Thursday, August 26, 2010

Alanis Morissette

Yesterday my roommate texted me the lyrics to Alanis' dreadfully un-clever ditty, "Ironic". Shortly after doing this, a bird took a shit on the back of his neck. I sincerely believe this was the universe's way of making him pay for getting that awful piece of shit stuck in my head, thus prompting this post. If you were a sentient being in the 90's, you remember Alanis and her "Jagged Little Pill" record. The appeal of this horse-faced chanteuse was always a bit of an anomaly to me. The whole "pseudo-grunge-looking-angsty-chick" routine seemed to wear thin once it was announced that all of that angst was drummed up by Dave fucking Coulier. Yep. Then there was the video for "Thank You" where she stood there naked with what we all know was a giant muskrat-bush betwixt her legs, blurred out for your consideration and mine. The greatest enigma here is how she managed to land Ryan Reynolds. Even Julia Roberts and Lyle Lovett made more sense to me. Its so perplexing, that the only conclusion I can come to is that the dude must have a fetish for chicks who look like they work in the photo-lab at Costco. I'm gonna stop trying to make sense out of a nonsensical world and leave you with the following dreck.

Here's what is available at the moment. I'll torture you with the rest once I find videos that some dick-diddling record company hasn't disabled the embedding for.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010


They say all good things must come to an end. In some instances this is particularly evident. None more so than after the decline of the "Gilded Age of Commercially-Viable Yet Still Somewhat Artistically Integral" era that was the early to mid-90's. The latter portion of that decade was plagued by a vapid soullessness that permeated listener's ears and gave way to the rise of (to my great sorrow) the butt-rock dirges we now like to call "modern rock". We have FCC deregulation of radio station ownership to thank for this. As a result, media giants like Clear Channel were able to buy up 90% of the airwaves and push only a small fraction of whatever garbage they deemed fit down our throats. Is any band in particular to blame? Not exactly. The mediocrity that holds sway to this very moment was ushered in by the shifting from what was a promising coalesce of college-rock and pop music which unfortunately quickly devolved into the "Alterna-Bland" of the late 90's. This was propagated by a certain breed of dingleberry....sensitive men with sweaters, scraggly chin hair or soul-patches, butt-cuts, and a never-fail "play the feminist card to get laid" routine.

Speaking of idiots like those, here's Dishwalla. They fucking sucked.

p.s. Pitchfork can eat my shit.

Shudder to Think

After two and a half years of stagnation, we're bringing this bitch back. Its been a long 30 months or so, but fear not.....we'll be here to post for another couple of weeks before we decide to just keep on persisting with our miserable existences and let this blog once again fall into neglect for another couple of years. In the meantime, lets kick it off with some fruity-post-hardcore-come-art-phaggery. Shudder to Think were an early 90's emo-ish (think Rites of Spring and not Fall Out Boy, assholes) band on Dischord that got signed to a major label and went off the deep end with "Pony Express Record". Its amazing that album spawned as many singles as oddball as it is. Shit's pretty awesome, but i thought it to be pretty homo-erotic when I was a tween. The video for Hit Liquor doesn't help their case.

The guitar player was in Swiz and is now married to the chick in the Cardigan's which makes him my role-model and way cooler than any of you