Greatest Rock & Roll song ever written. Hands down, no argument, universally accepted. Guitar, bass, drums, vocals and that's it. No bullshit. It's got the kick on the one and three, snare on the two and four; the foundation of rock music. It swings a little, but not enough to be distracting. The lyrics are about toil and rebellion, but not about real struggle and revolution. It's a perfect anthem for middle class teenage ennui. Or, at least, that's how I felt about it three months ago. Now I'm convinced it serves the roles of thoughtless filler, starting point for psychedelic epics, reminder of simpler times, point of irony, barometer of true talent, and occasional tool of sonic torture.

Since you're likely drunk as shit on eggnog and festive cocktails, now is a great time to listen to Blue Oyster Cult. Read on for your holiday fill of 70's head-bobbing rock!

01. You shall have no other gods before me
02. You shall not make for yourself an idol
03. You shall not make wrongful use of the name of your God
04. Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy
05. Honor your father and mother
06. You shall not murder
07. You shall not commit adultery
08. You shall not steal
09. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor
10. You shall not covet your neighbor's wife

As half of the mindblowingly awesome electronic duo OvA, I'm often asked how we go about making our music from scraps of other people's music. While O and I often have very different output, our process is often similar; we make liberal use of linear wave editing software and a bunch of effects processors.

Over on Youtube IUHG has perfectly illustrated the process. In the following video he shows how to recreate The Prodigy's 'Smack My Bitch Up' from the original samples. It's very similar to the process OvA uses, although we definitely use quite a bit more toaster oven and toilet seat.

I really enjoy making music based on visual concepts. Apart from thumbing through the Oblique Strategies deck, it's the shortest route for me to get inspired. After having a look at the mandalas associated with The Ghost The Beast The Chief The Hawk, my head started to fill with ideas. It all ended up coming together pretty well. This is its story.

To the anonymous reader with the indecipherable email that dropped these photos on me.

Fussball Ist Krieg


Basketball Ist Krieg


Rasenmaehen Ist Krieg


And to bring it all full circle:

Geldaumat Ist Krieg


Seriously, I got a little bit weepy when I saw that one.

Let's just take the absurdity of corpsepainted kids doing normal stuff to its logical end with Marvin & Billy baking cookies:


Let's have a look at their inspiration. Satyricon pretty much filled their entire black metal video bingo card in their 8 minute epic titled Mother North. It's a great song and the video really brings home all the absurd stuff we love about black metal videos: Blonde dudes looking grim, inverted crosses, fire breathing, the forest at night, grim mugging for the camera, extreme up shots designed to make the guys in the band look really tall, naked Scandinavian women, blood, naked Scandinavian women covered with blood, cartoonishly large ancient weaponry, and tons of shit on fire in slow motion. Whats not to love? While this video accurately portrays a great many aspects of the Black Metal scene, it grossly overstates the guy/girl ratio. There are three guys and one smoking hot woman in this video. That's a three Grim and Frostbitten men to one Vessel of the Fatherland ratio. As anyone who has been to more than one Black Metal show knows, the ratio is much closer to thirty pudgy dudes to one overweight and probably underage girl.

It fills me with many conflicting emotions; admiration, sympathy, mirth, and confusion just to name a few.

I see a kid in corpse paint using an ATM.


I can't get enough of seeing guys in corpse paint doing normal stuff. My old band used to play with a band from Atlanta called Demoncy. They would always do their makeup before they arrived at the gig. They always looked so out of place sitting in the corner booth of a bar, bathed in sunlight, sipping cans of Dr. Pepper, and chatting amongst themselves while non-corpse painted people milled about around them.

That settles it, no more leaving the house without a camera.

Continuing on with the unashamed adoration of eccentric old dudes with weird voices, we'll be enjoying a brief overview of some highlights from Scott Walker's long and interesting history.