The Bran Flakes

Shadow et. al. dig through dusty bins of vinyl in search of rare grooves for source material. The Bran Flakes must raid thrift stores and garage sales in hopes of their source: random grooves. TV shows, instructional recordings, kiddie records, and religious propaganda get all cut up, pasted, and looped into what I imagine could make a damn impressive soundtrack to Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Move over Elfman.

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Epic

On one level, Saskatchewan’s own Epic is the antithesis of every rap stereotype. He’s an aging, vegetarian Newfie with no loot and an arrhythmic drawl that makes him sound more like the next Rappin’ Duke than the next Eminem. On another level, he’s true hip hop. Epic clearly lives to serve sucker MCs, rap what he knows, and make heads nod…he just does it on his own refreshingly unique terms.

(Even more MP3s are available at the Clothes Horse site. But, if you find yourself hitting rewind like I did, do the right thing at Phonographique.)

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Hot Snakes

If per chance Drive Like Jehu changed your life at one point but you let yourself slip back into a rut, a coma, and you’ve been living under a rock (mortgage, marriage, career), snap out of it! Let the Snakes heal you. Or be damned. For the rest of you, start with these and work backwards. There may still be hope for you yet…

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Revolutionary Hydra

Remember the Dutch Elms from a couple weeks ago? Remember I said I didn’t know anything about them, other than their ability to create pure pop? Well, I’ve since discovered the Dutch Elms and the Revolutionary Hydra have something in common: songwriter extraordinaire Jay Chilcote.

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Caribou

Some 3hive history for you: Dan Snaith, a.k.a. Manitoba, was the inaugural posting to this site. Today Snaith announced that he was legally forced to change his nom de plume, hence Manitoba has been reincarnated as Caribou. I was hoping this announcement would coincide with a release date for his new album. No luck. Sounds like he’s only halfway finished. Sigh. Until then…

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Pete Miser

DJ/MC Pete Miser knowingly walks the line between “stoopid” and “stupid” — and would probably even tell you that they’re homonyms, fool, so why even sweat it… “So Sensitive” is the self-effacing, gasp-inducing flip to the new single “Scent of a Robot”; a long-player is around the corner. In the meantime, take in these older cuts so you can witness the man’s range (from bustin’ chops to breakin’ hearts).

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Dosh

This kid that lives seven houses down from me has this dope, super clean Cadillac. One sticker graces its rear window, dead center: Anticon. My neighborhood certainly isn’t a hotbed of fellow fine music admirerers (it’s more prone to Amway-esque consultants), so this discovery was a pleasant surprise. I’ll let him listen to my advance of Pure Trash if he lets me take my lady out in that ride of his.

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Lettuce Prey

Lettuce Prey is Mike Lenert, an obsessive and insanely prolific veteran of underrated pop bands (Caterpillar, Lilys) and a recurring touring band ringer for many more. So prolific is he that his music has been distributed through numerous labels and nearly every medium possible: 7-inch, 12-inch, CD, cassette, and, (lucky for us) MP3. Prolific, of course, could be a nice way of saying not every one of his 400 published songs are all that. But these here jaunts — some tender, some bizarre — split the difference between Robyn Hitchcock and Neutral Milk Hotel, proving what the man’s capable of…

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Daniel Johnston

Where to begin? The liner notes to Johnston’s new retrospective/tribute pin the “Godfather of Lo-Fi” label on him. That’s a start. Name check the tribute and you’ll get a sense of the depth of Daniel Johnston’s influence: Beck, Bright Eyes, Mercury Rev, Sparklehorse, and Tom Waits. He began in the early eighties, committing simple, raw, gorgeous songs to tape (“Put My Love Out The Door”), via handheld recorder. While his production quality has improved over time, it’s never been at the expense of his primary craft, songwriting (George Lucas take note! The new Star Wars movies suck!) Daniel Johnston makes me wanna toss my computer out the window (gasp!) and never use a cell phone again. He’s proof, and hope, that the medium doesn’t have to be the message.

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