Thursday, July 14, 2005

Ps, Qs.

Don't mind us as we ignore the notion of a news cycle, or regular postings, or coherency:

Nelson George on his blog notes three books of import, including the hottest cultural product in hip hop nation.

To entice listeners to support the station during pledge drives, WFMU has their DJs create custom compilations for pledgers. The incomparable jock behind Give the Drummer Some, world music maven Doug Schulkind, has posted the complete MP3 listing for his 2004 premium comp, Culture Shock. Burn here now.

Derek Taylor, mostly of Bagatellen, reviewed Wadada's lastest at Dusted, of all places. In short, "a puzzling bore," but the review's not.

We thought we'd absorbed all we could on Galangalass MIA, but Jane Dark just dropped a giant fucking exclamation point on the end of this particular discussion, at least in those portions we could understand. If you still care, it's worth the eyeball time.

Whatevs, strangely useful, compiled all Pitchfork 10s and naughts to date. Solid down the middle but squishy on the sides. (I mean, English Settlement? Even XTC made better albums.)

Greg Tate on MJ? Behind it lay the twisted desire for one of the most overexposed and durable artists in pop history to act as if he were still waiting for his 15 minutes. Jackson has spent the last 20 years mostly trying, however absurdly, to warrant a photo-op - concocting a public persona so given over to doing (and contriving) crazed publicity stunts that he lost all sense of proportion between what should be staged for popular consumption and what should not. In so doing, he came to repulse the very audience he'd originally bleached, sutured and shined himself up for - that heartland TV crowd who somehow needed to believe a star of Jackson's stature wanted nothing more than to baby-sit their brats over the weekend. Hell yeah.


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