Q&A with David Alan Grier
By CAITLIN HEAD | Oct. 29, 2008On his new show, David Alan Grier dares to ask the question that's been on everyone's mind: What the hell happened to hip-hop? When did "Fight the power" become "Wait 'til you see my dick"?
On his new show, David Alan Grier dares to ask the question that's been on everyone's mind: What the hell happened to hip-hop? When did "Fight the power" become "Wait 'til you see my dick"?
To be successful, an action film needs only to have two things: a plot that's somewhat interesting and lots of macho characters, memorable one-liners, explosions and weapon fights. "Max Payne" has none of the former and unfortunately lacks the latter.
Cows coming home, days in the sun, cold Budweiser - it's the finer things in life that concern country collective The Weight. While "Are Men" ruminates lyrically on simple pleasures and equally simple pains, the music relies heavily on intricacy. The cowboys' equation: Silver Jews, minus smart-ass irony and plus an extra shot of twang. "Hillbilly Highway" is pretty much exactly what you'd expect - a beer-soaked love song for hicks, fleshed out with organ fills and yeehaw fiddle. It's a somber affair for the most part, but "Had It Made" shakes off the Jack and Coke haze with a Tweedy-esque melody and stomping guitar interplay. The tune cuts to the barbecued heart of The Weight - these "Men" are really just a bunch of good ol' boys.
This difficult midterms week that recently passed wore on my patience because of the day-to-day annoyances bartenders face. It inspired me to share my thoughts on bar etiquette from start to finish.
I'm convinced Halloween was created for the sole purpose of getting boned. No other holiday compares. When mischief and moonlight abound, someone is going to get laid. Throw in a chintzy costume, garish makeup and orange beer, and you're done for.
One bus, one band and a group of friends will hit Gainesville music venue Common Grounds today at 9 p.m.
Kevin Barnes lost his marbles a long time ago. Now his pants must go. Of Montreal's "Skeletal Lamping" uncovers the brainchild's most outrageous fantasies in a series of wildly uninhibited hallucinations - each deceptively catchy, each bat-shit freaky. The track titles -"An Eluardian Instance," "Nonpareil Of Favor" - baffle as much as the actual music, which shuns conventional song structures for whimsical snippets blended indiscriminately into a faux-disco smoothie. Prince says it goes down easy. And it does - the slinky R&B, the electro-pop excursions, the noise jams. It's an orgy of a record that takes us to the bottom of Barnes's rabbit hole where he buried his two most cherished readings - Webster's Dictionary and the Kama Sutra.
Rachael Yamagata, the singer, songwriter and pianist, has released her second full-length album called "Elephants … Teeth Sinking Into Heart," and she's hopping on the bus for the Hotel Café Tour, which also features folk-rock singers Ingrid Michaelson and Meiko.
Where would democracy be without the third party? Exactly where it is today, but don't tell that to Murs. With "Murs for President," the L.A. rapper throws his hat into the political ring with a free-styling beat-fest that's both wordy and repetitive - he would make a great stump speech. His everyman message: "You might think that you know me / You know where I'm coming from." Actually no, Murs, we don't know you, so let's begin the vetting process. His stance on immigration, from "Lookin' Fly": "My Brazilian / She worth a few million / Beauty and brains / Might let her have my children." Surprisingly tolerant! Foreign policy experience, from "Soo Comfortable": "Moved away from Maui to European valleys." Hell, he's probably pals with Sarkozy. But can he pull the female vote? From guitar-riff laden "Road Is My Religion": "Every night different women want to please me." I think we have ourselves a contender.
Dow, Pacman - it sucks to be a Jones these days. So to ward off any negative surname karma, Norah has officially changed her name to Rachael Yamagata, piano-crooner extraordinaire. On "Elephants…Teeth Sinking Into Heart," Yamagata - if that's really her name - makes understated, acoustic music for coffee houses. For all of their nuance and organic instrumentation, "What If I Leave" - answer: I probably wouldn't notice because I fell asleep half an hour ago - and "Over and Over" match herbal tea for sheer excitement. It comes as a kick in the stomach when, for the love of PJ Harvey, disc two erupts with three vicious, melodic rockers. Maybe the Norah comparisons are off, but that's what she gets for making me suffer through the "Elephant" tranquilizer.
In a bold and risky move, my sister asked me to be godfather to her child.
The Gainesville club scene is not my favorite crowd. I'm much more of a small, pretentious boutique club girl myself, but my loving friends and roommates have dragged me out to my share of Gainesville clubs, and I have not been impressed by what I've seen. Maybe it's because my taste in going-out attire is just different than most, but some of the outfits I've seen out on Friday and Saturday nights in Gainesville are beyond wretched. In my tradition of trying to better the taste of the Gainesville population, I'll describe some outfits I don't think you should wear out.
I never realized how generic my taste in fashion is until I spent more time on campus. It seems like every other day that I spot some dope in Turlington wearing a shirt I have somewhere in my closet, or worse, one I'm currently wearing.
Brett Dennen said his desert island food of choice is sushi. After all, raw fish is already on the menu. This clever California folkie, who releases his third album "Hope for the Hopeless" on Oct. 21, is a man of sound judgment. Supports Barack Obama? Check. Keeps his childhood friends? Check. Huge Ween fan? Obviously.
"How to Lose Friends and Alienate People" is a strikingly clever movie title; not only because of its length but also because it manages to be somewhat ironic. The funny and friendly movie certainly doesn't alienate the audience but draws them into a big, warm bear hug of romantic humor.
"Beauty" is a word that often refers to something that gives pleasure to the senses, mind and spirit. But not according to local artist Erik Jones.
Much to Bernie Machen's dismay, Gainesville is a town that loves to party. Most people who grew up here or go to UF get into the party atmosphere early and try to figure out ways to get around that pesky drinking age.
Last week I wrote about the fashion rules that you can (and probably should) break, especially in Florida. This week, I'm writing about the rules that you can bend. I emphasize the word bend because if you break them, you could end up looking like a hot fashion mess, but if you bend them the right way, you could break new fashion ground.
With a microphone in his hand, Validus vocalist Justin Kalvin will sing Friday for Save Second Base - a breast cancer benefit concert at Gainesville's Backstage Lounge, 1315 S. Main St.
There's a place in the market for white noise, and nobody knows this better than Mercury Rev. With "Snowflake Midnight," the veteran space-rockers piece together an orthopedic pillow of an album that's not only as serenely unexciting as its name suggests but could likely accompany "trickling stream" and "rainforest animals" as the third setting on a Sleep Mate sound machine. Each of the few engaging moments scattered throughout - the soft-loud dynamic in "People Are So Unpredictable (There's No Bliss Like Home)," the Little-Drummer-Boy-learns-techno choral passage of "Dream of a Young Girl as a Flower" - is promptly smothered to death by an extended ambient interlude. This is the sonic equivalent of turkey: it's pretty bland by itself, and after consumption, all you want to do is take a nap.