By Paul Casey
Those who are only familiar with Prince as a traveling hits tour; one who thinks that Biblical coincidence—hello! 3121 perfume—is a guarantee of good business; and who makes deranged cultish put-downs of homosexuality and his old friends may not be aware that he was once something else. Some omni-sexual thing that was an expert in transgressive pop music and performance. Some deviant, perverted thing that ejaculated guitar semen onto his audience. Some ballsy twentysomething who wore black underwear and a trench coat to a Stones concert. Some kind of genius.

Photo © Blonde Peterson
From 1978’s “Soft and Wet,” the only sign of Prince’s genius on his debut For You, sex was the thing. Indeed, even now a decade following the misunderstood Jehovah’s Witness tribute The Rainbow Children, sex is still the thing. While most casual fans of Prince are aware of the mention of used Trojan condoms in “Little Red Corvette”—a song and line which is still performed today—or what “Cream” refers to (also still performed), there is a depth of perversion in his music which passes many by.
Prince’s sexual creativity touches areas which make even his longtime fans uncomfortable, including rape, incest, and turning lesbians straight. It has also turned out some of his greatest songs. This is an introduction to and celebration of that work.
By Emily Carney

It’s no secret that John Cale may have had some slight mental health issues during the mid-1970s. During this period in his esteemed career, Cale was suffering from a nasty cocaine and alcohol addiction. In 1975, he went through a particularly acrimonious divorce from his second wife, ex-GTO Cindy Wells, who infamously slept with dopey ex-Soft Machine singer Kevin Ayers during their tumultuous-at-best marriage.
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By Cait Brennan
In the twenty-first century, commercial endorsements are everywhere. For the right price, for the right product, every indie band would wrestle an angry bear for the chance to front an ad campaign, disregarding what was once the cardinal rule of rock and roll: Doing commercials isn’t cool. Even Hollywood stars know it, which is why in the pre-YouTube era, big shot showbiz weasels would don “Fargo North, Decoder” trench coats, phony accents, and Archie McPhee mustaches and skulk off to Thailand to bank a cool million for appearing in a 30-second carbonated hemorrhoid cream ad, knowing it would never see the light of day on American TV.
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By Aila Slisco
When the often-quoted W.C. Fields famously said “never work with children or animals,” he might have done well to add “or siblings.” Anyone with a sibling knows that there is an often thin line between love and hate when it comes to relations between brothers and sisters. Sibling rivalry has probably been around as long as siblings have, although it rarely reaches the Biblical proportions of Cain murdering Abel. When it happens in pop culture, even comparatively mild disagreements are amplified and the drama is put on display for all to see.
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By Jemiah Jefferson
If only all videos by beloved indie-rock stalwarts could be directed by Portland, OR-based Alicia J. Rose, MTV would never have stopped showing videos.
Reminiscent of the good old days of hilarious mini-movies like “Hot for Teacher,” “Christmas in Hollis,” “Jeopardy,” and any “Weird Al” video ever, Cake’s new track “Mustache Man (Wasted)” features the story of a heavyweight schlub with no luck with the ladies going up against a mysterious stranger with a sex van, bell-bottoms, aviator sunglasses, and luxurious pornstache who effortlessly pulls all the girls (even the ladyboys shopping at Portland mainstay Wig Land). The war escalates to a lighted-floor disco dance-off for the ages.
Chock full of Portland landmarks, amazing Portland women, and vintage fashion, and accompanying a song custom-made for ironically-funky party dancing, “Mustache Man (Wasted)” is a must-see, must-hear.
“Mustache Man (Wasted)” is the latest from Cake’s most recent album, Showroom of Compassion, which is available on iTunes and Amazon.
By Kai Shuart
Kris Korey’s interest in music—and making music—began at an early age; he wrote his first song at age seven. He started playing drums in his high school music class and soon branched out into playing with other local bands, touring around Ontario until 2006. From there, Kris picked up the electric guitar and started writing songs, taking voice lessons, and even recorded some home demos on an 8-track. In 2010, Kris recorded a couple of songs with Canadian producer Chris Perry which he intends to release on a full-length release titled Class Act.
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I love a good soundtrack, even for things I’ve not seen. I love the way that carefully chosen songs can convey a feeling and even a look, and that the use of music in a show or movie can make or destroy a moment.
By Melissa B.
How fortunate the New Orleanians are: Once Christmas and New Year’s are over, they get to move straight into Carnival season. Parades, food, music, revelry, and the finest of these things, I’d wager, is the music.
I’ve often wondered how New Orleans can have so many obscenely talented, homegrown musicians. Is it the food, the humidity, the heritage, the proximity to water? Is there a great funk reservoir that all of the drinking water comes from? Do they put it in babies’ bottles at birth? Whatever causes it, there is a bumper crop of amazing New Orleans music out there and Meet Me At Mardi Gras puts it all in one convenient disc, making a party in your living room, or car, or ears. What have you.

If there’s one good thing that can be said for what turned out to be a furthering of turbulent and dark days the world over, 2011 was at the very least a good year for music. A great year, even.
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By Kai Shuart

In the interest of full journalistic disclosure, I have to say that I know Melody Walker—the artist behind this CD—personally; I had the privilege of playing with her many times when we were both attending Humboldt State University and seeing her talent grow from her early days playing at Muddy Waters. We remain great friends to this day.
However, that does not diminish the fact that this is an outstanding record. The opening title track, “Gold Rush Goddess” intertwines the earthy images of dynamited mountains and the lusty image of a woman dancing for money and melds them into a cohesive allegory for exploitation, as evidenced in the lyric “Come down off that mountain/come down all you men/but don’t you come knockin’ without money in your hand.”
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