WAMPOHOLIC

Looking back, I saw that some girl reblogged this Bill Hicks quote and included her comments:

THAT JUST MADE ME SO ANGRY. clearly this person doesnt know that people can get addicted to marijuana, believe it or not.

so this guy saying that my point of view is pointless, makes this guy the biggest asshole around.

so fuck you guy, fuck you.

It makes me sad, and I don’t say this in a condescending way but like a my-eyes-are-warm-from-welling-tears way, but it makes me sad that there are people that ended up on the island of My Generation who read Hicks’ material, get angry, and abort their thoughts all over the content-drenched span of tumblr, but can’t even wiki who this “guy” is? There’s such a gap between how me and this girl look at the world, and that gap isn’t going anywhere, and what do I do in the face of that?

Because on April 20th this year I was reading books by the charming fellows quoted below, so I didn’t really have time to type up those quotes.

I like these cause they’re both pointing out institutional hypocrisy from a non-self-motivated position. It isn’t “man, weed is great man” (even though Hicks does do a bit of that at times,) it’s “hey this is indicative of the many ways that your lives are fucked on a daily basis. It’s a small piece of the overlying puzzle, and when your grandma finishes assembling its 1000 pieces, she’s going to be shocked by the picture of you taking a reaming.”

The fact that these two are dead is one of the few things that can make me feel sad.

Pitchfork’s Ian Cohen concludes his week one (and maybe week two?) coverage of Coachella by noting that “buying a pass to Coachella is something akin to investing in the ability for music to still deliver something close to a monoculture.” This comes after an appraisal lacking in excitement, noting fault after fault in the shows with very few polite, dry love-notes to particularly inspired performances. (And the reunion sets by Pulp and Mazzy Star. Could Pitchfork be getting *gasp* old? *heavy wheezing exhale suggesting, yes, yes it is*)

But, well… Let me pre-defend myself against (totally valid) cries of contrarianism: I would love to go to Coachella. I would freak the fuck out at the chance to see a lot of new, exciting artists and a few old faves. I imagine I would take the time to learn about all the performers I don’t recognize or have a passing interest in. I’d go with friends. Make out with Lindsay Lohan. Never call her. Regret never calling her. BUT I don’t have the money for it saved up in a lump sum like that, and if I did, I’d probably feel guilty for spending it… And… Well…

Assuming I took the $300 for a Coachella ticket and instead put it to $20 concerts over the span of a year, I could see fifteen acts that I specifically care about (as well as their opening acts) perform full sets in intimate, climate-controlled venues with more opportunities for friends to join me and a crowd that has shown up for this show. With some rough estimation that would give me Death Grips, EMA, Kendrick Lamar, Azealia Banks, The Vaccines, araabMUZIK, Frank Ocean, Dada Life, Madeon, R3hab, and A$AP Rocky, then I’d take what’s left over and splurge on Santigold and The Weeknd. If you’re gonna argue that it would cost more than $300, then fuck you and tack on airfare and cost of living.

We live in a world where if you care about music, you have the tools to get whatever you want to listen to and critical opinion is easier to find than ever. The entry-level costs of production have gone down enough that anyone can be a musician. When Pitchfork describes Coachella as appealing to a musical monoculture, they’re saying that people still want to throw down their money for an experience that’s being made obsolete. Coachella creates this event that harkens back to the past: for my Georgia folk, remember Music Midtown? Freaknik? They died out because listeners needed something bigger to gather for— they needed to be convinced that the event had cultural capital beyond just seeing the artists.

I’m not saying you’re stupid for liking festivals. Electric Zoo has strobed two of the best weekends of my life at me. (I would argue that there are differences between E-Zoo and Coachella/Bonnaroo, but that’s another delirium-fueled tumblr rant.) I just thought that Pitchfork’s idea really clicked with a thought I’ve held onto for awhile and never bring up because I’d be a real dick to do that to someone excited about Coachella.

To set the stage, here’s a passage from the Vulture’s reaction to the talk:

“When I was a younger man,” he said, “it was crazy, like, you know, you grow up, and like, you don’t even, I remember like — I didn’t even know how to walk.” Was he talking about being a bay? No; he was talking about self-consciousness. “I was like, wondering how I was walking. I was in high school, like, ‘Am I walking weird?’ Really so conscious, though, and so hard on myself.” Which is, if you ask me, honest and thoughtful and maybe just a dash of stonerishly profound — imagine, that we human animals can be so socially self-conscious that we’re unsure how to walk from one place to another — though the NYU Local Twitter account soon enough summarized it as “Lil B just admitted that he did not know how to walk until high school.”

And here’s the NYU Local talking about the same:

The lecture was entertaining – don’t forget, Lil B is also pretty fucking crazy. He told the crowd he loves paying taxes. He lay on the table pretending to fall asleep, whispering “honesty, integrity, friendship, passion.” He claimed he didn’t know how to walk until high school. He made animal noises. He complimented the architect of Kimmel for some reason. His big announcement was an impending rock album -maybe called California Boy, but also quite possibly not a thing. Lil B claimed to be working with the unnamed biggest artist on the planet. He came off as a man who found enlightenment, and he might well be the messiah. “I’m ready to die for the humans – I’m ready to die for the positivity,” he actually said at one point.

See, here’s why blogs are tearing up the NYU student reaction to his talk: the accounts of the crowd response plus this dismissal of ideas makes us look like we went there to see Lil B. If you take a moment and think about all of these (contextually-stripped) ideas and how they apply to his philosophy, they don’t look “fucking crazy.” He probably loves paying taxes because he’s making a lot of money (is he?) and he likes thinking that his taxes are going to the disadvantaged. He pretended to dream about honesty, integrity, etc. because there is a truth in mantra and visualization— if you think about those virtues ALL of the time, they become an automatic piece of how you take in the world. As countered by the Vulture, he wasn’t saying “I simply couldn’t walk until I was 16 lol,” he was making a point about self-consciousness and the fact that some people worry about how they walk (I’ve thought about it!) As the Vulture also goes into, Lil B didn’t just “compliment the architect of Kimmel,” he was amazed that humanity could come together to construct something so ridiculous, given its disparate components prior to assembly.

(I’ve got nothing on the animal noises but I’m sure there was a point.)

I’m not a Lil B adherent. His music doesn’t inspire me. (Though “Real You,” the mashup of him and Gold Panda by The Hood Internet, is one of the dj duo’s best.) But maybe this is why he doesn’t perform or give interviews all that much; maybe because when he does go out, “fans” yell insipid shit (“are you a brony?” gag me with a fucking chainsaw) and roll their eyes at how absurd his notions are, and the real people who feel his music aren’t the kind that can, idk, go to one of the most expensive private schools in the nation?

And the funny thing is that as I’m noticing myself getting worked up at all this, I’m remembering one of Lil B’s quotes from last night: “the secret of life — one of the secrets — is if you look at everybody like they’re a baby. Don’t be so hard on people.”

TYBG

• Pirates
• Georgia
• Music
• The Future
• The Olympics
• Facebook
• Trees
• Stimulants
• Laser Future
• Weather Futures
• Evil
• The Inside of Trees
• Water & Fire
• Guns & Roses (a specific spin on “Music”)
• Weather Futures Again!!!
• Anger
• Game of Thrones
• Anger, but Relaxed
• Ibuprofen
• NO MORE WEATHER FUTURES
• A burning passion trickling outwards from your brainstem
• Hugs

I just finished this book tonight. The first contemporary fiction I’ve read since all of A Song of Ice and Fire, but they actually have a similar sprawling take on a unique and damaging world. Where ASOIAF flits around war-torn Westeros, Skippy Dies covers the many lives of a classy, run-down Irish boarding school in what may be its own ultimate-conflict year. I’ve offered two quotes that capture an idea as a point-counterpoint, and while they don’t really demonstrate the breadth of Murray’s talent or his vocabulary, the give you an idea of the heavy teenage love that gets kicked around. I’m glad I’m not too old to hate it yet.

If you want your tumblr to represent “you,” then reblogging a photo or piece of art without sourcing it or attempting to hunt down more work by the creator is such self-indulgent “PRETTY PICTURE” treatment of the material. No matter how many vintage mimeographs you post up, doesn’t your lack of interest in the origin speak more to your nature? Isn’t it logical to care about the art you supposedly care about?

This is on my mind because the three people who liked the Drake remix I posted all have the most amorphous unenlightening series of photos attesting to … I don’t even know. I wanted to see the sort of people who would enjoy a weird-ass remix like that and I was left with nothing.

• hundreds of bugs in my bed
• a grey, hunched-over, leering demon smiling from my computer chair
• tall, green jacketed figure standing in the corner
• a thick ivory tentacle sweeping around the edges of the room, heading toward me
• nothing fun
• no lollipops
• why

I found myself getting wrapped up in several comment arguments attached to this one article about racism on Grantland over the past… three days?? oh god seriously it’s been that long I almost want to stop writing about this in shame

BUT I had a critical realization last night: even if the people I’m arguing with are parroting well-worn generalizations and refusing to consider anything I write to them, as long as I keep questioning what I know and double-checking my sources and actively searching for supplemental knowledge to make sure that my own words are as airtight as possible, then I’m learning something. Even if we’re just circle-jerking around the same topics and talking points, as long as I step back and do some cursory googling on whatever is being spewed at me (and then make sure to read enough of whatever paper I’m quoting as a retort,) my brain has leveled up. Even if my convictions don’t win, I win in myself.

What a pleasant feeling.

(and then I got to write that I won on my tumblr so take that racist fuckers)

Tomorrow night I’m djing at BEDLAM for the ALL DIE YOUNG fundraiser. I’ve gotta fill an hour and a half, and while I have more than enough favorite tracks to manage that, my favorite part of preparing for a dj set is finding approximately 50 new favorites the night before. Here’s one of them: the Curl Up remix of Drop The Lime’s “Shake Baby Shake.”

Sure, I’ve been picking up some traditional electro remixes of pop music, the sorta easy bangers that you know the kids’ll groove to. But if people don’t shake booties to this, I don’t think I can deal with people anymore.