MF Doom doing what he does best. This is a good example of what I really like about rap, with Doom (or DOOM now?) skewering the English language and using the sounds and syllables found in the words as suggestions rather than hard and fast rules (“dare,” pronounced “dee-yar,” “sword” pronounced with a hard w), all with DOOM’s trademarked sense of humor, flow, and eccentricities. Also, it grooves like nobody’s business.
Duck Fight Goose is a band from Shanghai, which apparently has a serious alternative noise rock scene going on. This link has a link to their Douban page (which I think is a Chinese equivalent to MySpace). You can download their (very raw) demos 2 ways:
1. Move your cursor over the top of the page and ask it to translate for you, then fill in the links to download, or
2. Do what I did, which is click random buttons and fill in any form with random things that you would normally fill in forms with (I think my username is 12211, which coincidentally is also my zip code) until a download appears.
Or just listen to it on the page. There’s not a whole lot of information here, but if (and admittedly this is a big if) they ever do tour the U.S., you know I’m going to be at that show.
How did you develop your musical tastes? They seem quite eclectic.
Don’t watch MTV, don’t watch VH1, don’t watch Fuse, and don’t, for the love of god, listen to Top 40 commercial radio. Or at least, treat those sources like candy, good for a bite here and there, but any more than that and you’ll get a toothache. Other than that, active searching for music (vs. passive searching) is key.
Just defeated the first Colossus. Was not honestly thinking much of the game until I actually brought the thing down. Most of that was due to the wonky control scheme I was having trouble getting used to. Overall it just seemed like the gameplay was nothing more than was go here, stab this, then go there, and stab that, dead colossus. Which it was, but the way that it fell… it had the essence of bringing down a tragic figure, a hulking monster that could barely stand it’s own existence and just wanted me to leave.
Needless to say, I’m intrigued, but the Olde English style of writing isn’t helping.
“God forbid a Washington bureaucrat replaces my beloved Connecticut health insurance bureaucrat. Or worse yet, that anything replace my health insurance plan I had before I turned 32 and qualified for real health insurance. I believe my plan then was called “Excedrin PM and Colt 45.”—Jon Stewart