Wednesday, March 28, 2012

HDPU: THE PUMP THAT KEEPS ON PUMPING

Not looking to beat a dead horse here with all the Andrew WK nut-riding, but it was awesome, and I'm still PUMPED from Saturday night.

I hope you're still kinda PUMPED at least.

You know I ain't going to see Andrew WK and not grabbing a sick tour shirt. YOU KNOW THIS.

So I got that one. And a shot glass with his iconic bloody nosed mug.
















Check out this great vid of Andrew WK playing I Get Wet from the show on Saturday night. SOOOOOO PUMPED




heh homeboy took a stagediver to the dome





















Oh, and remember how I mentioned I wasn't going to beat a dead horse? Well, on my way to work on Monday morning, I saw a dead possum, totally dead, untouched, in the middle of the road. And on my way home, my way in on Tuesday, and on my way home again, I noticed it was getting more and more run over.

Not sure how that relates to the HUMP DAY PUMP UP, but I thought of it when I typed the dead horse thing.

GET PUMPED

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

andrew wk show review

Andrew WK
St Andrew's Hall
Detroit, MI
March 24, 2012

Andrew WK sparked up his I Get Wet ten year anniversary tour this spring, and while I missed out on the pre-order, I didn't miss out when the tickets hit the general public. At $20 a pop, Heckyeahwoman snagged those bad boys as furiously as possible. That's the good news.

The bad news was that I had to wait about two months for the actual show.

So was it worth it? The wait? The $20 tickets?

HECK YEAH, MAN

The venue, St Andrew's Hall, was formerly a church, and you can kind of tell - like if a church had the pews gutted, a couple bars installed, a downstairs basement venue (set of the concert scenes from the movie 8 Mile), and that familiar stink of piss, booze, and sweat.

First opener, Aleister X came out with a British accent and black guitar, all veiled in a boxing robe, hood up. Faint background music and beats would come and go as he would perform what could vaguely be construed as songs. In what was possibly the worst live performance I've ever seen, Aleister X literally rapped, howled, and sang, while reefing on his guitar with simple power chords and simple palm muted power chords. One of his last songs, something about night time, or dark side, or something, was really the only thing he played that wasn't horrible.

Maybe he had really poor sound - his guitar, vocals, and background music just didn't mix well at all. Maybe he is horrible, but by the time the ante-penultimate song rolled around, you could barely hear him over the booing.

Car-crash cliche, had to look, couldn't turn away, so we watched the whole set.

Next up was Math the Band. Sadly, we missed about half the set, as we were downstairs in the less crowded basement venue enjoying some drinks. Our descent up the stairs to see them treated us to the SUPER PUMPED sounds of what I would describe as pop-punk-synth-bouncy-PUMP-rock.

Pop-punky, furiously strummed electric guitar with really fast, super-bouncy synth notes, energetic vocals, and what looked like one floor tom all played by a male-female duo. Dude on the guitar and most vocals, shawtie on the synth, drum, and some vocals.

Very energetic, a great opener for Mr. WK.

About half an hour later, the stage darkened and BOOM, a wall of musicians appeared, with Andrew WK right in the middle! The crowd went apeshit as the band went right into It's Time to Party; I threw my concert tee around Heckyeahwoman's neck and ran up front.

The show consisted of the band playing I Get Wet in it's entirety, in order, front to back. And it was spot on - the track listing is definitely ordered for maximum partying. The only reprieves were a little bit of banter to introduce a few of the songs. Most notable was him changing the words from I Love New York City to I Love Motor City.

While his music isn't known for virtuosic musicianship, it was great to see him play his keyboard, and carry a few notes during a few of the slower songs and brief interludes. But when he whipped out his pizza-slice-shaped guitar to play a pretty bad guitar solo transitioning into She is Beautiful, it was kinda awkward. But then he tore into the catchy little intro and everything was right in the world again.

About 6 or 7 song later, just like that, it was time for the encore. Clearly I Get Wet sapped the crowd of most of their energy; the couple songs he played from his second album, The Wolf, while kinda familiar, and good in their own right, don't compare with PARTY vibe of I Get Wet. He closed out the set with a new tune, and a jam maybe from Close Calls With Brick Walls.

There are very few headliners that could make up for the shittiness of experiencing Aleister X; Andrew WK is one of them. 10/10 performance, would definitely go again.

Friday, March 23, 2012

kony 2012

Maybe I'm a little late to the KONY 2012 train. I don't really have a whole lot to say, other than haha! Turns out Jason Russell, the filmmaker, just wants to get famous. Not a huge deal, people try to get famous every day.

Homeboy, when not vandalizing cars and beating his meat in public is collecting donations from anti-gay groups!

And when he's not doing that, he's evangelizing on the low-low. And if there's one thing misinformed progressives hate more than that dreaded R-word, it's CHRISTIANS!

That's right, the current flavor of the week progresso-god is a Christian!

Anyway, the whole KONY 2012 thing just wreaks of a sham publicity stunt for Mr. Russell.

At the end of the day, I think the best perspective on the situation is shared by Mr. Goad: When dealing with Africa, it’s important to never forget that you’re dealing with Africa. Maybe it’s best to let Africans deal with it.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: ANDREW WK

SATURDAY NIGHT

I AM GOING TO SEE ANDREW WK

ARE YOU?



So far in my life, I had one chance to see Andrew WK, and I blew it. Hellfest 2004, he played like last, and I was with my future wife. Why I didn't stick around, I'll never know. But I didn't, and that has haunted me for years.

But we stuck around the next night for the riots, beatings, and bleachers getting torn down lol.

GET ON MY PUMP LEVEL




Don't just get on my PUMP LEVEL, get on my PUSHUP LEVEL. I got word that my brother did 76 pushups in a minute. This was of course after he caught word that I did 65 straight. So yesterday I did 80 straight in a minute twenty.

And because we know it ain't real if you can't duplicate it in the lab, I did it again today. #SciencePUMP!

You wanna know what fueled that PUMP-FILLED PUSHUP EXTRAVAGANZA!?!?!?

Yeah, this song, right below.

SKIP THE CRAPPY PIANO INTRO AND GET SUPER PUMPED WHEN I GET WET STARTS. THE OPENING KEYBOARD GETS ME WET.

LIKE FOR REAL.




GET READY FOR AN IN-DEPTH CONCERT REPORT ON MONDAY. OR MAYBE NOT.

But till then, stay PUMPED because Andrew WK doesn't care about being tired, he doesn't care about being bummed about your job, he doesn't give a shit if you have a little cold or flu, he doesn't wanna hear about your feelings.

He wants you to be PUMPED all day, every day. ERRY DAY. Next time you feel that frown turning upside down, then turning upside down again, think to yourself: what would Andrew WK do?

He'd turn that frown upside down one last time, so it's back to an upside down frown. Smell me.

Monday, March 19, 2012

weekend wrap up

Sorry, we took a short absence. I'm sure all eight of you were pretty bummed. Anyway, we're back with a weekend wrap up. Heckyeahwoman is out town and your boi here is left to his own devices. Devices - whiskey and working out, most of the time.

Lucky for us, and me, that means wrapping up work on Friday right at five, not a second later, and heading to the gym. Ultimately, the pinnacle of my Friday night was watching Rise of the Plane of the Apes. It was action packed, and most importantly, my two hours weren't for naught, as I found the ending to be completely satisfactory.

Fast forward to 8:24am Saturday morning and yeah, that's my alarm going off. Headed into work for four hours, then hit Target to find a decent green shirt for the evening's festivies.

And festivities they were. Of course my friends and I refrained from indulging in serious licentiousness, opting instead just for the standard get drunk on St. Patty's day thing.

All in all, a good time.

Sunday at around 11:30 am had me getting up, kinda hungover, but still ready to face the day. And the day's activities would prove to be humorous.

Had to run some errands, and while I was out, I decided I would pick up a shoe horn. A shoe horn, remember those? I need one for this sick new pair of wingtips I finally bought.

Anyway, do you know how hard it is to find a goddamn shoe horn? I went to DSW, the shoe warehouse place, and the crazy Asian lady working there didn't quite have me convinced that she actually knew what a shoehorn was. This of course was after her telling me they didn't have any. For sale.

A goddamn shoe store not carrying shoe horns.

Luckily, there was a Famous Footwear just two stores down! Oh my luck!

And predictably, they didn't sell shoe horns either.

BUT!

But, the lady working was kind enough to give me one of their cheap ones that the staff uses! I now have a Famous Footwear-branded mini-shoe horn! Oh the joy! It gets better! I still had to hit the Krog for some grocery shopping.

Turns out the Krog was pretty uneventful, save for me almost dying from the hangover.

And then things got good. Good and Samaritan-y.

Sitting in my car, waiting for the green arrow, I see a dude to my left get out and walk around his car. Oop, there's my arrow, gotta go! With my path home taking me right past said dude, I slowed down and asked if he need a jump or a push or something.

He confirmed with a worried look on his face.

I went to park across the street and ran out to help him push his car. And then all of a sudden, as I'm pushing, another dude comes out of nowhere and starts pushing. We got the car into the Chase Bank parking lot; I turned to my left to thank the random dude for helping, and he was gone.

Skinny-car-pusher-ghost-apparition-dude just up and disappeared. No idea from where he came or to where he went. Then it got kinda strange.

I offered him a jump (I always have cables, thanks Dad!), and he accepted. Told him we could either push his car to where my car is, or I could just go drive up next to his haha. Not sure if that was too off-putting for him, but after I turned and took a couple steps toward my car, he declined the offer.

And like that, we shook hands and parted ways.

Good, cause I had to get home to do some clean ups!

Wait, what? Clean ups?

Heck yeah, CLEAN UPS ARE WHAT YOU DO WHEN YOU'RE DOING YOUR SUNDAY CLEANING AND YOU START THROWING IN SICK SETS OF PULL UP OR PUSH UPS!

HECK YEAH CLEANIN' AND UPPIN', CLEAN UPPIN'

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

on bodies - planet hospice

A couple months ago, I happened upon a song by a new band called On Bodies. Naturally, the first thing mentioned about the band were all the ex-members of other bands: Culture, Terror, Blood Has Been Shed, As Friends Rust, Morning Again, Shai Hulud, and Where Fear and Weapons Meet(!), among others.

So what does that mean? It means great 90's-style fast hardcore, short songs, and Damien Moyal's immediately recognizable vocals.

The album opener, Long Short Life, kicks things off with Moyal yelling, "C'mon and tell me how to live, how to rise up and change the world!" While neither Moyal or On Bodies will ever come close to changing the world, they ultimately recognize this, and are probably happy knowing they just put out a fantastic EP.

Great way to begin the festivities as most of the nine roughly minute to two minute long songs either tell a story of how life keeps getting the best of Mr. Moyal, or serve as a short commentary on the general purposelessness of life.

Third song, Get Real, slows things down a bit as a few simple notes ring out, slowly building as a few sentences are repeated for about a minute twenty. Powerful lyrics and vocals combine with powerful music, making this probably my favorite cut on the album.

It's pretty hard not to identify with the lyrics and the sentiments On Bodies shares with us. Themes of just not cutting it and fucking up, finding a place in this world, and resigning oneself to life maybe not being much more than a slow death, while certainly not novel, are still things we've all probably thought about.

It absolutely doesn't hurt that he cuts these sentiments into super-catchy, digestible sing along-ready bites that furiously induce me yelling along in my car. Or at my wife. It's also nice to see him sprinkle the all the jaded with a few bits of hopeful.

Songs like I Just Can't Win and Better, but Never Good show signs of wanting to do better, to be better, but ultimately life beats him down. Hey man, it's the thought that counts.

Fittingly, the album ends perfectly with Planet Hospice; the music transitions into a breakdown with Moyal yelling, "You can't deny the fact you and I are checked into planet hospice. We are more dying than living, more taking than giving."

Worth noting is that this is the first mp3 I've ever paid for. Yep, I paid just over $8 for 13 minutes of music haha.

Buy this album if you're a fan of great, bitter hardcore with PLENTY of opportunities for dogpiles and scream alongs. Buy this album if you're a 30 year old hardcore fan looking to maybe come out of stagediving retirement the next time On Bodies swings through your town.

Listen to it HERE

Buy it HERE or HERE

Monday, March 12, 2012

oh hi

Hi three people! Hope you had a great weekend!

Check back tomorrow for a very un-indepth discussion of the band On Bodies, and their new(ish) album (EP), "Planet Hospice". Or maybe we'll talk about something else, who knows.

What is an On Bodies? What is a Planet Hospice?

IT'S THIS.

Had a nice little weekend, saw a movie called AMERICAN MEAT (all caps is all me). And holy shit, we're watching the movie Contagion right now and one of the opening scenes shows the ferry to Kowloon, and we were on that ferry! And I felt (sea)sick (as ferk). Maybe Contagion is about me!

Movie time!

Friday, March 9, 2012

haha what?

Oh God, we were watching The Bachelor the other day, and a commercial happened.

A chocolate commercial.

Go ahead and watch this thirty second spot and see if you can catch what caught my attention. See if you can smell what I smelled.





Any guesses?

Try at about twenty one seconds in.

"...lusciously smooth center begins to melt. And so will you."

WAIT WHAT?

YOU WILL START TO MELT?

One minute you've just stuffed 5 truffles down your gullet, the next minute you're melting. That sucks, bro.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: UR NOT THEM

We got a quick little POWERPUMP here for you today. Totally had something else planned for today (circa Tuesday night), but on my little trek into "the mall", I found PUMPSPIRATION somewhere I didn't plan on finding it.

Kind of like how Rhianna found love in a hopeless place, I found THE PUMP in a PUMPLESS place.




No but seriously, there I was, on my slow, arrogant walk into "the mall", and way up ahead are a couple morbidly obese "women". Walking slower than shit, they allowed me to catch up just when I could open the door for them.

Chalk that up to the precise laziness tactics perfected by the morbidly obese American woman.

Don't worry, there is a PUMP here.

It was funny though, walking right behind them, I could hear not just their vapid chatter about who knows what, but also the heavy breathing that accompanied each strained syllable that they could muster. I wouldn't quite call it English, instead a sad new dialect, littered furiously with desperate breaths.

With each word uttered, a frantic gasp for air book-ended each incomplete thoughts. In their mangled language, word, breath, word, breath, word, breath is the convoluted formula for verbalizing ideas.

My first thought was wow, what a couple WORTHLESS FUCKING PIECES OF SHIT.

But then I became immediately thankful that I was not them. That I know it's NOT OK to be them. And just like that, a satisfied smile spread across my face.

The PUMP fired from my neurons and spread through my entire body. Dopamine, no, COCAINE-FIRE-METH was coursing through my veins.

And you know what else, that new Every Time I Die album is out today! Every Time I Die? What is an Every Time I Die?

THIS



And if you're not sufficiently PUMPED, take solace knowing that there is a band out there called BLASTANUS.

BLASTWHAT?

PUMPANUS?

BLASTPUMP?

NO, BLASTANUS!

Monday, March 5, 2012

bbq unredemption

Long story short, a couple weekends ago we gave a local restaurant a second chance.

Another long story short, our experience amounted to basically encountering a polished turd. A polished turd that was a little bit more polished than last time.

Yes, take something good, something that you enjoy, now cut the enjoyment in half. Still sound like fun, still want to do it?

That was basically the sitch the first time Heckyeahwoman and I tried Satchel's BBQ here in Ann Arbor. Moving to MI from the south, we were pretty spoiled on insane BBQ. Of course, we didn't expect much when we moved here, but you know, whatevs.

Then one day a little BBQ joint opened up and we tried it. In fact we didn't just try it, we invited two friends. Well, one friend and one weirdo. The friend and weirdo were bummed, but not as much as we were. Like, we were talking up how awesome BBQ is, and then we all get dry as shit cornbread, dry as shit meat, and then to add insult to injury, we ate at shitty picnic tables with hokey ass farm artwork on the walls.

It literally felt like the cooks were pointing and laughing at us while we were eating.

Satchel's BBQ was a complete and utter failure. And nobody even wanted to get ice cream after :(

Enter our good friend, Groupon. Or Living Social, or Ann Arbor Real Deal whatever. HYW of course bought the Goupon for Satchel's and now we've got $16 to spend at that shithole smokehouse BBQ joint.

Great, can't wait.

Fast forward about two months, here we are, Saturday night, hungry, lurking our collection of about-to-expire Groupons.

Satchel's is sticking out like a sore thumb on a hand of pinkies.

Well our minds are mad up. Satchel's it is.

The good news:

1. The meat was way better, actually moist.
2. The cornbread was way better, not crumbling under the dehydration.
3. I didn't spend a cent over $7.53 with that sweet sweet Groupon coupon for me to poop on.

NOW THE BAD NEWS:

1. We still ate at goddamn picnic tables.
2. That horrible farm-themed artwork was still there.
3. They were out of pulled-pork.
4. They were out of pulled-pork.
5. They were out of pulled-pork.

How are you out of pulled-pork? Like ever?

People from the north go to BBQ places to get pulled-pork. This isn't a guess, observation, or opinion; it is truth. We don't give a shit about kielbasa, chicken, greens or mac n cheese. Ok, we do kinda give a shit about brisket, but we give a much bigger shit about pulled-pork.

So what's the take away here? I don't know, but sometimes second chances aren't deserved.

Satchels, it was Saturday night and we were one of three tables at 7:00pm; something tells me y'all won't be around when we're ready for a third chance.

Friday, March 2, 2012

espn hate whitey

OK, Black History Month is over, so I can post this gem from like uh, over a year ago that somehow got lost in the mix. Not sure how that happened.

Anyway, for you non-sports fans out there, I always usually try to catch John Clayton's mailbag column for ESPN; he generally does a decent job of answering questions readers send in.

Until this week. Or like, this week a year and three months ago.

The column starts off with a legit question about head coaches getting fired mid-season:

John in Aiken, S.C., writes something I've thought for years.

"I've never understood the logic of firing a head coach during the season,'' John writes. "Unless the interim coach is the heir apparent, like Jason Garrett or Leslie Frazier, what makes teams think they would fare any better with a newly promoted coordinator than they did with the established head coach?''

Good question, John in Aiken!

John Clayton answers:

The firings of Jack Del Rio, Todd Haley and Tony Sparano may seem early, but there is some logic. They have given Mel Tucker (Jacksonville), Romeo Crennel (Kansas City) and Todd Bowles (Miami) legitimate looks at how they would fit as head coaches of those franchises.

And them BOOM!, the racial non sequitur:

All three are minorities. All three are legitimate candidates.

Wait what? OK, not sure how or why race matters at all? Any readers have any insight? About 99% sure that the color of Mel Tucker's skin was the least of any one Jacksonville Jags fan's worries. Especially when the dipshits in the front office are cutting David Garard immediately before the season, who is, ironically, a black quarterback - which is a whole 'nother story, friends.

Then Clayton jumps into a refresher of the bullshit Rooney Rule. While I don't personally know any NFL owners or GMs, I think it's fair to assume that they don't GIVE A FUCK about the color of the coach's skin. It's fair to assume that the only thing they give a shit about is money - which is green, not white. And maybe winning once in a while.

An NFL front office would put a polished turd in a coaching position if he or she thought it would maximize profit. Note: I'm talking about an actual polished turd, not Stephen A. Smith. Anyway, Clayton's Rooney Rule refresher:

Some may look at this as a way to circumvent the Rooney Rule, which requires teams to interview minority candidates. By making these moves, these teams have complied. But the reality is that similar moves in the past have resulted in minority head-coaching hires. Mike Singletary and Leslie Frazier are just a couple of examples.

And one of those coaches got fired after like less than a year, and the other just finished up a nice little 5-11 or 6-10 season. SUCCESS!!

Blah blah more football journamalism:

Bowles, for example, is a legitimate candidate for not only the Dolphins' job but also others. If Bill Parcells were to get another chance to run a club, Bowles likely would be his choice. Although the Dolphins' closing schedule is tough, Bowles could become their head coach if he wins a couple of games.

A three-game sample might not be much in judging how an interim coach would fare in a permanent position, but it's something.

After that totally irrelevant Rooney Rule Refresher, we got some cold, hard facts up in this bitch:

The NFL has 10 African-American head coaches.

peppered with opinion:

The Rooney Rule is working, and that is great for this sport.

No dude, in terms of coaches, what's great for the sport are fair, competitive and intelligent coaches of any color. And a goddamn decrease in ticket prices.

John Clayton, I usually expect more out of you than bullshit diversity peddling and self-hating unrighteousness.

Fuck ESPN when they try and and stick their uppity, elitist noses in politics and race relations.