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(03/12/13 6:12am)
God bless the Internet. God damn the Internet. I’ll get that etched on my gravestone when I perish from a life of fast food and good music. What is the latest reason for such an attitude, you say? Well… did you know about the new White House online petition system that gives a smidgen of control back to the people in the democratic process? You might think we’re currently drowning in solutions to world hunger, ending to all foreign wars, the dependency on foreign oil… and we probably are. But again… this is the Internet, so someone started a petition to change our National Anthem to R. Kelly’s remix to “Ignition.”
(02/26/13 6:32am)
If Baauer’s “Harlem Shake” is one thing, it is a damn sure success. Though it took an entire year, Harry Rodrigues has singlehandedly dethroned “Gangnam Style,” reached number one on the Billboard and created a single that rose from the ashes of SoundCloud obscurity into being purchased over 250,000 times in a week. And the arguments… so… many… damn… arguments.
(02/12/13 5:55am)
Yes, they’re back and looking as undeniably emo as ever.
(01/30/13 5:40am)
I’m a proud carnivore: the beef is served on my dinner plate. Slabs of tenderness, doused in grease and love with some sort of potato-based side dish; perhaps a cola, if you will. So pardon my disappointment… but I feel like there’s a shortage of beef in hip-hop right now. We’re getting a little too used to the cloned meat we taste through subliminals in songs. The hors d’oeuvres we scrape up from an empty shot on Twitter or someone straight flexin’ on Instagram leaves me, to simplify, empty.
(11/16/12 7:08am)
This is a disappointed letter to Abel Tesfaye aka The Weeknd, who released a series of R&B mixtapes in 2011 that skyrocketed to popularity and landed a deal with Universal Republic records. The label has rereleased the trio of mixtapes in a remastered set called Trilogy.
(11/09/12 4:53am)
I have 40.5 days, 95.22 gigabytes, of music in my iTunes library—and that’s only what iTunes has accounted for.
(10/26/12 3:27am)
I thank whichever higher power exists for the Internet. But God knows I can despise the people on it. I also thank the aforementioned higher power for not having the Internet explode in popularity in the 1990s. Not in the overall user sense, but a musical one; I am so happy hip-hop was not the way it is currently in the 1990s.
(10/19/12 3:03am)
Let’s play a game. I want you to invent a word for a genre that doesn’t exist until you create it and use it for generalizing music that has yet to be categorized in a way that makes one feel safe. It can only be one word and takes two steps to effectively create: the first part of the word must be an adjective, preferably abstract or otherwise absent from basic conversation, and the second part must end in either “wave,” “core,” “step,” “hop” or “trap” (for the relevant hipsters out there). If you’re feeling innovative, add “post” to the beginning for extra historical value. How many can you conjure from the recesses of your socialized mind?
(10/12/12 5:13am)
In today’s hip-hop climate, youthful exuberance is once again exemplified through the teen talents of today… for better or worse. Leading the playing field: Joey Bada$$, Earl Sweatshirt, Robb Bank$, Chief Keef and a plethora of other digital phenoms ranging from the revivalist to the refined to the ratchet.
(10/05/12 4:19am)
To the horror of peers and piss-scented dudes alike, my friend and I recently embarked on a journey to an EDM show in Madison… sober. For many readers, this may never be a possibility to consider, but allow me to enlighten you: It is an option that is as doable as it is enjoyable. I wrote this guide for people like us: the lone wolf of the Zach Galifianakis-led wolf pack that does not happen to partake in certain substances, legal or not, when attending music events. Since arriving to college, I have planted the soles of several pairs of tattered shoes upon the hardwood floors of many events, all of which I have attended sober. (Save the “You’re better than I am…” speech for someone who isn’t human.) While this mental hitchhike occurred through genres trap, indie, and the like, I discovered a formulaic approach to surviving every DJ set and underwhelming moshpit one may encounter through their time in Madison or anywhere else on the planet, no PBR necessary.
(09/14/12 2:11am)
If you’re reading this column, you must possess an understanding of the glimmering piece of art that glows in the limelight of strip-clubs and on-campus apartments nationwide (and potentially worldwide). It is this minimalist megahit that involves money, a type of territory and how they flow in an effortless tangent of twerkable genius.
(09/09/12 9:25pm)
I had zero idea that I would end up in the middle of Dance Motherf*cker at Union South with Gabe Herrera spinning last May. He moved seamlessly between hip hop and electronic vibes and I found myself thoroughly enjoying the mix and pondering why I never came to DMF. Eventually, by my request, Chief Keef’s “I Don’t Like” boomed menacingly in a room containing me and about 20 others. I leapt in some sort of graceless aggression with my friend Ian while watching the rest awkwardly performing a verbal tiptoe around the infamous N-word war-chant chorus.
(04/30/12 3:07am)
Adolf Hitler was a dictator-tot. Jesus hates you for masturbating. We can fix Africa through laughter. By this point, you are either laughing or nodding disapprovingly at the comedic styling of 21-year-old Robert Burnham. Known affectionately to the world as “Burnham”, he singlehandedly placed the world of comedy into a chokehold from his bedroom piano five years ago. Equipped with a tie-dye T-shirt, a happy disposition and a post-Catholic-school allure that would make any humor-seeker uncomfortable, Burnham has transitioned from viral video phenomenon to beloved comedian for his well-tuned satire.
(04/26/12 2:09am)
Hi, Max. Hi, D.A.
(03/22/12 1:43am)
If one could personify German philosophy, Game Boy Color, and David Foster Wallace (but biracial)… what would the being become? A 20-year-old philosophy major at St. Norbert College in De Pere, Wisconsin with a microphone in his hand and veggie bacon on his plate. Rory Ferreira, otherwise known as Milo, has enough big ideas to create a master’s thesis or more. Born in Chicago, raised in Maine and imported to Wisconsin after a childhood of moving around, Ferreira has quietly ambushed the hip-hop blogosphere with his brand of thought-provoking, pop-culture-immersed “nerd-hop.”
(03/09/12 3:34am)
As we progress deeper into Womyn’s History Month, it is time for us as people to appreciate the progression and growth of womyn empowerment and equality in America throughout the decades. Do not ignore this introduction as a mere spelling error: it is a UW-Madison-originated grassroots movement delivering tools and methods of female empowerment with a firm base in music culture. This collective is called Not Enough Mics, and on Saturday, March 10, the first annual NEM conference will be held on campus in celebration of this collective’s success and the success of “womyn” in music.
(02/02/12 4:06am)
Though the ranks of Dipset collective have dissolved into the
realms of mixtape rap and VH1 reality television, Harlem World is
still throbbing through the fingertips of 22-year-old producer
Abraham Orellana.