Justin Timberlake note(s) of the day: my sister sent me this link of the Lake (who shall be referenced as such from here on out) putting to shame dance majors the country over: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFF1-s1pVTA&eurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww%2Efacebook%2Ecom%2Fpo.
And remember when I wrote that ESPN columnist Bill “The Sports Guy” Simmons was wrong in calling “Cry Me a River” the best revenge song of all time, since 2Pac’s “Hit ‘Em Up” is better? Bill actually addressed that in his most recent column on EPSN.com (http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/070511, if you’re interested):
“…when you factor in Britney's freefall over the past three years and remember that everything started with "Cry me A River," I mean ... doesn't that surpass "Hit 'Em Up" as the most destructively vengeful song of all-time? "Hit 'Em Up" ended with 2Pac and Biggie both getting gunned down; "Cry Me A River" ended with Britney going off the deep end at the exact same time JT released a monster hit album, co-wrote "D**k in a Box," dumped Cameron Diaz and bagged Jessica Biel and Scarlett Johansson within a three-month span…Sorry Pac.”
I’m not here to argue about this. But Bill is wrong.
Now there’s some serious music business to take care of. I just purchased a nuclear-winter’s worth of Spin Magazine-type albums, the ones that practically come packaged with a ritzy-hobo fashion shoot and fragrance line. After swimming in these albums for a few days, I’m ready to declare a few winners as well as their counterparts: the inexcusable losers. The Arcade Fire wins big, with both “Neon Bible” and “Funeral.” Equally impressive are Death Cab’s “Plans,” Amy Winehouse’s “Back to Black,” and Muse’s “Black Holes & Revelations.”
The biggest loser, and by this I mean “the band I’d never choose over suicide,” is Arctic Monkeys. Not only did they fail to inspire, but their long-windedness left me exhausted. Their album title, “Whatever People Say I Am That’s What I’m Not,” is a walk in the park compared to the track, “You Probably Couldn’t See for the Lights but You Were Looking Straight at Me.” I had to smoke a cigarette when I finished typing it into iTunes.
I’d feel remiss if I didn’t submit a few words about last night, when I went with Jack-O to see Air at the Theater at MSG. TV on the Radio, Spin’s band of the year (and authors of Spin’s album of the year), signed on at the last minute to play a special acoustic set. I was underwhelmed by TVotR’s “Letterman” appearance, and thought they were a bunch of screaming Brooklyn hipsters who suffered the great misfortune of living out of striking distance of a barbershop. Meanwhile, I’ve always loved Air, and busted ass to get the interview and concert tickets.
In the irony of all ironies, TV on the Radio kicked ass, despite lighting and sound problems. Air, in part because of their white-on-white uniforms and Parisian apathy, sucked so excessively that Jack-O and I left in the middle. We only stayed as long as we did, moreover, to wait around for a friend who paid 60 bucks for his ticket and refused to leave any earlier.
So I’m off to buy (read: download a pirated copy of) TV on the Radio’s “Return to Cookie Mountain,” and to delete the skeleton copy of my Air interview. And to learn the bass lines to a few songs from “Futuresex/Lovesounds” (read: buy a few condoms), just in case I take a swim in the Lake.
Stay Safe, Metaphorical Sex
DJ Disillusioned with French Electronica