Here’s my theory on Gnarls Barkley: somewhere out there, some music critic gave a shining review to this completely unremarkable duo. This, in turn, led other critics to give it similarly shining reviews, because the first critic was a respected tastemaker and was obviously right to give the completely unremarkable duo a shining review. Then people started buying the record and playing it at gatherings (“It’s not a party, man… it’s really more a gathering“) where people would then ask their hosts, “Hey, man… what is this, Jamiroqui?” Their hosts would laugh heartily, then shake their heads. “No, no…it’s Gnarls Barkley! You know… the collaboration between Goodie Mob’s Cee-Lo and hit producer Dangermouse!” Then they all grooved out, or blissed out, or whatever people do at gatherings where they play Gnarls Barkley, and the next day the guy who (understandably) thought it was a new Jamiroqui record ran out and bought the record himself. He played it for his girlfriend who thought it was totally catchy and made him burn it for her. Then she made it her official “shower soundtrack” so it got stuck in all her roommates’ heads, who then in turn played it for their boyfriends. Their boyfriends all thought it was kind of gay but figured maybe they’d get blowjobs if they all bought tickets to the Gnarls Barkley show. So now everyone likes Gnarls Barkley, and yeah, maybe a few dudes got their bones smooched, but c’mon… is it really worth it when a band sucks this bad?

One day, back in 1975, John Trubee was sitting on his ass behind a cash register at a convenience store in Princeton, New Jersey. He was bored out of his mind. Wouldn’t you be if you were sitting behind a cash register at a convenience store in Princeton, New Jersey? What would you be doing? Reading? Doodling? Sudoku? Not John Trubee. Instead of wasting his time with some sort of piddling nonsense like number games or reading a book, John Trubee decided to take advantage it. He decided to do something. He picked up a pen, grabbed a piece of paper, and started to write. The words poured out of him like they had been inside him all along, just waiting to get out:

Stevie Wonder’s penis is erect because he’s blind
It’s erect because he is blind…

And now here you are, 31 years later, sitting at your computer, reading those words he wrote so long ago. How did that happen? How does something scrawled on a legal pad behind the register of a convenience store in Princeton, New Jersey wind up preserved for three decades? I’m not sure, but it probably helps if it’s the most brilliant fucking thing ever written in the history of mankind.

Step 1: read this short essay about how “Peace & Love (Blind Man’s Penis)” came to be recorded.

Step 2: watch this (nsfw) flash video set to it.

Step 3: try to figure out how you’re gonna do all the things you have to do this week with AN ASPLODED BRAIN.

(via metafilter)

Although this video makes my hipster irony sense tingle like crazy (which makes me wanna run down to the corner of Damen, North & Milwaukee and scream to every latte-sipping doofus within earshot, “David Hasselhoff rules!”), the fact remains that the song is absolutely atrocious. I feel so conflicted: I can’t decide whether to tag this as a “thing that rules” or a “thing that sucks.” You know what? Fuck it – it’s both.

[gv data=”http://www.youtube.com/v/ykSzwYQV6PU”][/gv]

A few days ago, I sold my last keytar. I used to have two; now I have none. I feel empty.

After a few days of sulking, I managed to raise my spirits a bit and do some keytar-related web searching. Then I did some keytar-related emailing. Then I took a nap.

I had keytar-related dreams.

When I woke up, I had received a keytar-related response to my keytar-related email! Delightful! It was from Tom Schuman, keyboard player from Spyro Gyra and owner of the first prototype of the first commercially-released keytar (the Moog Liberation). Though credited as the first keytar player, he tells it a bit differently:

Thank you for thinking about me. I cannot take credit for being the first keytar player. I saw Jan Hammer with a thing called “The Probe” back when I just starting touring with Spyro Gyra in 1978. I think George Duke also used a keytar called a “Clavitar”. However, I can take credit for the first one to set his keytar on fire. Moog Music made me a prototype to the Liberation which had a compartment on the back for smoke bombs. At a certain point in my keytar solo, I had the stage manager kneel behind me and light the wick of a smoke bomb which then gave the illusion that the keyboard was smoking. Well, one time it actually caught on fire when the whole back of the keyboard started flaming at which point I was forced to throw the thing off of me. Fortunately, I was not burned. I also got electrocuted in Japan when our lighting director decided to string the keytar with flashing Christmas lights. He would turn them on when I went running through the audience. The effect was great except when I took off the thing to set it back on the stage, I touched something that shot 110 volts through my body…once again, I was forced to throw it off of me!

Needless to say, I no longer desire to use a keytar.

TOM SCHUMAN

When Tupac was 19, he was hired as a back-up dancer for Digital Underground. Whoopee. When the Tact Records crew was 19, they were serving in the Israel Defense Forces. If American rappers are pissed off, just imagine what these guys must feel like. Israel’s most popular rapper, Subliminal (MySpace profile here), is known as the creator of “Zionist hip hop.” Tamer Nafar, founder of hip hop group DAM (“Da Arabic MCs”), is an Arab-Israeli. They used to be friends who believed that hip hop could unite the world. Take a wild guess what happened with there.

Read about their falling out over at Guilt and Pleasure.

(link)

Remember that sick move Michael Jackson used to do? You know the one: where he’d lean way forward but never fall because he was such a good dancer? Remember all those times you tried to do it and kept falling on your ass? Well guess what: not only did you never have a chance of doing it right, but if you were trying to do it after October 26, 1993, you may have been breaking the law.

(link – via kottke)

As you may be aware, today is 6/06/06, known to some as the National Day of Slayer, and better known to many, many more people than that as A Day of Really Nice Early-June Weather.

Some people are a little nervous about 6/06/06. Who wouldn’t be? To the uninformed, Slayer can be a little threatening. With song titles like “Altar of Sacrifice” and “Mandatory Suicide” it’s easy to be a little put off, but trust me: once you get past the Wall of Blood and Auschwitz references, the Slayer boys are nice as pie. Forget what you thought you knew about the kings of thrash and take a look at how they’re spending the most unholy of days.

6/06/06, 7:30 a.m.
THE UPS STORE

The boys got an early start on their special day at their local UPS store, participating in an ancient ritual: mailing care packages to their college-bound children. Devil’s food cake, anyone?

6/06/06, 11:15 a.m.
WALGREENS

Does Walgreens sell blood? Sorry, guys! They might be S.O.L on that front, but luckily for Tom Araya, they DO fill Lipitor prescriptions. With a metal lifestyle like his, that cholesterol isn’t gonna regulate itself! Speaking of which, anybody getting hungry?

6/06/06, 12:30 p.m.
TACO BELL

Forget “South of Heaven” – these guys are going South of the Border!!! Yum!

6/06/06, 2:15 p.m.
PETTING ZOO

I don’t really know what to say about this. It’s their day, alright? They can do whatever they want.

6/06/06, 4:30 p.m.
TIME TO CHILL

After an action-packed day, everyone deserves a little R&R. That means it’s time to kick back in Jeff Hanneman‘s basement home theater and watch the band’s favorite movie. Let’s give ’em a little privacy, shall we? As pioneers of thrash and all-around nice guys, I’d say they’ve earned it. Wouldn’t you?

Oh – and this happened too.

Remember when you figured out that Kraftwerk’s “Metropolis” is the exact same speed as Prince’s “Little Red Corvette?” Too late – some kid in Sweden already did that like two years ago. Screw a bunch of “mashups” anyway – it’s time to take it to the next level. While you were sitting in a swivel chair failing miserably at mixing Lil Jon with R.E.M., some dude named Matthew at Pottymouth.org was sitting in an even darker room than you were. He sat there for a long time staring at the wall for hours, thinking about how mashups are stupid. He made a snack. All of the sudden the wall-mounted CD rack right above him broke and all of his Pixies CDs fell on his head. Then it hit him. No – not “Caribou.” The future of mashups. The trail has been blazed. Thanks, Matt.

Matthew’s Celebrity Pixies Tribute (via metafilter)