I got an idea. If you're in a new up and coming band, hows about covering a Magnetic Fields song. It ensures your indie cred, shows your love of song craft and pop sensibilities, and only a million other bands have done it this year.

Someone wrote this about our favorite White Buffalo on his garageband site (the gloyd promo website not the smith rockstar application)

Why God: This song was pretty powerfull. Strong in lyric and driving in rhythm. I did not like it because it is about god. A person responsible for so many ignorant beliefs and a power that drives fanatics to cause damage and harm in the name of god by any word or name. God and religeon is a tool created by man to controll man. God only has as much power as man gives him.

Just thought y'all might be interested. Discuss.

Rob Mithcum's recent pitchfork review of Weezer's Make Believe is right on the money for me. I can't help but think that those guys have been folling us all along. My Say it 'Aint So nostalgia is about 3 seconds away from being utterly destroyed.

In light of OB's recent bumper sticker post I give you Name That Billionaired Movie Tagline

1) The Bat, The Cat, The Billionaire

2) The Billionaire? Where we're going we don't need the Billionaire.

3) Have the adventure of your life keeping up with the Billionaire.

4) She met the perfect man. Then she met the Billionaire.

5) The Billionaire is the new eleven.

6) What if the Billionaire grew up?

7) Mischief. Mayhem. The Billionaire.

I want to get boozed. I want to drink gallon upon gallon of the finest in ales. (i.e. the lady in red) I want to shower myself with champagne. I will defeat you all in the Jack Daniels-filled pool 500 meter backstroke. Scrooge McDuck had his coins, and I've got my alkie-haul. I win. After, I will create the greatest pieces of art the world has ever seen. The liquor will give me this power. Music to make sweet love to. Or make you weep. Or both. Poems that invoke the great Greek masters. These, of course, will also make you weep. Portraiture so life-like and beautiful that you will wish the people trapped within the frame to come to life. You may convince yourself that by staring intently they will step from their prisons and take you hands. But they won't. Beacause they're not real. They are merely phantoms brought forth from the spirits I drink. And the more I drink the better I get. And the better I get the more I drink. Be forewarned: it is no use stopping me. I've made up my mind. I'm halfway there already and it's not even noon yet.

I listened to the new Ben Folds album this weekend. One song Late stuck out to me, mainly because of it's refrences to Mr. Smtih (elliott, not andy). In it he says...

Oh no
Things were looking up
Least that's what I heard
Oh no
Someone came and washed away your hard-earned
Peace of mind

I don't really want to pontificate on this, but it just seeemd such a strange opposite to what I read in the San Francisco Weekly the day before. In a review of "folktronika" artist n.Lannon the author descibes him as "similar to what Elliott Smith might've come up with if he'd discovered Paxil and a drum machine instead of the sharp end of a knife."

This makes me sad.

When/How/and Why do artists become something someone else can abuse?

for unlawful carnal knowledge

not true

This was written in the basement of a certain once magnolia-graced house. All of the percussion was done on pots, pans, glasses, and with a heavily placed foot on the kitchen floor.

let's get out of here...please