Song des Tages

[Blödian im Ballkleid]

Oh, when you walk by every night
Talking sweet and looking fine
I get kinda hectic inside
Mmm, baby I'm so into you
Darling, if you only knew
All the things that flow through my mind
But it's just a sweet, sweet fantasy, baby...

[:scatterbrain:]

The Raveonettes -beat city-

Arschcool!

~

i.n.c.i.n.e.r.a.t.e.

[juls]

caribou - a final warning

[Moi-Ko]

Radiohead -the headmaster ritual-

Saugeil. Die dürfen das und können es noch dazu. Give up life as a bad mistake...

[DownHomeGirl]

Elvis Perkins - All the night without love

[ingelish]

liliput / boatsong

[HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL II]

Wenn ich nur Klavier spielen könnte. So ne 70er Nummer müsste man draus machen- so Elton John mäßig... and I feel like a bullet in the gun of Henry Ford..

[Cecily]

Blonde Redhead - 23

[elke]

un glaublich.
und dann: Well, then there’s “American Gangster,” which, by all formal (read: my) criteria, is the best track Jay’s ever recorded. Yes, there are more classic tracks throughout the discography -- “Girls, Girls, Girls” still titillates, and who wants to fuck with “Brooklyn’s Finest” -- but there’s really no precedent for the burst of second-by-second inspiration, the scintillating fusion of production and flow, on display here. This track can only come at the end. It can only be the title track. The only name more appropriate for a solipsistic fulfillment like this would be to self-title it even more, call it Jay-Z, or give it no name at all. This is soul music masquerading as hip-hop. Meaning hasn’t been compressed into raps like this since the mid-90s, and only then in the finest records this genre has produced. All the themes of American Gangster and its lineage are here -- hip-hop, death, family, ambition, regret, worldliness, this whole picaresque saga -- and Jay-Z becomes an outline, a conduit, a silhouette engorged in flames. Again and again Jay demands on this track, beneath the hook and scattered through this starburst of sound, “I want the sky,” which sounds fairly familiar, but never before has he sounded so close to holding it. Never before has the listener been taken by the hand and lead, step by step, to catch a glimpse of the infinite like this. Certainly art transcends -- hello, Lisbon (2006); hello, 2001; hello, “The Dead,” hello to all the reasons I spend my time parsing this shit, hello to every time I’ve ever found for an instant the source of inspiration -- but not so often with this graded accessibility, and not so often in this genre, and not so much at all in 2007. It doesn’t happen like this very often. I’d thank Hov, but I already know how welcome I am.


yes, yesss. <3 <3 <3 (von wegen tocotronic album des jahres, ne? 'kannse knicken'.)

achja, johannes!

[ingelish]

american music club - sick of food

zum heulen!