#santigold

[sea-talk]

M.I.A. photographed by Ryan McGinley for The New York Times

[tinyuglyworld]

good albums available on the internet archive free to listen/download

salems pot - pronounce this! (2016)

primal scream - screamadelica (1991)

the mars volta - de-loused in the comatorium (2003)

saki kobuta - 夢がたり (1979)

spice 1 - amerikkkas nightmare (1994)

kate bush - never for ever (1980)

mf doom - operation doomsday (1999)

joy division - unknown pleasures (1979)

acid bath - when the kite string pops (1994)

massive attack - mezzanine (1998)

black flag - my war (1984)

king crimson - in the court of the crimson king (1969)

lauryn hill - the miseducation of lauryn hill (1998)

brian jonestown massacre - methodrone (1995)

nas - illmatic (1994)

santigold - self titled (2008)

alice in chains - facelift (1990)

garbage - version 2.0 (1998)

machine girl - wlfgrl (2014)

mass of the fermenting dregs - world is yours (2009)

butthole surfers - electriclarryland (1996)

pink floyd - the dark side of the moon (1973)

a tribe called quest - the low end theory (1999)

bjork - debut (1993)

fleetwood mac - rumours (1977)

i highly advise using the webamp feature to list to these, its so cool. soon i'll find more and make a part two to this.

[pasteltense]

Santigold's collage cover art

[felinaavtopica]

Nos seguimos en Instagram? 😇

https://www.instagram.com/felinna_____?igsh=MTBnbHVkc2lzdmpzbg%3D%3D&utm_source=qr

[auntymurda]

santigold for missbehave magazine. issue #9. / 2008. M.I.A for missbehave magazine. issue #5. / 2007.

[styxxsyringe]

shove it

[aeolianblues]

‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014, ‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014, ‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014, ‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014!

It’s not tumblr-core and it’s not Lana Del Ray or 2013 AM, it’s not #girl interrupted, it’s not Ethel Cain (she literally is an artist of our time, what are you on about.)

It was 2001 with the Strokes on the cover of the NME every 2 weeks, it was cabaret night and English poetry with the Libertines in 2002, it’s those red and blue military jackets, it was the fucking grease in Julian Casablancas’ hair, it’s ’cocaine was the banker’s drug’ quoth Alex Kapranos, it was Don't Go Back To Dalston and the heroin, it was red and black horizontal striped tops and tight black shirts as evening wear, it was Russell Lissak’s mop top and a full page interview with London hairdressers in the NME in 2005, it was Jack and Meg’s saturated red and white dresses, it was glued glitter on the cover of Santigold’s first album, it was the sleaze and the sex of CSS’s music, it was ‘cold light, hot night’, it was the anti-Bush and anti-war stances of the bands at the time, it was America by Razorlight, it was Popworld on telly and Simon Amstel being a little shit to musicians, it was Karen O defying death on stage nightly, it was throwing up in shitty nightclubs on god knows what drugs, it was the fucking danger knowing this could all collapse any second—and rightly, it should. It was the godawful egos at DFA, it was knowing that while you were lucky to be seeing these bands live, you’d fucking hate them if you had to spend even a minute in their individual company. It was Amy Winehouse telling the world to get the fuck out of her business, it was Leslie Feist and Peaches sharing a dilapidated flat above a sex shop in Toronto.

It was horrible camera flash and red-eye editing softwares and putting your feet by the warm, spinning fans of your computer while it whirred away and downloaded your albums in *checks* 46 more minutes. It was horrible, it was dirty, it was gritty, we all hated it and thought the 90s were the last time music was good and that nothing good had happened since 1997. It was garishly bright clothes we were all embarrassed of by 2011, it was multiple layers and leggings and asking your mum to cut the itchy tag on the back of your low rise jeans only for her to snip your back. It was bell bottoms at the start of the decade. It being thankful that by 2017, no one would dream of wearing low rises anymore, please please, please let them never come back.

It was faux nostalgic of the past itself. It was ‘please make sure baby you’ve got some colours in there’ in your clothes. It was moral panic over emos. It was wanting to escape into a better past that you could see was visibly impoverished in the present. It was watching your favourite programmes become less and less relevant on air. It was watching MTV decisively die a horrible death. It was watching important venues and nightclubs get bulldozed. It was watching the last regular broadcast of Top Of The Pops in 2006. It was seeing how the 2009 financial crisis most definitely put a stop to independent music in the western world for a decade, it was watching the rise of bedroom DIY and electronic music. It was seeing the phrase ‘SoundCloud rapper’ being coined. It was the rise of Disney pop. It was counter-culture Justin Bieber hatred. It was the MS paint meme of those tumblr girls thoroughly unimpressed by the guy.

It was not using the words ‘indie sleaze’ at all, in fact. That’s a retconned word. It was garage rock revival. It was ‘post-grunge’. We didn’t care what it was called, we hated it all the same. It was a lead into a decade of despair and nihilism, it was the last hurrah for the music industry before it splintered into a thousand little online ecosystems, it was the last time we had physical community and any shared pop cultural moments. It was Live8 2005. It was the same as it is now, and it was a time that’ll never happen again, for better and for worse.

But one thing is for sure: it was decisively dead by 2014. Santi and Karen O’s 2012 collab was its last hurrah and it was dead by Comedown Machine by the Strokes (2013). It has nothing to do with 2014.

[01-heaven]

album blinkies i made ok