Saturday, April 16, 2011

1. THE TEDDY BEARS To Know Him Is To Love Him
3. THEM Baby, Please Don't Go
4. THE WHITE STRIPES Let's Shake Hands
5. Look Me Over Closely
6. OMON RA II America is My Zoo
7. Jimmy Melvin
8. DIRTY BEACHES Teenage Queen
9. Motorcycle Rumble
10. BLOODSHOT BILL Whisper In My Ear
11. Hot Spring Baby
12. RIP TRICKER Christmas Drunk
13. LIL WAYNE ft. CORY GUNZ Six Foot Seven
15. Yonkers
17. BAD BRAINS Pay to Cum
18. Stay Close to Me
19. THE RAMONES Havana Affair
20. SURF CITY See How the Sun
21. THE ETHER I Need You
22. PANDA BEAR Scheherazade
23. THE PURITY RING Ungirthed
25. CASS McCOMBS Lonely Doll
26. THE RIDERLESS Opine Number

27. HOW TO DRESS WELL Tri-Angle Records Mix:
28. SOULJA BOY First Day of School 

(How To Dress Well Anthemic Extension Intro) 
29. THE-DREAM Yamaha
South Beach (Dipset Trance) and Spend the Night 
31. BRITNEY SPEARS Hold It Against Me
32. JIMMY KLOK I Don't Like The Only Girl 

(Diplo & Lil Jon Vs. Rihanna Vs. Kelis Vs. Lady Sovereign)
33. CIARA Deuces (Nguzunguzu Remix)

She Geeked
36. R. KELLY ft. OJ DA JUICEMAN Supaman High
37. Dope Boy Pretty Boy Swag Transition
38. YOUNG JEEZY Dope Boy Swag

39. WIZ KHALIFA Black and Yellow 
40. BEYONCE Halo (How To Dress Well Intro Version)
41. HOW TO DRESS WELL Ready For the World
  42. DIRTY BEACHES Lone Runner
43. SUICIDE Frankie Teardrop
44. RED MASS Terrorizer
45. MOUNT ANALOGUE The Stranger and the Fall
46. SPACEMEN 3 Rollercoaster
47. SPACEMEN 3 Revolution
48. RED KRAYOLA Hurricane Fighter Plane
49. SURF CITY Canned Food
50. DIRTY BEACHES The Singer


Anonymous said...

yet another mind numbing week at the poultry paint for fingerless chickens comes to an end and i am rewarded with yet another slave wage paycheck. i leave the plant after a gruelling 12 hour exercise in futility, bread crumbs encrusted under fingernails and paint smears where even the most daring body painter would not venture. i worry not about the stares from early morning passerby as they no doubt wonder where the hen feathers in my beard may have come from or why i reek of a living 'wet paint' sign, for i am a man on a mission.
my mission today is twofold: 1-celebrate the wonder of music obsession by means of capitalistic exchange of hard earned currency for slabs of limited edition vinyl, and 2-catch as much of the bill murray monster music marathon as i can in the process.
i arrive at the local independant record shop 45 minutes early only to find other young men more driven by obsessive behaviour than i, have already soldiered into position. i casually eye up the competition and note the various hallmarks of those afflicted 'collectiari vinylitis':
-men wearing band t-shirts worn (in black) to make identification of that individual's musical bent known to others. check.
-middle aged men with ponytails creeping out of hats with band logos displayed to make identification of that individual's musical bent known to others. check.
-twenty something male hipsters in skinny jeans, striped shirts, scarves and supersized shades (perhaps worn to shield eyes from the impenetrable greyness of the morn?)texting like they're american apparelled wardrobes depend on it. check.
-lone male chewing on chicken finger pulled from anorak pocket and warming himself with pulls of santori from a flask resting in same anorak pocket whilst listening to bill murray radio show through foam covered headphones connected to a 4 double A battery operated transistor radio (located in same aforementioned anorak pocket) received at an AA family christmas party two decades earlier. ME. check.
as a light drizzle begins to saturate my multi purpose anorak, i silently put a telepathic request to mikebot (riding solo at the start of the show)for a Smiths' song as it would be apropos, but realise it may not fit in with the string of '50s and '60s tunes he has decided to open the soundtrack to my mission with. a token female joins the end of the now surprisingly lengthy queue and i wonder how many of these men were thinking 'look me over closely' as she strutted by in her white striped hoodie and red leggings.

Anonymous said...

i refocus my attention to the task at hand as a gent that looks old enough to have been an original member of the dave clark five opens the record shop door. reluctantly i turn off my radio as i must keep my senses sharp if i am to acquire the sonic slabs of seven inch singles i secretly seek or the limited print LPs i lust to listen to lovingly.
i am passed by a single cockeating linejumper as the wave of wax wanting wankers wades into the vaulted vinyl valhalla. i grind my teeth as i replay the phrase that runs through my mind countless times a day during similar acts of simian stupidity: 'what would bill murray do?'
it's mostly mild mannered music fuelled mayhem that ensues. my hunt to fill my wishlist is hampered by my modest height and visual acuity that borders on 'legally drunk'. early onset arthritis from epic tetris sessions has diminished my digital dexterity. however, every battle needs at least a half assed plan and my strategy to bum rush the singles section proves fruitful as i scoop up 45s by jesus lizard, warpaint and built to spill. the gold vinyl reprint of bad brains' 'pay to cum' that i lust after eludes me and i beging to panic. just as i am about to abort the mission, an overpowering whiff of cockbreath hits me from the port side. as i turn to my left i see monsieur manger du cock trying to reach over my starboard shoulder. i see his intended target: the last copy of the 'pay to cum' single that i covet. i side step right and plant my left blundstone on one of his chuck taylors and with a box out move that would've made dennis rodman proud, i grab gold. as i turn around my defeated foe can only muster a weak 'dude...' to which i eloquantly reply 'SWAG!'-exactly what bill murray would do...

Anonymous said...

i pay for my goods and upon exiting the record store i feel villified in my small victory. i turn my radio on and allow the magic making it's way through the headset to set the tempo of my walk home. i join the bill murrays amidst a triple play of odd future luminaries. i suspect that this alludes to the upcoming show at the mod club in may and i hope that they were amongst the few that beat the scalpers to the punch for tickets, but no mention is made either way. mention is however made of another fantastic show that my duties as a mindless drone at the paintball/chicken finger emporium has deprived me of enjoying. the news that surf city played without so much as a ripple of promotion let alone the wave of hype the kiwis deserve brings my elated mood crashing back down to earth and if the bill murrays had at that point decided to segue into the smiths' 'heaven knows i'm miserable now' i would not have been surprised in the least.