked out so hard at the previous show that I wasn't expecting BM to impress me as much. I mean, Liars is one of my favorite bands. Just a terribly hard act to follow, y'know?

But I'll be damned if those Canadian summabitches surprised the shit out of me last night when I saw their performance. I knew it was gonna be good, correct; but I did not expect it to reach the level of brilliance. I mean, they rocked hard. It's been a while since I've been to a good ol' fashioned, straight-up rock show. It's refreshing, man, because anything that sounds remotely like classic rock is gonna be up my alley. Goddam. I felt like I was in a time warp to 1971, man. Prog rock lives on!

Also: Blood on the Wall had a solid performance. I couldn't help but think Pixies influence—with a dabble of The Vaselines influence—while listening to them.

Liars with No Age, Feb. 14 @ The Earl

No Age:





Liars:





Thoughts:
So as some of you may know, I have been looking forward to this show since November. It was definitely the most anticipated show of the year for me. And boy, did it not disappoint.

It's been a while since I've gone to a show where I caught the opening act. I used to go to shows all the time just so I could see the opening act, but then I grew super elitist and was like, “Bah, who cares—the opening act is probably gonna suck anyway. New music just doesn't strike me anymore.” And now, I have gotten over that 12-month slump of thought and have reverted to my original passion of going to shows and enjoying the possibility of knowing a new act.

No Age certainly isn't a new act with the hip kids out there, but during my elitist stupor, I overlooked 'em. Fortunately, I was presented an opportunity to get to know who the hell these kids were about and freakin' loved 'em! They knocked me out the box (Rick)! First off, I didn't even know they were a duo making all that noise, and second, they were the perfect opening act for Liars. So, yeah, thank you, No Age for that.

And of course, Liars. Oh, Liars. LiarsLiarsLiars. Need I say more? I mean, seriously—need I? Need I elaborate on the state of happiness I was in as soon as I saw Angus Andrews walk onstage, dressed in a magenta suit? I literally became a little girl when I saw him. Giggles galore. Freakin' loved it. Starting out a show with “Leather Prowler” is too much to bear.

People were saying it was gonna be a “tame” Liars show because Andrews blew out his back a few weeks back before they kicked off their tour. So for the most part, he was sitting in a chair, but then he'd feel the moment and just WAMMO! Out the chair he goes and up the air he went, as if possessed by his own band's genius. I couldn't help but think, “Hmmm. So this is how the kids who were lucky to see Frank Zappa live felt.”

While we're on the subject:You own my soul, JH.

I've mentioned before that Jimi Hendrix, along with Isaac Brock as far as current musicians goes, is my all-time guy. My dude. My soul mate from another lifetime. Well, just about everything that is my favorite was done by him. My favorite song about life, favorite song about afterlife, favorite song about the stars, favorite song about drugs, favorite song about relationships, favorite song about love, etc.

So my favorite song to listen to that captures love so gently, perfectly, is "May This Be Love." One of my all-time favorite scenes from a movie is from Singles where Campbell Scott and Kyra Sedgewick are hanging out for the first time and they're going through Scott's records he collected during his DJ days and he puts on "May This Be Love" and Sedgewick goes, "Ohhhh, I LOVE this song!" And Scott looks at her as if he finally figured out what it feels like to be in love.

I know what you're thinking--for someone who embraces being single most of the time, I sure do talk about love so adoringly. Yeah, true. To be honest, I'm full of shit. Disregard everything I said in the previous post ('cept the part about Valentine's Day--I still think it's a crock of shit).

Listen:

My thoughts are loud: I have been single every Valentine's Day.

I realized such a thought last night. And I must say, every year, that has been an interesting feat for me. I know, I know, everyone who is single or who isn't a typical female gripe about the lameness that is Valentine's Day, but frankly, I am really glad that I never had to deal with it. Not to say that I'll never have a bf during the holiday, just that I really find it odd that this is an actual holiday that people stress about. A dude at work today was talking about how he's stressed about it. Call me a natural single-ton, but that's just one thing I can't ever see myself stressing about.

But this is coming from someone who is a plant, or, in other words, asexual. Actually, no, wait...

Anyway, I will say I'm looking forward to Valentine's Day for once in my life. Liars are coming to town, and mama's got all the excitement in the world for 'em.

Listen:

It's good to see people care about history.

As my homie Whitney said, this definitely looks like Richard Linklater's Waking Life meets documentary.

This is how a reenactment of a historical event should be. I am beyond stoked. What the world needs now is not love, Jackie DeShannon, but for people to be more in tune with history. And I'm not talking about history nuggets, I'm talking in-depth studies of history. Some people call them "conspiracy theories." That is not a bad thing.

Natalie Cole must've forgotten who she was.

Apparently Natalie Cole is hating on Amy Winehouse for winning all those Grammys while still being a druggie. She tells People:
"I don't think she should have won. I think it sends a bad message to our young people who are trying to get into this business, the ones who are trying to do it right and really trying to keep themselves together," said Cole, 58. "We have to stop rewarding bad behavior."

Yo, Natalie. So I got two things I'm about to reveal. One is when my father told me how he saw you in concert back in the 70s and that you were so coked out that you were there for hours upon hours, not wanting to leave. And he was high himself and thought you were doing too much. Another thing, I recall a particular scene in your made-for-TV biopic where you and your honey were in your house getting high off coke while your young son almost drowned.

And correct me if I'm wrong, but you won several Grammys, most of 'em during your drugged-out heyday.

But now that you're clean and all, I guess you can go around pointing fingers, saying people who are talented don't deserve to win Grammys, which, if I'm not mistaken, rewards you specifically for your musical talents regardless of outside personal battles. I mean, if that wasn't the case, nobody would be award winners.

Oh, how easy people forget.

Great Songs, Vol. 3: "Everyday," by Yo La Tengo

Whenever I express my love for YLT, I'm only speaking of them circa Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out. That album has some dream pop gems, including its intro track, "Everyday," one of the finest examples of experimental dream pop that actually isn't done by Stereolab.

This is the type of song you play in the background after you and your friends just got back from a crazy night of dancing and coming over to the crib to wind down and stay up until 7 a.m. talking. It's the kind of song that evokes trips to memory lane, remembering when you first heard this song and how it made you feel. Me, I first heard it Spring 2005 while walking to class and it was playing on my iPod. I literally stopped in my tracks and was thinking, "What the fuck is this song and why do I want to skip class just to listen to it all day?"

It's simply one of those songs, over six minutes of beauty.

Listen:
Yo La Tengo - Everyday

In the great words of Phil Elvrum, I Am Bored.

I got nothing. The only thing that's somewhat newsworthy is last night's Grammys, and that was a huge snorefest. Kanye's performance was the only phenomenal performance, which was good. I love Feist to death, but her performance was way subdued.

Man. What a disappointing weekend.

Listen:

Video Vault: Montell Jordan's "What's On Tonight"

It was until recently that I realized I was possibly the only person alive who followed Montell Jordan's career after "This Is How We Do It." I mean, I stuck with that brother single after single. I don't know why I loved him so much, but I did. Maybe it was his big, luscious lips. Or the fact he sampled Slick Rick for his first single. Or just because. This song here is a gem.

Naomi Campbell is the new Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson.

A couple of days ago, Naomi Campbell talked about how the fashion industry is more racist than ever. She said if it weren't for her white supermodel friends back in the day, her face wouldn't be as recognizable as it is today.

Of course, an industry that promotes unhealthy thinness doesn't shock me that they do not go after more curvaceous black and Latina models like that they should (sidebar: not to sound ignorant as hell, but is it me or there just ain't no damn Asian models?).

But I'd be damned if I sit here and listen to Naomi fucking Campbell gripe about this shit. Are you fuckin' kiddin' me, woman?! You are gracing the cover of Paris Vogue, after, like, eight years of irrelevance--well, make that two, because the last two years you were in the news for throwing phones and socking people in their jaws and shit, and--gasp!--you still got work! If you were a female rapper, your ass would be in jail right now, not sharing photo cover shoots for Paris Vogue--which she claims she only got because of Yves Saint Laurent. Girl, stop. So, again, another white person sticking up for you. Oh, and let's not forget being in a fucking Superbowl commercial last week showing off your non-existent dance moves.

Naomi, how can you even try to be the spokesperson of racism in the fashion industry? I know, I know, you probably do go through it, I'm sure, but seriously, you saying, in a nutshell, "The only reason why I was ever successful was because of my faithful white friends sticking up for me," is the dumbest thing I've ever heard from someone who pulls the race card.

I dunno about the rest of the black population, because I'm not trying to speak for 'em, but this is me: the whole race card is getting really played out, because it's being pulled by successful black people who supposedly overcame it. Instead, they're just riding its coattails to get more media attention. I never thought I'd say this, but I agree with Charles Barkley on this'n:

...[You] can’t always play the race card. Sometimes the race card is needed but not in every situation. We have to hold blacks more accountable for their actions.”

Oh Mah Jeebus!!!!

Gaaaaaahhhh

Hayden PanitalkmlajbutImacheerleader is gonna be in a film adaptation of Daydream Nation! I dunno who this Michael Goldbach is, but he's destined to ruin the greatest album of all...ahhh...running out of energy.

Though good news is that Kieran Culkin may be in this joint. Bad news is he'll be turning 27 when the movie starts but still playing a teenage boy.

I miss: Lauryn Hill

Still sick, still weak.*

Anyway, the pic above is an actual good recent photo of Lauryn, as opposed to those other ones where blogs are putting her on blast about her going crazy. Won't even dignify 'em by linking to the madness.

I miss her though. She just really hit rock bottom creatively, and from what I understand, personally, and I always sympathize with those who go through a rough time and struggle to overcome it, y'know? Damn. Just a sad scene. But it's OK, she'll come back real hard. Never lose the faith, girlfriend.

D'Angelo, that goes for you, too. Speaking of--Listen:

The "Closer I Get To You" of our generation.



*Speaking of madness, I'm a huge baby when it comes to being sick, so it's a big deal to me, thus me always feeling the need to disclaim such a fact. Also, because I'm delirious when I'm sick, not to mention being under the influence of Nighttime Robitussin. I wasted a lot of energy typing this long ass footnote. Dammit!

Covers: Atlas Sound vs. Liars

Still sick, still struggling to type or function in any type of way. Hope this shit ain't the flu.

Anyway, this Atlas Sound cover of Liars' "Pure Unevil" has been chicken soup for the ears.

Listen (actually, this link will direct you to a site where you can download it onto your media player for free, which is even awesomer):
Atlas Sound - Pure Unevil (Liars Cover)

Also, when I'm back to 100 percent healthy, I'll elaborate on my like for Atlas Sound, side project of Deerhunter's lead singer Bradford Cox.

Pardon my lackage.

Hey kids--

I'm sick. I don't like doing things when I'm sick. I sound like Darryl McDaniels, aka DMC, right now. Or Jonathan Richman a la "Hospital" and "I'm Straight" with the Modern Lovers. See--I'm not even making sense right now.

I know it's bad when I wake up and watch the end of Frasier, back-to-back episodes of Will & Grace, the bad years, and MAD.

You crazy for this one, Missy!

Oh, Missy Elliott, how you make me move, girl! I've been a fan of her since her Sista days. She takes it back to when you know an album is good when the singles are hot. Here's the the best female in the hip-hop AND R&B game.

Listen:
Missy Elliott - Ching A Ling

Throwback:

Great songs, Vol. 2: "Stars Are Projectors," Modest Mouse.

Lemme just tell it to ya straight--Jimi Hendrix and Isaac Brock are compacted tightly into my heart valves, and that's because everything they have ever written has hit me there directly. I've done my fair share of trying to "open" people's eyes and forcing them to listen to their stuff, but it's no use, because there are certain bands you really cannot express how you feel about them with just words. Honestly, I've had drafts on this here blog to discuss the illustrated history of Hendrix and Modest Mouse, but I realized how hard it would be for me to do that, not to mention how long the damn entry would be.

So I've given up on that, and all I do is just mention them briefly, as in, play one song from 'em and then keep it moving.

Like so:

Great songs, Vol. 1: "The Soft Parade," The Doors

Listening to this song brings me to near tears, because it makes me long for a knowledge of a great era that seemed so pure for artists. They just don't make songs like this anymore. Well, actually...Stereolab does plenty of songs like this. And Modest Mouse. And Do Make Say Think and Godspeed You Black Emperor!, just without words.

Anyway, "The Soft Parade" alone provided great leadership for for experimental musicians of today. Life would be much grander if songs were made like this on every album.

Note: The video has lyrics to the song, so have fun trying to decipher what Jim Morrison's talking about. There's "This is the best part of the trip/This is the trip, the best part," filled with various connotations, the most obvious about acid; then there's "All our lives we sweat and save/Building for a shallow grave"--oh, the truth about life!

Man. Stuff like this is priceless.

Speaking of late night hilarity: Sarah Silverman is boinking Matt Damon.

High.Class.Hilarity.

Honestly, I love Conan without the writers, too.

I think it's good that he shows more of his personality and that they're free-forming it, which I think makes it even more hilarious. That bit where he sits in the back row audience last night was fucking hilarious. Free donuts? Camman, that's too funny. And that crazy ass performance with Les Savy Fav? It was too delicious that I turned the channel.

Yay, Conesy.

I'm boycotting Colin Meloy's decision to ruin lives.

The bloody British wannabe bastard's gonna release Colin Meloy Sings Sam Cooke EP only during his solo tour. The alternative version of the EP will be titled Colin Meloy Destroys Soul Live EP. Y'know, I'm not against the whole "blue-eyed soul" phenomenon, but only if the shit's GOOD. I don't need some lame vanilla sombitch try to be ballsy by taking on one of the most soulful brothers on the planet. What the hell, Colin, what the hell?

Ahhhh. This environment is polluting our brains, too, apparently. I feel like I'm goddammithell Lewis Black or something. These people are killing me!

Listen:

The media makes good journalists look evil.

See that guy? It's Harvey Levin, aka Head Asshole at TMZ.com. I recall an interview ET or Inside Edition or some lame ass entertainment news show that talked about the rise of TMZ and how they differ from other entertainment news outlets because they actually practice journalism.

Being a journalist since I was 15, I was really intrigued that someone still used that word in a positive manner. So I'd read some of their stuff, watch some of their videos just for laughs. Because, honestly, that's what celebrity gossip blogs and magazines and Web sites are good for: providing us laughs.

But goddam, it's getting out of hand. The whole "Hurricane Britney" thing is killing me. It went from a few laughs to just downright exploitation with that kid. Then you got asshole "friend" Sam Lufti text messaging blogs to update what's going on with Britney and how he's the good guy in this whole thing. Gimme a break, moron--you're just as hungry as the rest of these douchebags out there who claim to be these celebrities' friends.

And, oh, don't even get me started on Entertainment Tonight. Seriously, ET--you paid $200,000 to get the video of Heath Ledger at a party doing drugs? Really? Thankfully, that shit didn't air, because why would you do that? And they were also the ones who aired the naked photos of Anna Nicole Smith with her face covered in vomit.

It's a goddam leechefest out there! You'd think they'd pay respects for those who died, so they can actually rest in peace, but nah.

It's getting out of hand here. Remember when Star and The National Inquirer were the only ways to get silly celebrity gossip? Now it's just out of hand. There are some sites that just focus on the news and say their funny bit, but the rest are just ruthless. The paparazzi epidemic just keeps spreading.

Oh, corporate greed. It's lovely.

Random ruminations about No Country For Old Men.

OK, finally saw this puppy, and must say I was thoroughly impressed. I shall now list some thoughts.

1. First and foremost, I cannot believe that the villain of this flick was some dude named Anton who sported the freshest Latino version of a press 'n curl and dressed like he was an old lady named Bea who owned a cleaners in Minnesota. It was parted and tucked under and everything! How can this guy be scary?!

2. Now that I think about it, most of the sickest villains appeared harmless. Who knew a dude who was 4'8" and had an upper lip flavor savor who got a band of other dudes wearing knee-high space boots to take part in a mass genocide?

3. Can I be really honest here? Good. So, how about I didn't know who the hell Josh Brolin was until Diane Lane was nominated for an Oscar in 2002 for her role in Unfaithful, and they had pictures of her and he was noted as her fiancé? So until I saw him in American Gangster, I only knew him as Diane Lane's husband. Ain't that some shit? He's fantastic.

4. I didn't know Tommy Lee Jones was 97. ...........*10 minutes later, after looking up his information on IMDB.Oh! They just made him look that old? Oops. My bad, brother. You did a good job.

5. OK, so who else thought of the awkward scene in Trainspotting where Renton found out that the girl he banged was a high school kid whenever Kelly MacDonald, aka Carla Jean Moss, was onscreen?

And most importantly:

6. Did Paramount Vantage have this pact where the only way the Coen Brothers and P.T. Anderson could come out of their hiatus was to film their movies at the same time, at the same location, and have the films focus on two totally different villains who went after the same thing, only to show that they actually are similar because they're both achieving their goals through relentless hatred and corruption?

7. Need elaboration? No worries. Exhibit A= Daniel Plainview. He's charming, good looking, eloquent, can be humorous and cares about his people. At least, on the surface. But beneath the physical attractiveness lies an embittered, ugly asshole who only likes one thing: getting rich, or die trying. A true gangsta. Even though Eli Sunday effortlessly tries to get Plainview to redeem himself from his deep-rooted evil, redemption is bye-bye. Who needs God when you've got dolla dolla bills, y'all? Seriously. Who needs friends when you've got workers to do all your dirty work in order to make you even richer in the end? Exhibit B= Anton Chigurh. He's not-so charming. Not that good-looking (only if you don't imagine sexy ass Javier Bardem portraying the role), not as eloquent for he has a thick Spanish accent, has absolutely no sense of humor and doesn't give a fuck about anybody. Can't say beneath the surface lies a sensitive, caring man. I'd be a lying mother if I said that. But, just like Plainview, he only cares about one thing: getting rich, or die trying. Again, a true gangsta. Know what we have here, folks? A tale of two brothers: The white collar criminal vs. the blue collar criminal. Who's the worst kind? The white collared crook certainly doesn't look like one, mainly because he has a clean-cut reputation to uphold, as opposed to the blue collared crook, who lives as if he has nothing to lose. But it doesn't matter, because in the end, they're the same person going after the same things with the same

8. I've heard some cats say that they still feel that No Country For Old Men is better than There Will Be Blood. Me, I think that you can't have one without the other. I mean, you can, but that is like wanting a fly ass grilled cheese sandwich without the bread. Together those movies makes one helluva mega-epic about American culture.

Under the Radar: Jennifer Gentle.

I was first exposed to Italian psych-rockers Jennifer Gentle while browsing some records at Wax 'n Facts and they were playing the promo copy of their June release Midnight Room. It was one of those rare moments when I approach the clerks and ask, "Who is this?!" And they proudly smile and told me who it was. It was March at the time, which meant I had to wait three more months to have the full listening pleasure.

By the time that I bought it, I was sure everyone was gonna mutter their names any chance they got to spread the love, but strangely, that has not happened. They even got a deal in 2004 with the grandmother of all indie labels, Sub Pop, but still got nothing.

But then there's the influences: Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd, Can and Captain Beefheart, to name a few. All three bands that no one appreciated until years later. Maybe that'll be the case for Jennifer Gentle, though that's unfortunate, because people need to know about them now.

That's a great thing, though, because that leaves musicians freer range to be themselves, and what Jennifer Gentle is doing is some straight up psychedelic garage gritty rock, man. Fasolo sounds like a mixture of Marc Bolan via electric T.Rex era and Ziggy Stardust David Bowie. Their first three albums were recorded in lead singer's Marco Fasolo's basement. They don't fuck around.

Listen:
Jennifer Gentle - Take My Hand

Fashion ads circa Winter 2005: Diesel

I also loved this one. Reasons self-explanatory.

Needless to say, 2005 was a very good year for fashion ads.

Fashion ads circa Fall 2005: Chloé

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

So here's the thing. I became an Interview magazine subscriber four years ago (after falling in love with it four years prior to that) and while I love the concept of celebrities interviewing their celeb friends, as well as living up to being the "Crystal Ball of Pop!," what I love most about it are the fashion ads and photo spreads. They have the most flattering photo shoots for the interviewees as well as nabbing the sexiest, artsiest fashion advertisements.

Anyway, so I'd tear out pages of Interview with pictures of a fun pic of Anthony Hamilton, an adorable pic of Amanda Peet, a hot pic of their mafia spread, yada, as well as sleek ads and post them on my wall. It was all the rage back in college; I kinda slipped a little bit, even though I still have the same level of fascination.

The above picture is possibly my all-time favorite ad I've ever seen. It's an ad that actually has something to do with the product: she's not half-naked, she doesn't have her pubes shaped like the "G" for Gucci, the focus isn't on her rail thin body. The focus is actually on the big, sexy Chloé bag, with the model out of focus as a silhouette. And as far as photography goes, it's wonderful because even though her face is hidden by the sun, you can tell she's feeling good about life just by looking at her body language: right arm swaying along with the wind that is blowing through her curly hair, wearing a carefree white skirt, which is "ballsy" because she's wearing white for a Fall campaign--gasp!

I'm so glad I found this online, because I threw out most of my pictures and posters when I was moving out of my apartment in college to move to Atlanta. I missed it.

Needless to say, I love this ad.

If you're a fashion ad nerd like me, check out Jozworld. It'll blow yer mind.

Covers: Kings of Convenience vs. Feist

Kings of Convenience are the male equivalent to Feist, so it'd only make sense for them to pay homage to the woman they adore and collaborated with on their 2004 album, Riot on An Empty Street.

Listen (take note of their introduction of the song--it's really sweet):
Kings Of Convenience - Gatekeeper - Live @ Fabrik, Hamburg (Feist Cover)

And here's a song they did with Feist:
Kings Of Convenience - Know How (featuring Feist)

And how can you not feel good after seeing this video?:

Trailers: Be Kind Rewind.

Dear Michel Gondry:

Did you happen to use your Science of Sleep methods to turn my comedic wet dream into reality? Otherwise, how else would you explain casting Mos Def and Jack Black to co-star in your next film? Oh. It's because you're a brilliant visionary? That makes sense.

Love,

Amber

p.s. Thanks for casting Danny Glover, too. It's good to see him in more artsy film roles.

Paul Westerberg warms my soul.

Dunno why, but I always get a sense that everything in life is gonna be allright whenever I hear Paul Westerberg's gentle, raspy voice. Maybe that's why I (secretly) love The Goo Goo Dolls and love Jeff Tweedy, both of whom were heavily influenced by The Replacements. I mean, how can you not love Paul Westerberg?

Watch:

This video is the white people equivalent of a hip-hop video circa 1994.

Like so:


But my love for early '90s hip-hop is a whole different post. Stay tuned.