I’d seen the name “Muds One” on a growing number of music videos, some with play counts reaching well into the hundreds of thousands, credited with everything from the directing to the filming and the editing. We met in person at a show in LA and I was stoked to learn that he was a regular reader of my blog. We’d since exchanged some tweets discussing nerdy camera shit but I’d most recently seen him in Salt Lake City when I went on the road last month with On A High Note. He asked me to take photos of him and his friend Vile and I immediatel
I was on my back in a hotel room when I got a message from Thesis telling me his crew was dropping an album soon. He asked if he could send it to me beforehand and I didn’t have the heart to tell him how horribly backed up I am with photos to edit and articles I’ve already committed to writing. There’s also the fact that I’m an overly documented fanboy of everything he makes and I’m flattered every time he even partially gives a shit about my opinions, so I thanked him and told him to send it over. The album sat in my inbox for two
Monday night marked the beginning of the 2016 NBA Conference Finals. When the playoffs started back in April, sixteen teams would go to war, but regardless of where your allegiance lies or which city you call home, if you follow the NBA, there’s one team you couldn’t help paying attention to. Whether you admit it or not is a separate issue.
In a lucky last minute turn of events I found myself at the Staples Center for Kobe’s final game. My seats were in the first row of section 306 – the upper level – but considering how th
I get my bad news the same way I imagine most people do. On my back with sleep still in my eyes, my eyelids yearning for one another as they’re forced further and further apart. The alarm on my iPhone sounds off. I reach for it, unconvinced that this isn’t the day I finally smash it or throw it across the room. I turn off the alarm, inhale my first deep breath of the day, and immediately begin thumbing through all the social media notifications that came in through the night. Then comes the aimless scrolling for however long it takes me to snap out o
Nora Martin-Hall is an artist. Like, a real artist. I first discovered her while I was on a stage in LA being distracted by her easel light glowing in the back of the dark room. I had to squint to make out the image on the canvas and, mid-verse, I thought to myself, “is that a big fucking mouth?” It was a big fucking mouth. The person painting the big fucking mouth had thick, flowing hair that was tangled with the cords of her headphones, all of which stuck out from the hood of her sweatshirt. At first glance, Nora looks like the type of person w
Last month I grabbed a camera and hit the road with Stay Illuminated and some friends from On A High Note and The Cloudmakers. We ate BBQ and did some other things.
In closing:If you love meth, consider moving to Salt Lake City. When skating the streets of SLC at 4am, don’t be surprised if the security guards offer to tow you behind their golf cart (probably hoping you give them meth). Here’s a video. Sushi eate
Intuition, who you might know as one of My Favorite Rappers of the Last Decade, rarely plays shows. I always seem to be in another part of the world when he does. So when it was announced that he and Equalibrum would be performing in San Francisco on a weekend I just happened to have free, I knew what I had to do. Mind you, the last time I caught this guy’s live show was at Paid Dues 2011, and he’s since released a slew of material including an official album that’s essentially perfect. Oddly enough, I’d recently gotten the urge to visit San Francisco and had been l
Bonnie Blue is a Hip Hop artist who lives somewhere in Los Angeles. I really don’t know where she’s from originally and that’s kind of tight to me. While many of us would eagerly trade the personal details of our private lives for potential likes and retweets, she chooses to remain something of a mystery, and still manages to be more popular than a lot of us. She performs with a certain confidence that suggests you should already know who she is, and if you don’t, it’s because you’re not paying attention. You should be paying attention.
Johnny Greaseball is a weirdo from Riverside, California, who raps really well. He makes up one half of the The Herbalistics, an Inland Empire based rap group he formed with his friend and fellow rapper MC Lyfe. Together, The Herbalistics have amassed quite an impressive resume, especially considering how little promotion they do; even finding a halfway decent photo of this cat was a pain in the ass. He’s clearly more concerned with ripping mics than he is with taking pretty pictures of himself, something most of us can’t claim, which, in my opinion, basically makes him way co
It’s really hard to sum up a person like Sean “Thesis” Eberhart, so I’m not even going to try. As is stated in his bio section on the Cloudmakers website, “He’s the man and everyone knows that shit.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. I met Sean back in 2009 when his group played after me at a show in Long Beach. I’ve been a blatant fanboy ever since, and I’m not sorry. Most known for his affiliation with a number of renowned rap crews (Cloudmakers, On A High Note, English Class Project), his appearances on The Cypher Effect a