This Ish Is Justice!

Okay so, ever since homeboy went sample crazy on just about every album he's done, we've all known that Kanye West knows what's up (musically, of course, since his views on Bush are another story). What is very up (sky-high in fact) is that 'Ye and Justice, the feisty French discotheque duo (which I lurve, btw. Gaspard, forget the age difference! I'll still wed thee! Don't French people just drink wine to live immortally anyway? We share the same fountain of youth!) are tag-teaming for some outta this world shit. Oh yeah, and plus they've got that more-dope-than-the-shit-your- dealer-gives-you clothing line that costs an arm, leg, and torso to cop.


But this time, oh this time, 'Ye, Justice, and the sure to be a global supastah! director Romain-Gavras have sacrificed the right virgin because the gods have blessed the world with a sickly killer video for "Stress." If you don't know that song, a) you're not a real Justice fan, and b) don't feel bad. It's at the end of the album, past the club bangers and "D.A.N.C.E." Don't front. You know that's why you bought the record...

Anyway, this video features angry adolescents, a lawless city, some Parisian references, a shaky camera hand, and a subway (or, how I'm pretty sure they say in Paris, metro) station.

So...it's kind of like if Death Wish and Cloverfield had a super wicked HD baby, with bangin' jackets and an ironically ironic hate of "D.A.N.C.E."

Thanks Kanye!

justice stress (official video)
by 75_prod

Your electric bird,
Erika

Things What Make Me Happy This Week: Louise, Stuff White People Like, And Glass Candy

Oh, March is here! And that, in turn, means Spring is here. Granted, Spring won't officially be here for another few weeks, but it's seventy degrees over here and the sun's shining. And that's Spring to me!

So this week, after my doting love lush on Them Jeans, I have a few more of my favorite things. First up is Louise, the mysteriously gorgeouisie gal that's recently popped up once again on The Sartorialist. She's making a tidal wave sized splash on the Internet, showing up on a million fashion blogs. I guess this makes it a million and one. I'm inclined to make a Cory Kennedy

comparison, but I'll hold off, don't worry. Still, this girl has some mad crazy Parisian style, and though the haters are out in full force, I'm still thumbs-upping her. If you go to the Sartorialist's blog and check her out, surely her flaxen dishwater orange hair, sans lens Ray Bans, and high waisted miniskirt (daring out the wazoo, son) can definitely persuade you to j'adore her. Alright, my French isn't that great...but, then again, I speak Spanish.

Moving on, we have the best blog I have ever read (aside from my own, duh), which would be Stuff White People Like, an ongoing list (up to at least 76 by now) of shit white people stereotypically enjoy. I ran across it in an email, and I totally vote it the funniest shit ever. Those who are easily offended, well, should leave America, but those who like to laugh at lighthearted stereotypes and common "white people" jokes will for sure get a kick out of this.

It turns out white people like being the only whites in ethnic restaurants, bottled and filtered water, and standing at concerts. Ah, the Belle and Sebastian joke is sooo much funnier when you've actually seen it.

And finally, we move onto Glass Candy, which is completely not slang for the sharded up apples creepos give out on Halloween. Or the stuff those wannabe X-Treme kids jump through on their skateboards when making amateur home movies to send to Jackass. No, this Glass Candy is the lovechild 80's synth and modern disco. Ultimately, it's slamming, but in such a Studio 54, LSD at two am, tiny disco ball earrings and your panties down at your ankles kind of way. It's the kind of music you would listen to while wearing a slightly permed and teased hairdo, stilettos, and a beaver coat (in the middle of the summer).

BTW, Ida No (the sassy blond vocalist) is beyond precious and even though Glass Candy permanently resides in Funky Town, Earth (I'm assuming that's somewhere between New Zealand and the Tropic of Cancer), and they probably will never tour over here, you can ALWAYS catch 'em on their myspace, which has all the groolest music a pill popping, false lash mastering, drama queen super chick needs.

OMG, that's kinda like me!

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