Where The Wild Things Are, screenplay by Spike Jonze and Dave freaking Eggers!!
Six-Word Reviews of 1,302 SXSW MP3s
“You know, when I listened to all of the 2007 and 2008 SXSW torrents, I thought that was kind of hardcore.
I was wrong.
Paul Ford is hardcore. He listened to all of the 2008 songs, all the way through, and wrote six word reviews of each.“
Brilliant reviews, even. Fun, sparkling, delightful reviews like “This guitarist has too many feelings.” rated with a well thought out yet amusingly arbitrary rating system gently broken into sections by band name anecdotes, clever charts, perceptive bon mots, and the occasional entertaining short-yet-rewarding paragraph about a particular song/artist/title/genre, like, “ANTHEM: This song by Born in the Flood is inexcusable. Consider: (1) It is called “Anthem,” and it is an anthem. (2) It sounds like Bono and the Edge riding around on Sparklehorses. (3) I can’t understand the lyrics but there’s a crown mentioned. It was heretofore considered impossible for any singer to overcome these cognitive challenges in order to create a distinct and memorable song. And yet this man does exactly that. Or to put it another way: When you were 23 and living alone without many friends and definitely no girlfriends, did you ever jerk off and cry at the same time? This is your song.”
In a word, the article was glorious. Even better, thankfully, oh so thankfully, Paul Ford has done it again. Click. Read. Enjoy.
ps. Dan‘s review, four out of five stars, “It’s difficult, living as an automaton.”
“The music business is a cruel and shallow trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men lie like dogs. There is also the negative side.”
-Hunter S. Thompson
I assumed, somewhat foolishly, that when Cansec was over, I’d get to rest, have a space to breathe. Apparently not. I just took a minute to chart out my next few weeks with a calendar in front of me and realized my weekends for the next month have already been assigned.
This weekend I’m going to the Juno‘s for work, bringing David along for his birthday. Next weekend, April 4-5, I’m going over to Victoria. The weekend after that, April 11-12, I’m going to be in Seattle ghosting Norwescon. The weekend after that, April 18-19, I’m again in Victoria with Ray, Nicole, and maybe Wayne to drop in on Esme and Nicholas, who has a gig. Then again the weekend after that, April 25-16, for his next gig, playing strip-club funk at Monty’s, and, even more bizarrely, for the grand opening of the Victoria Lawn Bowling Club, which has apparently been completely taken over by oddball hacker friends who all wanted a shot at the Olympics and free downtown parking.
Given this sort of schedule, I’m not sure when I intend to eventually sleep. Perhaps when I’m dead. Or better, when I’m dancing. Mercy knows I need the exercise, given how erratically/oddly I’ve been eating. First there came the week of meat, then the weekend of ice-cream breakfasts topped with chocolate and raspberry liqueur. Nothing I would ever complain about, though I am beginning to forget what a vegetable looks like, except that now that I’m not continually on my feet, all I want to do is sort of laze around until my break down the door weekends, an option that, though attractive, will simply Not Do. So, given that I work nine to five, and Tuesdays are Secret Film School, who wants to go swimming?