sorry about how I had to post this. it’s weird. i don’t wanna get into it. i recently found out that this website looks completely different on computers that aren’t macs. i ain’t care.

here’s a link to caitlin’s site: http://www.greatmomentsinwesternciv.com/

Bigger than big.

Huger than huge.

And if you haven’t heard about it by now, go down to your local mom and pop bookshop and pick up a copy of How to Not be Completely Clueless for Clueless People.  C’mon! You’ve had to have heard about it by now.  It’s being whispered in your ears at shows, near the back wall with the graffiti scribbled all over it.  It’s genrecore!

If you’re still completely out of the loop about what genrecore is, there may be no hope in trying to tell you what’s up, but I’ll give it a shot.  It’s my duty as a music journalist.  It is a combination of every style of music you could possibly imagine, plus some other ones that no one could ever dream of.  Genrecore is the most important musical development to happen to our generation since the invention of the Internet.

Forget hip-hop, this is more bumpin’.

Forget grunge, this is nastier.

Forget ska.  Just forget it.

This is genrecore, ladies and gentlemen.  And it’s been gradually in the making since the start of rock n’ roll, but only really taken on a recognizable form in the past few years with certain self-proclaimed genrecore bands such as The Hybrid and The Barons of Genre.  It first poked its head out when Dylan went electric and Pete Seeger wet his panties, but you’ve seen it in its many manifestations since.  When Beck did Sea Change, he went genrecore.  He tried on folk music, took it out for a spin, and then demolished it with a sledgehammer.

Here’s a pic I took on my macbox of the Wiki entry:

Now, the underground movement of using and abusing any style of music for the band’s own enjoyment has gone full swing.  Just last week, I found myself at a Barons of Genre concert and couldn’t believe what was happening.  The band, made up of twenty-five members (thirteen of those members being bassists!), launches from a classical ska rendition of some Brahms lullabies into a full on folk-rap acapella Star-spangled Banner.  Their lead harmonium player hails from South Wales, while their lead didgeridoo player is from Beijing! And if that wasn’t strange enough, the lead singer claims he’s from Beetleguese-9, a dead star just outside of the Milky Way.  It’s literally out of this world!

If you haven’t seen genrecore in full effect, it may be too late, you may already be dead.  But check your pulse to make sure.  If you’re still breathing, if the very idea of genrecore hasn’t made you shit your pants, get the fuck out of your house and go see a show!  It is the best thing that has ever happened.  Even I, Jen Hippstarr, the usually apathetic, self-deprecating music columnist found that she still had emotions and a heart when she went to a genrecore show and Fitz Meyers, a genrecore soloist, looked her in the eyes and red aloud from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, with scenes from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix playing the background.

So please, for the sake of your children’s children, don’t let genrecore whip by you in the cultural storm it’s about to create because it could cause instant psychosis without proper precaution.

This is Jen Hippstarr, your loyal music journalist, saying “over and out and out of town.”

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Interestingly enough, when her family came to Ellis Island, they were going to be given the last name Stuttson (changed from Stüttensbürgen) but the immigrations officer couldn’t get the name out, due to his terrible stutter.  It sounded like this, “I now declare you Stutt-stutt-stttttututtttttttt…” That’s how they did it in Ellis Island.

Buy her CD at her myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/pezzettino

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my myspace space: http://www.myspace.com/clockophile

my-lifeis-your-memoir-words

rachel trotta works at a community medical clinic in portland or. the clinic serves alienated clientel: homeless youth, trasngender, iv drug users, people of any age expereincing mental illness that has consequently landed them on the edge of society.  rachel talks to lots of schitzophrenics and people high out of their minds. she is a perceptive gal and produced this after working her first night shift. oh yeah, think npr monologue cuz that’s what she dreams about in her mind all day long.

I was blogging the recent coverage of the election of Barack Obama to the position of President of the United States of America, one of the highest things, when I thought, “Man what would it be like to blog for the President?”  Then I thought, “was that a hologram?”  More important than electing a multiracial, albeit Hawaiin, president, CNN unleashed the terrifying technology of holograms.

I’m not a paranoid person by nature.  I’m a paranoid person because everyone is untrustworthy.  First, you also have to wonder whether they’re robots.  Now, when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I have to question whether they’re tangible robots or just holograms of robots.  Holograms make me nervous:

Luckily, our parent company the Reality Incorporated Corporation made me eat Holograhams™.  They’re from the future™! Now, whenever I’m scared of anything, I can eat a bowl of Holograhams™. Sugary sweet  hologram marshmallows of Princess Leia all in a bowl.  Just hologram marshmallows.

It’s part of a balanced future™-breakfast and made by the Ukraine™. And, you know they’re real because they have a Certified Reality Product™ logo on them.  So, you can rest assured that you’re actually ingesting  hologram marshmallow and getting all the nutritional benefits you want from a hologram, unlike most cereals which are a socially maintained, group hallucination.

Thank you Reality Inc. Co.!

8:40 am Friday: I’m early for work, so I get a decent parking spot today. I “forget” to crack a window for Hitler again. “Ich bein suffokätten!” he howls. “No habla, herr führer,” I shrug, “no habla… heh, heh.”
The morning goes by slowly.

11:55 am: Lunch. I go to the McDonalds drive-thru; they’re having a “two quarter pounders for $2.99” thing, so I get that. Hitler gets the Happy Meal, but I take his prize. “Mein!” he protests, “Ist mein Chewbacca mit der schnauzerkopf!” He makes a futile grasp with his ghostly mitts — but passes right through it. “Pity…” I muse, “though I suppose I don’t really want it, anyhow.” Hitler brightens; I throw the toy out the window.

The afternoon picks up a little. About two o’clock, one of the guys from the office next door comes poking around. “Is that anybody’s red Contour out there?” he asks. “It’s mine,” I say. “What about it?”

“Well, it’s got Hitler in it,” he says.

“Yeah, I know,” I say, “he came with it.”

“Well, you better join a car-sharing club if you don’t want to keep riding with Hitler.”

“Nobody here drives by my house,” I say. “I live in Berkley. They all live in Wyandotte.”

“I’m coming from Huntington Woods,” says the guy. “You can ride with me.”

“Hitler, you — what’s the difference?” I say. The guy leaves in a snit.

5:00 pm: The whistle blows. Hitler and I drive in silence for several miles. He turns to me with a feeble smile. “Verk?” he asks, “Ess güden däg?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” I say. “Good day at work.”

“When You Ride Alone, You Ride with Hitler”
Frequently Asked Questions

from andrew’s site: http://www.andsuchandsuch.com/

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