I didn’t spend my teen or college years in America so I’ve never experienced SPRING BREAK! but in my imagination Coachella 2014 is SPRING BREAK! times a million. The festival grounds are strewn with half-naked bodies, everyone’s excavating each other’s tonsils, they’re daggering to no music, they’re passed out cold and sunburnt while the world rages around them, they’re wearing t-shirts that say “Wild Child” and “America Fuck Yeah.” At any given moment there are five girls within a 15 foot radius of you on the phone looking teary and wasted—“But where ARE you?” “But why did you SAY that?” “I don’t understand why you’re BEING LIKE THIS.” Underbutt is visible at all times and topless bros with fannypacks hide their glassy eyes with sunglasses at night. Coachella has all the highs and lows of moneyed youth packed into a polo field that’s 85,000 people deep and everyone is determined to have the best weekend of their lives. This isn’t about #coachillin; this is about getting fucked up.
COAAAACHELLLA! WHOOOOO! You know, there’s been a lot of talk lately about the basic bitches of Coachella, but what about the bro, bro? You bros are the unsung heroes of Coachella. Without you, who would brighten people’s days with a clever ironic t-shirt? How would women be able to dance without the impending threat of being grinded on? Who would keep American Apparel’s salmon shorts line afloat? Who would inquire about needing tickets to the gun show? Who would quote The Hangover???
About a month ago, we provided a very helpful/sad roundup of all the ways in which Smashing Pumpkins frontonlyman Billy Corgan has publicly embarrassed himself over the last decade. We were hoping that spotlighting this fall from grace would be something of an eye-opener for Billy, sort of like that intervention your family had for your uncle Walter. But it seems to have had the opposite effect. Lately, Billy has been doubling down on his eccentric behavior, upping his own eccentricity. In a way, you’ve got to hand it to the guy—he goes further off the deep end by 9 AM than most people do in a lifetime. Here is a brief rundown of all the batshit things he’s done since our last rundown of all the batshit things he’s done.
"If you ain’t from Texas this ain’t the place to be because we’re burning this motherfucker down!” shouted Doughbeezy, the otherwise relentlessly friendly Houston rapper, at a recent show. He looked out over the crowd before him with the steady, combative gaze of a practiced performer. He was playing a larger, South-centric showcase called “Welcome to tha South” at South by Southwest, a time when the music industry as a whole fills Austin with the desperate sprawl of corporate sponsorship and mindless networking. Despite the presence of outsiders, there was a surplus of UT burnt ochre and hands throwing up the state’s longhorn symbol. And a lot of people seemed to know his songs. Like, maybe more than for Que or Ty Dolla $ign, artists on the bill with national radio hits. Most of the people there might have been from Texas—a mixed blessing given the setting.
Over the weekend, The New York Times Magazine saw fit to give space over to some complaining about how pop music coverage focused too much on, well, the popular stuff. That the author of said piece—verified Pazz & Jop voter Saul Austerlitz—had written a book on the sitcom, perhaps 20th-century America’s most cravenly pop artform, is not the punchline, although it could make for a good one. Instead, the piece was a hundreds-word whinge about how writers just weren’t paying enough attention to the National; it was at times incoherent and at other times flat-out wrong, and it showed if nothing else a lack of curiosity about finding solid coverage of left-field artists, something which the internet’s vast space is hardly lacking.
We chatted with Mike Shinoda about the state of popular rock music, what it’s like to call in a verse from Rakim, and how to deal with the fact that one day, you might wake up to realize you’re a rock star and some of your fans are douchebags that you have to learn to love.
OFF!’s new record ‘Wasted Years’ is out now on Vice Records! Go grab it immediately.
LP available here: http://amzn.to/1hzsMMO
CD available here: http://amzn.to/1e7Ow7H
Itunes here: http://smarturl.it/OFF_WastedYears
It’s Monday, so let’s get weird.
There are two important facets to heavy metal fandom. The first is knowing your shit and loving that shit. The second, and probably more vital facet, is hating the shit out of certain shit with the fury of a thousand shit-filled suns. If you have any semblance of taste or curiosity it’s pretty easy to find music to love. But knowing which records to piss on is an investment. Sometimes you had to be there. Here your shortcut to the most maligned missteps, experiments, and straight-up failures in heavy metal.