Welcome to Squid Can

Hey, tomorrow is Independence Day. IN AMERICA. In my town it’s mostly an excuse to get drunk and have some wild partays (which I abhor; as I listen to Stars of the Lid). As it so happens, my town’s parade is also a major tourist attraction—I’m talking every spot on the parade route dotted with a blanket, cooler, and souvenir-tee-wearing kid. Since I’ll be busy photographing, snarking, partying (jk, jk, I listen to straight edge musics; I’m not allowed to have fun), and going to the carnival, Squid Can won’t be updated until Monday. I have some nice Jacko-themed material and a pictorial review of one of the worst comic books I’ve ever read upon return, however. Until then, enjoy these Mp3s for the weekend.

First we have an ambient (New Age if you so wish), piano-powered selection by the San Fran-based Valerie Mih. Citing influences such as Satie, Glass, Sigur Ros, and even k.d. lang, Mih creates unassuming-yet-forceful pieces of tranquil, neoclassical-like ambient. Next, listen to something completely converse to the assuring rhythms of Ms. Mih—the resilient, ballistic ‘true’ screamo of the Swing Kids. Follow that up with some New Weird America—the backwoods-bigfoot sound of Ariel Pink’s “Beefbud”—and some actual Native American music. And, just in case you wondering, I bought the Mp3 tagged that way—with the artist as ‘Native American Indians’. Enjoy, and happy Fourth of July (or not-Fourth-of-July if you live abroad).

Download Saturn’s Rings by Valerie Mih
Download Blue Note by Swing Kids
Download Beefbud by Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti
Download Navajo Hoop Dance Song by Native American Indians

CAN YOU BELIEVE HE'S DEAD???

CAN YOU BELIEVE that this is selling for $8,000? (Bjork will buy it.)

Large version
Oh, and just some trolling in the garden

But oh, what a cruel world. No Jacko. No Billy Mays. No Farrah Fawcett. No Ed McMahon. WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?

Some Angelo Badalamenti to ail our aching hearts, folks.

Download "Barbershop" (via Drop.io)

Not to brag, folks, but wow—what a great day I’m having! Well, up until losing the draft of this post that I had been working back on forth on for two hours, but whatever. Things are simply too Grizz to get me down. I imagine this is what Jorge Luis Borges woke up feeling like everyday. “Aargh, where will I be cool and postmodern today?” Last night was actually sort of a family ‘crisis’, hence I ended up babysitting my cousin. Around bedtime, he wanted to play catch, so I put some Autechre on before I said to myself, “Wut?” I promptly rectified the problem by playing the latest Lullatone. That ending up helping, as he fell asleep to the half-Japanese duo’s raindrop-like beats. When my aunt came home, she was like, ‘lol Yanni’, but hey, dat Lullatone—they can lull dem kids to sleep. When I wasn’t subjecting my young cousin to Ambient 101, I watched some TV. I managed to catch the abysmal Spy Kids 3, which, as it happens, stars Elijah Wood in a minor role. I looked up his biography again, and apparently, he likes Aphex Twin? He even has a favorite song? You can browse his celebrity playlist at ElijahNet (not joking; that’s the actual website name). I also managed to catch Destroy Build Destroy, its host being none other than ANDREW W.K. So all you partay ppl go watch that right now.

Yet today was seven times better than playing around to EP7. Things got off to a good start at the local Girl Scouts-sponsored thrift sale at the local soup kitchen, where I snagged legal, older versions—I’m talking fresh codes and all—of PhotoShop, Illustrator, and InDesign for under a buck. Three years ago, I would have blown my top over something like this, but now I’m just content with the fact that I probably saved over $2,000. I haven’t been much into making art as of late, but now that I have Illustrator, who knows? Maybe I can draw some Egon Schiele/Robert Mapplethorpe hybrid-nudes or something. What really put a smile on my face was the pair of vintage children’s keyboards I got for a buck a piece. Pics coming soon. I know you wanna see ‘em.

Afterwards, I went to the consignment shop (I had to walk across the parking lot, in my new Grizzly Bear tee; but don’t worry, guyz, even though it’s a black shirt I wasn’t hot cuz da design is printed on an American Apparel track shirt, fyi), where a nice man chatted with me about vinyl. “Ya collect vinyl?” he asked. “No, I need a record player first,” I said. “Looking for an old one?” he asked. “ Old or new. Whatever works,” I said. “Yeah, I like vinyl,” he said. I like little conversations like that (a woman at the bus stop the other day started discussing the Pixies with me).

Then, returning to the Girl Scout sale again, I bought some books (like I need more), and, even better, EVEN BETTER—a Troll piggy bank with pink hair (1991, thus semi-vintage). And by ‘Troll’ I mean ‘troll doll’—the oft-unclothed creatures with hair in RADICAL, NON-CONFORMIST COLORS! Not web trolls or Harry Potter trolls or IRL-trolls (see: beastly-people), but fun trolls—the kind that Mimi used to have on Drew Carey’s show (thanks, WikiPedia). So I washed my Troll, shampooed his hair, et cetera, and then I combed his hair on the outside porch, hoping some cute girls would come by. “HaHoHa,” one would laugh, before saying, “Mayhaps that be your troll?” To which I would respond, “Verily, my troll this be.” She would eye the troll one more time before approving of him. “A good trollkeeper you are,” she would say, and then move on. But that didn’t happen.

Finally, when I got home, my BoC tee was waiting in the mail. It’s extra skinny fit for a pseudo-Biafran such as myself. So, as of now, life under the sea is pretty decent. What’s that song about life in the sea? Well, it’s not this song.

Download "Bats Over the Pacific Ocean" by Jaguar Love (via Matador)

“We run the gauntlet/Let's get to France/So we can French kiss some French girls." So says “Wet Hair”, part of Japandroids’ bombastic new LP, Post-Nothing. With little turns of phrase like that, you can be sure that the new noise rock deities (Wavves was dethroned; where have you been?) will be getting all the indie girls at the hipster parties (hipsters still have parties, right?). Hell, there's even a bit of light fun at Bikini Kill's expense on the same track (Raragh, feminist warriors, get your boots on). However, the Vancouver-based band was recently struck by illness, causing the whole indie blogosphere to go loopy, especially since Pitchfork had just given them the coveted ‘Best New Muzak’ award. Since I’m a little late in covering the Japandroids---you'll observe that I usually reserve the Friday Mp3 spot for lesser-known musicians---here’s another band you might not have heard of: FM Belfast. This Icalandic electropop outfit calls to mind CSS, except they’re not obnoxious, they don’t butcher Grizzly Bear songs, and they sound a hell of a lot more awkward-Scandinavian-sexy than confident-Portuguese-sexy (see the whitest cover ever of “Pump Up the Jam”, called “Pump”). Their latest effort, How To Make Friends, includes songs just bubbling with technopagan sexiness, such as the Caribbean-obsessed “Par Avion”, a “Killing in the Name Of” cover titled “Lotus”, and the lusty road-trip-ready “Frequency”. Below, two songs to be your ‘hot hot sex’—“Rockers East Vancouver” by Japandroids and “VHS” by FM Belfast. Pick up both albums at Amie Street for under $8 each.

Download "Rockers East Vancouver" and "VHS" (via Fileden)
Buy Post-Nothing and How To Make Friends at Amie Street
Visit Japandroids' MySpace and FM Belfast's MySpace

Now, aside from that humorous aside in last night’s post about Michael Jackson, I think we I can be mature and write something of a little more ‘serious’ tone on the topic. So, c’mon, guys. Srs bizness here.

A friend IM’ed me with the news, and as soon as I heard this I went to Last.fm. And holy shit, was that shoutbox out of control. Over 1000 shouts were left in 4 hours, and when I checked this morning the stream of tributes and paedophile jokes was still coming strong. Now, there was the diverse mix of people that resulted from the death of the self-dubbed ‘King of Pop’—there were metalheads and other ‘passerbys’, leaving a simple ‘RIP.’ There were the sycophants—“MICHAEL I LOVED YOUUUUUUU”—and those who left some (admittedly) well-crafted troll jokes that were quickly dubbed ‘too soon’, ‘cruel’ et cetera by the sycophants and the moralists. All in all, the shoutbox was interesting to watch. And, hey, according to Shepherd Smith, MJ’s death slowed down the WHOLE INTERWEBS.

Now, I didn’t feel ‘bad’ or ‘reverent’ when I heard this news. Sorry, but I never feel bad when celebrities die. I never knew them personally. I’m sure they were nice people, but I can’t say, so I’m not going to cry a river over some celubtante/dame/pop-princess/teen idol kicking the bucket. Really, even when Björk dies, I won’t be in tears. She makes music, that I enjoy. Sure, her music helped me through some tough times. However, she didn’t drive me to the hospital to see sick relatives. She didn’t give me a loan for my first house or whatever.

And I think that’s what we have to remember when a celebrity dies, especially someone as huge as Michael Jackson. The majority of us won’t have been affected by that person—in life or death—directly. When it comes to writers, for example, I never take the close reading approach—you can’t analyze Virginia Woolf or DH Lawrence without looking at their lives. Yet when a celebrity dies, you’re in a way forced to separate the artist and their work. Yesterday, no one on the news was saying, “That pedo. Glad he’s dead,” even though that was the horse they’d been beating for years. Instead, everyone was intent on calling to mind Jackson’s accomplishments—his number ones, his videos, his white glove.

Let the mourners mourn and everyone else get on with their lives. We don’t ‘have’ Michael Jackson anymore, but we do have his work. Eventually—I assume soon, actually—someone will want to analyze Jackson through a more critical lens, and they’ll have to scrutinize the man and his work. But for now, all we can do is enjoy Jackson’s music on its own term—terms of ferociousness, daring, and not-so-subtle-sensuality.

So let’s remember the King of Pop for what he was—the King of Pop. A closer, probably unnecessary, look will be taken at his life somewhere down the road. As for right now, all we need to worry about is whether our tape decks have enough battery to play Thriller a few more times.

Now, I would’ve liked to post an MJ mp3, but my collection is pretty slim. So instead I’ll post a mix of Björk’s “Alarm Call”, which was originally titled “Jacko” in honor of The Gloved One.

Download "Alarm Call" (Mark Bell Radio Mix) (via Fileden)