Unless you’re an accomplished chef or alchemist, chances are you would not be able to walk into your home kitchen, take out some basic ingredients and create (re-create?) many of the processed foods we often eat. Like, I defy you to name one ingredient in a bag of Sour Patch Kids or a can of Mountain Dew Voltage (hint: calcium disodium EDTA ). And while I’m sure plenty of you do all your shopping at the local farmer’s market and only use sustainably raised grass fed beef in your cheeseburgers, most of the country doesn’t eat like that. On the contrary, most of the country eats fast food and processed snacks that are so far removed from conventional farm products they came from that people from a few hundred years ago wouldn’t even recognize them as food.
Actually, this could be be a funny Saturday Night Live skit. Somebody from, say, 1709 is transported via the magic of sketch comedy to the year 2009. Once here, they are presented with things like a pile of chicken nuggets or a can of Full Throttle Frozen Fury energy drink and then they have to figure out what to do with them. Of course, they might recognize the chicken-esque smell of the nuggets, but they would have never seen a perfectly formed, breaded and deep fried piece of all white “meat” like that before. They would probably assume that you could do any number of things with it - except eat it. Maybe they would take the can of Full Throttle and use it like a weapon, bludgeoning their futuristic hosts and stealing their mysterious chicken-scented nuggets. Seriously SNL, I know you’re struggling these days. Tell Lorne Michaels he can call me any time.
Oddly enough, one old-timey libation that has made it through the centuries relatively unscathed is root beer. Pour some into a frosty mug and it would appear exactly has it was back in the cowboy days. Even now you could easily make root beer in your backyard. All you need is some tree bark and a little yeast. What’s more, you can add a scoop of vanilla ice cream and just like that you have a root beer float, one of the most delicious desserts known to man. Or, if you want to take the whole thing into the 20th century, just throw it all in a blender and bam! - root beer freeze.
I would imagine that the idea of root beer as a symbol of versatility and lasting quality was not lost on Pigeon John and Flyn Adam. The LA emcee and producer have come together to create a new super group, er, duo in the vein of Gnarls Barkley or The Neptunes. They’ve squeezed the words together and are calling themselves Rootbeer. Rocking this tasty moniker, John and Adam have kicked their way into a decidedly modern hybrid genre that incorporates the ear candy of Brooklyn electro-pop, the laid back funk of West Coast hip hop and the corrupt revivalist disco of the so-called French bloghouse movement.
Like many elements of our futuristic diet, the Rootbeer sound would not be identifiable to anybody who happened to be magically transplanted from a pre-internet time period. But like their delicious namesake beverage, Rootbeer works with some pretty simple ingredients. The lyrics are ebullient and catchy, the bass lines roll out of the speakers like warm syrup and the drums cannot be denied. All that’s left to do is throw a scoop of vanilla ice cream in there and make that shit float.
Recently a friend sent out a group email to what must have been every person on his contact list. In this email he explained his opinions on the 2nd Amendment as well as his fear that the new administration might curtail gun rights, and then encouraged everyone to act accordingly. Needless to say, within hours this disparate group of friends, acquaintances and total strangers were at each other’s throats arguing about what is officially one of the three most controversial issues in America today. I suggested that we open up the debate to abortion and religion while we were at it, just to make sure we pissed everyone off.
My friend didn’t go for it. Instead he decided to reign the whole thing by directing all further thoughts on the subject to him individually and not to the group as a whole. Which is a bummer, cuz I sure do loves me a good argument. Speaking of which, let’s talk about religion - specifically about the Amish. Everybody knows them as the guys with funny beards who are good with carpentry. They also refuse to use modern conveniences such as electricity or gas powered vehicles, and they have a pretty strict moral code.
Which is like, big whoop, right? Show me a religion that doesn’t have a strict moral code. Or one that doesn’t have funny outfits and strange superstitions for that matter. And that is my point. All religion is basically the same; believe in something that you can’t see, hang out with other people who also believe in it, and every once in a while get together in some kind of building to sing songs and read apocryphal fairy tales dedicated to it. Also, you should restrict your behavior in some way because the invisible thing is always watching you and it totally gives a shit.
The Amish are no more or less weird than any other religious group. But they do get extra points for their variation on the initiation ceremony. Jews have bar mitzvahs, Catholics have communion, and some African religions have that crazy teenage circumcision that I don’t even want to think about. All of these are events to mark a person’s maturity, or the point at which they can understand and accept the tenets of the faith on their own. Well, the Amish have “rumspringa” and it is fucking awesome.
It works like this: the Amish know that their lifestyle is not for everyone. Living in a semi-secluded community without any of the “English” conveniences can be hard, especially when the modern world is basically rubbing it in your face all the time. The Amish parents want to make sure their offspring understand what they’re giving up and that they have accepted the culture of their own volition. So what do they do? At age 16 they cut the little fuckers loose for a two year orgy of sex, drugs, and consumer electronics. Rumspringa!
“If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it was meant to be.” That’s the idea, in a nutshell. The elders figure that it’s better to show the young ones what they’re missing rather than shroud it in mystery - which we all know would only make it more tempting. During the period of rumspringa, young Amish kids are allowed to move into double-wide trailers and spend their days smoking speed, watching cable television and having awkward pre-marital sex. They can even get shitty minimum wage service jobs to finance the whole thing. Surprisingly, most of them burn out on this lifestyle pretty quickly and return to their Amish brethren after only a few months. In other words, contrary to what the other religions would have you believe, a year or two of unchecked hedonism is actually a good thing.
Ironically, the LA band that calls themselves Rumspringa have reverse engineered this process in order to arrive at their sound. “In a modern age when image, shock appeal and technology invades every nook and cranny, it’s hard and rare to find that good ol’ rock n roll sound. ‘That’s why we declared ourselves to be on our own version of Rumspringa,’ says the band. ‘To step away from all the self-serving surface of the mainstream music culture and to get back to the heart of discovering the soul of rock through the roots of its creation.’”
Rumspringa (the band) is sort of like the Amish elders, who have accepted the simple style as the path to greater happiness. Yet, they have certainly had their wild moments, which you can hear in the hip hop iconography and dancey electro rhythms that have slyly made their way into Rumspringa’s songs. Sometimes it sounds like Jimmy Reed and !!! having a party at EPMD’s house and sometimes it just sounds like some indie rock kids with the blues. It’s hard to explain, but easy to understand.
So now we’ve covered guns and we’ve talked about religion. That just leaves abortion. Excuse me while I go write a quick email…
We’re now staring into the gaping maw of the Christmas shopping season, which means the selling will soon begin in earnest. Already this week we’re seeing fruitcakes at Walgreens, egg nog at the corner store, and a nationwide increase in the consumption of spiral ham.
Speaking of holiday cheer, the Christmas season is one of the few remaining things that can still give the major labels half a boner. As such, we’re also seeing new albums from some blue chip artists being released today. You probably heard about Chinese Democracy (thanks Dr. Pepper!) and you know Kanye’s got another vanity project hitting the shelves. Oh, and in case anybody is gift shopping for their great-aunt Shirley, you’ll be happy to know that Tom Jones and Barry Manilow have new albums out this week as well.
But what should you get for the special people on your list this year? What about your little sister, who loves melancholy electro-pop? What about your jaded hipster friend who thinks he likes Fuck Buttons, but really just wants to dance? What about that cute chick with the Ratatat t-shirt at the coffee shop you’ve been meaning to talk to? What would make the holidays special for them?
The answer is simple: a copy of the new Compass EP from Brooklyn’s Red Wire Black Wire. It comes out today on Tough Customer Records. It is filled with thumping drum sounds pulled from hip hop’s back catalogue, synthesizers stolen from Brian Eno and enough guitars to please any indie rock fan. It is guaranteed to bring satisfaction to any music lover on your Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanza/Grand High Climax list.
So get your hands on a copy of Red Wire Black Wire’s Compass EP today and then go forth and spread good cheer unto the world.
The other day I gave my brother a band-aid for a cut on his hand. Actually, I should say Band-Aid, with a capital “B” and a capital “A” because it was a name brand bandage. Not only was it an actual Band-Aid, but it was one of the fancy ones. They’re called “tough strips” and they stay stuck to your body until you peel them off with a putty knife. It doesn’t matter if you’re sweating, showering, or taking a long walk though a hurricane. These things do not come off.
At the end of the day as we we’re driving home, my brother was astonished to find that his Band-Aid was still firmly attached to his hand. I conjectured that bandages were one of the things that you just can’t buy generic. You’ve got to buy Band-Aids if you want them to stay on long enough for the wound they are covering to heal. This quickly got us listing other things that a smart shopper shouldn’t skimp on when trying to decide whether or not to purchase a name brand item. Not the most stimulating conversation, I know, but a fun game to play when you’re driving across the Bay Bridge and there’s nothing good on the radio.
Here’s our list: Band-Aids, packing tape, soda, home electronics, plastic wrap, ballpoint pens, candy, toothpaste, and bongos.
This has quickly developed into a fun activity that can be used to kill time waiting in airports or turned into a drinking game when beer pong gets old. Basically you just make a list that has one broadly defined, yet very specific rule. For example, things that are better in large groups: games of capture the flag, birthday parties, sex, line dancing, drum circles, the wave, opposition to oppressive government forces, and afro-funk infused retro soul rock bands.
New York’s The Phenomenal Handclap Band has clearly played this game before. For their latest string of shows, they have assembled no less than 24 band members to grace the stage, including Morgan Phalen of Diamond Nights, Quinn Luke (aka Bing Ji Ling), plus members of Antibalas and the Dap Kings. There are also two guys credited as “medicine man” and “witch doctor.” The end result is a sound that is equal parts Fela Kuti, Rare Earth, and Polyphonic Spree.
There aren’t too many other groups out there with this particular sound. In fact, I can’t really think of any, but if you can then go ahead and make a list.
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