This past summer, I had the privilege of enjoying a major music festival that took place a stone throw (and three stops on the Blue Line) away from my Chicago suburb, Elmhurst, Ill. I was overflowing with excitement as I prepared myself for my first experience with Chicago’s Pitchfork Music Festival, a festival known for guaranteeing a lineup of diversity so strong it would put the original organizers of the ‘60s Monterey Pop and Woodstock Festival into a fit of shock.
I had a list of 16 different artists I hoped to catch glimpses at, some deserving a simple sitting and watching-glimpse while others were given hours of pre-show wait time. Interestingly enough, the many different friends and old high school classmates I saw at the festival also had hopes to make bizarre show transitions similar to my own, going from a punk-rock set to a vocal-focused, more synth-heaving experimental pop.
Saturday led me to hop from boisterous hip-hop MC Danny Brown, where crowd-surfing and mobs of sweaty teens shouting obscenities back and forth lasted the entire performance, to art-rock mqueen St. Vincent, where flocks of fans would be heard crying through smiles and song at the musician’s delectable, and then end with the legendary indie-rock group Neutral Milk Hotel.
Continue reading The New Age of Fluid Musical Identities
First off, I would like to thank you for looking equally majestic with long hair as you do with short hair. Its just uncanny the level of intensity and warmth that you supply, whether sporting the simple soul patch or the full goatee. Similar to your musical endeavors, it’s nearly impossible to provide anything mediocre. Also Nirvana was decent, I guess.
Now that I got the more embarrassing side of the laundry list of praising I have out of the way, I’d like to move onto recognizing your latest project, the album/documentary series Sonic Highways.
Here’s the thing, David. Can I call you David? Great, I feel like we’re on that level too. Anyways, to put it bluntly, I think the documentary series is the greatest thing created since heated bathroom floors. Actually, fuck it. It’s better.
Continue reading A love letter to Dave Grohl
Hey everybody, Jacky boy here. Guess what? I’ve gone and found a few more sound smoothies for all the village to sip on. I’ve got a diverse menu today. You’ll find some old favorites, some hot
new players…maybe even a deep cut or two! Not as poetic this week, i mostly used complete sentences.
I’m training myself to be the next hot writer for rolling stone. Continue reading Fox Jackson Marcodocious and His Third Playlist
I am someone who believes an environment can mesh well with the music in between my ears. With summer days spent aimlessly long boarding empty streets flushed with sunshine, I would direct someone to the indie-rock, surf sounds of Real Estate or California lovin’ Crosby, Stills and Nash. In the midst of a hailstorm on the highway, a more chaotic and lively Animal Collective cut would do.
But for the days of cardigans, the evenings of brutal breeze and hoping for another second of Missouri warmth, and the mornings of those darling leaves changing, I never know where to turn musically. The hybrid of summer heat and winter frigidness leads me to a hybrid of hearty rock, mellowed out guitar strumming and sweet,melodic voices pouring out their souls into their songs.
Continue reading Falling in love with songs of the season
Let me take this opportunity to welcome all of you to the second installment of my already famed
column, Pathetic playlist poetry. Here, you will find everything you need musically, sonically, sexually, and aestetically. The game goes like this. I stumble upon songs i like, (or recall old ones in a pinch)
scribe sonnets and shit trinkets about them, and then you listen to them. I am not legally responsible for any time
wasted or any offense you may take to my language. I didn’t make most of these words up, i just write them.
With that in mind, enjoy the sequel to last week’s smash hit. “Fox’s Poetic Playlist Part 2” Continue reading Fox’s poetic playlist 2
Hello hello, and welcome to the second week of playlists. We said we’d keep up, and we are. Waddya know.
I’ve been investing a copious amount of time in recent musical endeavors, coming across brand new songs being released now, while still making my way back to classics that never grow old in spirit. Lots of Mac Demarco when I’m cooking (up something good), lots of Harlem, Diarrhea Planet and together PANGEA while running, and the occasional stroll on campus with Death Grips. And of course, an abundance of classic rock ranging from Paul Simon and James Brown to Count Five and the Lemonheads.
And some other shit.
Anywho, here are my 5 tunes that deserve your attention immediately.
The Hound Continue reading PLAYLIST #2
The Hound gives this album 4 out of 5 stars
For most masters of independent music, if major success is ever to come, it’s probably not coming when the musician is on the cusp of turning 40. Both Killer Mike, 39, and El-P, also 39, have broken barriers for middle-aged hip-hopsters, as the two enjoy immediate critical acclaim for their second album together, Run the Jewels 2.
With a rich history that involves creating labels, living the lavish celebrity lifestyle, ending labels, rapping on Outkast songs and more, you could say Killer Mike and El-P have lived unconventional musical lives. Killer Mike was a major element to the ‘90s underground hip-hop scene in the South, specifically his home base Atlanta, Georgia. Despite his role in the growing popularity of gritty, politically fused Southern rap, Mike never achieved the sensational celebrity achieved by his fellow Atliens (if you don’t realize that’s an Outkast reference, don’t bother reading on).
Continue reading Run the Jewels present furious sophomore effort