Alright friends the next batch of random cd's came from the Seattle Public Library, Greenwood Branch.
Tennis-Young & Ol One time this dude I used to work with asked me if I liked Tennis. I did, actually. I had sort
of forgotten how to keep score but I told him that my-girlfriend-at-the-time-and-I enjoyed a friendly volley not infrequently. He told me that he was talking about Tennis, the band, not the leisure activity/sport. I told him I had no idea and went back to cutting lemons or whatever. I had forgotten about all of this when I picked up this disc at the library the other day. It's on Fat Possum Records which was at one time an imprint of Epitaph. Growing up your typical Warped-Tour attending suburban skatepunk type, and also considering myself an open-minded audiophile I always had a vague interest in Fat Possum's grit and blues roster. Man, have I been out of the loop! This record bares no sonic resemblance to either the blues or the punk rock. I don't know why I want to say this, but this is the sad boring music that hipsters claim make them happy. No Aaron, I don't like Tennis.
House Of Pain When I was about eleven years old the "Jump Around" 
video came out. I remember being on the third floor TV room of my parents' house with a few friends watching MTV. "Jump Around" came on. White dudes rapping in Celtics gear and chain wallets. I was down! About half way through the video, me and the homies started slam dancing, stage-diving off my mother's couch and shit. House of Pain made us wanna get fuckin' rad! It's a trip to check out this album in 2013. I listen to it fondly, and cringe.
video came out. I remember being on the third floor TV room of my parents' house with a few friends watching MTV. "Jump Around" came on. White dudes rapping in Celtics gear and chain wallets. I was down! About half way through the video, me and the homies started slam dancing, stage-diving off my mother's couch and shit. House of Pain made us wanna get fuckin' rad! It's a trip to check out this album in 2013. I listen to it fondly, and cringe. Mike Watt-Hyphenated-Man This is a sprawling, balls-to-the-wall,
Minutemenesque Watt voyage. This is art. While not necessarily the most sonically pleasing specimen to me personally from front to back, this is a fucking interesting release. Without getting all college lit here, Watt's lyrical theme (various forms of man-conceivably Watt himself and/or Universal Man and/or the listener) rips the listener through a thirty track mind fuck exploring all kinds of ideas briefly and intensely before moving on to the next blast. This avant-garde punk Watt album is a bittersweet listen knowing the history of the Minutemen. If I had to surmise,--which as a bloggist, I in fact do--I'd say that not only would D. Boon have been proud, but that he would've wanted in.
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