This is what the soundtrack to Easy Rider would be like if it was made two decades later and starred J. Mascis, Bob Mould and Cris Kirkwood instead of Hopper, Fonda and Nicholson. Recently a friend of mine told me about a dude he knows who regularly wears a tee shirt that says, “Bring back the early ‘90s.” That dude would love this record. ...Read the whole review after the jump.
Hi, and welcome to the 19th episode of HotDogDayz Radio! This time around we pay tribute to the 20 year anniversary of two of hip-hop's most highly revered albums. We play the Wu-Tang Clan's Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) in it's entirety, as well as a Native Tongues set revolving around the 20th anniversary of A Tribe Called Quest's Midnight Marauders. Listen as our DJ meanders aimlessly, as is his wont, about "things he remembers." As always we appreciate any feedback. Now get to listening... Tracklist:
Wu-Tang Clan – Bring da Ruckus
Wu-Tang Clan – Shame on a N*gga
Wu-Tang Clan – Clan In da Front
Wu-Tang Clan – Wu-Tang: 7th Chamber
Wu-Tang Clan – Can It All Be So Simple
Wu-Tang Clan – Da Mystery of Chessboxin’
Jungle Brothers – The Promo
De La Soul – Me, Myself and I
A Tribe Called Quest – Can I Kick It?
Jungle Bothers – Beyond This World
De La Soul – A Roller Skating Jam Named Saturday
A Tribe Called Quest – Check The Rhime
De La Soul – En Focus
A Tribe Called Quest – We Can Get Down
Wu-Tang Clan – Wu-Tang Clan Ain’t Nuthing ta F’ Wit
Wu-Tang Clan – C.R.E.A.M.
Wu-Tang Clan – Method Man
Wu-Tang Clan – Protect Ya Neck
Wu-Tang Clan – Tearz
Wu-Tang Clan – Wu-Tang: 7th Chamber, Pt. 2
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The drums and bass step outside the Dis zone for brief periods of erratic improvisation, trying as best as they can to keep up with the lightning fast guitars, which squeal and swirl all over the place; driving the band’s sonic direction into face-melting realms. While there’s nothing quite that bizarre on this LP, Nö Pöwer is still pushing the limitations of the big D beyond monotonous reiteration. Attention all other bands: start doing this now! ...Read full review here.
The Minnehaha Creek is just one of the many places I do my thinking. I mean, as a human being with a fully functional brain, I do a lot of thinking in, at, or near a lot of places. It’s not like thinking is something we can control. It just sort of…no, not sort of…it is just something that happens. Anyway, the Minnehaha Creek is one of the places I do my thinking. Like my thinking thinking. Like, purposeful, deep, hard thinking. There are some regular things that I think about when I’m here—things like work, having kids, securing a future, getting healthier, my family, and other, you know, life things. And at this particular time, as I stand in the blackened, whispering wind of a crisp Minneapolis fall evening, overlooking the Minnehaha Creek, I drink a few secret beers, I as I often do here, and think about a variety of things that aren’t necessarily life things but aren’t any less meaningful.
I think about how fucked up it is that the older you get the less likely you are to hang out with your friends, and how not only is it fucked up, as I stated, but also incredibly depressing. The lyrics to LCD Soundsytem’s “All My Friends” keep running through my head, which is puzzling, because I am certain that there are other songs that mean more to me. Yet I keep repeating the lyrics, “Where are your friends tonight?” and “If I could see all of my friends tonight!” And then, for unexplained reasons, I am overwhelmed with the urge to scream, “I felt so fucking alive!” It’s a line that Daniel Roebuck’s character “John” says in in the 1986 teen-angst-murder-coming-of-age-y film Rivers’s Edge. This may seem a bit strange, as I have not (spoiler alert) choked my girlfriend to death. But I’ve seen the movie so many times that it’s sort of ingrained itself into my being at this point. And well, I am standing near a body of moving water too. So there’s that. Then something from my past pops into my head and I immediately send a handful of good friends the following text message:
Sitting here, having some beers Han Solo-style at the Minnehaha Creek and all I can think of is…SHIT YOUR GODDAMN PANTS!
The recipients of this text are the only people in the world that would ever understand it’s meaning, but that’s precisely the point. I laugh out loud, as I think about how great it is that a ridiculous inside joke can be the foundation that lifelong friendships are built upon. One of them texts back, “Ain’t that the way it goes. Another says, “Just whisper it.” And all is right in the world.
Another beer sinks in, my mind wanders, and I end up spending an excessive amount of time thinking about how it’s been 20 years since the Wu-Tang Clan’s outstanding debut Enter the Wu-Tang Clan: 36 Chambers dropped. “20 years, dudes; 20 years,” I say out loud to nobody whatsoever. I will always feel like I missed out a little bit on the initial excitement because I was so wrapped-up in flannel shirts, Doc Martens, and anything Seattle at the time. My otherwise fierce proclivity for discovering new rap music had briefly taken a back seat to my re-found interest in weird, punk-tinged white people music. Honestly, I didn’t fully engulf myself in 36 Chambers until a year or so after seemingly everyone else had. I think about how I might go to the record store tomorrow—probably the Electric Fetus— and buy 36 Chambers, and how it will most definitely be on CD so I can play it in my car, which I’m not embarrassed to admit still has a bass cannon in the trunk. Oddly enough, the only copy of 36 Chambers that I have is a dubbed cassette that I’ve dragged around with me for roughly 19 years. I’ve never been one to let format be a deciding factor when it comes to personal importance of an album.
I think about how, for better or worse, (and most likely worse,) rap music has changed a lot since the Wu-Tang Clan first hit the scene. I think about how there was once a time when nine guys, or 10 guys if you count Cappadonna, (which I’m inclined not to,) didn’t seem like too many rappers. And then I think to myself, damn, there you have it – that's your Too Many Rappers segue right there…
Shit got kinda wacky. If you have a spare hour to kill, consider this episode your last option. Nah, JK, JK, it's actually pretty good. Nearly an hour of '80s punk, '90s alt, hair metal, rap music, and other weird shit; cut with prank phone calls, pro-wrestling promos, answering machine messages, and other snippets; where the only time the DJ opens his mouth it sounds like smoking meth underwater. Just kidding, I don't know what that's like - I've never been underwater. Nah, JK, JK. In other news, a new issue of HotDogDayz dropped earlier this week -
HOTDOGDAYZ//STRAIGHT GULLY FANZINE//ISSUE #5. Get yourself a copy - there's a lot left. Email: email@example.com
Fugazi - Version
CRASS - Have a Nice Day
My Bloody Valentine - Touched
HR - Let's Have a Revolution
Dr. Ocotogon - Halfsharkalligatorhalfman
Das EFX - Dum Dums
Bullet Boys - Smooth Up in Ya
Cinderella - Gypsy Road
Hawd Gankstuh Rappuhs MCs Wid Ghatz - Docrapolips Now
Japanther - Mission
No Crisis - Speed Hungry
Triumph of Lethargy Skinned Alive to Death - The Salted Ones, Into the Mud
Suicidal Tendencies - Join the Army
Faith No More - Caffeine
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Found items, hijacked emails, mail art, reader submissions, fan letters, crusty art, raw photography, rail monikers, graffiti, and hilarious multilayered jokes that may seem simple on the surface but are so secretly brilliant that they're basically the (insert name of a person similar to Bob Dylan or Ian Astbury) of jokes.
Let us know if you want one and you'll have it in your mailbox in no time!
From Atop the Steel Frame: Best Night on My Bike in Minneapolis part whatever. Green Mind turns into Red Medicine which turns into Bricks Are Heavy, which isn't a color but it makes me feel orange. Pullup bar at Lake Hiawatha is the location for today's WOD, just as it often is. As I pedal my way home from the LQ, a roadie passes me, fully kit'd, and says, "Chilly day to be on the bikes eh?" To which I reply in my best Beer Fest faux German accent, "Yah, just a little bit." We both laugh, then he and his infinite gears leave me in the dust. A family of mallards swims down the Minnehaha Creek, maneuvering around some discarded jackolanterns and I figure this is as good a spot as any to sit and have one. Me, the dead leaves floating by, and the crisp air of my beloved city. Cheers.