Things What Make Me Happy This Week: Them Jeans

Holy ravioli, son. I hate homework. Dude, if homework was a person, I would snub her out on the street so bad...you would have thought she was wearing a Hannah Montana "Best Of Both Worlds" concert tee or something...jeez. Anyway, since I rarely do my homework (cramming makes me smarter!), I guess I'll fill you in on what makes me sooo euphoric esta semana.

Them Jeans. That's right, Mr. Jeans. You music mash-up remix king ruling the L to the A with one hand on the turntable and one hand on your cell just in case Mr. Aoki catches a case and you need to run the coup d'etat...I really really like you. Honest. Pinky swear. I had a heavy crush on Them Jeans as soon as I caught wind of his "Oh Mandy" remix with Spinto Band and Rich Boi. Oh, how he had me in his clutches. I knew that under that surgically attached fedora lurked the mind of genius. So I dug...and was blessed. "My Testarossa and My Crack" was like the appetizer...I hungered for more.

And that's when the all knowing wax spinning DJ Demigods dropped into my lap the Palms Out Sounds Mix Series Vol.2. At first the lengthy name left me irritated and confused. I have an inherent distaste for those who enjoy many words and punctuations in their titles. (I'm still coming for you Kevin Drew. You think your BSS Presents...Spirit If:? bullshit got past me? Nope...my pretentious meter has been all the more honed and perfected upon the purchase of the last Of Montreal record, thanks.)

But I gave the entire thing a listen. And by the whole thing I mean the entire 30 minutes listening to Vol.2 requires. That's when I was smitten with Them Jeans. From Outkast to Justice to T.I. to MIA and beyond...well, it was the fastest orgasm I've ever had. Oh Them Jeans...you delivered the goods unlike any man before you and yet fled the scene faster than a one night stand...leaving me oh so unfulfilled and dissatisfied. I ate breakfast alone, and found an undesirable amount of pulp in my OJ...sigh.

Still, I forgave Them Jeans for his indiscretions as I watched him romance far more fabulous others, hitting the stage with the Cool Kids, Uffie, and Kid Sister. I almost loved him more for leaving me to further his career. I had to respect a man that could keep up the hustle.

In other words, I have mad, mad love for Them Jeans. And though I know it will probably never work between the two of us...well, just give me a farewell romp in the kip by making a rad Sugar and Gold, El Guincho, Karabal Nightlife remix...it's all I'll have for memories. Well, aside from those pictures that you took of me that got leaked on the Dim Mak site.

Just kidding.

Your electric bird.

Erika

Things What Make Me Happy This Week: Apes and Androids and Basia Bulat

It is Friday again, and gloriously so, as it means I can forgo mental exertion, curl up with my hour of Golden Girls, and laze around until it gets dark, at which point I'm forced to raise up and get on my hustle. Whew! Hard work, that hustle.
Anyhoo, what makes me mega, radly, ultra happy is the band Apes and Androids, from LA. They have a sound almost like if Of Montreal fell asleep at the wheel and drove into a ditch full of acid. Ooh. That sounds deadly serious. Hmm...I'll try again. "Nights of the Week" is smooth, like a 40 ounce at a nightclub with ripped velvet chairs. On the flip side, "Golden Prize" is like LCD Soundsystem style R & B with enough Of Montreal badassery to make you laugh so hard the option of dancing looks bleak.

Okay, I'll say they're an anomaly. But really, any more seasoned music journalist would be able to find a hybrid nomenclature for them. So let's leave it. Luckily (and no there's no scrunchie involved), Stereogum is all up on those downloadables, so you can get at those Apes, and court the Androids, simultaneously.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is Basia Bulat, the soft spoken Canadian chanteuse (and not in the Chunklet meaning of the word, thank you) with beyond the beyond gorgeous blond locks and that H & M lookbook worthy face. She was influenced by the oldies but goldies, namely Motown heavyweights, Cole Porter to be one, I believe, and thus out of those pinky, bow shaped lips flows a warmth worthy of a Cat Power contemporary, and almost liquid melodies with a slight country twinge.

Can you tell I love her? Is it obvious yet...? Well, I'll go on then. Oh My Darling, her abso-fabso '07 debut, is a rare square gem among the piles and piles and (sixties retrograde obsessed) piles of female singer/songwriters that pumped out the mediocre, radio wave friendly tomfoolery last year. Mostly I just harbor a heterosexual chick crush on Bulat because she's all model perfection, and I covet her silken mane in unbiblical ways, but the best part of the whole shabang is that past that porcelain doll-like countenance and the modestly humble hype, lies a voice and a talent that is pure gold.



Your electric bird,
Erika

Things What Make Me Happy This Week: Social Studies

How are things on the West Coast? Well, obviously pretty fantastic. At least that's what Social Studies would lead me to believe. Now don't you go running to the classroom for a lesson; San Franciscans Social Studies can school you in keyboard heavy indie rock all on their own.

Their newest album, The World's Biggest Hammer, is neither new nor anything to be missed. It originally debuted in 2006, but I would totally like to say that it was completely underrated in the entirety of the US outside of the Pacific Northwest.

Let me describe it like this: Casio, Casio, Casio, vocals, hi-hats, Casio. Get the picture? Yes, their Casio, in far better condition than the one owned by CSS, is their signature piece, added gratuitously to their dark, Shelley like vocals like glaze to an earthen pot, i.e. with care and wherever neccesary.

I've been listening to The World's Biggest Hammer for almost six months straight, and I cannot get it out of my head, you know, like Kylie Minogue can't. I would recommend listening to "Dante and Corey War" and "Pack of Cards," as heard on Sunday School a while back, because it's got some of the raddest lyrics I've heard in a good while.

They haven't come out with a full-length just yet, but you can still support the come up on their website, where you can buy the EP for only nine dollars. Surely your high paying job working the fitting room at the Gap can afford you that.

Their myspace.

Your electric bird,

Erika

A Not So Anonymous Letter To Missbehave

When I was born, I did not know what magazines were. Actually, I didn't know what anything was. Birth is pretty disorienting. Anyway, seventeen years later, I still did not have any idea what a real mag was. That was, until I found your magazine stuffed halfheartedly between Nylon and Bust. Ha, Bust. Who reads that? (The same people who like Bitch, I guess.)

But I digress. After I leafed languidly through your high gloss goodness, I saw the sign, and it opened up my eyes. Yeah, I saw the sign. My life was changed. Past your uniquely thin cover lies a veritable bevvy of useful information, mind (and genre) bending photos, and colors so bright, Lisa Frank would think she was tripping on acid.

I read Issue No.3, with the bomb Bijou gracing the cover in Bambi-like feigned innocence, so many times I started memorizing the articles, predicting the ads before I even turned the page, and generally becoming pyschotically obsessed with the gloss boss that your magazine entails.

Every few months, I stalk Barnes and Noble just praying I'll turn around and see a shiny badass cover smiling up at me, and when I do, it's like rain hit the Mojave. In fact, your MIA issue gave me the greatest happiness: when she came into town for a show at Centre Stage, I actually stood in front of Criminal Records for two and a half hours (secondhand smoking and actually making people believe I was in my 20's) until she showed up at Aurora and got her to autograph the cover. I told her, "You can sign anywhere. I've already read it."

And boy did I read it.

In other words, what I am trying to impart on you in as many bogged down words and a slightly quagmired style is that I love you, and everything you provide to those of us in the universe that don't believe in red, white, and Aeropostale. That must cringe when they walk past Delia's, and will for sure get it poppin' just to get that vintage plaid dress on the $1 rack. Thank you, Missbehave...thank you.

Your electric bird,
Erika
Issue No.5...I recommend reading the bit about Eurotripping...it's informative and amusing...something Europe is not so much of.