x-x-x-x-x. Politics of Sex, Noise and Depression

Call it punk hip-hop, call is electro-pop/hip-hop. Somebody said there’s a band called Gravy Train we should hook up with. A couple of people directed us to Avenue D.

Sitting in the dark van outside Art Bar in Columbia, SC. Van’s dark ‘cause there’s a short in the internal lighting system. Probably have to take the ceiling down to find it. Good thing it’s warm in the south. Local paper wrote nice things about us. We didn’t even ask ‘em to. Nice.

Holiday blues got us in indigo moods. We drag our souls through 20,000 miles of rusty nails and used condoms to sing our minds to electro beats. ‘F I had two cents for every fool wants to put in their two cents…

The days are getting lighter. Just gotta make it through the winter. My man Kill Audio asked his artist-girlfriend to marry him and she’s down. Fuckin’ cool. A goddess. Think the girls these days sort of have to trick guys into asking their hand. Least that’s what Rivka said. Glad that wedding-planning shit for ours is over. Congradz, kids. Two years, I heard. We’ll be there with bells. Played recently with some hip-hop heads in Memphis (Memphix) and Oxford (Oso Negro and Nick B. - they say DJ Hush is the man in Oxford, and we dig Bill Mysterio there too).

Props to F 5 records crew, NyQwill, BlesteNation and Grand Buffet. Love to Oh My God and The Pieces.

happy new year,Mike |