Straight Up Hood Rich

In a Bath Robe on a Thursday

I like to keep tabs on how repetitive/pathetic my life has gotten since I lost my job. I usually do this through some sort of introspective examination of what makes me excited, to varying degrees.

Today, I saw that USA was playing a Burn Notice marathon all day. I got excited. This is my fucking life.

It’s not a good show. Not by any means. Bad acting, poor Caruso-esque one-liners, and editing that would make an epileptic Japanese boy go into fits. But, again, this is my life now. I get psyched when a show that I don’t even like is going to be playing all day, every hour on the hour. It’s got spies at least. Spies are kind of cool, right?

I digress. The real reason for this post is to throw up a nice little Wolf Parade ditty from the forthcoming Expo 86. It’s the last track on the album, called Cave-o-sapien.

I don’t think that anyone’s informed Spencer Krug that a metaphor is only effective when you use images that everyone else can fucking identify with. Still, it sounds pretty damn good. Definitely my favorite track of the new album. Hopefully, you’ll dig it as well.

Cave-O-Sapien

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Boat Shoes?

Here’s some new Wolf Parade. It’s called “Cloud Shadow on the Mountain”. It’s awesome. Yet again, I have no idea what Spencer Krug is talking about but the shit rocks my dick off.

Wolf Parade – Cloud Shadow on the Mountain

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They’re Back…

Like Randy Quaid in that movie with the Aliens. You know, when he’s the drunk pilot, or whatever, and he flies the plane right into the middle and the thing blows up and right when he’s flying up it he goes “Hello Boys! I’m Baaacccckkkk!”

Well, that’s what the members of Wolf Parade are doing right now. Flying their planes into evil alien spaceships. Or something. Whatever.

Long story short: Wolf Parade’s third album is dropping this summer. It’s called Expo 86. Who knows what that means? Who cares? It’s a new Wolf Parade album, dammit!

Pitchfork has the scoop and an interview with Dan Boeckner (aka the tall, skinny one).

Let’s celebrate. Take it away, Sons and Daughters.

Dear Sons and Daughters of Hungry Ghosts

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