As I write this, as I live and breathe, it's some days after the Seahawks clinched their Super Bowl spot—and motherfuckers are still talking about what Richard Sherman said, and how he said it. That helped make for (what Twitter user @dudmatic called) "the most racist MLK Day since the year before they started celebrating MLK Day." Props go to Sherman for breaking down exactly what the American media and its parade of bloated, bloviating talking heads mean when they use the word "thug." Even worse, by the time you read this, they'll still be talking that shit, unless Canada's sweetheart Justin Bieber takes precedence. Kiev and everywhere else can burn, I guess.
Meanwhile, you can still taste your NYE hangover, but January is about to be over; one down, 11 to go—this is your year, how's things? Friday, January 31, there are a couple shows that fall under this column's purview—first is Seattle's the Nightcappers (featuring former members of Disjointed Isotopes), whose jovial early-'00s throwbackpack vibe is very Puget Sound People Under the Stairs. This night, though, they're teaming up with Gran Rapids' Jay Battle to present Battlecaps at the High Dive. Also rocking: Kublakai, Tricericorn, the Halves Two, and Akrish.
At the Neptune that same night: chillwave maker Washed Out and LA's Kisses perform with Seattle trippy kids Kingdom Crumbs—who next month are writing/recording their next album in the also-chill environs of the Doe Bay Resort.
Queens's number-one 300-pound Albanian/Jewish ginger-bearded gourmet rapper (and real-life ex–New York Mets chef) Action Bronson hits the Neptune on Saturday, February 1. He'll have his guy, producer Party Supplies, with him, so expect a (thankfully) Blue Chips 1 and 2–heavy set from Bronsolino—along with his usual fish tales of flamboyant gymnastic maneuvers (Triple Lindy out the Jeep/Land into a split/Get up into a spin), extreme sexual acts, and extravagant foodstuffs. The massive and massively prolific rapper is unquestionably great in the headphones and out the speakers (no, really, and if you truly think he sounds just like Ghostface, you might not really fuck with Ghost like that), but I can't front—the whole blowup last year of him pouring water on a passed-out person and Instagramming the "Drunk Mexican Tranny" in question (and his subsequent "fuck the haters" non-apology) gave me a strong this-is-a-shitty-person vibe, not at all uncommon with rappers by any means. Still, it was a mile, at least, over the line of hateful rap-guy shit that I can usually stomach as a grown resident of BasedWorld (though it probably contributed to his godsend status among the "real hiphop" kids for whom hateful speech is virtually an unwritten cultural law). The whole thing gave me the white-guy-who-drops-the-N-bomb-among-friends—not necessarily hard R status—vibe that's hard to shake, but I don't know the dude (he is from the extremely diverse Flushing, Queens), or where his head's actually at. So, like Teddy KGB said, "Pay that man his money."
That said, GO HAWKS. We need this. If you're feeling like it's the town's time, you ain't alone.