FREE AT LAST MOTHAFUCKAS

We've moved officially to lyhd.us. Find us there.

See you in hell, Blogger.

<3, lyhd

Podcast Episode I, "Delicious"

LYHD Podcast: Episode I

That's right motherfuckers, it's our very first podcast. It's a janky one, because none of us know what the fuck we're doing, but they're getting better as we record them. This being the first post about it, I should lay out the format. It's a basic radio show, hosted by me (Drew) with the help of one Douglas Sweeney, and a revolving cast of characters that happen to involve friends and other writers on this blog (Amir Razmjou and Thom Seiniger, most notably) in which we each pick a few songs, usually set to a loose theme.

In this episode we talk about a flurry of things involving: swine flu, sad ravens, me being mistaken for a girl, Salvadorian strippers, why New Orleans sucks, Captain Beefheart's birthday, Amir's Birthday, Kristen Stewart, gift ettiquette, and the Muddy Symphony.

My volume is too low, Amir's is too high, we break nearly every rule in radio, but hey, you get what you pay for.

No theme this week, here's the playlist in order of appearance:

1. Spider Bags – “Eileen” (Teenage Eyes 7”)
2. Buzzcocks – “Nostalgia” (Love Bites)
3. The Frogs – “I’ve Got Drugs (Out of the Mist)” (It’s Only Right and Natural)
4. Broadcast – “America’s Boy” (Tender Buttons)
5. Oblivians- “Clones” (Sympathy Sessions)
6. Ty Segall & Mikal Cronin- “Take Up Thy Stethoscope and Walk” (Reverse Shark Attack)
7. Titus Andronicus – “My Time Outside the Womb” (The Airing of Grievances)
8. Royal Baths- “Nikki Don't” (Litanies)
9. The Sun City Girls – “Cruel and Thin” (330,003 Cross Dressers from Beyond the Rig Veda)
10. Velvet Underground – “Pale Blue Eyes” (The Velvet Underground)
11. Ducktails- “Don't Make Plans” (Ducktails III: Arcade Dynamics)
12. Joe Meek – “I Hear a New World” (I Hear a New World EP)
End Bumper: Vera Lynn – “Goodnight, Wherever You Are”

Our live cover on this episode: Velvet Underground - "White Light/White Heat"

More to come soon (and hopefully a website to host them on).

That's all for now, filthy animals.

-Drew

The Evening Blues

The Black Keys - Rubber Factory

The Black Keys have blown up. They're in a million commercials, in heavy rotation of KROQ, and are finding new fans in overgrounders desperately digging at what is being unearthed from the underground.

But here's the catch - unlike fellow Indie-turned-Mainstream bores Kings of Leon or Cold War Kids, they haven't changed a thing from when they were nobodies. From their 2002 debut, The Big Come Up to the current smash hit Brothers, it's the same music. The production gets better over time, of course, but fundamentally, everything is still firmly planted in it's DIY, Akron, Ohio, boredom blues roots.

Rubber Factory, the duo's third LP, is the one I'm choosing to share with you today. It's more confident than the two records preceding it, but still has that down-home rawness that this blog loves. It opens up with snapping, dirge-like drum beats which segues into drawling guitar and the pained drag of Dan Auerbach's voice. "You know what the sun's all about/When the lights go out" he croons. But with the second track 10 A.M. Automatic, the album is off to it's raucous, white boy blues start. Aurbach channels fuzzed out six-strings on par with the likes of Jack White, but unlike Jack, he's got a much, much more skilled drummer backing him, in the form of Patrick Carney (who also produces.)

The Blues are something rarely done well. You can try to fake it, many do, but when it's being phoned in, it stands out like a greensnake in a beet patch. These boys may not have ever ridden a train or had a woman walk out on them during a dust bowl, but there's an undeniable passion their music. I can't help but hope that if the old Delta masters could listen in on these guys, they might give them an approving nod, even if begrudgingly.

So, get as big as you want boys, my fingers are crossed the fame won't ruin you like it has so many.

-Thom

Five-Beer Plan

Joyce Manor - Joyce Manor

After months of waiting I finally came across the new Joyce Manor full length at a small DIY house show in Garden Grove, CA. I’ve seen the band numerous times before and was a huge fan of the 3rd release, Constant Headache. The band finally went on- fists got thrown into the air and people started screaming along. It’s been years since I’ve seen a band so young with so much passion and energy pack a house and put themselves on the map. 10 tracks and about 18 minutes of angst and intensity. A nice breath of fresh air for punk music and a great follow up release to (in my personal opinion) 2010’s best punk album— Leatherface’s The Stormy Petrel released on No Idea Records.

Joyce Manor comes out of Torrance, CA and consists of members Barry Johnson (vocals & guitar), Matt Ebert (Bass & Vocals), Kurt Walcher (Drums), and Chase Knobbe (guitar). A four piece band that blends angsty melodic choruses with loud energetic drum work.

The band was signed to record label 6131 Records. This label is well known for signing hardcore bands such as Touché Amore, Alpha & Omega, Cruel Hand, and Sinking Ships. They decided to sign Joyce Manor (a band that really sticks out on the label) and may I say it was one of the best decisions they have made.

The album starts off with the tracks Orange Julius and Call Out which are great fast, catchy songs with great sing-a-long lyrics. Then it follows up with one of the best tracks from the album Beach Community. Now this track really stood out to me over the entire album. Towards the end of the song on the last verse you hear a strong, passionate scream backing up Barry singing “everything reminds me of you.” This scream is the one and only, Matt Ebert. Throughout the whole album I was blown away by Matt’s back up singing. It got to me the more and more I listened to the album. Great voice and Beach Community really emphasizes it.

Derailed, Leather Jacket, and Constant Nothing were re recorded from previous releases. Derailed from EW Gross. Leather Jacket and Constant Nothing from the EP Constant Headache. These songs really stood out from the band’s catalogue and I can see why they were chosen to go on the new release. Plus, the production on Barry screaming “in your new leather jacket you’re somebody else” was pretty fucking cool. The album closes off with my favorite song; Constant Headache. The song runs 3:04 (the longest song on the album), and is a great closing song filled with remorse and loathing and some of the best lyrics I’ve heard in awhile. I personally scream my throat to a bloody pulse when I hear it live. The song closes with great instrument collaboration and wraps it all up beautifully. There is a lot of potential for a young band like this. I can only see good things to come in the future for them. Cheers.

-Jesse “Art Fag” Torres (Guest)

We're always happy to take guest-ups. We publish 'em every Thursday. The only requirement is that you make the shit interesting. Send us anything (for now) at: letyerhairdown@gmail.com. Dig!

The Evolution of 'Cool'

Sic Alps- Napa Asylum


Some years ago, the Vatican made a list of what they considered to be the top 10 rock albums. Revolver was #1, David Crosby, Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, U2, etc etc followed. Many were surprised that a Bob Dylan album didn't make the list. According to the Wall Street Journal, "...Dylan was excluded from the list despite his "great poetic vein" because he paved the way for generations of unprofessional singer-songwriters who have "harshly tested the ears and patience of listeners" with their tormented stories."

The Devil's music.

Alas, I regress.



Sic Alps are a psych-noise-slacker-garage trio from San Francisco. Their newest effort Napa Asylum is one of their finest. These songs are effortless. Matt Hartman's vocals remind me of Stephen Malkimus. That "I can get all soft but I still sound cool" thing. Everyone loves a dude who doesn't have to try very hard to make a good fucking song. Acoustic guitar is at the spine of these songs. Closely followed by hazy, lazy, downright breeezy vocals. Drums try to catch up at a distant side of your headphones while another guitar feedbacks out of control in another corner. Many of these songs start slightly chaotic, fragmented, almost improvised; but give it a chorus and a verse and see the flawless effortless transition into its own individuality of a song.

The album spans 22 songs in 48 minutes. Ranging from tape-warped noise fills like "My My Lai" and "Wasted at Church", to beautiful acoustic ballads such as "Country Medicine" and "Super Max Lament On The Way". This album is cohesive; it's not meant for songs to be picked at random and judged on its lonesome. Its a start to finish, or maybe a start to half way, and half way to finish. Either way, you have to see Napa Asylum as a broad sort of sound collage, as fans know that's one of the things Sic Alps is best at.





DJ Custielol

Savor These Firework Shards While They Fly

Mischief Brew - Bak'en'al

I’m not quite sure what possessed me to write-up this short EP (other than that it’s pretty fuckin’ good, that is), but I’d at this point consider it some sort of nap-hangover strangeness that seems to fuel a lot of my nightlife doings nowadays. This is all to say there’s something about these five songs that I’ve never been able to put my finger on. It’s something that I can’t call “off” and wouldn’t stretch to label “uncomfortable”, but it’s got a tone and a feeling that reeks of oddball nights and carnivalesque drunks.

It’s a decent cross-section of the Mischief Brew catalogue—that balance of rustic folk rebellion and gypsy vertigo jams that elevate Erik Peterson from the scores of punks that got old and started getting folky to a punk that is way too talented to be labeled solely as such.

The first song, “Devil of a Time” starts with a sample (one that’s arguably responsible for the name of this blog) and the line “Didn’t we have a devil of a time?” set to strange chords and strange rhythm. It’s a question that seems to still remain a question, despite the fact it’s probably meant to be a leading one. What I’m getting at is that the ambiguousness of the song here and its slightly unsettling backdrops are a microcosm of the whole Mischief Brew kick. It’s about the fever dreams of a world in which the pieces aren’t quite fitting together.

The rest follows with excellent guitar licks (and impressive ones at that, if you’re one of the few that only know Peterson from his punk outfit The Orphans). It’s a mixture of acoustic and electric with everything from mandolins to children spliced in for added effect.

Track 3, “The Drunk of Three Nights” is a favorite, and perhaps a song to match tone and content so fittingly as to make it seem like some sort of cinematic narrative—some gritty noir flick flush with hazy drunks and a femme fatale. It’s a romance that builds tension and releases it with a heavy drop of distortion and reassures us that moments like these are only fleeting.

The final two tracks cover Mischief Brew’s more acousti-folk, “I’m a grown up anarchist, just fucking leave me alone” aesthetic. It’s the cheeky bits about planning silent rebellions and passive retaliations that characterize this other half of the catalogue. It’s no longer about firebombing post offices, it’s about living outside the lines and finding a peace in the rustic and the philosophical.

So here I am, barricaded in my den and moist of nap-sweat in a sway and gaze that led me through this EP about four times. I’m realizing now how befitting of my mood this one really is. I think that strangeness is lurking somewhere and it lives in more forms than one. This is all a bit dramatic, sure, but I think these moments in between the waking life and whatever happens when we lose consciousness are sort of telling in a weird way. They beg the question of whether or not we’ve got the whole thing right. Maybe we did have a devil of a time.

-Drew

Crushed Little Kids Adorn the Boardwalk

Dead Kennedys - Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables

I was riding in a car with Douglas “DJ Teach Me How 2 Dougie” Sweeney the other day, and my 6-disc (yes, I still use compact discs in the car) popped on this little gem of an album. The Dead Kennedys aren’t exactly en vogue lately, and I still haven’t gotten over Jello Biafra’s support of Jerry Brown in the recent California gubernatorial election (not that I cared for the alternative, mind you, I just don’t appreciate the irony), but I’ll be goddamned if this isn’t a near perfect album.

From start to finish, it’s everything we love about the DK’s: it’s a catchy, clever, and biting sound that added a whole new dimension to the punk scene during its time, especially in California. Jello’s not afraid to say whatever it is he feels like saying. It pushed boundaries with crass satire and “I don’t need this fucking world” sentiments that eventually created a voice for the countless.

With these punk-standard albums I’ve been beating into you lately, I feel like it’s pointless to really harp on them. You’re either into it, or you’re not. If you aren’t, I should say, just listen to the fuckin’ thing.

-Drew