Earlier today, David Cameron announced the end of his premiership of Great Britain. Then he hummed a little song.
The downtown Manhattan nightclub Santos Party House will be shutting its doors for good, DNAinfo is reporting, just one day hosting the NYC Oi! Fest 2, a concert of bands that have been associated with far-right politics and neo-Nazism. A Santos employee told Gawker the closure is unrelated to the controversy surrounding the show.
Prince’s unreleased catalog is nearly as expansive as his official discography, and for years, fans have traded bootlegs with the same fervor as Phish Heads. One of my favorites is “The Undertaker,” an unreleased EP-length project recorded “live” (in one take with no overdubs) in 1993 by Prince and two core members of The New Power Generation, drummer Michael Bland and bassist Sonny T.
On his right arm, to remember his time in the service of the Country Rap King, Jerry Kuntz wears a tattoo. It’s the head of a dead-eyed Texas longhorn. On one horn hangs a high school varsity letterman’s jacket, like the one Robert Underfinger used to wear all the time, when he and Kuntz worked together on the Maverick Dirt Road Street Team. Underfinger was only 18. Taylor Nixon was 19, like Kuntz was. He loved diesel trucks, so there’s a heavy-duty tire on the other horn.
A new bill proposed by Philadelphia Councilman Mark Squilla would compel music venues in the city to provide lists of full names and addresses of their upcoming performers to local police upon request. Finally, Philly may be rid of the filthy rock and roll and hip-hop scourges forever! You’re The Man, Squilla.*
“A rhythmic monologue to a musical accompaniment.” Ratter has a compilation of the ways in which baffled newspapers of the early 1980s described “rap music,” a hot new urban youth trend that was just beginning to gain national attention. Thirty years later, the New York Times has gotten just a little bit better at it.
Going to an EDM show is already self-troll of sorts, but it helps if the DJ has contempt for the crowd too. Hope you brought enough “molly” pills to ride this one out!
At Maxim, former Gawker writer Max Rivlin-Nadler lands the first interview with Lewis, a mysterious Wall Streeter-turned-musician whose melancholy albums were recently reissued to clamorous praise. Lewis doesn’t say much, but it’s worth reading the tale of how his music found listeners decades after it was recorded.
Trey Songz is perhaps the goofiest contemporary R&B singer people take seriously. He once wrote a song about emoticons called “LOL :-)” and another about inventing sex called “I Invented Sex,” a claim that was has yet to be verified by an independent governing body. But today he might have revealed his most absurd ploy yet: a track that interpolates Rent’s “Seasons of Love”—aka the “five hundred twenty five thousand minutes” song.