Amoeblog

Back From NYC DJ'ing Successful "Prince Michael Experience" Party, San Francisco's Dave Paul Spins at "That 80's Show" at Madrone in SF Tonight

Posted by Billyjam, February 17, 2012 10:05am | Post a Comment

Fresh back from a sell-out night at the cavernous Brooklyn Bowl last weekend in NYC with his ever-popular traveling Prince Michael Experience party, San Francisco's Dave Paul is back on his home-ground tonight when, along with his longtime party DJ partner Jeff Harris, will pack the dancefloor at the Madrone Art Bar on Divisidaro with their other long running, retro dance party That 80's Show. Last Friday night in New York, I attended Paul's wildly fun Prince/Michael Jackson themed party which packed in about a 1000 happy party people at the Brooklyn Bowl where folks were lined round the block in the rain waiting to get in (some were turned away) - most impressive considering that was only the second time he had taken this party to New York City, and on a weekend night! I took some photos including one above of Paul deep in the mix as a dancing Michael Jackson impersonator (one of a few of the night) worked the crowd. Last night I caught up with both Paul and Harris to ask them about their popular dance parties and to list their top five or top ten dancefloor favorites for tonight's That 80's Show party - a refreshing mix that runs the gamut of disco, new wave, rock, club, and r'n'b.

Dave Paul's Crowd Favorite That 80's Show Dancefloor Bangers

1) Run DMC "It's Tricky" (1986)

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(Wherein Spring Fever takes over the jukebox.)

Posted by Job O Brother, March 28, 2011 04:25pm | Post a Comment

Well my little dreamlets, we’re ten days into Spring, and it’s already clear to me what music is going to carry me through into Summer – it’s all about synthetics. Synthpop, that is, of the late 70’s and early 80’s variety.

This amuses me, because for much of my life I detested a lot of the music I’m going to celebrate here. A lot of the hatred stemmed from being so unhappy in the 1980’s; by association, the music “sounded” like unhappiness. Think of it this way: When was the last time you were taking a shower and felt like listening to the soundtrack to Psycho? Exactly.

Some say that synthpop began when Giorgio Moroder teamed up with Donna Summer and created the hit single "I Feel Love." Calling this the “start” of synthpop is convenient, but an over-simplification, because so much came before that informed it. What can be said is that the song was influential, both in terms of inspiring artists who would go on to develop the synthpop genre, and give mainstream audiences a taste for it.

What follows are some synthpop songs that bring me joy. Many can be claimed by other sub-genres of music, but they're all related. Some are guilty pleasures – the sonic equivalent to a Snickers bar, in that they are bad for me, but make me feel great for the duration I’m imbibing – and others I stand by as solid accomplishments. I’m also putting a spell on them: listening to these songs will make you feel a little ticklish in the deepest part of your brain, which will result in your not hating your fellow man as much (even though they totally deserve your hate). Enjoy!

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SOUNDTRACK SERIES #4

Posted by Job O Brother, March 28, 2010 04:44pm | Post a Comment
Directions: Imagine Mr. Brother living another day, as always, with music playing. Whether it’s one of his trusty iPods, or his home stereo, or working the soundtracks section of Amoeba Music Hollywood, Mr. Brother is eating, sonically, with the mouths of his ears.

To simulate this experience, as you read the below story of a day lived, you will be given certain music clips to play. These are inserted to provide you with the same tunes Job was hearing as he was doing what you’ll be reading.

For example, while he was writing the above directions, he was listening to this:


The other day… no, not that day – the other day… yeah, that one… I was painting my collection of pigments, when a car drove past, blaring its music so loud that it felt like an earthquake. But, y’know, an earthquake that could keep a beat.


I’m all for losing one’s self in music, but I do think it’s tacky to blast your car stereo so loud that anyone within an area code can hear it. I’m not talking about regular loud – I’m talking about these people who have pimped out their auto’s sound system specifically so that they can impose their roving, one-man rave on a neighborhood at a time. What if someone’s trying to sleep? What if someone’s trying to record music? What if someone’s being held hostage by a crazy person who’s got a sword pressed to their throat and is screaming:

(In which Job & Corey celebrate #3.)

Posted by Job O Brother, January 11, 2010 12:38pm | Post a Comment
Reading sentences is weird, isn’t it? Just the way you’re sitting at your computer right now, scanning these lines of organized scribbles and, as a result, you’re hearing these words in your head – words that I typed on my computer sometime in your past.

All of which is pretty intimate, don’t you think? I mean, you’re trusting me enough to allow whatever I decided to write to enter into your consciousness via language, not necessarily knowing what I’m going to type. I mean, what if I wrote this sentence:

We oftentimes remove the hamster’s eyes and replace them with fresh-churned butter, which allows them to see less and makes their faces smell vaguely of movie theatre concession stands.
First of all, there’s a lot of things about that sentence that're willyish, and what if you’re not in the mood to deal with it? But now you’ve read it and there’s no going back. It’s recorded in your mind forever. Even if you someday forget it (which is almost certainly advisable), it will be catalogued somewhere, there in the delicious depths of your awesome brain.
Anyway, the boyfriend and I just celebrated our third anniversary yesterday. It was swell! The cat and I allowed him to sleep-in until noon, while we spent time organizing my music library and watching birds be weird.


The boyfriend is, I think, deeply troubled by my hobby of collecting music. When I enthusiastically talk about it, I can tell there’s a part of him that’s waiting for my cataloguing of Les Baxter’s compositions to result in my forgetting to eat, for my delight in finding some obscure theatre company’s recording of The Rocky Horror Show to degrade into a lack of personal hygiene, or for my diligent organization of Hüsker Dü tracks into thematic playlists to send me on a downward spiral that will end in my writing a final, frantic Amoeblog post, donning my treasured hoodie, and locking myself into our parking garage for an Anne Sexton-style road trip to oblivion. (Which would sooo never happen. Sylvia Plath all the way! That way, as I slowly succumbed to death from poisoning, I’d be able to enjoy the scent of fresh-baked cookies! Yay!!!)

Suicide is better with a warm batch of Toll House. It just is.



The boyfriend and I celebrated our anniversary by driving around Los Angeles looking for a comfy chair for him. I have decided that he needs a nook – a place in our home that is intended for him to nestle, to cuddle with a book or diary for long hours, or to nap in after a hearty meal of Rôties au jus de cuisson et la sauce à la menthe compliquée moelle stupide lapin.

Ironically, as we drove around looking for the chair, he enjoyed listening to some of the playlists he worries about me making. In particular, a sort-of New Wave playlist which features things like:












…All of which sounds right well when roving for recliners. And we found one! An immense, white chair – roughly the size of my last apartment – and upholstered in recycled, Italian leather. It’s certain to be the cat’s new, favorite chew-toy.

Later in the evening, the boyfriend and I cuddled and watched an animation double feature: 9, directed by Shane Acker, and Fantastic Mr. Fox, directed by Wes Anderson.

My Ma taught me that if I didn’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all, so let me say how much I loved Fantastic Mr. Fox, and leave it at that. (Come to think of it, my Ma also taught me that if you see a summer’s rainbow while you’re walking on grass it means your baby will be born with freckles, but if it’s autumn, your baby will be born with a snaggletooth and desire to overthrow the government in lieu of a militarized ochlocracy – which may be why I never make babies or go outside in November.)


My new, celebrity crush

Incidentally, Fantastic Mr. Fox has not yet been released on DVD. The boyfriend and I were able to watch it in the comfort of our own home because… um… we have… we know this guy who… err… because sometimes there’s things that happen and as a result there’s stuff, okay? But when it is available on DVD and Blu-ray, Amoeba Music will have it and, if you haven’t yet seen it, do, because it’s almost as delightful as the look in your eyes when you’re licking butter from a hamster’s skull.

I’m really sorry I wrote that. Obviously I can’t be trusted with these sentences. I’ll stop soon.

It was a romantic day for me and my boyfriend. I’ll end this blog with a recording of “our” song, Cole Porter’s ballad, Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye, as performed by Nina Simone.

Goodbye!