This is an mp3 blog attempting to document the gross amount of music I listen to. About once a day, I'll post something I like. If you're a copyright holder on anything I host, get in touch, and we'll settle things in a steel cage instead of a courtroom.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

House Boat and my death wish

People dumber than I like to deal with like to ask me how I would describe the band House Boat. And I like to say "People from my favorite bands wrote my suicide note and then added poppy power chords to them."

This band is literally what happens when you combine the Steinways, the Ergs, and Dear Landlord into a big catchy mess of what happens when you fucking hate your life. They turn anthems about hating into hating your work schedule into pop punk anthems I fucking promise you will be singing along with in 20 years.

I saw them during a surprise show a few months ago when Mikey Erg was setting up stuff prior to a Dopamines show. I was approximately 20 inches from Grath's faces when he was singing, and I can't remember when I saw such I sad face. He really wanted to jump off the 13th floor because of the girl in the black hoodie. All the jokes in the world can't keep away The Darkness, and trust me, I fucking know about that.

For years I was in love with a woman who is the absolute definition of "Alonelyloneylone." "I'm still trying to find a way/to get to sleep without you." It's like the Dopamines almost, but with desperate surrender that is normally unseen.

Houseboat is better than the Steinways, and I will stand by that.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Rumspringer is rad

So I met the members of Rumspringer in a gay bar.

This was the bar next to Charm City Art Space, and the only bar really in walking distance. The fact that DIY spaces can't sell drinks is bullshit. If it comes factory sealed, I don't give a rats' ass who serves it to me. "Ohhhh they might serve it to CHILDREN!" 1) Kids need booze, because their life sucks balls and 2) If you're old enough to vote and get sent to the desert to get shot at for a fucking lie, you're old enough to drink a beer. SAYING.

Anyway, I'm at the point where saying "pleased to meet you, I'm Matt Ramone!" is met with drawbacks and "ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh"'s. These dudes said "fuck yeah!" and wanted me to buy them drinks, which I did happily. Most punks are dumb as shit, but not these dudes.

Rumspringer are one of those pop-punk bands that even the crusties like. I told them to their face: "You do Crimpshrine better than Crimpshrine did." Imagine the riffs of O Pioneers but with better lyrics and more continuity.

My boy Sam put their new full length out on his label, Traffic Street Records. It's flawless. The hooks hit you in the face like an unexpected dick. It's pop punk down in the muck, kicking its legs and blowing its tongue. It's like if Nobby Nobbs suddenly said something erudite.

I have heartburn so here are the songs:

It's Literally Tearing Me Apart:

Poison Bear:


Back from the grave, back from the liquor store! Listening to the Hall Monitors reminded me why I starting this thing in the first place, which is punching you in the face with some rad as shit rock'n'roll that you're too lame to find on your own.

Some things have changed, some things have stayed the same. Just know that I'm loaded the fuck up on gin and ready to stay out and keep it up all night long.

New post later today.