INTERNET KILLED THE VIDEO STAR : Mat's TOP 5 music videos of ALL TIME

Posted on February 2, 2010 at 09:00 AM

Eating: Anything the chef at Blue13 puts in front of my paws

Drinking: Acai/pomegranate elixir and Persian tea w raw ginger -in a vain attempt to detoxify and to outlive all my enemies,

Hearing: NPR, Cure B-sides (This Twilight Garden, Halo, 2 Late, Harold and Joe) Ladyhawke My Delirium over and over and over

Reading: The Perricone Promise by Nicholas Perricone, The Case Against God by George Smith, What Makes Sammy Run by Budd Schulberg

Watching: Adventureland, Man vs. Wild Pacific Islands, Beautiful Losers

Smelling: Saint by KatVonD

Researching: Open air burning permits, flashpoints and other properties of various accelerants, flights to Cuba via Toronto, Alexander Pushkin, Military applications for weather manipulation, Notorious BIG lyrics, how to slice a mango

Click HERE to follow Mat on Twitter.  Click HERE to follow Kill Hannah on Twitter.

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!” -Jack Kerouac

Hello from Ice Station Zebra (Chicago)

This past week has been devoted mostly to concepts, logistics, legwork and prep for our upcoming video shoots…  We’ve agreed that this time, we have an obligation to destroy the common music industry paradigm to which we’ve always felt bound. (Eg: Select the single… Get budget approved… Collect various treatments from various directors… Make the safest choice for the most diplomatic reasons…. Don't risk the lives of those around you... Don't end up on the FBI Watch List again... Observe Child Labor laws.... Look COOL. )  Fuck. That.

I’m embarrassed by the lack of originality and imagination that we and other bands have displayed over the past several years.  It’s tragic how predictable and formulaic most videos have become. -But I won’t keep blaming our sleepless tour schedule. I can’t blame the economy. I can’t blame the restrictions inherent to the major-label system. Not this time.

We ‘artists’ have complained for years that video budgets have been shrinking faster than David Letterman’s bangs…. From $250k to $100k to $50k to $10k. In turn, bands, managers, A&R, fans and even once-prestigious award shows have slowly come to believe, and ALMOST accept, that artistic standards must surely degrade on an analogous curve.

ARE WE ALL INSANE?

Just THINK about what you can do with TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS. There are hungry, young, innovative film students in every city who can CHANGE THE FUCKING WORLD with the money that most bands used to allot to CATERING.

To make a point, as an experiment, I just spent 2 minutes rifling thru the YellowPages…

I found:

Fire-breathers: $125.

Ambulance rental: $150.

A MONKEY for $150.

Then, I opened a newspaper to look for interesting events or locations to crash for FREE. I found:

Chinese New Year Parade. Chinatown. There you go.

OK. Chimps, pyro, samurais… granted it may sound a little Dadaistic, but already you have a concept more compelling than “Dance like a Jersey pig and run from paparazzi” – and THAT trite pitch won Britney Spears the MTV VIDEO OF THE YEAR 2008 for Piece of Me!

Regardless of budgets, I truly hope that one day soon there will be a Music Video Renaissance. –a return to the doctrine of the Guilded Age of videos, the 80’s and early 90’s, when boundaries and limits will once again be tested and challenged. -When videos will elevate and intensify the emotional impact of beautiful songs. -When 'pop' and 'art' are no longer mutually exclusive–-When DIRECTORS, rather than PERFORMERS, will rightfully be making the acceptance speeches.

In that spirit, i’d like to share my picks for TOP 5 MUSIC VIDEOS OF ALL TIME.

(NOTE: I’ve excluded the mind-melting Trapped in the Closet by R. Kelly, because I consider that a ‘Saga,’ or a ‘Triumph of Music Cinema’ -and as such, it’s deserving of a rating classification all its own)

#5. FEVER RAY When I Grow Up by Martin de Thurrah (2009)

Read Comments (25)  | Add Comment  | Permalink

Add to:

---

JERSEY SHORE and the Apocalypse.

Posted on January 22, 2010 at 09:25 AM

Click HERE to follow Mat on Twitter.  Click HERE to follow Kill Hannah on Twitter.

(Stay tuned for ASK MAT early next week.)

Something unexpectedly monumental just changed my life: I finally saw my first episode of Jersey Shore… -and now, just like "Snooki", my jaw is dirty and sore from being on the floor for the past 45 minutes.

A lot of people stress about an impending Apocalypse in the near future… Well worry no more, because thanks to MTV, we don’t have to wait until 2012. Culturally speaking, it’s already here -and it’s glorious. With the exception of To Catch a Predator, this has to be the finest show in television history. (same cast possibly)

I watched the orange, leathery stars of Jersey Shore with the same keen enthusiasm and wide-eyed interest that Charles Darwin must’ve felt, having first discovered the swimming Iguanas of the Galapagos Islands in 1831. “…A new sub-species! How fascinating! How bizarre!”

These are not your average, mall-cruising, testosterone-poisoned Mongoloids. Ronnie, DJ Paulie D, Vinnie and Mike (AKA “The Situation” -soon to be “The Litigation”) are Guido demigods. They elevate misogyny, roid-rage and kiss-rape to the level of an art form.

I’m pretty sure I caught an STD just from watching this show.

Jersey Shore is exactly what TV programming has been lacking: Impact. Trust me, if you ever wanted to laugh and vomit at the same time, while fighting an overwhelming urge to disinfect your dick with boiling water and bleach, this is the show for you.

Now, being skinny and strange, my band-mates and I have had our fair share of contentious encounters at nightclubs with jacked-up meatheads. We actually have a good history for diffusing potentially dangerous situations on tour… that is to say, we treat every nocturnal jock with the same healthy respect one would give to a retarded grizzly bear; avoid eye contact, no loud noises, sudden movements, etc… Then we buy them a round, and exit gracefully.

I wouldn’t change a single thing about Jersey Shore. It’s perfectly nauseating on so many levels... –But there is one question that’s been burning inside of me, hotter than the syphilis sores on Vinnie’s inner thighs... I’d love the chance to ask them this:

-IF guidos like yourselves take SO much pride in your reputed abilities to “score girls”, to “brawl” with other guidos, and to “party hard”…

-IF your tattooed, chiseled body is SUCH a temple to bad-ass, macho, alpha-male toughness…

Then WHY THE FUCK do you drink such sweet, fruity, delightful, colorful, sorority-style, girlish cocktails?

 

To quote the bartender and defacto Poet Laureate of the house,

“The Ron Ron Juice is the shit that gets the night going, I mean, whenever that shit comes out, it’s always a filthy night.”

This sophisticated recipe calls for:

+ Watermelon slices

+ Cherries

+ Cranberry juice

+ Ice .... and...

+  Stolichnaya vodka  ------ Blend, then serve in a Dixie cup.

 

What are you guys, 11 ??  I’m practically going into a diabetic shock just typing those ingredients.

I don’t know… Maybe I’m just bitter after decades of verbal abuse at the hands of jocks from around the world, but this seems to be a huge disconnect. I mean, these are STRAIGHT MEN... Right?

Granted, there’s absolutely NOTHING homo-erotic about 4 guys who wax their chests together, work out together, spray tan together, rub baby oil on each other, walk around the apartment shirtless, get their hair professionally styled twice every day, blast Cher remixes and spend 3 hours prepping to “hit the club”… but shouldn’t your choice of drink reflect your choice of lifestyle?

OK, I may be pale. I may not bench-press 400lbs and listen to Tiesto every day. I may not mainline steroids, throw tantrums and headbutt my closet door very often. I may not know first-hand the sting of pepper spray in the eyes. I may not physically force gross boardwalk skanks into awkward semi-non-consensual make-out sessions in a hot tub every night… -But AT LEAST I don’t blend fruit salad and Kool-Aid packets into my vodka like a 7^th grader.

Look, this is America. Our Constitution protects every guido’s freedom to drink whatever he chooses. Just Say Bro. -But IF all you ever talk about, to an audience of 10 million viewers, is “drinking hard” and “being a man” then AT LEAST drink like a fucking man. Put your cherry 7-11 Super Sized Vagina Slurpies away. Drink WHISKY or BEER for god’s sake. 

-------------------------------------

PS in case you ignore me, here’s another tough guy who would love to “party” with you bad-asses and your sliced watermellon.

Read Comments (33)  | Add Comment  | Permalink

Add to:

---

Raccoon Society-- L.A. Recap - Rat Attack - PLUS Random photos from my Blackberry

Posted on January 19, 2010 at 07:13 AM

Listening to: Plainsong by The Cure, Underwhelmed by Sloan, Art is Hard by Cursive, Wave of Mutilation by the Pixies, Marseille Forum la radio iTunes stream

Eating: Everything on Figaro’s menu in Los Feliz, Cucumber sandwiches at Chateau Marmont, cheese plate at Starbucks, big mac snack wrap at McD’s

Drinking: Persian tea, mango martini at Beso, Makers Mark on the rocks, living up to W.C. Fields' quote, “I never drink water... fish fuck in it.”

Watching: Jersey Shore, Californication Season II,

YouTube: 100 greatest fails of 2009, Death Metal Rooster, XXL Big Wave Awards at Maverick's

Mean muggin with two of my favorite cronies, Josh Madden and Mikey Way at DCMA party. 

(Image courtesy of bartabz.com )

Hello Raccoons and welcome to another one of my haphazard diatribes.

I just returned from LA to Ice Planet Hoth (aka Chicago) and was greeted at the cabstand by a gust of arctic wind that hit me with the emotional equivalence of a swift kick to the nads.

I was also welcomed at my front door by a massive stack of solicitations from various Mexican cleaning ladies. In my 11-day absence, evidently, they’ve each been vying hard for the opportunity to work for me. I can’t say I blame them. -If housekeeping is your true passion, then my place could be your magnum opus; your Stairway to Heaven... you’d beam so proudly in the elevator on the ride up, clutching your Windex and vacuum, saying to yourself, “Este es el que quiero que todos me recuerdan!!” (“!THIS is the one I want them to remember me by!”)

My charcoal babybird heart still belongs to the Midwest… –and though it is indeed true that Los Angeles is morally depraved and run by tiny barking dogs, I definitely find myself artistically awakened there… -both by the colorful weather and the proximity to creative friends. Even for a misanthropic indoor cat like me, those things matter. 

Allow me to illustrate:

Exhibit A is a bowl of oranges I picked off a tree in the Hollywood Hills while a pair of teal hummingbirds flitted around above me: 

Exhibit B is a disgusting, fearless Chicago river rat that scuttled towards me in the snow as I stood in horror on my way back from Caribou Coffee.

While in LA, I collaborated on 4 songs in the studio with my good friends Davey Rieley (producer), Alain Whyte (ex-Morrissey), and Dean Butterworth (Good Charlotte).

One tune, Nobody Moves, is based on the short, romantic life of my new crush: Bonnie Parker from the Barrow gang who, in 1934, died in a hail of machine-gunfire.

I dined almost every day at my new favorite french bistro called Figaro in Los Feliz. -Monday i went for an early lunch (frog legs and escargot) and slummed like a true Bohemian til last call, 12 hours later.

I was also very lucky to be able to catch up briefly some close friends and favorite people; Mikey&Alicia, Benji, Kat, Bam, The Living Things, Tyler Shields, Didier, Jonny, Brooke, Mili, Robyn... and, true to form, the city also offered a few surprises.. unexpected run in's with some old friends; Josh Madden (who fell from the sky) Melissa Auf Der Maur (stunning as always), Aimee Echo (Her new project, Normandie, is sick), and even Adam Levine who I hadn't seen since a 2004 KH vs. M5 Xbox Halo 1 rematch.  

Bam chokes Kat at the Rainbo on Sunset. 

 

On the flight home, I was inspired by a quote from Chicago architect and urban planner Daniel Burnham: "Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men's blood and probably will not themselves be realized." On that note, I'm excited to hit the KH War Room this week to strategize our 2010 UK/Euro Tour campaign.

To all of you who are still sending in ASK MAT questions, thank you for your patience. I'll pull 10 to answer next week. -and THANK YOU to the Raccoons who have taken the initiative to weigh in on each other’s situations. Keep that dialog going! The topics within this community are so relevant and important to me... i’m beyond excited to re-launch ASK MAT soon as a distinct area within THE RACCOON SOCIETY with improved architecture and functionality.

In the meantime, some random Show and Tell:

This is the Youtube Vid I’ve been watching every morning

-And this is Death Metal Rooster

You're welcome.

-and these are some of the pics that are causing my Crackberry to malfunction right now:

One of my favorite KH fan tattoos

-a mangled peregrine falcon i found on my street. 

A heart-wrenching photo on the cover of the NY Times

Meet Death Breath Number 1 who was clearing his throat next to me on the train for 40 minutes. (Not to be confused with Death Breath Number 2 who sat next to me on the plane)

 

This is what i like about Mexican bakers. They're whimsical. Who the fuck is gonna buy a giant pastry shaped like a Gilla Monster? NO ONE.

There’s something sad and beautiful about detailed sculptures that are so far above the ground that no one will ever appreciate them.

My niece, the future heartbreaker Part II

My fav xmas gift from Col.. antique opera glasses and and Oscar Wilde playbook from 1894

This is the most useless object ive ever seen. Plank of wood with a walnut shell screwed into it.

Cool KH laptop decal

 

This kid knew how to juxtapose. Vintage RL sport coat, Iron Maiden T-shirt. 

 

Read Comments (31)  | Add Comment  | Permalink

Add to:

---