SONG OF THE DAY: Fantastic Voyage (kudzu'd)

Been imagining having a broken spaceship a lot lately, like back in the woods behind the crib, getting grown over with kudzu and shit, but I hack the kudzu off the door with my machete regularly, and go inside the spaceship, and try to get it running, but I’m missing a kerfufflic coil or something, so it turns over but doesn’t fly. Thus, I’ve been thinking about great songs to listen to in the spaceship, because I imagine it would have 7 nice subs in it, positioned according to universal magnetics to create a golden ratio of thump. This is definitely on the playlist (as you’d expect).

SONG OF THE DAY: Bailando En El Infinito

Great song for a room full of naked dancing.

SONG OF THE DAY: Memphis Soul Stew (kudzu'd)

I found my crow call this morning, so after feeding the local crows peanuts, whenever I’ve heard them outside in the trees out front, I blow the crow call from inside the house in the kitchen. They’ve been talking back, pretty frantically sometimes. I wish crow call technology could tell me what the fuck I might be saying, but that’s human tech for you – just wildly pretending to create something without really understanding the consequences. My girlfriend warned me the crows might come in the house and poke my eyeballs out, but we’ll see.
I’ve been doing this all day whenever they come around, but just now I went out on the porch and blew it. I guess one of them was hiding out on top of the porch roof and as soon as I blew it, they flew off, cawing in a completely different tone than any of them before. That’s how I learned how local crows say, “Lying motherfucker!”

SONG OF THE DAY: Weyn Ayamak Weyn

Just another stone cold jam from Habibi Funk, purveyors of fine funky thangs western civilization overlooked the first time round.

SONG OF THE DAY: Right Down the Line (kudzu'd)

Keeping it moving, slowly but surely, even as the world wants you to congeal into fear. I been trying to keep it moving literally, one foot in front of the other, couple miles down the tracks as often as possible, scattering the negative impulses by grounding my soles onto the metal tracks when ain’t nothing coming. This world we got is one built with ego as a cornerstone, so it’s easy to get lost looking at what others might seem to have got, but that just poisons your outlook with hating. People get hung up on thinking about what other folks “deserve” way too much, without ever thinking about who’s gonna serve it all. The work’s always got to be done, and there’s always someone doing it without calling attention to themselves, because that just slows down getting the work done. I been trying to remove “deserve” from my vocabulary completely, and just keep it moving. If I’m meant to get somewhere, I’ll eventually meander my way there. And if I ain’t, I won’t. I trust the Universe to know what the fuck it’s doing.

SONG OF THE DAY: Paradise

Bambu is one of the best MCs out there in my opinion. I look forward to whatever new shit he ever drops. And if he don’t drop nothing new, I can keep enjoying the body of work he already created. It’s dudes like this that I wish got paid enough to survive capitalism more easily in our fucked up poison culture. But of course you don’t get paid for telling real shit, unless your realness is fake shit that the Think They’re Reals gobble up like candy corn in the feedlot. And honestly, I truly just appreciate Bambu for being dope as fuck. I wish all of us survived capitalism, and in fact wish the whole fuckin’ thing just got cancelled and we could have a more direct line to happiness, instead of this Rube Goldberg ass contraption called western culture pursuit of happiness if you wasn’t born rich.

SONG OF THE DAY: So Wat Cha Sayin' (kudzu'd)

Slowed music is resistance to business as usual status quo go go go, which crushes us all. Slow living is a refusal of slow death. The too comfortable are uncomfortable with slowed music because it upsets their world view of how things are already in perfect order, and as they should be. We need to pitch shift our nihilistic rush towards doom.

SONG OF THE DAY: I Know You Got Soul (kudzu'd)

I had the chance to wander into Piedmont North Carolina, and do a little record digging last weekend. I really miss the earlier heyday of record stores, before compact discs and digital realm killed them off, because the bulk of stores that have popped up afterwards are missing a certain level of joy, not only of discovery but just general demeanor. Many of the new school record stores seem like vanity boutique shops for somebody not dependent upon their success to maintain wealth, so it’s more of a “look at all that I’ve curated!” vibe than actual joy. Those types tend to be very dismissive if you want for anything that’s not in their wheelhouse, and they also tend to be pretty commonly expensive, as are a majority of boutique small businesses, because the owners’ tend to have an inflated sense of their need in the community, as well as an entitlement to support because they’re so damned proud of their weird little curation of some random physical ass shit in late capitalist America.
But really, the main thing is the joy. Too many record stores have miserable operators who get mad at the dumbest shit, even if you’re like, “Damn, this is expensive.” There’s no joy. I mean, much less the missing bins of shit nobody ever felt like going through and pricing according to globalist internet rates, where you have the actual joy of random discovery of either new to you shit you never knew about but looked cool, or finding things you know are amazing but nobody in charge of pricing had any clue. Just the actual joy of someone who loves the fun of music, and has ideas of what you might dig from what you bring up, and there’s a section where more of it might be for you to fuck around in. Too many of today’s record stores and dealers are so fucking white… sterilized of joy and with miserable anger just waiting to pop out at any perceived indignation. It fucking sucks.
Luckily, as a record show I went to last month, and a couple spots I found last weekend, there’s still joy to be found, as there always will be. The miserable tend to be mapped out well online, and have strong social media presences, because they know how to manipulate an algorithm and live in the world of technologically connected. But there’s still plenty of cracks in the digital map and spots you’ll only find out about by word of mouth or random ass chance. And the other great thing is good people who recognize and love good spots know not to tell random assholes about those spots, or else they get ruined. So if you know a good spot, don’t tell me… I’m confident if I’m living right and meant to see it, the Universe will guide me towards finding it on my own.
On the other side of things, if a bunch of people who seem sorta like assholes tell you how great a record store is, trust your lounge intuition and don’t waste your time at that spot, unless you’ve got a colored vinyl fetish. Those spots are chock full of colored vinyl options.