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Morning, folks! Brief roundup this morning—I was up late taking a rare opportunity to watch my Red Sox without having to suffer a trip to Rhino Bar. And I was up even later wondering why they keep giving Steven Tyler the mic for patriotic songs that haven’t been in his vocal range for nearly a decade.
Speaking of aging rockers, Neil Young loves his Webcam! First he records a series of hilarious DIY music videos for his last album (and uses a captured still for the cover), and now he’s Skyping with Jonathan Demme for the amusement of the New Yorker. The novel medium did not debilitate Neil from being characteristically irreverant, spilling haterade on folks who shell out $100 to see him in concert and dare to have a good time:
“Generally we hate the fucking audience. They disturb the whole thing… I remember we did a tour, and they had these cranes out in the audience, flying around, casting cones of light down on the audience, so that everyone in the audience had these halos on their heads. I walked out onstage and said to myself, ‘This is fucked up. I might not even play. This is so wrong.’ All night long I was thinking, Why do I have to see people? I’ve never seen them before. I hate looking at them.”
With the magic of telecommunications, he may never have to again. Skype tour, anyone?
After the jump: Weezy’s christological prison dispatches, and other light blasphemy.

Speakinof artists making novel use of Web-based media, Lil Wayne has started a Web site from prison. Veering from the innocence-advocacy theme of previous prisoner Web sites, Weezy goes the contrition route, writing directly to specific fans who have sent him mail and inviting others to place “the weight of the world” on his shoulders.
Speaking of churchy culture moguls, Macy Halford trots out an open letter Lewis Carroll wrote to children on the occasion of Easter. Halford praises the author for encouraging children to consider their own mortality and the treasures that await them in the Christian afterlife, whereas most people try to distract from the holiday’s macabre origins by obscuring the grim reality of death with pastel and chocolate. Personally, I don’t see the difference.
Speaking of bearded travelers with hordes of pious followers, Fleet Foxes frontman Robin Pecknold played a new song last week! Has a band’s sophomore album ever been so widely anticipated? Based on little but an affection for unjustifiably hyperbolic statements, I submit no!
Guess this wasn’t so brief after all. Happy hunting!

Morning, folks! Brief roundup this morning—I was up late taking a rare opportunity to watch my Red Sox without having to suffer a trip to Rhino Bar. And I was up even later wondering why they keep giving Steven Tyler the mic for patriotic songs that haven’t been in his vocal range for nearly a decade.

Speaking of aging rockers, Neil Young loves his Webcam! First he records a series of hilarious DIY music videos for his last album (and uses a captured still for the cover), and now he’s Skyping with Jonathan Demme for the amusement of the New Yorker. The novel medium did not keep Neil from being characteristically irreverent, spilling haterade on folks who shell out $100 to see him in concert and dare to have a good time:

Generally we hate the fucking audience. They disturb the whole thing… I remember we did a tour, and they had these cranes out in the audience, flying around, casting cones of light down on the audience, so that everyone in the audience had these halos on their heads. I walked out onstage and said to myself, ‘This is fucked up. I might not even play. This is so wrong.’ All night long I was thinking, Why do I have to see people? I’ve never seen them before. I hate looking at them.

With the magic of telecommunications, he may never have to again. Skype tour, anyone?

After the jump: Weezy’s christological prison dispatches and other light blasphemy.

Speaking of artists making novel use of Web-based media, Lil Wayne has started a Web site from prison. Veering from the innocence-advocacy theme of previous prisoner Web sites, Weezy goes the contrition route, writing directly to specific fans who have sent him mail and inviting others to place “the weight of the world” on his shoulders.

Speaking of churchy culture moguls, Macy Halford trots out an open letter Lewis Carroll wrote to children on the occasion of Easter. Halford praises the author for encouraging children to consider their own mortality and the treasures that await them in the Christian afterlife, whereas most people try to distract from the holiday’s macabre origins by obscuring the grim reality of death with pastel and chocolate. Personally, I don’t see the difference.

Speaking of bearded travelers with hordes of pious followers, Fleet Foxes frontman Robin Pecknold played a new song last week! Has a band’s sophomore album ever been so widely anticipated? Based on little but an affection for unjustifiably hyperbolic statements, I submit no!

Guess this wasn’t so brief after all. Happy Monday!