Here at THE VINYL DISTRICTwe're good consumers. All Mp3's are posted to promote and give exposure to the music and are linked for a limited time. Please download to preview, then head promptly to your local vinyl vendor (or - OK, CD store too) and fork over your hard earned cash. You'll appreciate the piece of mind.
Got something you think we should be listening to or reading? thevinyldistrict (at) gmail.com
Frankly, more stuff goes on in a day than what we can physically blog about. (Or bitch about as the case seems to be quite often.) So, why pontificate when we can just spout off in 140 characters or less?
TVD's embracing the beauty that is brevity with blog updates, vinyl news, music news, and random mindlessness, whenever the whim strikes on Twitter.
Just think of it as the blog you've come to know—with more fiber. Regular, and many, many times throughout the day.
I used to feel like a new man / After the day's first brew. / But then the new man I became / Would need a tall one too. / As would the new man he became, / And the new one after him / And so on and so forth till the new men made / The dizzy room go dim.
And each one said, I'll be your muse, / I'll trade you song for beer: / He said, I'll be your salt lick, honey, / If you will be my deer. / He said, I'll be your happy hour, / And you, boy, you'll be mine / And mine won't end at six or seven / Or even at closing time.
Yes, son, I'll be your spirit guide; / I'll lead you to Absolut, / To Dewers, Bushmills, and Jamisons, / Then down to Old Tangle Foot. / And there I'll drain the pretense from you / That propped you up so high; / I'll teach you salivation's just / Salvation without the I.
To hear his sweet talk was to think / You'd gone from rags to riches, / Till going from drink to drink became / Like going from hags to bitches, / Like going from bed to barroom stool, / From stool to bathroom stall, / From stall to sink, from sink to stool, / From stool to hospital.
Now the monitors beep like pinball machines, / And coldly the IV drips; / And a nurse runs a moistened washcloth over / My parched and bleeding lips, / And the blood I taste, the blood I swallow / Is as far away from wine / As 5:10 is for the one who dies / At 5:09.
“Purity rings (also known as chastity rings or promise rings) originated in the United States in the 1990s among Christian affiliated sexual abstinence groups. The rings are sold to adolescents, or to parents so that the rings may be given to their adolescent children as gifts.
Wearing a purity ring is typically accompanied by a religious vow to practice celibacy until marriage. The ring is usually worn on the left ring finger (but can be worn on the right ring finger) with the implication that the wearer will remain abstinent until it is replaced with a wedding ring.”
Believe me when I tell you, this week’s theme has nothing to do with the aforementioned.
Despite my grumbling yesterday, bands and artists and labels continue to fill the TVD HQ email in-box with some damn fine output. Case in point: the Brooklyn two-piece that is Heroes Of Popular Wars.
They garnered my attention initially by citing David Sylvian as an influence, yet drive home a point of their own—“drunken, leering robots patiently laying it all out for you and making you fall in love with them because they make you look them in the eye.” Or something.
We chatted up Stephe (aka the "Blue Eyed Devil") who proves that The Beatles are STILL inspiration for people—and robots—everywhere.
"I first new I was going to be obsessed with music young. At age 12 I had saved up money from mowing my Mom's lawn for a month and though my family already had multiple copies, in multiple formats, I wanted something very specific. The gigantic poster/4 small posters that came in the packaging for the vinyl version of the Beatles' White Album. As 96-97% of all music lovers know, the vinyl version, and only the vinyl, comes with one gigantic "collage of pics" poster and 4 8x10 of each Beatle and I wanted that poster as bad as I wanted the music.
My mother had agreed to drive me on a Saturday to the mall to go pick it up. However, there was some kind of disagreement, like I had an argument with my brother or I wouldn't take out the trash, I forget now. The end result, however, was that my Mom refused to drive me. Probably heated by the now-forgotten argument, I stomped out of my Mom's house and walked the 4 1/2 miles, got to the music store (I believe it was a one-off store called Musicsmith in suburban Massachusetts) and picked up the record. I walked out of the store, sat on a nearby bench, tore the plastic off and tore the poster out of the sleeve.
The poster has so much going on, I may have spent an hour trying to process every little piece of the collage (and rest my feet.) After taking long looks at each of the individual portraits, I packed up the whole thing and trudged home. I don't know if I ever "earned" a record as much since but every time I hear Rocky Raccoon or I'm So Tired I remember that hour on the bench and how mystified I was by the photographs all haphazardly piled on top of each other."
Well, we still have a limited number of these John Foster-designed gems for purchase over at Som Records. The posters are 18" x 24", silk-screened on heavy card stock, and signed and numbered by the aforementioned John Foster. And if it isn't obvious already: suitable for framing. And they're still just $10 dollars just like at the show.
Check out some more from the Washington, DC Record Fair last Saturday right here.
My dad used to use a word with a great deal of frequency: mishegas. To put it plainly, mishegas = wack.
For example, did any of you catch this mishegas on Letterman last week while we were away?
What utter horseshit. It’s f’n over kids—nothing to see here. And I mean NOTHING.
I hadn’t really planned on taking last week off. In fact I had a whole theme developed and a graphic—but then I thought better of it.
The theme was to be bands that you’d never ever see at TVD that many folks LOVE that I f’n loathe. Gouge-out-the-eyes loathing. Liiike – say, REM, Counting Crows, Phish, Jimmy Buffett ...and you guys who count yourselves fans of that mindlessness would tell me what I’m missing.
But frequent bouts with nausea kept that concept at bay.
I finally watched the movie ‘Doubt’ last night. Near the beginning of the film Philip Seymour Hoffman’s character Father Flynn delivers a sermon to the packed pews regarding ‘Faith’ versus ‘Doubt’ within a religious construct. Despite the prevalence of ‘Doubt’ among the faithful, he said, we’re all together within this community struggling to put the pieces together and makes sense of what we’re given and what we retain, what we value, and what we cast aside.
My friends, I have a music blog, but I also have Doubts. Won’t you join me?
I’ve seen the future of music and it’s three darlins standing front and center, slinging guitars, and honest-to-goodnight, straight-up whiskey soaked grit without one whiff of pretension or any lack or earnestness. (Unlike say, Animal Collective who many of you will flock to this evening. Please take a look at yourselves in the mirror. Thank you.)
The darlins I reference are Those Darlins who’re playing The Rock and Roll Hotel with the Features and the Dexateens tomorrow night and TVD’s got a pair of tickets for one wildly effusive commenter who’s primed to be over the moon with Those Darlins like we are here at TVD HQ. (Not to mention, their self-titled debut is released on vinyl on June 23...)
We’re not alone with our love for Those Darlins—The New York Times, USA TODAY's "Pop Candy," Paste Magazine, The Austin American Statesman, Billboard, The LA Times, The Chicago Tribune, The Dallas Observer, and The NY Press all heaped praise upon Those Darlins at SXSW ‘09. The band took pictures for Vanity Fair's party and were pulled on stage by The Black Lips for a King Khan and the Shrines set.
On top of that, Daytrotter, Buzzzine, and a dozen other blogs have written about Those Darlins in the past two weeks while they opened for The Black Keys's Dan Auerbach. Add that to the American Songwriter feature, NY Times Pick, Boston Globe "Break out of 09" pick, Nashville Scene Pick, New Yorker blogging, BUST magazine "Cool EP" Alert, and so on...
So, get with the well-deserved buzz. We’ll choose one winner for the pair of tickets by NOON tomorrow for the throwdown at The R&R Hotel. (Contact email required!) Those Darlins - Wild One (Mp3)
Now, if you recall our previous event on an abnormally warm February afternoon, you'll remember not just the heat but the crowds that packed the gallery over at our wonderful hosts Civilian Art Projects.
So, with both factors in mind, we've relocated to The Warehouse Next Door—doubling our capacity and doubling the number of dealers into the bargain! This time we've got 30 dealers from Connecticut, New York, and Richmond and many points in between. AND we've got a full bar and kitchen to sustain you between crate dives.
Oh—did I mention that DC Legend Chuck Brown's paying us a visit? He'll be blessing the crowd and signing autographs between raffles to win autographed Daptone records and posters.
DJs! We've got ten of 'em: Gavin Holland and the Nouveau Riche DJs, Neville C., Deep Sang, Stylus. Lunch Money & Almighty Dollah, Provoke, Eurok, D-Mac, Dan Amitai, and Nitekrawler!
Our good pal John Foster designed the poster art you see at the top of this announcement and we've got signed and numbered, silk-screened, limited editions of the full poster with all the specifics on heavy paper stock—on site and on sale—for a mere $10 dollars. The head spins, doesn't it?
So, let's review—The Washington, DC Record Fair Saturday, May 9 from 10:00am to 4:00 pm at The Warehouse Next Door—30 dealers from up and down the east coast—full bar—food—CHUCK BROWN!—10 DJs—Daptone raffles—bargains—the LP you thought you'd NEVER find...
Earlier in the week we tipped you off to the Panda Head Preview Party for issue Number 4 happening tonight at Comet Ping Pong, and now the on-line magazine’s editrix-in chief, Morgan does us one better by kicking your ass into the weekend with an inspired set of ten—specifically designed to spirit you right up Connecticut Avenue, NW, later on.
(Plus, they’re giving away a bunch of St. Vincent tickets (and vinyl!) for those of you who show up early...)
"Tonight is the Panda Head Magazine Issue 4 Preview Party at Comet Ping Pong, and - as music and style are inextricably linked (if not, at times, one in the same) - here's a playlist of the top 10 songs currently inspiring my closet. Some (The Sword, Out of It, and No Hope Kids) are all about old Converse and vintage t-shirts with the sleeves rolled up; others (Tusk, Factory Girl, Fig Tree, and A Little At A Time) are informing the too-short-floral-dress and dusty-cowboy-boot aesthetic I've been favoring lately; and I Want You, and Oh Mandy, and Little Triggers are wishful thinking for hot, lazy summer days spent in high-waisted bell-bottoms and non-existent tank tops. Pay special attention to the New Rock Church of Fire songs - not only are they playing tonight's party (where they'll also be premiering their new music video), but we're doing a big feature on them in the next issue, which will be live and online this Monday at PandaHeadMag.com."
So, when I say 'The Wailers' to you—what comes to mind?
Legends, for one. Positive vibrations. Punky Reggae Party. One love...
The Wailers are heading out for a second round on their sold-out nationwide "Exodus Tour," which brings them to Washington, DC this Saturday night! The dates will feature a full performance of the classic 1977 album of the same name, Exodus, named "Album of the Century" by Time Magazine, and featuring the anthem "One Love," deemed "Song of the Millennium" by the BBC.
The Wailers will be using the tour to bring more attention to their "I Went Hungry," which donates unused funds from the band's hospitality riders directly to the United Nation's World Food Program. To date, the charity has already fed over 120,000 people.
The Wailers will be playing at the National Harbour as part of the Sunset Concerts Festival this Saturday night (5/2) and TVD has TWO sets of tickets to give away.
Sooo—when I say 'The Wailers' to you—what comes to mind?
Let us know in the comments and perhaps you'll be front and center, skanking right next to us here at TVD HQ this Saturday. We'll accept comments (with contact info!) up until noon on Friday, 5/1.
Very often it seems like Mr. Fiftypercent over at Mine For Life and I shared quite similar listening habits throughout the ‘80’s. The only difference is that somehow he was able to hold on to those LPs he shares on his blog, whereas many of mine went missing between various DJ gigs and residences too numerous to mention.
So, it’s always a welcome stop-over to see what he’s pulled from his collection and posted and what foggy memory will crystallize. And as such, we find ourselves over at Fifty’s place this morning:
"When Jon asked me to contribute a brief introduction and some music for a new piece he was putting together, I had two thoughts. I’ve been flattered when mentioned by other blogs in the past, but I’ve never had to blow my own trumpet, so to speak. So my first thought was that I have no idea why anyone would be bothered to visit my little web-hole. But then the other side of me kicked in and I began thinking that this was a great idea: prepare to be amazed, people.
And that, I suppose, is the gist of what I try to offer with my blog – where the assiduous, contemplative geek battles with the autocratic poseur. As a Brit transplanted to the American South, I am constantly marching with bewilderment on one arm and assurance on the other. Kind of like Alan Rickman pitching a baseball.
So, what of the music? As if my own erudite ramblings were not enough, my musical leanings tend to languish rather firmly in that period between 1984 and 1987 when new wave was becoming old and technological advances meant that every new chart hit had to sound like Johnny Hates Jazz. I am drawn to hidden gems, also-rans, major label footnotes, and above all, the sound. A synthesizer hook here, a power chord there, dramatic vocals about the mundane and drums that reverb like Shakin’ Stevens performing at a Jello factory. At the same time you might also find the odd forgotten gem from the ‘90’s, or a low budget bargain bin refugee from recent times. What you won’t find is horn-drenched R&B, relentless metal riffing, or harlequins. I hate harlequins.
So, gasp in admiration as I select five nuggets for your exhumation. And, if vinyl is your thing, then you are in good company. For the past few months, I have talked about almost nothing else as I have slowly succumbed to the lure of music in its definitive black cardboard shrouded majesty."
Sarah’s currently on the road to promote the band’s new release ‘The Stars Are Out' which is actually available on orange vinyl, no less. It’s a pleasure to have her back this week because we cannot get “Stop and Think It Over” from an earlier release out of our collective heads. (It’s the first vid down there—you’ve been warned...)
Between the road and the gigs, Sarah’s got to waxing nostalgic. (About wax.)
"One of my happiest childhood memories was picking out the record for naptime, going-to-bedtime, whatever time. I wasn’t old enough to read, but I knew I liked all the records that had the apple on the sticker, and that were colored blue and red. Hello Beatles. Part of the reason my band’s new album is on orange vinyl is because I love so well that recognition without reading effect. Like seeing an old friend without trying to remember their name.
When I got older, and I had my own money from working at Henry’s A&W Root Beer Stand in Taunton, MA, I frequented an independent record store downtown called Oasis Records. I didn’t really know what I liked in terms of new music because I had spent so much time listening to parents’ record collection, but this place was so cool I figured anything in there had to be alright.
A guy named Jim was the proprietor, and he often recommended other stuff (by this time we were on to cds) based on my novice choices. He also served as ombudsman for all local band information. There was a band in town, Blair’s Carriage, that everyone thought was the coolest, and on the bottom of their hand-addressed, sent-through-the-U.S. Post fliers (weren’t those great?), it said for more info, contact Jim at Oasis. He was the validating element.
I hosted a battle of the bands my senior year of high school and asked Jim to be the judge. What a coup for me. And some of the bands who participated had 7”s (see the full circle effect?). It was then that my thrift store wearing self realized that older is better not just in regards to clothes, and boys, but also with regards to music mediums.
To finally be able to say that my band has a full-length LP on orange vinyl in stores now makes me proud. It is something akin to being back in my hometown, and winning the battle of the bands (I was too young and bad at guitar to participate the first time). I don’t know if Jim would even remember me, or if he’s gone to the record store in the sky, but hopefully he would be proud too."
I was a little surprised to note last week that on average, visitors to TVD spend a whopping 1:20 here each day. That’s it—80 seconds.
I’m OK with that however as I’m no different. I’ve got bookmarks galore and I visit the family of bloggers on the regular. I’m in London one moment, New York another, down to Australia, then up to Canada in a flash—perhaps in all of 80 seconds. A pop over, if you will.
And many of the Mp3’s offered by my blogging kin have made it onto my ipod. That scratchy 7” ripped in Botswana is getting a fresh listen on my walk to work in the morning in Washington, DC. How remarkable is that? How cool that we’re able to embed ourselves into each other’s psyches in this way and often at such distances.
All of this to usher in a new feature here on the blog: TVD Pop Overs. With these we’ll head to all points on the globe to check in with the family of bloggers who are doing their best to see that your 80 seconds are the sweetest possible. We’ll get a take on their perspectives, what to anticipate upon your visit, and a handful of tracks that best exemplify their tastes and offerings. It’ll be tea and crumpets or beer and cigs depending upon where we land.
To kick the feature off, we head down to Cape Town, South Africa to check in with Any Major Dude who in his own right has done a fine job of spotlighting the blogs he thinks we should be checking into with frequency. So, with his blessing – we’re off...
"Any Major Dude With Half A Heart is a nostalgist who still has faith in new music (and, apparently writes in the third person). So the old and the new music tend to mingle merrily. Any Major Dude With Half A Heart is mostly a series-based blog. Some run intermittently (such as ‘Great Moustaches in Rock’ or ‘Pissing off the Taste Police with…’), others on a more or less regular basis, such as the series of lesser-known originals of famous songs. And some run their course and are laid to rest (such as ‘Perfect Pop’, or the current series of love songs for all emotions). And there are regular mix-CDRs (currently a four-volume series on the flute in rock/pop/soul). A day in this blogger’s life consists mainly of checking ever 15 minutes if anyone has commented on a post. At that obsessive rate, Any Major Dude is usually disappointed, but elated and grateful when somebody does comment. Just your average blogger then. In-between, MP3tags must be conscientiously updated, with artwork and correctly annotated year and genre fields."
New Zealanders, Cut Off Your Hands invade DC this Friday night as openers for US Royalty at The Black Cat, and TVD’s got a pair of tickets to put in your severed mitts.
We here in TVD HQ are rather high on their hook-laden, Bernard Butler-produced debut to the point where we’re thinking, as openers, they just may give USR a run for their money. But it won’t be YOUR money if you’re the lucky one to cause enough racket in the comments to win the tickets to Friday’s show.
We’ll accept comments and entries until noon on Thursday 4/30, so get to it. (Remember to leave us a contact address or you can email us directly...!)
It's been a long time since I've heard music that really made me f-ing excited. I mean, I hear a ton of music that I dig. That I'll play again and again. But nothing that's made me really want to jump on my bed and run in place for 5 minutes straight like I'm in some horrible 80s workout montage.
Then I started reading about Death. A group comprised of the Hackney brothers-three black teenagers from Detroit who put out an album in 1975 that I had never heard before, nor could I get my hands on. That is, until February. The Hackney boys, you see, now live in Vermont where they moved away from Detroit and towards a new sound-gospel rock and eventually to reggae. So other than really really rare copies of the record and recordings, the album has pretty much been nowhere to be found.
The story goes something like this: a son of one of the Hackney boys was out in San Francisco at some party and hears "Tryangle" playing and thinks basically "holy shit that's my dad!" Eventually one of the Hackney's dug the original recordings out of a box in his attic and in February 2009 Drag City reissued seven songs of what was originally a 12-song album, 'For the Whole World to See' for the whole world to enjoy. Fortunately on Record Store Day I happened across a copy over at Red Onion Records and Books.
Death has been called a "power-trio" whose sound is "proto-punk" but I don't think it's that simple to classify them as such. And then there's people like Adam Moerder who, I think, downplays how great the album is when he writes that "[t]he album falls short of a diamond-in-the-rough-caliber discovery, but considering these seven songs are the remains of an aborted 12-song full-length-from a band that reinvented itself every three or four years, 'For the Whole World' holds up well alongside, say, concurrent Blue Oyster Cult or New York Dolls albums."
I think he's wrong. But that's just my opinion. You kids have yourselves a listen and let me know what you think. To me Death never sounded so sweet.
Frankly, more stuff goes on in a day than what we can physically blog about. (Or bitch about as the case seems to be quite often.) So, why pontificate when we can just spout off in 140 characters or less? 
