Light 26 Candles for The Squish

Yeah, I'll be twentyfreakingsix Friday. I don't really think it bothers me, and I'm not going to pretend it does. Well, I'll milk it a bit for sympathetic eyes and free drinks or whatever, but I promise not to overdo it.

Birthday plans include post-work drinks at Ye Olde Towne Tap(e) here in the 'burbs, greasy pizza from next door, a group outing to The Invention of Lying, followed by... well, more drinking I imagine.

The movie was written by and stars Ricky Gervais, of the UK's The Office... "Or as we call it in the UK, The Office (Ricky on Conan)." I've also just recently completely lost my shit over his array of brilliant podcasts, starring himself, his often-times cowriter and gangly looking weirdo Stephen Merchant, and... Karl Pilkington - "A man with no education, no qualifications, and a head like a fahkin orange!" I'll put it like this: if you're unfamiliar with "Monkey News" your life up to this point has been an utter waste.

Saturday's night-cap will be held at The Metro for my most anticipated show since, jesus, Tom Waits? Jesus... Tom Waits. Jesus: Tom Waits. Jesus = Tom Waits. Jesus (is less than) Tom Waits. Okay I'll stop.

Yes, Fever Ray brings its dark, cavernous brand of haunting dancetronica to Chicago for the first time EVAR and I get to be there. Fever Ray is the solo project of this girl, Karin... something or other. She's 1/2 of Swedish electronic bro/sis group The Knife. Well, I think they're Swedish. I'm not going to research it for you. That's what google is for when I'm too "busy" at work to back up my claims. Incidentally, the reason the group split was so the brother could either spread or cure swine flu.

Here's a music video. I guess some people still make them. Actually, I'm just going to put a cool fan-made vid here. But there are interesting live and official ones floating about if you're really interested.

I Blame Twitter

I mean, seriously, it's just so much easier to micro-blog than to formulate something requiring actual thought. This post may contain nothing worthwhile, but I feel like I have to meet a one-blog-a-month quota or something. Like how Jay-Z puts out an album a year even if he has nothing interesting to say.

Speaking of which, have you heard The Blueprint 3? I've heard the vast majority of it. And I've listened to the first 4 or 5 tracks many many times. The reason for that is, after about 15-20 minutes, I develop this unbearable desire to listen to Hova's good shit. Enter Reasonable Doubt, The Blueprint (1), and/or The Black Album.

It's unfortunate that BP3 doesn't get it done, because it is pretty sonically badass. I mean, Jay is rapping over some pretty strange beats. It reminds me of Clipse's second record, where they reportedly told the Neptunes to just bring in the weirdest shit they had on their Macbooks or whatever. Some may argue that Clipse has little to say apart from how gangsta Virginia is or how much weight they push, but at least they sound interest-ing/ed over the Neptune's more left-field beats. Jay-Z sounds like he forgot what he's supposed to be doing with a mic.

Danger Mouse should just mash up Jay's classic rhymes with BP3. That thing would eclipse The Gray Album for album-length mash-up nirvana. But one thing I can thank BP3 for is bringing my appreciation of classic Jay-Z up to appropriate levels of adulation. I've had a pretty love/hate relationship with his back catalog, most specifically with The Black Album. I have downloaded and deleted this record at least three times in recent memory. I'd dig the production and a lot of the songs, but I'd slowly tire of all the self-love. The crowds chanting 'HOVA! HOVA!' near the end of "What More Can I Say" or sound bites of his mom expounding on how the 10 lbs. wunderkind exited her birth canal like angel breath on "December 4th." It was enough to make me sick to the point where I'd lose my shit after about a month or so and get rid of the whole thing.

But, invariably, I'd get that itch to hear "Dirt Off Your Shoulder" and "99 Problems" again, and I'd come crawling back. I'm such a bitch, i.e. not one of Jay-Z's problems.