In the week a shiny pair of crispy white shoes ventured out to New Jersey and All Points West, never to return, we joined the rest of the rainsoaked masses in saluting the Beastie Boys, who weren’t there, though they did eventually get the message. Jay’s “No Sleep Till Brooklyn” gets better every time we think about it, but that Coldplay cover, not so much.
Simian Mobile Disco talked to us about how shockingly terrible Prince is these days. At jazz fests, anyway. The Sensorium Saxophone Orchestra gave us a song called “Glow White,” and then took it back. And we learned that Jana Hunter hits harder than most girls from her brother, John Hunter, who offered his band Innoculist’s song “Provenence” for us to offer to you.
The internet broke this week, basically, which weirdly meant we actually listened to music for once, and this is how we can recommend not just that Radiohead song that was everywhere but also the Castanets’s “Worn From the Fight (With Fireworks),” the Pink Mountaintops’s “Execution,” Richard Hell’s Destiny Street Repaired, and, belatedly, Major Lazer’s “Pon De Floor,” whose daggering-centric music video is probably already forbidden viewing in high schools across the land.
August is the month in which one longingly looks forward to other, more action-filled months, and thus a short digest of all the fun things that are happening in the future, but not right now: After the Jump Fest, that killer day at ATP NY 2009 when No Age will play with Bob Mould, and New York shows from The Mountain Goats and The Big Pink and maybe even Autolux. Best of all: no Woodstock 2009.
And, in no particular order, congrats to Matt & Kim for that MTV Video Music Award nomination–all that streaking really paid off, guys! Apologies to the Gaslight Anthem, who didn’t get to play APW, and apologies to APW itself, whose unconvincing attendance numbers are surely jeopardizing the festival’s third year even as we write this. Jay-Z should probably apologize to the Secret Machines, for stealing their cover art for his Blueprint 3, and we might well apologize to the sun and sweet sweet air outside, for ignoring it these past ten hours. See you at Rhys Chatham tomorrow? Or here again, come Monday.