We Like Cats - Proper Eats (Marriage, 2010)

Winter got you down? Need a little pick me up? Maybe some dub music for cats will soothe you. Yes, a record of dub entirely dedicated to and about cats. The most ridiculous part of this is the artists who made it. It's the brainchild of the Kranky Records hazy blazey dance droner Adam Forkner (White Rainbow, All things pizza-related), alongside the lovely Honey Owens (Valet) and Eva Salens (Inca Ore).

I'm not gonna lie...its not good. Generic tape delay, misplaced samples of air horns, random samples of some guy saying "rastafari", and off kilter edits... ok, yeah, its just bad, but guaranteed to make you laugh. With lyrics like "I like cats that can slam dunk" and song titles like "Ruff-a-lution Dub", it's no doubt tongue in cheek. Plus, it bombed.

I applaud you if you can make it through the whole recording. This is not purrfect dub but I enjoy the fact that they got high enough to sit around and jam on this. Then they thought it was an even better idea to let others hear it. Wow.

The Beat Generation Box Set (Rhino, 1992)

I discovered this 18 years ago at 18 years old. The timing couldn't have been better as I was in that phase of all things / words Kerouac, Ginsburg and Burroughs; spending much of my time attempting to memorize long poems and grasping the concept of be bop and cool jazz. If you were ever that silly kid, this comp is for you, a real treasure chest.

"The stars--Kerouac, Ginsberg, and Burroughs--are here, of course. But so are the players (Charles Mingus, Gerry Mulligan), the architects (Kenneth Patchen, Kenneth Rexroth), the cutups (Lenny Bruce, Lord Buckley), the pretenders (Rod McKuen, Edd Byrnes), the critics (Carl Sandburg, Howard K. Smith), and the heirs (Tom Waits)." --Michael Ruby

The accompanying book is just lovely. If you want to sit back, relax and kill some time ,this is a fun way to do it, ya dig?

Get Hip Here

"Welrd Al" Yankovic - Even Worse (Scotti Brothers, 1988)

When masturbating with your own tears was an up and coming thing, this record spun continually on my turntable. Id listen intently, trying to figure out if the lyrics were ironic with a splash of cynicism, or if they were heartfelt, like being around family and shit. I shudder to think if anyone walked in on me, alone, playing this record. My nude body writhing around, clueless as to what these new words truly did spell out to me.

The album opens up, as most do, with an overwhelming sense to continue to understand where and what it is exactly our storyteller wants us to take from our experience. Most journeys start with an urge to find a new place in your own mind, and this record is no exception. I’ve seen the darkest parts of my psyche, and I've spent cold nights alone. My eyes water when I fully accept the emotions of what this record has given me, and the important fact still remains: is there a better record? I try to think of one and I cannot.

Open your heart, and let that shit bleed out. When I listen to this record, I am constantly reminded of the yin and yangs of life, the constant struggle to find oneself in a digital world. I mean, trees and plants don’t deliberately cool you out and get all heavy and beep in your ear. Let us live in the trees, eat the fruits of our labors, and turn this record up to a reasonable listening volume and sew some fucking seeds.

Get Fat Here

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Tony Plichta is a microwaveable nutrition enthusiast, has a masters in bullshit, his relationship with his moms aint so great these days, he exhales into his bass drum, and thinks that these banana nut bread scented candles are off the chain!