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Posts published in November 2011

The Japanese Popstars’ “Let Go”

Another sick house track, another sick as fuck animated video. Following in the footsteps of LeLe and Birdy Nam Nam and a bunch I’m probably forgetting about right now, The Japanese Popstars have unleashed this hallucinogen-fueled, vagina-obsessed video for their track “Let Go”. I heard this song for the first time at a telecine for an NHL job I’m working on right now and I immediately needed to know who it was. My google-fu (“youtube.com japanese popstars let go”) found the video immediately. And I am certainly glad I did. It’s awesome.

Watch it. I don’t have anything all that smart to add right now.

PELbO’s “Join Their Game”

Wow. I love this. What a simple yet incredibly effective concept for a music video. And, shit, there’s dancing, which you know quite well is always good with me. Unless it’s taken too seriously, then I have no love for it. Whatever. This video is amazing, the song is catchy, and I think you’ll dig it as much as I did. Super bonus points for getting the band into the video without having even a lick of performance.

This track comes from the band’s new release Days of Transcendence which I had never heard until I watched the video. Hell, I’d never heard of the band at all before this. Color me ignorant. Luckily, it’s on Spotify!

The record is super solid, a mix of dreamy electronics and driving rock with a dissonance that I find very compelling. It’s dark and sad and wistful and triumphant all at the same time. Singer Ine Krsitine Hoem’s vocals are wonderful, kind of like a more forceful St. Vincent. Listen to this record. One of the most interesting new things I’ve heard in a while.

Learn more about PELbO at their website.

A Letter To Having Nothing At All To Say

Dear Having Nothing to Say,

Did you see the game last week? Yeah, it was pretty sweet, huh? The one sportsguy sure did a good job preventing the sportsguy on the opposing squad from accomplishing his goals. It was quite a performance. They certainly are competent practitioners of their sports!

I’m writing today, Having Nothing to Say, because I really have nothing to say. I’ve been trying to think of things I have opinions about, but nothing is coming to me. It’s weird, you know, because I am an opinionated crank of a human being and usually there’s plenty inside my brain to waste people’s precious time. But today—and the last few days, really—I’ve had absolutely nothing at all to say.

There was so much build-up to my 1000th post and 3rd birthday, that I feel like I exhausted my good Black Laser ideas. That is, of course, totally untrue. As long as I breathe there will be a lot of crap for me to spew out onto the interwebs, but I’ve found myself in a bit of a lull, Having Nothing to Say. It’s a little frustrating, I guess, but I’ve also been quite busy (read: there are many people in Skyrim that must die).

And, god damn, I need to get going on my Christmas track. I wrote some good lyrics this morning on the train and I think it’s going to be a very fun one. Here’s a sampling.

It’s Christmas Eve
Waiting at the club
Santa’s gonna show
That motherfucker’s up

Bringing presents
To all girls and boys
Shaking his ass
To this funky techno noise

And Mrs Claus says

Bitch! GET YOUR ASS TO THE CLUB, come on
Get your ass to the club!
No time for thinking
Get your ass to the club!

We got Rudolph in this bitch
We got elves in this bitch
We got snowmen in this bitch
We got Jesus in this bitch.

Mind that those are just rough lyrics I threw together during my trip into town on the M train this morning. Nothing set in concrete. I have no plans for Thanksgiving, so I’m sure there will be plenty of time to get to making sick techno beats and pitch shifted vocals. On that point, I have no plans for Christmas either, so maybe I’ll just spend the rest of the year making dance music alone in my house.

God, that’s depressing.

Anyway, go to hell, Having Nothing To Say, I’m damn sick of you. If you just up and died, I wouldn’t be upset. I wouldn’t miss you. Fuck, this reminds me that I need to write some Togeirs too. Man, so much to do and so few words with which to do them. And remember the William Blake Dance Party Extravaganza? That went nowhere, huh? Jeez.

Whatever, fuck this. I am sick of this letter already.

Sincerely,

The Black Laser.

Time-lapse from the ISS

Have you ever wondered what I, as reigning Space Pope, sees every day as I sail over your puny, insignificant world deciding whether today shall be the day I raze your filthy planet with fire? It looks a lot like this. Of course, I see many more worlds filled with many more people more deserving of life than you pitiful humans.

Barn Burner’s “Scum of the Earth”

This video makes me want to party like a motherfucker and pretend like I don’t have all sorts of really boring adult responsibilities. But that’s just it, it would only be pretending. Instead, I’ll live vicariously through these dudes and head into work tomorrow (Sunday) sane and sober and annoyed.

The video was directed by Angela Boatwright, who I like to think of as “The Other Metal Angela”.

Enjoy.

Happy 3rd Birthday, The Black Laser and Sienna! And Happy 1000th post!

Me and SJ
The Black Laser and this peanut share a birthday. We make serious faces.

A few weeks ago, it became clear to me that I would probably be able to hit my 1000th post on The Black Laser’s third birthday. As the date (11/11/11) got closer, I realized that not only would I hit 1000 posts but that I would actually have to plan on how to do it so I didn’t overshoot and post my 1000th before the 11th. Exciting!

So what does 1000 Black Laser posts look like? Here’s the breakdown!

Not surprisingly Music and it’s subset Music Videos are the overwhelming majority here. But, what I do find surprising is that I have more than twice as many Writing posts as I do Photography posts. I was fairly sure that Photography would be in second place behind music, but it’s in fourth place behind Thoughts AND Writing. Interesting! I guess I do a lot more writing and blabbing about random crap that I thought. Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s all I do here. Why do you people keep coming back? Is it my charm? My devilish good looks? My witty repartee?

To be honest, fewer and fewer people are coming to The Black Laser every day. What’s with that? It used to be I’d get a hundred fifty to a couple hundred hits every day, even if I didn’t post very much. Now, I’m lucky if I break a hundred. Where have all the people gone? I suppose it will just slowly wind down over the next three years until it’s just me, alone, yelling out at the internet, unread, unloved, and uncaring. Hermit mode—ACTIVATE!!!!

As in previous years, I will take this opportunity to wish my favorite person in the whole world a similarly magnificent 3rd birthday. Happy birthday, SJ. I hope I get back to read you more bedtime stories and turn you into a baby burrito soon.

Here’s to another successful year of infecting the internet with my own brand of madness. Cheers!

EDIT///

Here’s the proof!

A Letter to My Brain To Open a Discussion on the Topic of Focus.

Dearest brain,

I feel like you and I have been friends for a long time. Sure, there were the years I abused you, but I’ve always been a better friend to you than my body. I mean, that’s not to say my body has ever treated me badly, but we’ve had a strained relationship. We’ve always had a bit of a disconnect and I’ve never gone out of my way to take care of my body since I reside so wholly in my mind. Brain, you know, I know it. It’s the truth. Sorry, body, I’m trying to be better to you, but you cannot change the past. We’ll get back to you in a little bit.

So, brain, why are you thwarting every attempt I’ve made the last three days to do any work? HMMmmmmmm?? You allow me just brief glimpses of focus, 2, maybe 4 minutes tops. Why not just let me focus on the shit I need to do? What the hell is up with you?

I’ve noticed a pattern with you, brain. I’ve noticed that when I am hungover or tired or feeling shitty, you have a much easier time letting me get down to work. What’s that about? Must I constantly be hungover/tired/sick to accomplish anything? Must I wait until the middle of the night to have creative revelations and be focused enough to actually make them real? Why cannot I not just feel ok and awake and healthy and not have you bothering me all the time by thinking of 80 million things all at once.

For example, today, in my effort to reacquaint myself with my body, I’m well rested, not hungover in the slightest (surprising since I had a birthday dinner last night for a good friend, nor any drop to drink), and I’ve eaten. EATEN! I never eat! All remarkable things considering the state of Joe the last few years. But I can’t do anything for longer than a minute before I get distracted and look away. This stupid letter has taken me hours of writing a sentence, fucking off for a while, pacing the office, watching some dailies, trimming my selects, stretching on the skate ramp, digging through the pantry for snacks, and then sitting back down and writing another sentence.

Brain! I’ve got work to do! This Safeway turkey thing won’t cut itself! I just need like 2 hours from you. Come on, you can do it. I can crank out something in 2 hours. I know you know exactly where we need to go with it; let’s just bang it out and be done. Why fight me? Why fight me all the time?! Is this what ADD feels like? If it does, I feel sorry for people who are afflicted with this. Fuck, it’s not like this is new for me. Maybe I’m all attention-deficit too. Who knows. I’m not a doctor, brain, though I do know how to remove sutures. That’s all right.

Wait! Back to the matter at hand! Brain! Focus! Help! There’s nothing out there that cannot wait! Just shut up for a minute and let’s pay our work attention so we can go back to being a flighty, distracted pair again. Please? Please? PLEASE?

Sincerely,

The Black Laser.

PS – Body, sorry, told you I’d get back to you. Yes, I am scared about the possibility of 100 pullups, 200 pushups, and 300 squats for time tomorrow. Yes, I know, the squats not so scary, and neither are the pullups (assisted, of course), but 200 pushups. Holy shit, I know. Maybe we go tonight instead and do 1200 meters, 30 deadlifts with weight, and 63 pullups? Decisions! Should we do both?

La Bouche’s “Be My Lover”

This morning my executive producer Toni walked into the office and put some music on in her office and this was the first thing that started playing. Now it’s stuck in my fucking head and I will be god damned if I don’t get it stuck in yours today, too. All you need is a little bit of the song and then it will slowly start fucking your brain and you cry, “Stop! Stop!” but it won’t stop. It will tell you that it loves you but it doesn’t. It just wants to control you. It wants to own you. It wants you to be an object. Then later, when the song gets off and you’re lying there on the floor, a shuddering, quivering mass of tears and shame, you’ll realize you’ve been song raped.

And you’ll hate me for doing it to you with La Bouche, the same way I hate Toni for doing it to me. I understand. It’s all right. I still love you, and I’m sorry. So so sorry.