Archive for Category ‘What Is Art?‘

BLACKTOOTH RECORDS PRESENTS: ACTUALIZE zine

These are not the bones you are looking for. Presenting ACTUALIZE Zine, a pictographically enunciated blast of appreciated hours at Kinkos, resulting in a fine-tuned page flipper. It’s like a prison movie.

Limited to a run in of 35, many of which sold at our Laugh Your Taxes Off variety show, but the residuals will be in the Blacktooth Store (sidebar) until they’re gone.

The Backyard Laugh Your Taxes Off Show

BLACKTOOTH and DRIPS and THE CRYING WOLF
——–present———-

The Backyard Laugh Your Taxes Off Show


To commence the end of tax season, on April 15th we’re throwing a party of wild proportions. It’s the BACKYARD LAUGH YOUR TAXES OFF SHOW! Come be dazzled by some of the best and brightest. Come bask in the glory of an ode to federal collections. Come sit and be serenaded by the joys of laugher and friends.

It works like this…

There are 7 slots open. if you are interested in participating. These 7 slots will be sandwiched by a zig zag of rag tag zingers. To submit to be in the show, please post a video below. Slots are going fast. Dang, now there’s only 6 slots. WOW.

Not too much more can be said about the evening, except that it all culminates into a very special Q&A panel discussion from the multi-platinum, award-winning, 9 times Grammy nominated artist…. SILVER & GOLD!!!!!!

It cost $3 to get into the room at The Crying Wolf here in Nashville.

See you on the 15th…

Chess

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Get oriented for the 2015 chess season by revisiting the great match that was the 2014 culmination between Magnus Carlsen – “The Mozart of Chess” – and India’s first grandmaster (and the only player to win titles in all playing formats) Viswanathan Anand.

2014 FIDE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP

 

Chess problems demand from the composer the same virtues that characterize all worthwhile art: originality, invention, conciseness, harmony, complexity, and splendid insincerity.”
Vladimir Nabokov, Poems and Problems, 1969


 

Lo! The Gods! – SIDNEY H. SIME

NEW CONSUMER ITEMS: The Ekberg Promise

 

Hello. We now have in stock Fly Golden Eagle’s latest tour t-shirts, entitled “The Ekberg Promise.” You can purchase them on the “Store” page and we will ship them with miscellaneous accoutrements, willy nilly.

s/m/l/xl available for now.

Hue Man Tunes

Encapsulated Man – Chris Scarborough

BLACKTOOTH RECORDS – A DJ SET

5/24/14 — fooBar — Nashville, TN — 10PM

Today is the Present Future of Yesterday

Still true…

The State of Kuwait: R.I.P. Peaches Geldof

 

From Chris Murray, fronter of many fronts, experiments, and minds – and for this purpose: The Hepatitties.

What follows are his thoughts on the passing of Peaches Geldof. The words are his own candid sentiment – a modern-day rarity – servings as the first (and, god willing, the last ) look back at a period in our collective history that is venerable, honorable, and – well – peachy:

Chris Murray:

I’m not sure what qualifies me to eulogize Peaches Geldof, other than the fact that I briefly fronted a band, The Hepatitties, for which I used various online media accounts of the young woman’s experiences, as fodder to write songs from her singular, and absolutely fascinating perspective.

As author of these songs, I suppose I do have a unique perspective, at least amongst Nashvillians, of what it might have been like to walk even a few miles in her designer pumps, to feel the evening dew thru her ink-adorned skin, to love and fuck and take needle drugs as her beautiful young synapses fire and misfire inside that lonely skull, topped with silken blonde hair…

I suppose what fascinated me with Peaches all along were these dissonances that seemed to be at the very core of her person: she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but never hesitant to use it for melting down heroin with lemon juice. She could bed damn near any man, but chose for her first husband the ginger lead singer of ridiculous electropop/rap group, Chester French. Her face was soft and round, but usually covered in gaudy rouge, and her skin, so supple, alabaster smooth, but criss-crossed with hastily designed ink in her later years. She was an essentially conflicted, and therefor free person, it seemed to me, physically and emotionally untethered.

To me, Peaches represented a unique point on the celestial map of celebrity infatuation: not fully present in any specific time or geographical zone, but existing mostly in, propped up by the digital consciousness shared by Gawker.com readers, and perhaps more importantly, by her reliably tabloid-obsessed home country of England. Peaches gave us the mytheme that we so desperately need for meme. There can be no myth without a people to share it, after all. The fetish object is not a fetish at all, without a pervert.

The second Hepatitties EP, Banality Winkin’, explored Mrs. Geldof’s lately refined emotional sensibilities, her newfound introspection upon the birth of first born son, Astala Geldof-Cohen, as evidenced by her personal Twitter and Instagram feeds. Since the completion of this recording, Peaches gave birth to a second son, Phaedra Geldof-Cohen, and adopted two dogs: Bowgsley and another (whose name I forget,) and seemed to be further distancing herself from the hard-partying lifestyle of her late teenage years.

The Peaches Geldof of old had recently seemed to be dying in favor of a new, more “adult” version of herself. Perhaps she was just not ready to see her real self, her tabloid self, the drug-addled, occasionally chubby society plumb, wilt away on life’s pedestrian counter top.

Goodnight, Peaches. May God have mercy on us all.

 

04/07/2014

Find The Hepatitties albums for free and for sale here:

A Taste For Peaches <click!>

Banalaity Winkin’ <click!> (3rd down)

Wishes

 

 

The State of Kuwait: One Grain of Sand In the World (Lean Back)

Photo: Aaron Defourneaux

OpEd: Richard Paul Harper, Jr.

 

It is on the night after the death of the great Pete Seeger and upon streaming Henry Mancini’s “Best Of” that I write this.

The duel purpose with which the occasion compels me to jostle my thoughts down can also be revealed in the opening sentence. I awoke this morning to read of the news that Pete Seeger – the legendary folk singer and activist – had died peacefully at the age of 94. This is the first monolithic musical figure that has passed this year, but in 2013 the world lost Lou Reed, Donald Byrd, Phil Everly and Ray Price, to name the smallest amount. All major figures, both in the music community and in the popular landscape as well. But none illicit nearly as much of a reaction from me as Pete Seeger’s death did. My initial thought was that stating he died peacefully seemed a bit ill-fitting, given that the current climate in which we live (double meaning intended) can hardly be navigated in a “peaceful” manner. As such, Mr. Seeger appeared to gracefully let go of the torch he (once) carried, while still maintaining his fervor for life. Either that or he probably asked himself every day upon waking, “are you fucking kidding me?”

My next thought immediately went to the onslaughts of tributes that were about to be poured out for the righteous man. A mental rolodex began to spin of all the people who claimed Seeger as inspiration or in his lineage: Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, Bruce Springsteen, Tom Petty, John Mellencamp, The Avett Brothers, Mumford & Sons, etc. etc. and I vowed to skim everyone of them with a dull-attention span and to not go and do likewise. In fact, en route to my relatively yuppie job bar-tending at a locally-sourced burger joint (where I also am in charge of the music during the shift), I said to myself that I wouldn’t so much as even mention his passing to anyone and would play only a few of his tracks – exclusively deep cuts – as I queued up whatever jams for that morning shift. Yet here I am. Human beings are fickle, malleable beasts.


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