A Year of Regret, Misery, and Unending Pain--Set to a Jaunty Soundtrack!

Our annual 2-disc giveaway (given the title this year of Disco:Very 2012) is now available for you to enjoy, in two different formats.  1) E-mail us your name and address (faked names are acceptable, perhaps even encouraged) to receive a smartly-designed CD format (which Youth now declares dead), or 2) for a digital version, simply download Disc One here and Disc Two here.  File sharing between two or more people is the love which dare not speak its name.

This is an announcement to proclaim that Disco:Very (gulp!) has finally joined Facebook.  Dear god, help us all.  If you care to accompany us on our journey, please be aware that all Disco:Very posts will reveal little, if any, personal information, and we will not be commenting on your personal information at anytime, ever.  DiscoColonVery.net is a one-way dialogue, and we'd advise you to flow in the direction of the traffic.

Grand Theft Audio

Thanks to the new 25th Anniversary reissue of the 1986 Grammy-winning hit album Graceland, when you listen to this early version of All Around The World Or The Myth Of Fingerprints, you can almost hear the exact moment when Paul Simon steals this Los Lobos song right out from under them. Bonus joke: "Ever since the watermelon..."--what the fuck does that even fucking mean??

Disco:Very Translates His Own Press Release Touting Free Give Away of Remastered Release of Disco:Very 2001

On May 24th, 2012, world-renowned music blog Disco:Very will reissue the acclaimed Disco:Very 2001 year-end compilation, which was originally given away to a small number of friends and family in December 2001.

[In this case, "world-renowed" means weird sections of the American midwest and two readers in Ireland, and "acclaimed" means "some people actually kept their CD's for a year before tossing them in the garbage".


"There is not a week that goes by without some fan of my current CD's asking if I will ever reissue the earlier comps", said Disco:Very CEO, Disco:Very. "The time felt right to remind the public why we are at the forefront of custom-made CD compilations given out free-of-charge on an annual basis." 

[How very edgy: still working in a media format less popular than the wax cylinder.]


As it has done for the past 12 years, blog readers are instructed to send their name and address to Disco:Very's e-mail address whereupon a CD will be immediately mailed to the requester.  Because Disco:Very respects its readers privacy, fake names are allowed in each request as long as the address is real.

[The validity of claims to privacy cannot be verified, so keep your soiled underwear locked up just to be sure.]


Longtime readers of Disco:Very and newbies alike will find much to like in this nostalgic trip from 2001, including artists familiar (The Magnetic Fields, Jurassic 5, Sigur Ros) and some off the beaten path (Zero Zero, Marvin Pontiac, Zoot Woman.)

[Anyone in the internet age who still can't stumble upon the music of Radiohead on their own must be some kind of specialized idiot. ]


The audio and cover art has been redesigned and remastered from top to bottom, so even if you already own an original Disco:Very 2001 CD, you should consider adding this newer edition to your collection for its crisp remastering and bold minimalist graphics.

[The original artwork from 2001 was so hideous, it was best to throw it all away and stick to the design of the last few years just to play it safe.]


Disco:Very is a music blog publishing since 2005 where it made a name for itself as an incisive, inflammatory blog of opinion, reviews and music links.

[In other words, just like every other music blog clogging cyberspace, but the author of this one doesn't know the meaning of the words "Give it up, already".]

I Suck. You're Welcome.

The last day of every year always yields many dull and predictable events: nutter religious figures predicting the end times, over-zealous bargain hunters digging through bins of Christmas decorations slashed half-off, etc, etc.

Sadly, this little blog is no better.

Once again, I announce my sub-meager annual end-of-the-year CD compilation pulling together my favorite songs from the past 12 months.  This 2CD set (cleverly entitled Disco:Very 2011) has 40 tracks  of toe-tapping, head-slapping beauty guaranteed to make you dance around the house.

To get your free copy of this one-time-only gift, simply send your name (fakes accepted) and address to peecat at mac dot com and the package will be on its way.  Your name and address will be thrown away after your package has been sent, and will not be shared with anyone else.

It's the end of the year as we know it (and I feel fine giving away cheap CDs to random strangers).

Disco:Very 2010 2-CD Comp Now Available for Free (Or Best Offer)

It took far longer than it should have to complete, but Disco:Very 2010, our annual year-end free-of-charge best-of compilation, is finally done. This 2-disc extravaganza is chock full of booty-wailing, fist-shaking, foot-bleeding goodness (now with 28% fewer foreign languages)! You can download disc one here and disc two here, and the track listings are here. Or if you prefer a physical copy with all the graphic trimmings, send your mailing address to the e-mail at the end of the column on the right. While we might not respect you, we do respect your privacy and the name/address you send will never be sent to anyone else. Supplies are limited (meaning: I ran out of empty CD cases) so send your request in today!

Disco:Very Does Dallas. No, Wait: San Francisco [Part 3]

The Long List of Artists Whose Music I Was Searching for at Amoeba Music on Haight Street, Thus Annoying the Counter Clerk Because the List Was So Fucking Long, But Also Annoying Me Because None of Their Albums Were in the Racks:

The Black Jaspers

Crookers

Kevin Dunn

Filmzenek Tarr Bela

Gay for Johnny Depp

Andrew Graham

High All the Time (Various Artists)

Hunx & His Punx

Mazing Vids

Moderne

Pretty & Nice

Reading Rainbow

Sonny & the Sunsets

Charanjit Singh

UV Race

White Fence

The Second Part of the Long List of Artists Whose Music I Was Searching for at Amoeba Music on Haight Street, Thus Annoying the Counter Clerk Because It Dawned On Her at Some Point That I Was Making Them All Up:

I Run, I Jump, I Skip, I Fall Down: Hello!

Click Your Heels, Scream "I'm Anglo!"

Almost There, Almost There--Oops! Wrong Turn

They're Dancing In Unison and I'm Drowning Beside Them

You Ate What???

Everybody Bends at the Knee

Reach Up! Reach Up! Give it Here!

Ow! I Stubbed My Toe! Ow!

My Womb Held Aloft

Him and Her and Me and Them and Us and He and She

Let's Look at the Sun and Go Blind (Now We Are Blind)

Invisible Sheets of Yesterday and Forever

Aching, Waiting, Hoping, Spinning, Spinning, Spinning

Plausorchiadidian

Sounds Like Ass

Crank Calling Record Stores on the Busiest Shopping Day of the Year [Part 1]

[Store Clerk for lame-ass local chain CD/DVD store]: [Name of store] on [name of street location].
Disco:Very: Hi. I was just in your store and I bought myself a copy of Where the Wild Things Are by Steve Vai but I think there's something wrong with the CD.
Store Clerk: OK. What seems to be the problem?
Disco:Very: Well, on the song "Taurus Bulba", Steve Vai is supposed to be playing a solo which is comprised of 2100 notes per minute but when I listen to it, I can only count about 2086 notes, tops.
Store Clerk: [Pauses.] Uh...
Disco:Very: I thought that maybe you had an in-store copy you could listen to and maybe you and I could count the notes together over the phone so we can determine if my copy is defective or if it was an error at the pressing plant.
Store Clerk: [Laughs] Well, uh...I don't think we have an in-store copy here.
Disco:Very: I know the mistake isn't on my end because I'm very good at counting. And I'm sure the problem isn't with Steve Vai because his nimble fingers dance merrily across the strings as if summoned forth by Zeus, with the power and majesty of 1000 winged horses.
Store Clerk: [Hangs up.]

My Precious Feelings on the 36th Telluride Film Festival

Although I am not the winner of this year's edition of the Be the First to Spot Ken Burns game, I do, however, witness many 4-year-olds around town with the same bowl-cut hair style, which scores me a few points in the end.

The next morning, I happily spot Mr. Burns being nagged by his wife in broad daylight and provide him momentary respite from her by insisting I get my picture snapped with him (that's me on the left).

The minute the festival schedule is announced, rumors being to swirl like Lysol® Power Toilet Bowl Cleaner as it washes away pesky lime and rust. Due to a surprise announcement that Up in the Air will be screening, everyone is on the lookout for George Clooney to make an appearance. It certainly explains why I keep getting stopped in the street by strangers assuming I am him. Curse my masculine square jaw and rugged good looks!

The festival begins on a high note for me thanks to Henri-George Clouzot's Inferno, an engrossing recounting of the unfinished masterwork-which-could-have-been by the director of The Wages of Fear and Diabolique. Some of the visuals are so strong, you want to take them home in your pants pocket to take out and look at later when you're alone.

I walk out midway during the first screening of the three-part Red Riding: 1974, which is too formulaic for my tastes. A few hours later, I endure a screening of The Miscreants of Taliwood--a potentially fascinating documentary on the local film production of Pakistan as it wrestles with local Islamic fundamentalism, but the story is overwhelmed by the self-absorbed director who inserts his hammer-over-the-head moral judgements into nearly every frame.

Despite critics who find his vision far too bleak, I personally delight in the films of Michael Heneke (Cache, Funny Games) and his deeply morbid take on the world, especially in his new flick The White Ribbon (a perfect date movie if you're trying to woo a Goth). He sometimes tries a little too hard to be The Bad Boy of Cinema ("I hope you have a disturbing viewing experience", he proclaimed before the screening I caught), but he'd be the type of person to which I'd gravitate at a party, especially as he gloomily points out the violent malicious nature of humanity to the shocked and horrified guests.

One of the delights of a great festival is when the selected films share similar thematic concerns. Such was the case of two very different films, A Prophet and Coco Before Chanel:

A Prophet: The protagonist is trapped in an oppressive prison system with no means of escape.
Coco Before Chanel: Lowly employees are trapped working for the oppressive Coco Chanel without any means of escape.

A Prophet: The lead character must resort to violence and murder to climb his way to the top of the prison hierarchy.
Coco Before Chanel: Coco must resort to violence and murder to climb her way to the top of the fashion hierarchy.

A Prophet: The protagonist conceals a razor blade in his mouth in order to slit the throat of an opponent.
Coco Before Chanel: Ditto.

It is announced that a special appearance will be made by Helen Mirren, who is in attendance with her new costume drama The Last Station. It certainly explains why I keep getting stopped in the street by strangers assuming I am her. Curse my matronly demeanor and bosomy man-boobs!

I hereby apologize to everyone sitting near me during It Came From Kuchar, the side-splitting new documentary about the Kuchar twins, George and Mike. The campy clips from their lewd filmography had me convulsing with booming laughter during the entire 90 minutes.

Early on, I decide to skip the special screening of the new Todd Solondz film Life During Wartime. If I wanted to experience tiresome smart-ass writing whose only intent is to make the viewing public uncomfortable, I'd just read my own fucking blog [*rimshot*].

I have a newfound respect for filmmaker Alexander Payne, whose films (About Schmidt, Sideways) have always slightly annoyed me. All of his picks as Guest Director of the festival were worth catching, from the weepy 1937 drama Make Way For Tomorrow to the Spanish black comedy El Verdugo to the darkly ironic Samurai epic Daisan no Kagemusha. His presentation of the splendid Italian romantic comedy Le Ragazze di Piazza di Spagna, which featured a very young Marcello Mastroianni in one of his earliest roles, was made even more special for me because I was sitting a mere two rows away from his frequent co-star Anouk Aimée. Being able to look over at her as Mastroianni appeared on the screen had me in cinematic heaven.

They Are Insane, These Gallic!

There hasn't been much time for me to post anything lately, what with all my waking hours spent getting Courtney Love ready for her stage debut in the musical version of Howard the Duck (she plays the title role). For now, you'll just have to be satisfied with me posting three albums of authentic '60's Ye-Ye French pop: the now out-of-print Ils Sont Fous Ces Gaulois! series, volumes 1, 2 & 3 (I haven't yet bought volume 4, though Dionysus Records apparently has it). Forgive me for lacking the album cover for Volume 1 (if anyone has it, please send it my way). I have to go now--I can hear Courtney screaming for her daily Oxycontin smoothie. There's hell to pay if I don't have it whipped up the minute she gets back from her court-ordered parenting class.

Live Blogging SXSW 2009 In Exasperating Detail, Part 4. [Let's Suffer Through It Together.] [Hugs!]

Now that I'm back home, away from the glitter and gloom of the 2009 SXSW, being back on solid soil has given me plenty of time to reflect on what I learned from my trip:

1. If you witness T.J. Jagodowski (the balding guy from those Sonic commercials) ambling down 6th Street, nobody is going to recognize him but you, so go ahead and gawk. Make it extra special by keeping a count of how many homeless people over which he is able to step with a confident strut.

2. If you have intentions of meeting hot-director-of-the-moment Catherine Hardwicke during her DVD signing, you'd better enjoy standing in line with 800,000 vampire-lovin' goth geeks, cuz brother, they've all seen Twilight and they want a piece of her flesh. Also, actually bringing one of her movies on DVD to sign would be a good idea, too.

3. Make sure that when you introduce yourself to Todd Haynes in the Austin Airport that you depart his private space immediately. If you accidentally walk past him again less than an hour later, he'll give you that help!-I'm-being-stalked! look similar to the one shown to you by David Gordon Green during the 2007 Sundance Film Festival. It's always your cinematic heroes who tend to be most unnerved by doe-eyed idol worship, isn't it?

The Redneck Guy Who Turns Out to Be a Substitute Teacher, Which is Scary Because He Displays Such Poor Social Skills in the Intimacy of the Steam Room

A One Act Play

Curtain Opens

We are in the steam room of a downtown gym. LARGE BEEFY TATTOOED MAN (LBTM) and SCRAWNY SMART ASS BLOGGER SECURE WITH THE SIZE OF HIS PENIS (SSABSWTSOHP) are relaxing in silence after a long work out as the sound of steam emits an hypnotic hissing into the tiny room. Because these characters do not know each other, neither one says a word to the other.

After a beat, the door to the steam room opens and in walks HILLBILLY SPORTING A PONYTAIL WHILE ALSO WEARING BIKINI UNDERWEAR WHICH FITS A LITTLE TOO SNUG FOR ANYONE'S COMFORT LEVEL (HSAPWAWBUWFALTSFACL). He sits down between LBTM and SSABSWTSOHP.

All the characters sit in silence for a minute or two as steam fills the room.

HSAPWAWBUWFALTSFACL: Fuck!

(HSAPWAWBUWFALTSFACL changes his position so he is now lying down.)

HSAPWAWBUWFALTSFACL: (Gives a loud sigh.)

All the characters sit in silence for another moment.

HSAPWAWBUWFALTSFACL: The shit don't stop until your casket drops!

LBTM and SSABSWTSOHP sit in silence, unsure whether or not to comment on HSAPWAWBUWFALTSFACL's outburst.

Another moment passes in silence.

SSABSWTSOHP stands up and quickly moves to the showers.

The End

(Curtain)

The Audience Members in the 2nd 2008 Presidential Debate and the Questions They Wish They Could Have Asked

Gogol Bordello Guy: "What are your policies on the hardships faced by traveling gypsy musicians? And what will you do to reduce the price of black and white striped leggings which they frequently wear?"

Woman Who Irons Her Hair: "Senators, I am a big fan of Phoebe Snow and yet she hasn't had a hit record in over 30 years. What are your thoughts on any potential future hits by Phoebe Snow? [Pause] For god's sake, will someone tell me if Phoebe Snow is ever going to have another hit album???"

Redneck Boy Barely Old Enough to Vote: "Senator Obama, everyone says I look like Larry Collins of the Collins Kids, yet I still have not had a date in the last two years. If you are elected President, what will you do to help me get a date?"

Classic Rocker Having Mid-Life Crisis: "Is it a bad thing that I play air guitar when listening to Los Lonely Boys...in my underwear?"

Emo Boy and His Goth Girlfriend Sitting on His Left: "This is a two part question: Where do you stand on Further Seems Forever vs. Dashboard Confessional? And my girlfriend would like to know what you plan on doing to stem the tide of zombies taking over the earth?"

Pained Moderator: Will someone please kill me?

Children's Letters to God (Disco:Very Is God) (God Is Dead)

Today's Letter:

From your good friends at Ticketmaster. Please read the e-mail thoroughly for all the details.

YOU ARE INVITED TO RECEIVE COMPLIMENTARY TICKETS TO RICK SPRINGFIELD'S WORKING CLASS TOUR 2007 ON SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 30th

Grab your friends and take a trip back in time when the Working Class Tour 2007 hits town, featuring 80's pop stars Rick Springfield, Eddie Money, and Patty Smyth and Scandal!

**Please Note: 8 Ticket Limit. There is a $1.00 per ticket service charge and a $3.55 per order processing fee. Supplies are limited. Offer can be discontinued at any time.

To get your tickets just go to: http://pff-insider.c.topica.com/maahW4wabBrknbspcyRb/

Remember the Special Offer Code is: ROCKIN

God Replies:

Dear Ticketmaster:

You read my mind. The '80's were rad.

Please send me 46,733,576 tickets. I am sending a check for $212,637,770.80 to cover service charges and processing fees.

It will be worth every penny if I get even a small glimpse of Rick Springfield's leathery 58-year-old man nipples.

Best Regards,

God

Disposal Proposal

An avid reader in Lawrenceville, GA has complained to me that he doesn't own Static Disposal by Debris, (an album released many years ago) frustrated that he might be missing out on some awesome head-pounding musical excitement. I admonish him to download the vinyl version from me while awaiting the purchase of the newly-reissued CD version boasting a buttful of extra tracks:

01 One Way Spit

02 Female Tracks

03 Witness

04 Tricia

05 Boyfriend

06 Leisurely Waiting

07 New Smooth Lunch

08 Manhattan

09 Flight Taken

10 Tell Me

11 Blue Girls

Debris died for our sins, dear readers--the least we can do is reenact the 11 Stations of Their Cross.

Smack My Rhymes-With-Witch Up

There are some tradeoffs which, frankly, are not worth the risk:

1.) Medical advancements can be helpful to the human race, but the end result of ending Tiga & Megan's tenure as conjoined twins will result in two times the amount of shit-awful albums when they eventually both go solo years from now. Some circus freak birth defects should just be left alone.

2.) I'm not against human rights, per se, it's just that if America wasn't a beacon for the those yearning to be free, we wouldn't have had that loathesome yelp-dog Regina Spektor flapping her wings to our shores back when she was pooping pickled Masliak Mushrooms into her diapers. And now we're stuck with her. And she keeps making albums. And they all suck.

3.) It's a pleasure having Alexei Luthor (who appears to be the publisher of several prolific blogs) as my new special friend, but he's forcing me to post the entire self-titled debut EP by The Ping Pong Bitches, and now I'm afraid that their management--or worse, the Bitches themselves--will track me down and break my legs like Popsicle sticks. Due to my fear of death, then, these tracks won't be up for very long. Grab them before the Ping Pongs grab me.

Beat You Up

I Love You, Necrophiliac

Rock Action

Dynamite

Chinese Song

[Update: Alexei and his hundreds of blogs appears to have vanished into thin air. We wish him well.]

Absence Makes the World Go 'Round

[Click on image to make it legible.]

Mission Acceptable

For those regular readers who are furious, burning with rage, frothing with anger that I long ago forbid you from sending me link after link after fucking link to Mr. Show clips on You Tube--clips which I already own, clips I have watched over and over until my eyeballs are nine months pregnant with laughter semen--can I make it up to you by offering a link to the hilarious new VH-1 sketch comedy show Acceptable TV? Can I help it if some Public Relations suckface named Jon Creech keeps sending me solicitations about these television clients he reps, just because I'm a raw and radical take-no-prisoners blogger and he's some 9-to-five suit-and-tie Corporate Corpuscle hawking his latest test-marketed edgy hipster laff fest? Does he think I'm some finger-on-the-pulse 16-year-old who will shit his diapers to be tossed an e-mail promo bone, blabbing about this show to all my friends on My Space, thankful to him for placing me so ahead of the pop culture curve? The joke's on him: he doesn't realize I'm a bitter, vile-spewing 42-year-old hater with thinning hair and an ulcer who is only using him as a means to net more free web goodies! Thank goodness this show (which begins airing March 23rd) is actually worth watching, otherwise I might say something about him I'd later regret.

Are You There, Me? It's Me, Me.

I'm back from the 2007 SXSW film festival. Actually, I returned a bit earlier than today but needed some "personal" time to process the following observations made while in attendance:

1. The woman at the trade show booth for Music Supervisor looked disturbingly like my Aunt Gracie. I kept expecting her to scold me for not waiting an hour after eating before I went swimming in her pool, followed by backhanded racial insults slyly directed towards my mother.

2. Pegging your pants to a diameter smaller than that of your ankles is The New Flared Corduroy Loose Fit Jeans (previously known as The New Black). Also, there were a shocking amount of attendees who resembled Harry Knowles in both girth and hair style. I weep for a generation. Especially if they all start reviewing movies on-line.

3. While I applaud the practice set forth by the Alamo Drafthouse Cinemas--that is, bringing food directly to your seat while you enjoy a movie--I would recommend that, while watching a midnight horror flick involving a man whose eyes are being pulled from its sockets by a Satan worshiper, it's best not to be eating Creme Brulee.

4. Although everyone else was in line to obtain the autograph of director John Sayles during a special festival appearance, I was in line to demand he pay back the six hours of my life he owes me for sitting through Casa De Los Babys, Lone Star and Sunshine State.

5. While everyone else at the Austin Airport was gawking as Peter Buck walked by, I was demanding he pay me back the $60 I paid for the past four REM albums. The punchline is: I downloaded them all for free.

6. The ultimate in nerd overload is to attend a sold-out screening of the new typeface documentary Helvetica, where you will find interactive dorks and graphic design junkies of all shapes and sizes. The punchline is: I was the eighth one in line.

These Arms Are Fakes

Earlier today, some clients from out of town who have been pampered all month by yours truly left more than a couple of frantic voice mails on my cell urging me to put pressure on the local police department to patrol their hotel more frequently after one of the clients found his car had been burglarized. "Sure thing", I felt like replying, "Let me call Sherrif Taylor and Barney Fife so we can eradicate crime in this town all together! After we catch those varmits, maybe Aunt Bee can bake us a huckleberry pie!" It's this kind of work-related turmoil that makes me happy to skip town for a few days and hang at the 2007 SXSW Film Festival. Yes, this means you won't hear from me for a while. And yes, I'll be coming home right as the music festivities start, which means I'll be missing a list of bands as long as your right arm. If you have a missing stump for a right arm, the list will be much shorter and will only feature Pete Townsend with a mohawk. You heard me: the man is often seen sporting a mohawk. I hope I die before he gets old.