Philabuster's List

In Rotation...

The Rapture - Pieces Of The People We Love Snowden - Anti-Anti The Rifles - No Love Lost
Favourite Sons - Down Beside Your Beauty Soulwax - Nite Versions Junior Boys - So This Is Goodbye

Music Blog Network

Philly Ad Network

September 29, 2006

Free Noon Hotness

The Girlfriend Track Likes It Rough

The Girlfriend Track is a song that SkinnySlim deems sexy for a lady to feel. We're talking about songs where, if my girl said "Yo, turn this up", I would be turned on.

This one is all about ass in panties. Well, not literally. It's actually about getting greased up by naked chicks on the beach. The singer uses the word clitoris. He "rhymes" it with "
liberation for women." It has a hard, stilted, funky bassline. It is the sexy. It's even the sexier when my girl wakes up in the early in the morning in her champagne stained sheets. Still drunk, she takes that last swig from the bottle of Krug and that last hit off the roach. Girl puts on cheap black panties, wades her way through the mess of clothes and debauchery on her hardwood flow, drops the needle on the record player. Cue hard, stilted, funky bassline. Cue, slow tight, money making asspanties shake. She saunters back into bed, winking and calling me a "Sexy Beast". I whisper, "I think I'm in love..." Her eyebrows raise, suspicious. "...with the Girlfriend Track, of course."

September 28, 2006

Tonight: I Am The Fun Bogg Monster

Two shows worthy of a blog blurb tonight in Philly. Menomena sits in the middle of an otherwise bland indie line-up at
World Cafe Live. These guys put on a surprisingly fun live show. But $18 at the door? Yipsta' please! Hard to justify, especially when you can skip over to Johnny Brenda's and catch The Boggs for just $8. These guys only recently popped up on most people's radars. Their songs are so eclectic and expansive, there's no easy way to describe them - put me on the spot, and I'll toss up Castanets running around all hopped up on "the sauce" at Burning Man - but it seems like there's pretty much something for everyone.

Thursday Photo Essay

You Don't Have To Go Home, But You Can't Stay Here

(Photo Credit:

Thursday Photo Essay

Bands Niznoz Saw, 1977-1980

(Photo Credit:

September 27, 2006

If I Had The Money To Link To A Record Store I Would

God bless Simian Mobile Disco. Just when you thought you'd have to make a choice between listening to their peerless club thumper "Hustler" and watching lesbian porn, they go and whip up a veritable mustardaise (or mayosturd, if you will) of
song and hipster chicas that saves us all some valuable shoplifting time.

Jarvis Cocker enters Graham Coxon look-alike contest, loses due to incorrect hair length, ends up on the cover of NME anyway.

The old machine being used at R5's recently opened AKA Music box office is not quite up to snuff. Lady Sovereign expected to cancel her show as a result.

Radioblog acquaintances and Philly OVGs (original vibraphone gangstas) Grimace Federation ply their smooth, then glitchy, then smooth again wares tonight at The Khyber. Like Jaga Jazzist, but without the socially awkward Scandinavian vibe. Also, fewer beards.

September 26, 2006

Are Black People Uncomfortable When I Call Them Homie?

More on that in a bit. As regular readers may have noticed, I'm fascinated by the term "gay", meaning "lame". The West Village native, conscious-to-the-plight-of-homosexuals side of me feels the term is offensive. The libertarian badass, don't-be-so-sensitive side feels it's just a word and people should lighten up. This angel/devil war has raged inside for many a moon, with the latter side winning the majority of the battles. Still, I feel a pang of guilt saying gay in a pejorative context. That's why I was so pleased this weekend when I eurekaed the best way to use this popular put-down. Instead of saying something is gay, I now remark, "The homophobes would say that's gay". This kills two birds; I'm putting down anti-homo assholes while also getting away with calling something gay. Just as I came up with the brilliant solution, I passed my genial African-American doorman. He said, "Hey", and I let out a, "What up, homie?" This is a standard SkinnySlim greeting. If you are male, I don't know your name, and I like you, I will call you homie. If you're a female, I will call you baby. If I don't like you or have no opinion I will call you "guy" (regardless of race or gender). But I wondered if my doorman was uncomfortable, thinking I was trying to "act black". I doubt it, mostly because I'm the SkinnySlim, so I let loose my "homies" with such suave elegance that it must put everyone at ease. And to be honest, if anyone is offended, the homophobes would say that's pretty gay.

Christopher Walken Still Undecided

As speculation continues to grow over who will join in the race for the White House in 2008, pressure is increasing on Presidential possibilities to either confirm or deny their candidacy outright. The latest question mark to be addressed: George Clooney. The worst of all Batmen reassured a grateful nation on Monday that he would
not be running for office. "Why run for President," Clooney asked, "when I'm already comfortably employed by the smoothest, coldest-tasting, most drinkable King there is?" After pausing for a lengthy sip of Budweiser, he added, "Suck it, Odenkirk." Meanwhile, uncertainty continues to surround the candidacy of Oprah Winfrey, who claims her lawyers "overreacted" to a Missouri man campaigning on her behalf. While the media mogul still denies she has any Presidential aspirations, one has to wonder if her sudden change of heart over the Oprah 2008 website and it's Buffet-cribbing theme song doesn't have anything to do with the launch yesterday of her own satellite radio channel. With all those radio waves at her disposal, it surely won't be long before Ric Seaberg's serenade is broadcast in an endless loop on XM 156, winning over that elusive Parrot-head demographic and guaranteeing Winfrey a first-class ticket to political Margaritaville.

September 25, 2006

Feline State

This weekend, BadmintonStamps caught even more fame than we had previously caught when Slate Magazine
linked to our classic Garden State/Tip Drill movie. Inspired by our own brilliance, and with the aid of our cohorts, we decided to bring you yet another take on that extremely romantic scene:

The Pony Track Gives In To British Pop Glitz

Comin' atcha first thing every Monday morning, it's The Pony Track, a super-fantastic long distance dedication to BadmintonStamps Collective founding member Aaron "Pony" Child. No fancy links, no clever write-ups, 'cause these awesome songs don't need no splainin'. So c'mon, ride the pony!

September 22, 2006

The Friday Freakout Ain't No Anti-Semite

Beyonce Knowles
doesn't care about white people.

China and Norway prepare for war over the Nobel Peace Prize

This sand sculpture unabashedly disregards the laws of gravity.

I ask you, 'Stampers: why all the hate?

Philabuster is busy filing down his horns, eating babies, and anticipating Snowden's live set at the October 6th Making Time (last MT item for a few weeks, I promise). Happy New Year!

September 21, 2006

Thursday Photo Essay

The Whole Night Through

Thursday Photo Essay

Because I Want My Statue To Stand Out From The Rest

Three Philly Spots Being Blown Up By Somebody Other Than PECO This Weekend

Anybody who didn't get their full freaky electro-grind on at last night's bonkers Soulwax performance (and if you didn't, I'm kinda suspect, to be frank) can work out whatever's left to Kasabian (pic'd)
tonight at the TLA. The biggest Brit-rock narcissists this side of Oasis will be joined by anthemic, if sometimes unintelligible prog act Mew, who's latest album has somehow repeatedly been making it's way into the Philabuster home stereo for several months now. Go figure.

Spank Rock's at the Trocadero this Friday night with Plastic Little? And enough Baltimore Clubbers to sink the Inner Harbor? No shit. I would've expected, like, an e-mail about it, or maybe a MySpace bulletin or something. Where was Paper Street on this one? Dropping the ball, that's where. I keed, I keed. Just go already, and keep it dirrrty.

Saturday night at World Cafe Live, blue radioblog studs Shout Magic bust out with a brand new drummer. It's free, it's early, it's Quakerific.

Big Yellow Smashed Taxi

Yesterday afternoon I was in a taxi cab accident. My cab sped through a green light, smashing and totalling a van speeding through the opposite red light. Thankfully, excluding a little "shock n' whiplash" (note to self: great country album title), I'm fine and my good looks remain intact. Janet Jackson, whose family's
plastic surgery accidents have left their good looks far from intact, sampled Joni Mitchel's "Big Yellow Taxi" in her smash hit "Got Till It's Gone" (peep the great Mark Romanek directed video). Thankfully, unlike those other bloggers who believe what their teachers told them, we at BadmintonStamps understand that the Janet is far superior to the Joni. Here's one of Miss J's shining pop moments to help soothe my shock n' whiplash, and maybe even the deep Jackson family scars.

September 20, 2006

Putting The Cocaine Back In Cocainesexjams

Good news, everybody! Pat yourself on the back and leave work early today, 'cause we've solved world hunger. Just last week, scientists revealed that the number of overweight individuals on Earth
is significantly larger than the number of the undernourished. Which means that, on average, every person on the planet is properly fed. In fact, most of us could actually stand to lose a couple of pounds. Supermodels, I'm looking in your direction. I know, I know...the self-induced vomitting isn't nearly as glamorous as it seems. Spare me your sob stories, okay, 'cause I'm solutions-oriented and I got your waifish backs. Just try some Cocaine. No, not the illegal drug. The legal alternative, introduced last week by the makers of Red Bull and said to generate the same high as the powdery stuff, but without the crash. Kate Moss has already taken to the stuff like a fish to white water, and she was still looking pretty svelte last I checked. Talk about an endorsement. The next coup for the drink's marketing team? How 'bout a Cocaine open bar from 9-11 at Making Time? Someday, perhaps. For tonight's event, however, you'll have to settle for just the sex and the jams, probably including a few from Making Time alums like Bloc Party and White Rose Movement.

Philly's More Fun When You Link Over

Local pony-wave purveyors Pony Pants go on their first tour, and damned if the content-starved Clog ain't gonna milk that guitar-thrashing cow for all it's worth. Fortunately, they do this one right, as the
Pony Pants Express features frontwoman Emily Kovach relaying heart-warming DIY roadwarrior narratives alongside what is easily the best logo that the Cloggers have ever devised. Also, dibs on "Death By Chandelier" for my new band's name.

Philly hip hop pranksters Plastic Little pull down not quite four Pitchfork stars for their Ghostface collaboration even though, as Zach Baron sagaciously reminds us, Plastic Little are not Ghostface. Nor, he reassuringly continues, is Amanda Blank. Coming soon on BadmintonStamps, a properly exhaustive list of everyone who is not Ghostface. Meanwhile, you read the question on everybody's mind here first: Is Plastic Little the American Goldie Lookin' Chain?

Elsewhere in the 'Fork, what's with all the Dr. Dog hateration, John Motley? For almost two years now, the review staff over there has been reacting to Kelefa Sanneh's NY Times article like they were the Bush administration and a wider acceptance of shambling, vaguely nonsensical lyrics and Beach Boy attitude is just what America's enemies want. Call me Mahmoud, but the new EP is soundin' just fine to my ears. I only wish they'd released it in time for some proper summer spinnage. Motley may think it's Miller Time for the boys, but I say they're livin' the dream.

September 19, 2006

We Happen To Love New York

DJ Ben writes in, "Can you put Bobby Short's version of 'I Happen To Like New York' (as heard in Woody Allen's Manhattan Murder Mystery) up on 'Stamps?" Sure, Ben. This great version of the song perfectly opens Allen's film. And here are Cole Porter's lyrics, featuring a very special photo link essay ode to the place that Bobby, Ben, Woody, and I all love...

I happen to like New York, I happen to like this town. I like the city air, I like to drink of it, The more I know New York the more I think of it. I like the sight and the sound and even the stink of it. I happen to like New York. I like to go to Battery Park and watch those liners booming in. I often ask myself, why should it be that they come so far across the sea. I suppose it's because they all agree with me. They happen to like New York. Last Sunday afternoon I took a trip to Hackensack, But after I gave Hackensack the once over, I took the next train back. I happen to like New York. I happen to love this burg. And when I have to give the world a last farewell, And the undertaker starts to ring my funeral bell, I don't want to go to heaven, don't want to go to hell. I happen to like New York. I happen to love New York.

September 18, 2006

Not So Strong To The Finish

I realize that many of the loyal readers out there were tremendously disappointed with the lack of a proper Friday Freakout last week. My plan was to post it that night once I had returned home from watching
the pugilistics with SkinnySlim and company. Problem is, between fights, I start chatting up one of ring card girls. She'd normally be a little too skinny for my tastes, but the unique allure of a woman who shamelessly flaunts her body for the enjoyment of a drunk crowd incited alternately by displays of brutal violence and wanton sexuality is enough make up for a multitude of other faults, even malnourishment. So we're flirting, and she tells me that one of her biggest turn-ons is watching a man eat bags of spinach, and that she just happens to have several with her. And I'm thinking, if you can't trust bagged spinach from a strange woman who probably strips for a living, what can you trust? Yeah, I heard the rumors about the nationwide spinach scare, but since I eat a muffin made with wine waste every morning for breakfast, I figured I had nothing to worry about. I figured wrong, and the leafy stuff hit me with a haymaker of an E. Coli infection before you could say "Balboa", while the chica departed on the arm of some fat guy with lesions. The rest of the night was a blur, and I inadvertantly left all you beautiful Friday Freakout junkies hangin' there with nary a tune. To make ammends for letting you down, here's a Polytechnic b-side that doesn't let up.

Year Of The Champions

Friday night was Fight Night, as 'Stamps fave and boxing promotor extraordinaire S.S. Stein treated SkinnySlim and Philabuster to ringside seats at the
Legendary Blue Horizon in North Philly. The main event featured up-and-coming heavyweight Chazz Witherespoon, who, encouraged by the legions of raucous fans chanting "Spoon", easily knocked out his opponent in the second round. While Chazz had the crowd in frenzy, it was in spite of the very suspect smooth-jazz ballad he used as his entry song. Clearly no one has exposed Spoon to Spoon's all too fitting, "Everything Hits At Once" (side note: a rap group should sample this and change the hook to "Everyone Hits The Blunt"). The entry song snafu got me thinking about what tune I will be coming out to when my professional boxing career commences. Unfotunately, well respected boxer Ben "Red Rooster" Ha-Meen already uses my first choice, Ace Frehley's "Back In The New York Groove", and amateur sensation Andrew "The Doctor" Brogan enters to my second choice, the "All About The Bejamins" rock remix. I guess I'll settle for for my third pick, Eminem's classic "Criminal". I can see it now. As the lights dim, we cue the intro and I saunter through the cheering crowd. The music kicks in, I jump into the ring, throw off my robe, and menacingly stare down my chump/opponent, foreshadowing the bloody beating that will soon violently reign down upon him. Ahh, there's nothing like the artful dignity of the sweet, Sweet Science.

The Pony Track's Just Talking 'Bout Its Own Style

Comin' atcha first thing every Monday morning, it's The Pony Track, a super-fantastic long distance dedication to BadmintonStamps Collective founding member Aaron "Pony" Child. No fancy links, no clever write-ups, 'cause these awesome songs don't need no splainin'. So c'mon, ride the pony!

September 15, 2006

If You Can't Link Something Nice, Don't Link Anything At All

R5 Roundup:
Starting today, you can buy your tickets at AKA Music, including ones for The Clipse's controversial Starlight Ballroom show on Friday, Nov. 3rd at $20 a pop.

Were you really expecting a link to Idolator here?

The greatest party ever just Keeps. Getting. Better. Remember that Making Time party in November we've been telling you about? The one with Hot Chip, The Rapture, and Klaxons? To all that, add some cutting edge DJ-ery from French Friday Freakout alums Justice. It's there in black and white on the duo's MySpace page. Parles vous "dancefloor banger"?

Were you really expecting a link about Lady Sovereign's return to Philly here?

I may or may not go into a lengthier discussion of just how tremendously disappointing Zero 7 was last night at the TLA. For now, all you need to know is that their misguided new efforts at guitar-based pop resemble third rate Hall & Oates at worst, second rate Phoenix at best, and that the most exciting point of the show was when they first took the stage and began improving on top of a looped horn sample from the beginning of this Prefuse 73 song.

'Stampers Sound Off: Australia vs. Kanye

'Stamper-down-under Andrew writes in with this doozy of a question:

September 14, 2006

Thursday Photo Essay

Seriously, What's Up With Permafrost?

Thursday Photo Essay

I Hate It When They Say Me Like That

September 13, 2006

The Nut Growers?

Philabuster faves and Philly rock champions/gods Dr. Dog have been getting buzz this week over the release of their
new ep. Which makes me ponder the classic Dr. Dog question: Why is their name so egregiously atrocious? Dr. Dog conjours the image of some over-the-hill local jam band full of sweaty fat dudes who think Rusted Root are "too out there, man." Their name performs miserably on SkinnySlim's famous band name litmus test, which states, "If a band's name is worse than the name The Litmus Test, they fail." The Dogs also make SkinnySlim's list of "The Fourteen Worst Band Names Ever, Or At Least The First Fourteen Bad Ones I Could Think Of":

Mister Mister
Seven Mary Three
Archetecture In Helsinki
When People Were Shorter and Lived By the Water
Iron Butterfly
Panic! At The Disco
Rusted Root
98 Degrees
Dr. Dog
Death Cab For Cutie
Fall Out Boy
The Gin Blossoms
Nick Lachey

Listen boys, get a new name. In the last two minutes I have seen/heard the following words/phrases that would all be better band names than Dr. Dog: Little Children, The Trash, The Beatles, Untitled, and The Menstrual Cycles. None are classics, but it doesn't matter. Just pick one. And don't give me any of this, "We're already established with Dr. Dog, it's too late." What are you, Fall Out Boy quivering nervously while thanking their parents and record label at the VMAs? You're a fucking rock band, grow some nuts.

Making Time Now And Later

Not sure what anybody did to deserve this - chalk it up to the cocainesexjam stars aligning just so - but on Friday, November 3rd, Philadelphia will be hosting what probably qualifies as one of the best shows taking place anywhere all year. In a story that only gets better the longer we follow it, the Making Time party at li'l old Pure will be hosting both 'Stamps faves Hot Chip and everybody's favorite - say it with me - disco band, The Rapture. As if that wasn't enough, knowers in the know know that a third set from UK nu-rave flag bearers Klaxons (pic'd) is also in store on this enchanted evening, which is quickly exiting the realm of "party" and taking on full-blown "fest" proportions. Tickets aren't on sale yet, but the wheels are already turning to set up some box office action at the only game left in town, AKA Music, maybe as soon as next week. Stay tuned.

More immediately, the September incarnation of Making Time is no slouch either. Soulwax have put out a new CD, Nite Versions, chock full of new tunes, remixes, and even a Daft Punk cover. Next Wednesday night, September 20th, they'll be bringing the whole thing to furious, sparklemotiony life at Pure, and BadmintonStamps would like you to bear witness, all free like. If you're interested in winning pair of tickets to the gala, as well your very own copy of Nite Versions, just send an e-mail with your full name and the subject "WAX ON, WAX OFF" to We'll break out the dowsing rod to pick a winner by midnight Monday.

Laffy Tafty

Doing some charity work together,
building schools.

Presumably, Mr. Carter became bored sipping cappuccino and playing golf at that nice place with no mosquitoes. Jay-Z comes out of retirement to save 2006 from the evil music villains that are Panic! At the Disco and SexyBack.

Side note on that SexyBack thing: Atrociousness aside (and I'm no JT hater, but that song makes me want to listen to Fergie and smoke crystal meth), what's with the collapsed-word, multiple-caps thing? That's the BadmintonStamps style, quit jacking it. Fucking white boy band tool.

Our home-slice over at Gorilla Vs. Bear has two Lil Wayne mix tape tracks that need some listening. Plus, Howard Stern's favorite clip of Casy Kasem cursing at his producer. What in God's name are those "pictures"?

Hey, that Toby Keith movie sounds pretty good, actually.

There is no song to go with this post. Okay? Don't click on that link, it's not a song.

September 12, 2006

This Evening's Triple Threat

Something familiar, something peculiar, something for every blog at
The Khyber tonight. Things kick off with Philly's own El Dorado, who will finally be pimping some much needed EP-age (so says their new website). Next up are wildly eclectic blog barnstormers The Annuals, whetting appetites before they return to play alongside Spinto Brut in late October. The Whigs rock good like a Georgia band should, lots of straight-ahead guitars and casually tossed-up vocals and an overall sense of everything that was just so right about mid-90's alternative rock. Adam Arcuragi headlines the whole affair, which I suppose makes it more of a quadruple threat, excpept that Adam doesn't seem like he'd be especially threatening to anyone. Point is, for $8, this is a win-win-win situation.

Diss Tracks Work: People's Evidence, Exhibit B

Okay, so I'm stretching the definition of "diss track" a little bit, but just go with me here.
Remember last November when The Capitol Years were on the recieving end of some cowardly, anonymous hateration, and they totally flipped the script in one triumphant musical counterstroke, answering the doubters and winning over new fans all at once? Well now they've taken that song, infused it with some proper studio polish, inserted it into the tracklist for their brand new album Dance Away The Terror, and will be shooting an honest-to-goodness music video for it today at 3 PM over at A.K.A. Music. You can be in said music video. Just show up, and be sure to bring your mouth. The gang will also be performing a free show at AKA later this evening at 6 PM. Damn skippy.

Diss Tracks Work: People's Evidence, Exhibit A

Jeff'ry Baum of
Central Village Idiot infamy has called it quits! Our incisive 'Stamps wit is clearly responsible. After almost two and a half years of publishing written material of a quality that third graders would find embarrassing, denegrating legitimately talented artists, and overhyping shit bands with a pace and ferocity that left NME writers in awe, herb finally took our words to heart and raised the white e-flag. We wish him luck in his future pursuits as, we can only assume, a professional tampon.

Of course, this means that BadmintonStamps now has an opening for a new blog beef. Interested applicants please contact us with your URL, a recent picture of yourself, and three poorly worded reasons why you love Birdmonster.

September 11, 2006

And Ten Bucks Says They Sport Wood For Kanye

Leave it to the unabashedly up-their-own-asses indie yuppie filth of the world to try and rain on R5's parade. No sooner does a post titled "
It's Official - We Just Booked The Craziest Show Of Our Existence" pop up on the promotion agency's news site announcing a November show with rap/weight-moving savants The Clipse then a bunch of plain old jive turkeys start talkin' smack in the comments and acting like it's some sort of embarassment. The only embarrasment here is that I have to share a city with people who think that, and I quote: "MF Doom would be a 'crazier' booking." Look, the duo's new album would have attained classic status ages ago had it not been kept off the shelves by record label bullshit until now. They're the fuckin' Wilco of hip-hop, fer chrissake. No disrespect to The Masked One, but if you actually think that some obscure cult MC whose widest claim to fame is a loose association with some late night cartoons is gonna put on a crazier show than the dudes who sprang "Grindin'" while they're inevitably hopped up on a sandbox's worth of blow, then please extend my deepest sympathies to both your parents and all the children your wife or girlfriend says are yours. I'm not sayin' the underground shit isn't worthwhile, too. I'm just sayin' that, in this particular case, millions of white, suburban, violence-fetishizing teenagers actually got it right. And if your lonely, mainstream-hatin' ass can't accept that, it's your problem, not R5's, cotdammit.

And another reason this show will be ka-ray-zee: is there any doubt that Pistolvania, PA's own Rosco P. Coldchain will be in attendance? His forthcoming solo album, also getting the full Neptunes treatment, will no doubt be a masterpiece in its own right, especially if his past work with the duo is any indicator. Remember, before Snoop added on the "drop it like it's," there was just 'Scoe and his hot hot dickies.

People who think MF Doom is more real than Clipse = White people

Rooting For Good Tennis

Oh, what a night! Saturday began inauspiciously with a hangover, some
pedialyte, and a shortie making me omelets. I meet the girls at Port Authority to go to Jersey for Wechter's engagement party/bbq. Unfortunately, due to escalator shenanigans performed by Allie's boytoy, we miss the bus. And as Kriss Kross, wise beyond their inside-out clothes wearing years, once said, "That is something I will never ever ever do again." A tophat-wearing herb named Basil Jeeves eavesdrops our plight; "Oradell , NJ? I'll hitch you a lift." Soon we're doing 30mph in Fort Lee. We stop at a light and Allie rolls down her window, motioning to the Suit in the adjacent Rolls. She asks, "Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?" Basil flips. "Away with your monkey business!" He boots us and we're lost. A shady, ancient dude wearing a trenchcoat approaches, all gravelly voiced. "Drugs?" No. "Sex?" Absolutely not. "Chocolate?" He opens his trenchcoat revealing a cornucopia of Hershey Bars. We run like bitches/the wind. I call Wechter. He's watching the U.S. Open, yapping about Roddick vs. Federer and how, "You just gotta root for good tennis." Wechter! We're stranded in New Jerusalem! He responds with some inanity regarding Saturday Night Live and how "nobody thought it would work." I hang up. Allie finds an abandoned rollerblade store and we roll/blade to Oradell, arriving just in time to turn that bbq into a reenactment of the "Nuthin But A G Thang" video. It's called keeping it real, son, and it's how we do.

The Pony Track Sends The Grammer Police Straight To Hell

Comin' atcha first thing every Monday morning, it's The Pony Track, a super-fantastic long distance dedication to BadmintonStamps Collective founding member Aaron "Pony" Child. No fancy links, no clever write-ups, 'cause these awesome songs don't need no splainin'. So c'mon, ride the pony!

September 8, 2006

Eight Things That Don't Involve The Rocky Statue This Weekend In Philly

Friday night, your options are thusly: Pela bring their plaintive driving guitar rock out for a spin at
The Khyber, 7L & Esoteric get the crowd jumpin' at the Star5 Ballroom, Starsailor poetically whine in a way that only British bands can get away with at World Cafe Live, and Junior Boys bring a fire of Federlinian proportions to the North Star.

Saturday doesn't let up one iota. You've got Your Black Star from Kentucky bustin' out that wet, reverberatin' nu-gaze-wave fuck-all at the North Star. Elsewhere, Yah Mos Def hot doggin' it at The Khyber. And the crown jewel in Saturday's trucker hat, [click] at Medusa Lounge featuring the Philly debut of MSTRKRFT along with all your usual radder than rad RVNG suspects.

Save room for the jello. Sunday night at the church basement you get the grit and ferocity of old school, balls-out Detroit rock and roll, but with a clean, fresh Aussie scent. Radio Birdman in Philly for the first time.

September 7, 2006

DJ Diveristé

Lifestyles Of The Rich And Geeky

The nerds are having themselves a busy week, yes siree. First off, the fierce competition at user-driven news site
Digg to determine once and for all who has the most free time on their hands has stalled amidst Survivor-like accusations of secret alliances, leading to an out-and-out protest from the site's members. And how do you protest when you're the sort of person who probably gauges his self-worth by his number of friends on MySpace? You remove your personalized icon from your profile, leaving only the cold, lifeless default icon displaying instead. Oh snap! Kent State ain't got shit on you, digitalgopher. Meanwhile, somebody paid over nine thousand dollars to a West Chester, PA man for a framed, mint condition AOL 1.0 startup disk on Ebay. Uh, since when did pieces of outdated techno-kitsch become the new baseball cards? Dude, for that same 9k, you could've thrown a party and hired techie favorites Hot Chip to play their signature brand of blue-toothed soul exclusively for you and yours...three times, even! Whoever this new, free-spending breed of aristechrat is, they need to get their priorities straight. Incidentally, I'm now accepting offers for the brand new Zip Disk that's been sitting, untouched, in my desk drawer since 1999.

Thursday Photo Essay

Pinto, Schminto

Thursday Photo Essay

Avenue Of The Arts, Philadelphia

(Photo credit:
Judd C)

September 6, 2006

The Golden Age

You know when older people are telling some stupid story and they go, "Jesus, me and [person's name] used to work together at the lunch counter back in nineteen-" and then they mumble and cover their mouth? It's meant to humorously indicate that the event took place many moons ago, so far back that the person probably can't even remember the specifics and is embarrassed (but not really) by just how long ago it was. Well, let me tell you, I find this adorable. Sure it's corny and over-the-top, but sooo endearing. What's even adorabler is when a really young person does it, like my nine year old brother. Just the other day we had the following conversation:

Matthew: You remember my nanny Denise?
SkinnySlim: The one who totally wanted it from me?
Matthew: No, that was Debbie. Denise found you repulsive.
SkinnySlim: Oh, right. When you're older I'll tell you what happened in the back of the theater that time Debbie and I took you to see Spongebob The Movie.
Matthew: I'd really rather you not.
SkinnySlim: Trust me, you're gonna want to know. Even I learned a thing or two that day.
Matthew: Anyway, Denise is the one that was my nanny back in nineteen ninety [covering mouth] blah blah blah. Aka the Stone Age! [chuckle] I mean, really.
SkinnySlim: Yeah, so what happened?
Matthew: She died.

Kids, they get you every time!

September 5, 2006

That's Why We Only Link When We Need The Money

Franz Ferdinand are taking some
time off before going to work on their third album, allowing guitarist Nick to work with his side project Box Codax, a name which surely indicates that their sound will be in no way influenced by Fire Engines whatsoever.

Britney! At The Disco. Are outlandish top hats the new harajuku girls? Discuss.

Unless the song's lyrics were "Let's throw Ramone Williams to the floor / hit him with a chair / stomp on him and kick him in the face / resulting in extensive injuries including a fractured jaw," I just don't think this guy has much of a case.

Good Shoes are talentless, according to this great video for their awesome new single.

"Vandals" poured a box of detergent into the Love Park fountain on Monday, causing sudsy mirth and climate confusion. City hall has comdemned the pranksters' actions, which obviously run contrary to Philly's longstanding policy of only employing unionized bubbles.

License To Confuse

September 4, 2006

Crocodile Tears

I always expected it to be, you know, a crocodile that eventually did him in. Or at least an extraordinarily venomous snake that he deemed "a real beauty" as it swung menacingly from his out-stretched arm. Actually, fuck all that. As much as it seemed like the inevitable and obvious outcome of his profession, none of us really expected Steve Irwin, TV's Crocodile Hunter, to actually be killed by one of the incredibly dangerous animals he chose to associate with. He was the unexplainable exception. Harry Houdini. Evil Knievil. That one-in-a-million dare devil that the laws of common sense and probability seemed to roll off of like water from the back of an extremely poisonous, carnivorous duck. We could sit around and joke that, boy, one day he was gonna get it, because deep down we knew he never would. Unfortunately, somebody forgot to tell all this to the stingray that shoved the business end of its barb through Irwin's chest this morning in the coastal waters of Northern Australia,
killing him. The real question now is, how will the world react? Yes, it's obviously a huge blow to the man's family and loved ones, not to mention Big Anti-Venom, but again, there isn't anybody who couldn't see this coming from a mile away if they wanted to. And the veritable treasure trove of semi-tasteless jokes is only gonna go unplundered for so long. One thing seems clear: the line between comedy and tragedy may never be finer, the unintended consequence of a fateful meeting between man and ray.

The Pony Track's Comin' Atcha

Comin' atcha first thing every Monday morning, it's The Pony Track, a super-fantastic long distance dedication to BadmintonStamps Collective founding member Aaron "Pony" Child. No fancy links, no clever write-ups, 'cause these awesome songs don't need no splainin'. So c'mon, ride the pony!

September 1, 2006

The Friday Freakout's Throwin' A Labor Party

As we prepare to set sail on this 72-hour oddysey known as Labor Day Weekend, the 'Stamps would like to leave you with some questions: Have you checked the Khyber's
calendar recently? Have you scrolled down - and I mean ALL the way down - to the 4th night of November? 'Cause if you do, you'll notice a little sumtin-sumtin' that we're just five kinds of giddy about here at the home office. There's so much more to say than we could possibly find the energy to squeeze in here. But the deets will come, people. Know that.

Until then, soak up the last drizzly drops of summer and get yourself properly rested. 'Cause it's gonna be a motherfuckin' sweatshop up in this piece once we get back to business.

A Piece Of Actr-ASS Winners

The mediocre B-list actress
nudie contest winners are in. Congratulations to Angelynn M, Peter B, and Lilly M! You are now officially cool. Please allow 4-6 weeks for prize delivery, cause I got a job and a life and this is pretty low on my priority list. But you will get the mix cd and it will change your life, I promise. For the record the three actresses from the list who have NOT appeared nude are Stockard Channing (surprisingly), Renee Zellweger (thankfully), and Diane Wiest (devastatingly). Thanks to the surprisingly high number of people who entered. Better luck next time, losers!

Still time to enter the drawing for a pair of ticket to the MTV $2 Bill featuring My Chemical Romance. Peep all the info right here.

Playlist Update: Local Yokels

The blue radioblog at top left is long overdue for an update. This time around, it's nothin' but Philly's own. This summer - you know, the one that's pretty much been erased from your memory after the past week of near continal darkness - has been all about the homegrown grooves. Spinto Band ruled the pages of NME, Mazarin got covered by our new neighbors The Walkmen, Dr. Dog is being billed as one of this year's CMJ royalty, 'Fork shout-outs sprang up like pot holes on Chestnut Street, and more new talent crept up out of the primordial band ooze than you could shake a pointy stick at. So press play and rediscover some of the best shit goin' on in your own back yard. Some of the tracks, like the instrumental joyride from Shout Magic, will be familiar to regular readers. Others, like the new hotness from Dr. Dog's forthcoming EP, are obsessions in waiting. And for your downloading pleasure, what has no doubt been my number one song during this lazy hazy last month of summer: an effortlesss, washed-out lullaby coo from Brown Recluse Sings.

Music posted on this site is for sampling purposes only. If you enjoy the songs posted here, please go out and buy the records! If you are the copyright holder of any material posted here and would like it taken down, please contact Philabuster, and your request will be honored immediately. Please do not direct link to any of these songs. Thanks for your cooperation, and enjoy the sounds.

SkinnySlim's List

In Rotation...

Mama's Got A Bag Of Her Own Hot Chip - The Warning Junior Wells - Calling All Blues
Half Japanese - Charmed Life Liars - Drum's Not Dead Stompin' at the Savoy : Red Hot Blues 1948-1951