The Dead Sons The Future of Music ~ Please support the next generation of great local music. Featured bands: The Dead Sons, Two Thumbs Down, Woodhurst, & Courage Mother - 3/16/2019 Photo Copyright©️1980-2019 Dave Fimbres / SemiCharmedLife Photography LLC, All Rights Reserved.
Kicks on that fat dope🤔🤷🏽♂️💨
During the Genesis of my adventure to Colombia I met @jonidobrov
at the airport and was really into her video skills. Hopefully the first of many collabs! If you haven't checked out "The Giant Killer" the link is in my bio! Song- Pussy Power Model - @daniela.toreyes
We are only 4 days away from this dope ass show!!! Its finna be crackin so make sure yall slide!!! #LakeCounty @therealmacmall
Live at @drinxbargrill
🔥♿️ ———————————————————————— w/ supporting acts @therealtajied
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🎤 Sounds by @djflashback707
🔉 $15 at the Door; 21+ (Security Strictly Enforced) #hiphopjunkie #hiphoplife #hiphopmusic #hiphopnation #hiphopnews #instrumentals #mixtape #music #musicproducer #musicvideo #newmusic #party
Updated numbers as of 3/18/19 11:33pm
Woodhurst The Future of Music ~ Please support the next generation of great local music. Featured bands: The Dead Sons, Two Thumbs Down, Woodhurst, & Courage Mother - 3/16/2019 Photo Copyright©️1980-2019 Dave Fimbres / SemiCharmedLife Photography LLC, All Rights Reserved.
If you haven’t already listened... do.
Went for a harder trap theme for this one, my remix of Aria's Bleu Chanel😈 posted on skiomusic for the contest
"I just try to keep the dream alive,” Jenny Lewis declares on “Higher”, one of the nine songs on the debut album from Nice as Fuck (NAF). What precisely that dream may be is hard to say, considering the many divergent projects Lewis has contributed to in recent years. From the ashes of Rilo Kiley’s dissolution came a successful solo career, punctuated most recently with 2014’s memorable The Voyager. There was also I’m Having Fun Now, the album she made with guitarist and boyfriend Johnathan Rice, released under the name Jenny and Johnny. A friend to talented musicians, Lewis has stayed busy, guesting on records and touring with the likes of M. Ward, Ryan Adams, and Conor Oberst. In short, it seems that Lewis is often dreaming. Now, her latest dream has come to life. Comprised of Lewis, Au Revoir Simone’s Erika Forster, and The Like’s Tennessee Thomas, NAF borrow liberally from punk, funk, pop, and more, a refreshing shift in sound for Lewis, who in her solo work has primarily focused on lyrical witticisms and melodic rock with the occasional country twang. There is little twang to be found with NAF — or any texture for that matter. Most of the nine tracks that make up their record are built around fast bass lines and simple percussion, relying heavily on harmonies and vocal delivery to stand apart. On “Door”, NAF’s first single, Lewis nearly moans the final word when she sings, “If you believe in peace and love/ And the message above/ Don’t close the door.” As the song continues, harmonies set in over her wordless coos. The effect, not dissimilar from what the Watson Twins provided Lewis on Rabbit Fur Coat, is a subtle reminder that NAF is not Jenny Lewis by another name, but rather a new yet still connected trio. Yes, much of Lewis’ aural aesthetic can be found in NAF’s sound, but the little differences — the tinge of funk on “Cookie Lips” or the bouncing bass on “Angel” — define this record as the work of three people. Whether this surprise offering is the first of many or a one-off effort, NAF justifies its existence as more than a lark or an impulse by having a message and taking a chance.
She calls it "the hardest one I ever made"; that's Jenny Lewis' assessment of The Voyager, her first solo album since 2008's Acid Tongue. In the ensuing years, Lewis dealt with the break-up of Rilo Kiley, the death of her father, writer's block, and bouts of insomnia. Given the background, you might expect The Voyager to be a downbeat experience and while lyrically it's unflinchingly honest, the music shines with positivity and glorious pop songwriting. This album finds Lewis pulling together something of a "greatest hits" of her sound: a mix of the alt.country of Acid Tongue and Rabbit Fur Coat, the rock and roll of Jenny & Johnny's I'm Having Fun Now and the classic overdriven Fleetwood Mac guitar pop that Rilo Kiley did so fantastically during their headily-brilliant peak moments. "I've been wearing all-black since the day it started" are the first words out of Lewis' mouth on the opening track "Head Underwater," a wonderful burst of sunny pop that belies her tale of insomnia, hints of experimenting with substance abuse and feeling like she's becoming unknown to those around her. These are dark themes, so the "ooh-oohs" and "ba-ba-bas", along with the weighty piano and scratchy guitar riffs provide balance, and it ends up being probably the sprightliest thing Lewis has put her name to thus far. Keeping us on our toes, "Just One of the Guys" is a lolloping country-rock track produced by Beck and featuring his subtly mumbled backing vocals where Lewis sings about feeling unable to fit in and musing on her ticking biological clock: "there's only one difference between you and me / when I look at myself all I can see / I'm just another lady without a baby." Although it's delivered with Lewis' usual wry humour, it's a remarkably honest and affecting snapshot of something that's clearly troubling the singer. The Voyager is where we truly get to see behind the veneer of the singer and sometime actress. A fitting record, which addresses everything that's come before and yet to come - and a crowning, near-perfect album.
Jenny & Johnny represent a different type of musical coupling. In this couple, the woman is the powerhouse and the man, though forceful in his own ways, rises to her challenges. Jenny Lewis and Johnathan Rice were creatively and romantically involved for nearly a decade; the lady, one of indie music's most successful thinking beauties, is the bigger star. Maybe that's why this project, though lighthearted, has some of the prickliness of a real day-to-day relationship. The title may be "I'm Having Fun Now," but there's room for wisecracks, bitterness and worry amid the lovey-dovey stuff. Ms. Lewis and Mr. Rice josh and harmonize their way through the album. The songs are upbeat, looking back to folk-rock and 1970s California pop. They’re much breezier than “Acid Tongue” or Mr. Rice’s albums, and they make a game of juggling who sings what. Ms. Lewis and Mr. Rice trade off leads (while the other sings ahs and la-las), or they sing close parallel lines, or they overlap and argue with each other. “She’s an artist painting a portrait all over my heart,” he sings in “Scissor Runner,” the album’s opening song; she airily counters, “Colors bleeding, so deceiving.” While the album’s back story is part of its charm, “I’m Having Fun Now” is not a collection of love songs. Amid the guitar strumming, they stay unsentimental; there’s far more banter than romance. Jenny and Johnny volley accusations of professional jealousy over the surf-rock beat of “My Pet Snakes.” “All the best of luck with your career,” Mr. Rice growls at the end. In other songs they sing about travel, gods (Abrahamic and Greek), recreational drugs, promiscuity, even economics. “We save our money in good faith/And we work hard for our living wage,” Ms. Lewis sings in “Big Wave.” “But still the banks got a break.” Yet even in songs about tensions and betrayals Jenny and Johnny sound more sardonic than enraged. On this album the barbs are wrapped in smiles and irrepressible tunes.
As thematically and sonically scattershot as her previous record (2006’s Rabbit Fur Coat) was deftly unified, Jenny Lewis’ Acid Tongue is a loose and lovely ramshackle update of the indulgent and genre-skipping singer-songwriter solo discs of the ’70s. Just as the Rabbit Fur Coat’s Appalachian twang and blue-eyed, harmonized soul was a heart-cracking revision of ’60s-styled country pop, Tongue pushes Lewis’ sound into the following decade’s take on Southern-stained music: alternately shaggy and slick, harder-edged and tinted with coke spoon reflections on failed romance, drugs, and dangerous women (“It’s a bad man’s world/ And I’m a bad, bad girl”). Sprinting with a sound under which Rilo Kiley’s lock-limbed Under the Blacklight stumbled, Tongue moves from the string-honed lilt of opener “Black Sand” to the nine-minute suite of “The Next Messiah” (complete with rollicking, rave-up blues choruses interspersed with sensuous, funk-sweat breakdowns of Caucasoid soul) to the gorgeous melancholic shimmer of the quietly epic title track, in which Lewis’ crystalline wail is bathed in a chorus of mournful background singers. Although the LP lacks a unifying concept or theme, what does bind the album is her consistently powerful and melodic songwriting and the sheer strength of her howling, playful vocal, which has never sounded better on record. Despite the inclusion of the sweetly skipping ballad “Godspeed” and weary closer “Sing a Song” amid barnburners like the hipgrip, beerhall swagger of “Carpetbaggers” and “Jack Killed Mom,” much of Rabbit Fur Coat’s intimacy has been traded for pure sonic intensity. However, Lewis’ refusal to repeat what made Coat such a success renders Acid Tonguean equally idiosyncratic and distinct record in its own right. The album is boastful, vulnerable and witty, usually within the course of a single song. It may be a bad man’s world, but a bad girl’s record makes it that much more tolerable.
On her first solo outing, Jenny Lewis writes directly about the twisted fairytale of her childhood, and takes a levelheaded look at the complications of love. The haunting title track of Rabbit Fur Coat is a mostly autobiographical rags-to-riches-to-rags-again fusion of fact, fiction and fantasy sung to a nursery-rhyme melody in waltz-time. Told in a style akin to magic realism, it's the story of a woman whose mother is waitressing and on welfare until her daughter becomes "a hundred-thousand-dollar kid", only to end up back on welfare, "still putting that stuff up [her] nose". The already tumultuous terrain of relationships becomes even more fraught when your lover is also your bandmate, as was once the case with Jenny and Rilo Kiley co-founder Blake Sennett. The messiness of romantic entanglements surfaces on the achingly catchy "You Are What You Love," when Lewis sings: "Every morning upon waking / To you I’m a symbol or a monument / Your rite of passage to fulfillment / But I’m not yours for the taking". Or, from "Melt Your Heart": "When you're kissing someone who's too much like you / It's like kissing on a mirror". A gifted lyricist, Jenny Lewis is also a very fine singer, landing on each note with just the right touch. She can belt it out with a soulful, Neko Case-like clarion call ("Big Guns"), put on a Lucinda Williams drawl ("Rise up with Fists!"), or purr like Margot Timmins ("Happy"). The musical stylings of all of these talented ladies echo throughout the accompaniment on Rabbit Fur Coat, but Lewis takes these elements back to their roots. Without copping a retro sound, Jenny has tapped into a fifty-year-old Americana, finding that sweet spot at the birth of rock ‘n’ roll when folk, country, gospel and vocal pop were all melding together, but before the increasingly heavy backbeat of rock displaced the lilting shuffle of Sun Studios-era rockabilly. The former frontwoman has expertly crafted a record, which allows Lewis her own distinct sound. The indie darling stepped into her own with Rabbit Fur Coat, and the album more than a decade on is still a compelling, complex and captivating achievement.