What are my three favorite letters?

That's right, the Oakland homestead is now part of the 21st century. We now plan to take over the world, musically of course.

Let the year-end madness begin. I'll begin posting my Top Ten Records of 2001 on Monday. MP3s will be linked.

NME's list is a complete joke. People think that rag is so hip 'cause it is English, but it's really nothing better than a flashy Rolling Stone without Britney Spears' breasts everywhere. On the other hand, the Best of 2001 list from Canada's Exclaim does a better job.

Went out to the Mallard last night and got my sake craving done and satisfied. Took pictures of the jukebox and the candles on the tables, all red lights flickering everywhere, bouncing from wall to wall.

Got to work this morning and was aghast to find out that I'd left my MiniDisc player at home. Could I make it eight hours without music?

Luckily, I opened a smaller bag within my bigger bag and it was nestled all cozy under a pile of wires. Phew.

I'm craving sake like a madman.

What do you get when you cross a large parking garage with a big sound system and add lots of noise? I don't know either, but I'll find out tonight at the Symballein experiment in Downtown Berkeley. I hope it annoys some Berkeley ladies and makes them scamper away.

"A den of slack."

We tortured ourselves last night with a hurtful duo of early '90s after-college films: Reality Bites and Singles. We made it through the former OK, I resisted the urge to hurl things at Ben Stiller, and we were frightened to find out that someone had actually cast our arch-nemesis Joe Don Baker as Wynona Rider's father. Cameron Crowe's Singles on the other hand proved to be more difficult, even after I polished off a bottle of wine that tasted strangely like rubber. We're going to try and make it though the rest of the film tonight, it was just too much grunge for one evening.

New Review: I go and be nice to Tim Kinsella's new(est) project.

Happy 1-year birthday to Slatch.com

Starting the morning with some oatmeal, feeling like I'm twelve again. Something tells me this week is going to go well.

New review: The Roots of Orchis sound like San Diego, somehow.

Went out for some drinks last night at what I have decided to be my favorite bar in the Mission, had a couple Boont pints and rocked the jukebox thoroughly, although I accidentally put on Stevie Wonder's Village Gheto Land instead of Contusion. I swear, it was purely accidental. The bartender looked at me like I was crazy.

We headed on over to Alameda to check out one of the Beastfest shows at The Minnow. The venue is a complete dive, but marginally better than The Portlite nearby in Oakland. After a bit of hesitation about whether we should go in or not, we decided to watch our old friends Replicator play their set. Holy smokin' Jesus were they good. Definitely in that Shellac/Fugazi style, but very well done, fully rockin', and completely entertaining. Conan Neutron armed with his wireless guitar went full-on Oxes style and ran around the room, proceeded to climb up onto the bar only to be cussed at and chased off by the suburban idiot bartender. Completely awesome. If you like yourself some math rock, listen to the MP3s here.

MP3s of the week: I'll keep it short. Pulp's We Love Life is another strong contender for record of the year, although there *still* is no U.S. release date available. Heavily guitar-oriented, if 1998's This Is Hardcore was their dark-themed gem, We Love Life is their love album. They've left any sense of making dance music and Britpop behind, and have fully embraced making smart, smart rock.

I think All Things Must Pass might be the best rock album of the 1970's, but maybe I'm just saying that.

There's another Dismemberment Plan MP3 over at Desoto Records.