Chip: "Hot dogs, apples, and Cracker Jacks? If I eat this thing while watching a baseball game I predict a very patriotic boner will arise. In fact, the only thing un-American about it may be the Budweiser. I still haven't forgiven those bastards for selling the company to the Belgians!"
In other beer company news, Chicago-based Pabst is relocating to Los Angeles this summer. We love the headline at www.laist.com:
"For Those Who Suckle At Silvery Teat Of PBR: Pabst Corporate Headquarters Moving To Los Angeles"
Will this affect the hipster perception of PBR? We don't know, but we DO know that we'll now be ordering our cans at the Replay by requesting "another suck from the silvery teat, please, barkeep!"
We don't understand indie rap, but we desperately want to, so we tend to read a lot of articles about the Odd Future collective (which we find preferable to actually listening to them). Pitchfork offers a nice description of their aesthetic:
"Full of pathos, humor, and hatred, the group has worked tirelessly to establish their own intricate world online-- from their YouTube account, filled with self-produced videos, to their individual Twitters, Tumblrs, Facebooks, and Formsprings, all of which they update prolifically. To this tight-knit "us," virtually everyone else is a "them," to be mocked, laughed at, and fucked with."
Richard: "Now that we have a Tumblr, our next step is a Formspring account so that people can ask Chip questions more directly."
One of Odd Future's members, Tyler the Creator, has a new solo album called Goblin, which Pitchfork graces with an 8.0. The review discusses how the "nihilistic" tone of much of his work clashes with his likable on-line persona and accessibility to fans:
"He comes across as an everyday kid. He lives with his grandmother. He likes porn; he hates collard greens."
Chip: "He sounds just like me!"
Pitchfork also suggests that the track "Yonkers" "remains a potential frontrunner for song-of-the-year."
Let's take a look at some of the lyrics:
"I slipped myself some pink Zannies
And danced around the house in all-over print panties
My mom's gone, that fucking broad will never understand me
I'm not gay, I just wanna boogie to some Marvin
(What you think of Hayley Williams?) Fuck her, Wolf Haley robbing them
I'll crash that fucking airplane that that faggot nigga B.o.B is in
And stab Bruno Mars in his goddamn esophagus"
Chip: "I guess I'm not sure what sets this kind of alienated, homophobic, ultra-violent persona apart from the same stuff Eminem was doing a long time back? Or perhaps this is not a persona? I'll admit I'm a little afraid that simply writing about this album will lead to Tyler tracking us down and stabbing us with a 'Pitchfork,' since the song does, indeed, threaten to stab 'any blogging faggot hipster with a Pitchfork.'
Richard: "It's a pretty clever allusion to Pitchfork and the blogosphere, one must admit. And perhaps the Pitchfork reviewer is a little afraid as well, since he buries the critiques-- "this album is bleak, long, monolithic, and can be a slog to get through" --between an avalanche of praise: "it's still a game-changing record for indie hip-hop."
Read the full Pitchfork review here.