I no longer have any doubt that the nonsense crew is derek-fucking-forreal. Madd Illz is a buck raw monster, like a tyrannosaurus unleashed in a small shop full of delicate things that don’t rhyme. He was here in DC with SPS and X:144 and you missed it. Your bad. My favorite thing about the whole nonsense movement is that they really are true about being good folks, love, and health. Who knew positivity could be so dope?
first we had a cipher
you can listen to it here
then SPS (who might very well be the best DJ on earth in case you didn’t know) did some scratching. you can also listen to it here
then mental stamina interviewed the performers
(yes – you can listen to it here)
and then they got back on the road. I had to work early as shit the next morning which was tough since we stayed up building until 5 o’clock.
then plus tainted my door. thanks for coming out, guy.
fresh new shit: the dirty projectors who are touring with Hella. they are coming to the rock’n'roll funeral home on march 28th. don’t say i didn’t tell you.
also hybrid has made me remember why I love electronic music. genres are obsolete in 2077 bitches.
and don’t forget: caverns at Dremo’s on saturday with the no name band.
I was lucky enough to see Matt and Kim at the rock’n'roll funeral home on Saturday. If you haven’t heard about these guys you almost certainly don’t own any white belts. Here is their new video:
There were a a bunch of folks there, including the Max Levine Ensemble. Who I must say are a little too political for my taste… how can you claim to be punk rock and not just wanna have unprotected sex and get drunk and break stuff all the time? That being said, they were pretty good (esp. the drummer). I got a sweet shirt. Then I saw the sonic pizza party that is a Matt and Kim set. Then I actually ate some pizza with them and they slept on my futon. Then I blew it and didn’t record an interview I did with them. It’s okay… I’ll see them again in a few weeks and probably again a few weeks after that… and there is already a sweet interview posted that they did with our buddies at chief (lookout for an interview w/ C-Rex on there too). Anyway they are awesome and I am a better person for hanging with them this weekend. You’ll know what I mean soon if you don’t already.
as promised here is the video from the Mardi Gras parade:
part 1
part 2
Man that was weird. I’ve watched this a bunch in the last few days and I still can’t really comprehend that it went down like it did… one thing’s for sure though: white women love Ardamus.
Anyway not a whole lot to report from dudesburg… we threw a bunch more stuff up in the radiolab and we’re brewing a few luminous green projects in the future. The mathpanda album is finally visible on the horizon.
["freshness HO!"]
On a bizarre and slightly sad note, I was poking around the old interweb today and came across nonsense records’ podcast library. Let me first say that I really respect their label – we’ve had the pleasure of sharing a stage with Mauikai and Jalima. we’re playing with S.K.I.P. and SPS and X:144. All of you should buy the new SPS and X:144 record it is flat out amazing. and the solilaquists might have given the most powerful live show I’ve ever seen, twice. Anyway I was excited to see what was listed as a “cipher” featuring “freestyles” from some of my favorite MCs. but as I listened I was disappointed to find that at least 3 of the dozen or so verses in the first section were written, suffice it to say that doubt was cast on the veracity of the rest. not that I think they intentionally misrepresented what went on but… it’s kinda fishy. I think they are focusing on making a better sounding final product with their podcasts which all sound good from beginning to end and are neatly cut up. I guess not everyone is into putting themselves on the line and publishing 40+ hours of raw actual super-dome freestyle. hmmm. is unpolished better? i dunno but I’m too lazy to edit, and I wouldn’t know where to do it anyway: Is that a SANTOS?
oh shit I almost forgot! I have an excuse for sucking ass in the last few ciphers we’ve done: I am now straight edge. HA! can you believe that shit?!!? cold turkey. I haven’t been completely sober for a few days in a more than a few years… I guess that’s what convinced me to do it. I had been smoking, pretty much non-stop, for over ten years and I’m only 25… man that’s fucked up 1) how the fuck did I get so old & 2) what the fuck was I doing smoking at 14. Don’t do it kiddies!
anyway I’ll end this post with a story that has nothing to do with music, but is a good allegory for life’s inescapable bullshit. A few weeks ago I was leaving Mexico City via aeroplane. I show up to the ticket counter with my passport and my ticket thinking everything would be copacetic, after all it says right on my passport: don’t fuck with this guy. I was informed upon checking in that I would need a little piece of paper that I was issued when I entered Mexico, and promptly threw away. I still have no idea what this mysterious piece of paper was for. Luckily I had three hours before my flight, and I could reproduce said piece of paper with a few quick visits to a federal office and a bank.
okay. 7 am: I start walking to the officina de gringo harassment which is like a quarter mile away from where we checked in. This was difficult because of the antenocturnal margaritas and the fact that the food or the water or something had finally caught up with me and my stomach had rejected the comida and started digesting itself. I don’t have the words to describe the sensation, but I do remember one thing quite clearly: my abdominal region hurt so badly that my balls actually hurt. I have only been more uncomfortable in the presence of obsequious earnest douchebags (I mean really, where do you go with them?). I get there and find out that the office doesn’t open until 8… at 8:20 two mexicans arrive and thankgod they speak English (looking back I wonder if this whole episode was my due penance for being an arrogant American and traveling completely unprepared… hmm).
“you lost that slip of paper that we designed to look like trash eh? well you’ll need every single page of your passport to be photocopied. Si, even the blank ones.”
Of course the only place to get photocopies is an additional 17 lightyears away. By now it feels as though I am ice skating on my own entrails as my legs have become shaky and cold flashes have started to make me question my mammalian heritage. So I get to the photocopy store and get my passport copied and waddle back after a brief but bloody almost Hussein-esque reign on the porcelain throne.
“Good work. With the facsimile of that last blank page safely in our possession, the Mexican government can be sure that you are not a Mexican emigre. That’ll be 50 bucks.”
“I only have 48.”
“Well hombre… you gotta pay the tax.”
trudge back downstairs to the main concourse and start asking: “donde esta el banco automatico?”
anyway after filling out a form in triplicate aided by old school carbon transfer I finally get my papers in order, but by now our flight is boarding and I still can’t move because my testes have unraveled and are becoming entangled in passers-by.
we find a flight information display monitor and head for international departures. Gate G. After going through security, we make our way to a hallway that advertises itself as leading to gates E-H, but when we reach its terminus there are signs for gate H to the right, and gates E & F to the left. A notable absence. Curious. Maybe we made a mistake… back out through security… no this is the only international departures section of the airport. Yes we are still listed as gate G. Yes gate G is decreed as behind the security officers who already know my darkest secrets…
So we breach the safe zone again and walk to the same place and ask the closest official where gate “gee” is. no idea (“Que?”). at this point panic sets in. The idea of being stuck in this backwards ass airport while my testicles start rogue nation-states in the surrounding hills is too much, and we decide to just pick a direction and walk (left as it were).
we ask a few more times and no one has any idea where gate G is… despite our pointing it out on display monitors; you would think we had been showing Korowai snow. eventually we get to the and of the concourse and find a delightful and chipper anglophone informant.
“Oh there is no gate G. Gate G just means general… you didn’t know?”
he tells us where to go, and after disposing of some incredibly dangerous dihydrogenmonoxcide (in a sealed container purchased behind security), and getting our bags searched again by hand, we were aboard. Hallelujah! Five hours later I was asked what I had been doing (jihad training camp) and what I did here in the U.S. of A. (militant soy farmer), got my bags and headed home.
No mention of the mysterious and hard-won piece of paper. I must have been right to throw that fucker away in the first place. ehhhh.
