DJ QBert’s got them Good Vibes…

I got off my ass finally and hot damn did Gorilla and I do some hard as fuck hob-knobbin last night! We started at the Andrew Weiss Gallery in Beverly Hills Californ-I.A., the same shit that they talk about on TV, yep… Here Gorilla and I rubbed elbows with some fancy art and music types, as we took in the exhibit “Come Together,” which featured all sorts of good musicians and artists. There was some cool graffiti type shit, there was some cool shit where they put LED lights on drumsticks and took frame by frame shots of the drummer from guns and roses (ed. note: whose name is escaping me but I know it’s not crackhead Steven Adler) playing the drums, there was some cool photo type shit, and then all of this amongst the rest of the gallery which is like, Dali, Picaso, all sorts a shit that you shouldn’t set your drinks down next to (ed. note: or hang your shirt on, Gorilla).

This place was rampant with hip-hop mah’fuckas, and the thing is I ain’t really know who was who. Well, that is to say, I knew who Chuck D (ed. note: In a fuckin ACDC shirt!) was, and who Chali 2NA was, and peoples with me knew who QBert was, but the rest of’em I ain’t really know. There was one dude with a long ass braided goatee, and I’m like “I know I’ve seen dude somewhere before,” and then funniest thing, while dude and I are hovering over the one fan in the room (ed. note: because it was hot as balls and I had serious swainus issues) he goes “yo I know you right?” and I’m all like “maybe,” and then we get to talking, and he definitely doesn’t know me. I knew the fucking braided goatee for sure though, I mean, it’s a fuckin’ serious braided goatee, like, he takes care of that shit like an old Chinese dude handles a bonsai. Anyways, he turned out to be that dude Shavo, from System of a Down (ed. note: yeah bra, fuckin’ systeeeeeeem)! We shot the shit for a minute before he dropped that, and I pieced it together. He ain’t talk about his old shit because he was real excited about two new babies in his life. One is a real baby, that you like, fuck to make. The other is a new music baby that he’s spittin’ out with The RZA, called Achozen. It’s pretty bad-ass. It’s not technically, “new, new,” because they’ve been fuckin’ with it since 2006, but now they’re releasing some tracks and he says he and RZA are finally finding some time to get in the studio and hash out an album. Apparently they live next door to each other and are best friends. I’m sure they have some lovely couples nights.

Not everybody there had recognizable goatees, so for all the other dudes, specifically all of the other black dudes, I had an accomplice go up to them and ask who’da’fuck’is’you?” By the end of the shindig Gorilla and I were basically in the Wu-Tang Clan.

Alas, that end came as a result a mother-fuckin’ Andrew Weiss’ fancy ass runnin’ out of glasses for the Champagne. They switched to plastic cups. I don’t know who the fuck they thought we were, but Gorilla-face and I don’t fuck with plastic cups when it comes to our bubbly. Fucking Crystal in crystal bitch. So we fist pounded the mah’fucka’s we needed a fist pound, and we was out.

Next stop, Freak City. Scratch that, next stop was finding somewhere in Hollywood to take a friggin’ piss. Stupid ass neighborhood and it’s stupid-ass stupid-assness. Finally got my iss out in a fuckin user-friendly stall that some dude had just unloaded in. I didn’t even give a fuck bout the smell, the iss was phenomenal. Ok, moving on…

Next stop, Freak City. Now, I’ve lived in Hells Kitchen, NY, Asheville, NC, and Venice, CA… Google those cities and then put a comma and then type “freaks,” I promise plenty of shit will come up for all of them. Which is to say that I am no stranger to seeing motherfuckers who have nothing better to do than make themselves look absurdly ridiculous as a result of their pension for hoovering that good shit (ed. note: er, bad shit if you’re a child reading this). That is to say, that I never get tired of staring in humored awe of them.

This spot, Freak City LA, it’s like a store by day, where they sell overpriced clothes and random crap. Then at night it turns into like an anything goes situation. It’s run by a dude named Rick Ross (ed. note: yeah, no, not that one, I fuckin’ wish), he’s like, I don’t even know man, he’s got his situation goin’ on there, and I’m not even tryin’ to question it. I got respect for dudes who’ve got a situation goin’ on like this dude. I mean, anything goes. It’s three levels of loft space, graffiti and rando shit everywhere. It’s very user friendly, and of course, scattered amongst the I dunno, I’m guessing 18-23 year old scenester-ass-chicken’heads there were a slew of freakish lookin’ mahfuckers all there to display the ferocity with which they hate their parents.

There were for sure some “ones” running around, but even they all looked like they fuckin’ had a vendetta against moms and pops. Which is fine, I’ve come to the realization that the world needs chicks who hate their parents (ed. note: insert joke about this is how I get bitches to sleep with me)(ed. note: insert joke here about how I love fuckin’ Jesus, and I wouldn’t fuck nothin’ without a ring).

Travis Keller, AKA Buddy Head was there dj’ing. Him and I were due to meet up a month or two ago, but that was the same night that I confused the Silver Lake Lounge with the Echo, because I was in the sort of state of mind that might lead a asshole to be a bit confus-ed. So anyways, met dude last night, good shit, we’re gonna figure out a way to get Miracle Records and Buddy Head artists in the Van. Or just a way to get drunk. One or the other, some shit will happen.

So having made my rounds at Freak City. Surveyed the grounds that we’ll be filming at come September 24. Acquainted myself with the local caretakers, Antoine, Phade, the aformentioned Rick Ross, some tweeked out looking gangly dude at the door, a chick dressed in leathers who claimed to not work there but yelled at kids for going up to the third floor because she said she liked to be a bitch for free, you know the “operations” team over at Freak City. Ricky Rozzay runs a tight ship, and again, the bathrooms and basically every room is user friendly. They have a basketball hoop over the stage and a ball rolling around in the crowd. I asked Antoine (ed. note: before I knew he was Antoine) if I hit like a 40 ft. shot, like actually hit it (ed. note: I would have) would he kick me out? He said yes, but I’m pretty sure next time I go back he’ll change his story.

This is all to say, that if you are in the Los Angeles area and this anything goes situation sounds good to you, well by all means, come by on the 24th for the Tom Tom party. Say hi to the Jam Van, we’ll have bands in and out all day long in the back alley. I’ll be hangin’ with crafts services in the sandbox, it should be a good time.

I don’t recall what time that we split from there, I was a little bit sobered up, but pushed on all the same. Chali 2Na told us to come by and check his new shit out. They’re called the House of Vibe All Stars. Their gig was at Harvelles in Santa Monica, they play there every Wednesday, and let me tell you assbags, that this shit was legit. I counted like 10 musicians and as many different instruments in that lineup. Oh, and of course the one and only Mr. 2Na on stage with a cast of other rhymsayers, you can look at ‘em all right here… It was an impressive cast of cats, and they blew the spot up, especially the little Jewey looking dude who came up there and gave hit his damndest, he was legit.

If you’ve never been to Harvelle’s, check it out. It’s a dope spot, with the one issue being that it’s very tight quarters. So if you see a good show like this one was, then you’re dealing with a bunch of sweaty chachskys rubbin’ up on you telling you “these are fuckin’ legends man!” and a bunch of dudes who ain’t hittin’ it right, grindin’ on what they ain’t hittin’ right all up next to you. However, if the band is solid, which this one was, you can suck it up, because it’s bad-ass to be that close to Charlie 2Na when he’s all smiles and rhymes on stage.

We shot the shit with him for a while, he’s a legit genuinely nice fellow. I passed the fuck out after that. Woke up ten minutes before street cleaning would have ticketed my ass. Suck me City of LA, point for this guy!

Enjoy the images of our Gorilla, and our editing genius Adam… However, don’t enjoy them too much… Well, I guess you can enjoy them however you like.

Track for the Day: “On the Mountain” by Drug Cabin, off of their debut album.

Links for the Day:

Some southern, twangy shit... (via Band Soup)

“Early RZA vibes” (via The Fader)

This is a song about what Notre Dame heard last weekend (via Paste)

Jr. Jr. Jr. Jr. Junior… (via Stereogum)

Lord I bet this sucked so hard, but was somehow simultaneously so awesome… (via Stereogum)

Looks militant I dig that. (via Prefix)

Housed… (via Spinner)

Whatever, I still say fuck these dudes they suck… (via Pitchfork)

Fuckin dopeheads...(via the Fader)

Fela soul… Which is to say, my buddy Ian once passed me this guy’s cd a while back, and it was all ethnic and shit, and although I don’t dig on that tooooo hard, I did dig on it kinda a little, a smidge, which is to say, this is fucking tight….