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Posts Tagged “jess harvell”

get in the ring

Music Writing: Hazardous To Your Well-Being

And I don't just mean your mental state (although that certainly gets its knocks)! The Guardian today looks at the long, glorious history of musicians and fans giving back to those people who dare criticize the music they love. And by "giving back," I mean "physically attacking, sometimes with knives." I can't tell if these stories are making me feel better because the only retributions I've received are mean e-mails or if they make me feel worse for not saying things that get people really riled. But my colleague has apparently not had the same problem as me! After the jump, I talk to Idolator's own Jess Harvell about his top three biggest threatdowns. More »

merch

Ride The Pink Pony Of Love

Who among us hasn't dreamed of wearing a leopard-print dress with Eazy-E in full Native American headdress printed on the bottom right? Hope Perkins has been painting rappers (dead and otherwise) and other pop-cultural totems (David Bowie in his Labyrinth Tina Turner drag) onto her designer clothing line Hot Pink Pistol for a minute now, but we were only tipped off to her work, like, yesterday by a friend (and disembodied Idolator comments box zing-master). The clothes aren't particularly designed for the zaftig—and if you're a dude you're SOL—but if you're in the 6-10 size range, then you owe it to yourself to pick up a "Cap'n Biggie" to wear to your next dinner party or dice game. Otherwise, you can always buy, say, an Eazy E suitcase or one of Perkins' paintings. Some of them are a little creepy—you know, Chippendales dancer body with pink My Little Pony head, stuff like that—but it's wearable/hangable/useable cute-creepy, so it's okay. See, you thought the only thing that came out of Austin these days was SXSW hype. More »

mp3

Stuck On Repeat: Map Of Africa Polish The Mirrors Above Their Beds

Map of Africa is a duo comprised of Thomas Bullock from NYC DJ duo Rub'n'Tug and a rotating cast of "take it sleazy" characters, including left-coast house god DJ Harvey. (Bullock was also a member of A.R.E. Weapons, but we weren't sure if we should mention that or not.) The band's new self-titled LP is super-decadent disco-rock dripping with synthetic sweat and walking around with a permanent, if discreetly tucked, hard-on. And when we say "disco-rock," we mean back when disco DJs used to play heavy metal album tracks between Cymande and Santana songs. We mean music for dudes who still own a conversion van with an airbrushed wizard and a working motorized bed in the back. We mean the perfect flashback for guys in porn 'staches who used to put on Vangelis LPs when they made their move on that special lady. Your chest is probably not hairy enough for this record. More »

omg wtf redux

Pick of the Fork: Your Wordsmiths (Christ, Why Don't We Just Say "Scribes"?) Revealed

Psyche! The quotes we used were all from Pitchfork! Joke's on...somebody. We'll get back to you as to whom—for now, here are the quotes, the reviews they were culled from, and, of course, their authors: More »

auctions

Jackson Family Sells Fringed Jackets, Keeps Crippling Sense of Shame

If you hurry, you still might be able to nab a few deals at the Jackson Family Going Out of Business Sale now happening at Guernsey's Auction House in New York. Thousands of items must be sold, including a Jackson's Japanese comic book, a signed photo of Tito from the Victory tour, and a pint of LaToya's facial fat. Watching Access Hollywood last night—don't look at us like that—we learned that you can purchase, among the more expensive items, a pre-teen Jackson's Motown ID card, which is just weird (and probably cheap enough) to bid on. More »

mp3

The Vault: Life Without Buildings Envisions A World Without Quonset Huts And Lean-Tos

Scottish band Life Without Buildings broke up in 2002, before they could really benefit from being an early-adopter in indie rock's renewed 21st-century postpunk arms race. But while the band expertly combined classic twee-era Brit indie jangle with cooler cardigan coordinates like Josef K and Orange Juice, Life Without Buildings fans were often really Sue Tompkins fans. Like the ebullient hoots and hollers of the ladies of Kleenex and Sugarcubes-era Bjork, Tompkins sang inscrutable—like Beckett-level inscrutable—love songs in a gust of childlike yelps. The band only released one proper album, 2002's Any Other City, but the soon-to-be-released Live from the Annandale Hotel, a live show from Sydney, Australia, bristles with bouncy joy. Seriously, you won't hear another record this year where the singer sounds so damn excited to be alive. More »

magazines

Beth Ditto Poses Nude on the Cover of NME, Internet Readies Seventh-Grade Fat Jokes

As you may have heard, Gossip singer Beth Ditto has displayed the majesty that her momma gave her on the cover of the NME this week. So wait, a few years ago, nudie shots of Ditto were confined to the lesbian sex mag On Our Backs and now she's being anointed the "Queen of Cool" by the U.K.'s most toilet paper-worthy tabloid while wearing nothing but painted-on kisses? Did we miss a meeting? More »

omg wtf lol

It's The Return Of Pick Of The Fork!

Yes, for one time only we are reviving one of our wackest most beloved features, where we dig up the gonzoest of the gonzo writing at Internet indie-rock tastemaker site Pitchfork. Except this time, we have expanded it to include not just recent Pitchfork reviews but reviews from the site's entire history! More »

more songs about buildings and traffic

Brooklyn Academy Of Music To New York City: "No Sufjan, No Credibility"


Adorable, baseball-capped yupster and indie-rock money printing machine Sufjan Stevens has been awarded a commission at the Brooklyn Academy of Music's 25th annual "Next Wave Festival," which starts in October. The composition is titled "The BQE," and it will focus on the whimsical secret history of the expressway, an almost-forgotten story about how penny candy saved the life of President Taft, the great diphtheria scare of 1919, the origin of the phrase "street urchins," Mae West's genital deformities, and how the English bulldog came to be imported to America.* Another rocker stepping on the high art stage at BAM is Erik Sanko of the band Skeleton Key. If you don't remember them, they sounded like Primus but they had a guy who played trashcans and empty bottles. Come to think of it, that might be why you don't remember them. More »

mp3

Do Be "Cruel"

What the blogs were posting, uh, a year ago: Meat Puppets drummer Derrick Bostrom has been running his Bostworld blog for a few years now, each post rummaging around in Bostrom's attic-cluttered noggin and pulling out one of his idiosyncratic obsessions: yellowing '50s newspaper articles about Ike (Eisenhower, not Turner), frayed restaurant menus from the bygone era of three-martini lunches, hit parade entries perhaps forgotten even by the folks who made them. It's a helluva lot more interesting than "Arcade Fire Watch Hour 679: Win clips his toenails." Mountain Goats frontman/Last Plane to Jakarta overlord John Darnielle recently introduced us to part seven in Bostrom's "Reports from the Country" series of nuggets from (mostly) pre-countrypolitan Nashville. Its 14 songs present a heartwarming vision of base human cruelty and American society on the verge of collapse set to sweet pedal steel and down-home harmonies. Particularly inexplicable is Dottie West's "Mommy, Can I Still Call Him Daddy?" which has to be one of the oddest and most brutally honest (or just plain brutal) songs about divorce in history, finally answering the question, "Does this mean daddy doesn't love me anymore?" The collection is still available to download, and everyone who doesn't mind having catchy ditties about child abuse and child abandonment stuck in their head all day should check it out. All together now! "Slap her down again, paw, slap her down again..." More »

announcements

Jane, Stop This Crazy Thing

Hello, I'm Jess Harvell. I don't own a home computer at the moment. I can't "work an RSS feed." I have never knowingly looked at Stereogum. I don't have cable. My knowledge of pop culture these days is almost entirely down to what one of the editors of this site copies and pastes to me in IM chats. I write for your mortal enemy Pitchfork for the beer money. I'm an editor at a great alt-weekly and couldn't care less about the industry's machinations or its slow collapse into complete irrelevance. I think Idolator's slogan is pretty lame. Nice to be with you. More »