Coffee Warmth//the beautiful sound of a mist storm

"If you're going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you're going to be locked up." - Hunter S. Thompson

tUnE-YaRdS - Hatari
tribal yelps of exaltation! celebration! rainforest foreplay and vocal marriage of the heart and soul. angry dreams of lust and passion underscored with a perverted smile that curls at the sight of an exposed breast under the moonlight. twitchy hands that jerk in time to a crazed sermon littered with words of a religious tongue, garbled and massacred to try and mirror some exult of bedtime-story love - the imagination, and all its power, is a creature devoted to ripping us away from the ties of reality, releasing us into the brightest and very darkest corners of our consciousness.

Au - RR vs. D
madness! fear! joy! revulsion, expulsion, disgust and immersion! what lengths will we march to show the whole fucking world we are OPINIONATED and DETERMINED? my foot first, then your knees, then her hands and his screams and their dreams...oh, it all feels so real! finally! we believe that they can hear our chants, our pleas, our demands for insuring what the future means and our aggravations at the monstrosities the people-that-be wield against us! we are not like our parents, we have twitter!

Francois Virot - Islands
folk has changed this generation - what used to be a community filled with baez and dylan monologues, king and taylor romances, or even the wandering spirit of an acoustic guitar and a ragged voice has transformed into upbeat titles on childhood and dreams. we don't look to the roads anymore, we look to the blissful ignorance of our youth. folk sings about simple pleasures, god-given and immediate; the job of provoking thought now falls on the 'intelligent,' or 'backpack,' hip hop crowd. beatniks have gone tribal, the outdoors are forested, and shrooms have rescued sore throats from cigarettes. virot, au, yeasayer, animal collective, califone, on and on and on and on and on the list could go...pick an acoustic-driven artist the blogs are drooling over these days, and they fit the bill. the perversion of old american music into psychadelia-drowned soundscapes of yelps, shrieks, claps and whispers. amen to iron & wine, and those few warriors of sunny field music, purveyors of cassettes and record players, horse carriages and train stowaways.

Guido Mobius - Gosse Overman
a warm, sparse beat, with quadrupled claps over a wavering blues voice that weaves a wide range of pitch. whistle, whistle away, through a long summer drive; keep those windows down to smell the wind and seasalt air, the path we all know so well, the gas stations selling cheap coffee and the bridges littered with sun-blazed fishermen, how i miss that road from family to seclusion, from trees to beach, from you to me.

A saviour of folk, a warrior of forest songs and southern lullabies, what beauty exudes from this voice is untenable - only a quick tear at your chest reminds you that a siren's song is as perfect as it is deadly, so murderous are these light-hearted songs of dreams and wanders. A mix of CocoRosie and Joanna Newsom, with the ambience of Joan Baez, sleep to wake is a talent I stumbled upon through MySpace, and I am lucky that I did. Discovered during the insomnia hours of tomorrow's morning, her voice sounded like a promise for sleep, and I was grateful for her recordings. I hope you find the same comfort in her tracks that I did, and continue to, no matter the weather.
Free Taste: woven - Grey Light
(no download - only MySpace)

appu jasu:
Pictures absolutely drenched in warmth and nostalgia. Multiple exposures, aged film, and a good eye all work towards a transformation of the beautifully mundane into a memory of your parent's childhood.

Roger Cohen:
An op-ed columnist for the New York Times. He's written one of the most in-depth, personal, and affecting articles on the current protests in Tehran I've read yet:

The American Dollar:
These dudes are from Queens, NY, and make some pretty epic post-rock music. Reminds me of my younger days roaming the streets of Forest Hills with Explosions in the Sky blasting out my headphones. I got this video from the very awesome Aurgasm blog, and they have a pretty straightforward mandate I urge you all to follow:

"Please click play. Then click full screen. Big headphones are recommended, as well."

Wilmer Murillo:
With pastel colors and stretched shapes, Wilmer Murillo combines Disney allusions with circus imaginations into postcards from a mushroom trip. He's a 21 year old based in Honduras, and uses both digital and traditional methods to illustrate what can only be some fucked up and joyful daydreams. Watch this guy turn children's entertainment back into the twisted, curious, sweet-and-sour delights I remember enjoying - none of this cutesy
Hannah Montana bullshit; Pinocchio had a wooden boy turn into a donkey for christ's sake.

Special treat:

Wilmer Murillo Drawing - Episode 2 from Wilmer Murillo on Vimeo.

its amazing how much people change in as little as two seasons past. you see old friends die, new ones bloom, and love loved and lost. where I had found inspiration, creativity, and brotherhood, I now choke on quiet heartbreak, a deep swallow to send a hundred memories and wishes into a pit of boiling stomach acid. i am speechless, without response, and sleep heavy with headphones tossed. the day the music died, my friend, is the day you found creativity in textbooks. you cannot teach soul, you cannot learn heart; there is only truth in pure expression, unpolished, unrestrained, and unforgiving. i am proud to see my past not as mistakes, but as continued progress, unraveling the infinite mysteries of the world around me - both physical and sonic - and turning each month into a new period of discovery. so cast away your pedantic offers, throw down those boxing gloves (and I will mine), and forget the mentality of technicality! fall in love again with a good record, deaf to eqs and sidechains, ignorant of analog and digital; play with gross individuality and scream riots of sing-a-longs. please, do not belittle the past with arrogant pokes at superior vision, but adapt and share and remold what is already alive and kicking. please, embrace what seems so dangerously necessary with open arms (I am proud and confident in the strides you have surely made), but embrace what we called home just as much.

Nighttime Glasses

my best friend's found a girl
that makes me happy, that makes me weak
i cant stand them together
because they make me sick, oh love, oh jealousy
i've lost mine to the river
distance, oh cruelty, you've stolen my heart
i'm not here to complain
i'm here to remind you that I care from afar

I am in this for the long run
I hope that you are too cause i would hate to go it alone
if the sky rang with music
it would sing our tunes that we wrote when we were young
basement melodies
that echo from hell to high when we soar above the rest
now the blue is never darker
and walls make room for sounds shaped strong between the best

I'm sorry you have suffered
let's roar a thousand prayers until the gods give them back
do you wish to forget
the troubles life has brought or just ignore the fight inside?
I promise it will feel better
when you're honest with yourself, let cynicism die

nothing seems to make you smile anymore
so I won't leave until I see your teeth

I would chase the moon for you, if you could only see the sky
take off those sunglasses, don't try to ignore the night
can we draw the curtains and pretend that this is our own?
I would be happy to die if we met in the afterlife

- tgrs

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