In a totally shocking move, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs have decided to record a second album. While they seem to be confident that they can handle the musical side of the project, they're utterly talentless when it comes to designing cover art. Ah, but that's where you come in...

Trying to find that perfect gift for the Deadhead who has it all? Well, it's being auctioned off on eBay in a few weeks. Plus, it'll go great with that plunger that plays "Dark Star" you got 'em last year.

Sarah Silverman's new movie, Jesus Is Magic, opens this Friday. Well, if Jesus is magic, then Philebrity must be a sexy magician's assistant, 'cause they're giving away five pairs of tickets that you can use for almost any showing at the Ritz.

Forget Jesus. If you're trying to win a hockey game, we suggest you have this guy on your bench. Hmm, and he's right wing. Figures.

Dear Arcade Fire,

You're cool. Everybody thinks so. Pitchfork, David Bowie, us, Canada...everybody. Yeah, you're eventually gonna have to put out a second album, but at this particular point in time, you really have nothing prove. So why do you feel the need to get up on stage with the Catorce Crusader and perform yet another version of the new "we're officially hip if we cover it" song of the double-0 decade? It's not that I have anything in particular against Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart". It's a rather nice little ditty. But, to put it succinctly...it's been done. Done by hip indie bands with flourishes of violin. Done by mopey Swedish singer-songwriters. Done by dub. Done to death. I mean, you did the Talking Heads thing, and that was awesome. Made us all feel warm and fuzzy again. Great stuff. So how 'bout you just let this one go, okay? And I promise you that when Pavement covers are all the rage in a few years, I'll be the first one to buy your 7" with the "Range Life" b-side. Cool? Cool.

Keep it real,
Philabuster

Mondays after a long weekend of turkey and shopping are even more difficult than your typical Monday. So, to ease you back into the grind (and I don't mean the fun, scantily clad MTV kind) here's some brand new, oh-so-freshly-leaked material off Rabbit Fur Coat, the debut solo album from Rilo Kiley frontwoman and Nintendo groupie Jenny Lewis. For a third track, featuring Conor Oberst, M. Ward, and Ben Gibbard (what, was Colin Meloy too busy buying a new accordian?), click this here linkamajiggy.

Have you completely recovered from your tryptophan lying media-induced coma yet? Well, then get your ass to the mall, suckas. Today marks the start of what is traditionally the busiest shopping weekend of the year and the opening salvo of the entire holiday shopping season. Retailers have even given today a special name: Black Friday. It's like a holiday for souless multi-billion dollar corprorations. Anyway, when you're out there in the throng today, remember not to put too much pressure on yourself to find the perfect gift for everybody. After all, one of the most cherished parts of the gift-giving tradition is the return and exchange process, or, as I like to call it, "gift remixing". It's just like when Yeah Yeah Yeahs gave us all this great rock song a few year's ago. The Faint said, "gee thanks, it's awesome, it really is...but we were hoping for something a little bit, ya know, more dancy." Well, they worked their remixing magic, and now I have an awesome track to include in my New Year's Eve party dj set. Which really brings home the most important point here: It's all about me. Me, me, me. Freakout with me, 'Stampers, and try not to get run over in the mall parking lot.

What is Philabuster thankful for this holiday season? I'll tell ya.

I'm thankful for photo collages of my future wife and baby-momma, Leslie Feist.

I'm thankful that The Man who did this will be wearing a Red Sox uniform next season.

I'm thankful for Herby McHerberson's blog hiatus. Feel free to take even more time off, bud. Like, a couple years maybe?

I'm thankful I'm not this guy.

Finally, I'm truly and immeasurably thankful for fantastic bands like Hot Chip that make a habit of creating some absolutely breathtaking music which, simply put, makes my life fuller and more enjoyable. This soulful, bittersweet track from their forthcoming sophomore LP is as close to perfect as songs come these days. Sorry to get all Jeff-ed out like this, but I just really really really love this band. Thanks, Hot Chip.

A few days ago, while I and several friends were recovering from watching the Philadelphia Eagles season collapse like so many 300lb men on a Michael McMahon fumble, a spat of channel surfing brought us briefly to rest on a movie channel showing James Cameron's 1997 blockbuster "Titanic". While I was aware of the unique nature of film's appeal when it came out, particularly for teenage girls, I was admittedy surprised and disappointed when it was reported just how many of these girls were going to see the film several, or even dozens of times. It's been one of those things that's always kept me healthily skeptical of the human species' ultimate intelligence ("yeah, you'd think people would be smart enough not to do x, but don't forget, a bunch of 'em went to see Titianic 7 times..."). At this moment, however, one of my friends commented how grateful she had been for the lengthy film, since it served as a convenient alibi for her and her friends to stay out past curfew on too many nights to remember. "Oh yeah, whenever we wanted to stay out, it was always "ok mom, we're goin' to Titanic!"" This revalation, that the film's reputation for re-watchability could in fact be simply a grand lie perpetrated by the rebelious youth of America for the sake of their own late-night freedom, has gone a surprisingly large way towards restoring my faith in humanity. Because, as the Blondie-cribbing Havana Guns will tell you, no matter how many times you see the film, it always ends the same way.

As the holidays approach, music journalists, critics and even some bloggers begin to set themselves to that most contentious and nerve-racking of self-imposed tasks: the year-end list. Who winds up in the number one spot? Or, perhaps an even trickier question, who takes the tenth (the bottom position on these lists is always something of Statement Slot for the truly self-involved list maker). While we here at the 'Stamps hardly kill ourselves over this sort of stuff, thoughts of a list-ish nature do naturally cross our mind once in a while, and we'll be sure to let you know what comes of 'em as these final weeks of 2005 wind down. But for now, instead of getting prematurely nostalgic for a year that isn't even over yet, why not reminisce about a simpler, more innocent time. Click on the navy blue radioblog and take a playlist-long look back at some of my favorite cuts from 2004, a fine collection that should help set some standards by which to judge this year's new crop o' tunes.

When the Attention Grab and Belly Slap just aren't getting the job done, what's a resourceful CIA antagonist to do? Dig through his Eminem collection, of course.

David Bowie will be starring as Serbian-American inventor Nikola Tesla in a new movie about two competing magicians. No word yet on whether members of Arcade Fire will accept roles as eccentric turn-of-the-century indie rock band "The Rotating Magnetic Fields".

I'm sending my Elkland CD back to Sony BMG for a free replacement, but not before I go totally apeshit about it in the Amazon comments section.

Kanye West doesn't care about...loves...is(...?) gay people.

Tickets are still available for Lady Sovereign's Philly stop at Silk City, Thursday 12/1. Her American debut EP, Vertically Challenged, hit stores last week.

We all know who the real heroes are in this wild n' wooly modern world. The clock makers. Their feats of mechanical engineering ensure that you and I wake up on time, know how long we can hold our breath, and generally have something to stare at when life is less than thrilling. Sure, the clock makers are watching out for us...but who's watching out for the clock makers? I'll tell ya who. My boy E. Eligius, that is. Ever since he was first ordained in 640, this patron saint of the mechanically-inclined has been making time for those who make time. Does this mean he's also the patron saint of cocainesexjams and partytrainanthems? We sure hope so, since we want tomorrow night's Making Time (the last one of 2005!) to be out of control in a way that only some straight-up medieval flava could bring about. The party already features a midnight set by Sweden's Love Is All, the latest hot-shit import signed to What's Your Rupture, as well as free Sparks and PBR from 9-11. That's free booze AND Swedes, people. So prepare for some major Saturday bedlam with this double-dose of label love. The Swedes will definitely be including this sax-riddled scorcher in their performance, and the female Franz vibe of Rupture bedfellows The Long Blondes would go a long way towards warming up the audience beforehand. You hear that, Dave P? The Friday Freakout just put you on notice.

Update: Win tickets to Making Time and a copy of Love Is All's debut album, just by sending an e-mail to Philebrity. Does it get any easier?

BadmintonStamps would like to give major e-props to Philly band The Capitol Years for going where we previosuly thought only we had the time or energy to go before, writing an answer track to an insulting e-mail. Talk about having your own words used against you. Instead of dropping new verses, these guys took the shit which spewed out of some hater's keyboard, sliced it up, sqeezed it dry, and made one big jug of shit lemonade. And not only are they representin' themselves in a fine way with this song, but pretty much the whole of Philly's media community. We don't know who you are, Mr. Nom D. Plume, and frankly, we don't care, at least not for now. You've proven that you're smart enough to keep BadmintonStamps' name outcha mouth, so we're gonna let this one slide. But any more pot shots at our boys D-Mac or the Sweenster, and we ain't gonna be able to look the other way. Don't make us go all Baum on your ass. 'Cause we will, just as soon as we finish listening to this mellow gem of a retort one more time. You can download Capitol Years' "Mirage People" for free over at P-to-the-Hilebrity right now.

As Cheech & Chong can tell you, the grass is always greener on the other side. These two were responsible for one of the most succesful movie franchises of the 70s, but all they really wanted was to be rock stars, a dream that culminated in "Basketball Jones", the song which AllMusic Guide calls the pair's most memorable and hilarious. ESPN.com columnist Paul Shirley actually played professional basketball for eleven seasons, but after watching 'Stamps super-crush Amanda Tannen on stage, all he really wants is a job as Stellastarr*'s bass guitar tech. Well, go cry Doron Taussig a river, Paul. All this CP staffer dreamed of as a child was a shot at round ball's main event. A chance to find out, once and for all, how good he really was. Fortunately, DT's grown up and snagged himself a press pass, and when you have one of those, you can wave it around like a magic wand and SHAAZZAAMM, all sorts of crazy shit happens. Like getting schooled by a bunch of 16-year olds. And beating an actual Philadelphia 76er in a game of H-O-R-S-E. We kid you not. Do you realize that the chances of a City Paper reporter beating a pro basketball player in any sort of basketball-oriented competition are about as high as a music blogger's chances with Amanda Tannen? 'Cause we sure do. That's why our e-hat's off to you, Mr. T. Rule #1 here at the 'Stamps is go all out, every time. That means blog like a rock star, and play like a playa. No doubt, this man understands the rules.

LCD Soundsystem is back to finish what they started at July's Making Time. They'll be lighting up The Trocadero tonight with dancing partners The Juan Maclean. 7 PM, $17 at the door.

World Leader Pretend will bring their R.E.M. fetish and their debut album Punches to glorious life upstairs at WXPN Thursday night. The show kicks off at 11 PM and is totally 100% free.

The Spinto Band will be all up in the North Star's grille on Friday, and you can peep the action for a paltry $8! Girls named Mandy or Stacy get in free!! Sears catalogues for everybody!!!

Gary Higgins, accompanied by his guitar and his beard, will be takin' you for a trip at The Khyber this Saturday, so buckle up your hemp belt, you dirty fuckin' hippies.

While SkinnySlim and I are fortunate to have the kind of laid-back, friendly working relationship that's all sunshine and mp3s, today's hard-hitting piece of Netscape journalism reminds us that other people aren't always so lucky. Laura Morsch of CareerBuilder.com lays out her list of annoying co-worker types, instructing readers on how to identify exactly which categories your own office mates fall into, as well as some tips on how to politely and appropriately tell the bithces to step off. We've got all the usual suspects here: The Shirker (unreliable and evasive), The Competitor (turns everything into a contest), The Critic (voiced by Jon Lovitz). Still, this list seems woefully inadequate. What about all those other annoying co-worker characters that grace our job sites and cubicles? What about The Lesbian Couple? The Coffe Pot Urinator? The Indie Yuppie? Seems to me like Miss Morsch should step outside her sheltered little world of job advice columns, listen to some of The Contantines' blue-collar guitar rock, and check out who the rest of America is really punching in with every morning.

"With the action fast and furious on the field, it can be easy to miss the beautiful women who do their jobs off the field."

I've been deciding between nearly a dozen potential zingers, involving various levels of sarcasm, snark, hyperbole, and perhaps even a Banana Joe's reference, to address the above statement. At the end of the day, however, I think old-fashioned incredulity is the most appropriate tone, in so far as, to the best of my knowledge, it is not at all easy to miss the beautiful women. It is quite easy, on the other hand, to download this infamous number from The Cars and listen it while you check out these photos in slide show mode. Note to self: spend less time reading Netscape and more time watching the Denver Broncos.

Okay, somebody's got a crazy-go-nuts weekend ahead of them, and that somebody is me. Last night's City Paper party was as excellent a kick-off event as you could hope for, what with the alcohol and the stapling and the unbelievable little chocolate fudge dessert thingies from Serrano. Now I've got two more days of very intense, rock-star level partying with friends from out of town, and have a gajillion things to try and get done, all while I work off this class-A hangover. So I'm gonna dispense with the bells and whistles this week, and just tell you up front that there this game, called Kitty Cannon, which involves no skill and provides a virtually inexhaustable amount of entertainment, which you should go and play for, like, seven hours starting right now. Remember, you're going for distance. As you play, I suggest rocking out to this hip-shaker from Tom Vek, who put on a spectacular show at the Khyber last Friday. Think James Murphy, but the singing-to-talking ratio is a little more balanced. Kind of like the kitty-to-dynamite ratio in that game.

I don't care how much a bunch of stand-up comics on VH1 try to romanticize The Electric Company, or that the show had an oscar-winning actor in the cast. Let's be real here. The youth of America has always gone to one source and one source only for their important lessons on the letters of the alphabet, counting to twenty, sharing and caring, and the HIV virus, and that's Sesame Street. The PBS institution debuted on this day in 1969, and has been going strong for 35 years. In a true mark of genius, the show has maintained its commitment to the preschool demographic while simultaneously growing with its previous generations of viewers through the incorporation of pop icons and scorchingly hot women as guest stars. After his public reconciliation with Jay-Z last week, it's pretty obvious that NaS learned a thing or two from the show about forgiving. Could a cameo, or even a performance, be in the cards for this self-proclaimed Disciple of the Street? Here's hoping PBS makes it happen sometime in the show's second 35 years.

Also, congrats to Maria Marchisello. Put on your fancy pants (or your boozin' pants, if you prefer). You and a friend are officially VIPs at tonights CP Choice Award winner's reception. Enjoy yoursleves, and be sure to keep it real like a good 'Stamper should.

This Thursday night, the choice-iest shindig in town is the official City Paper Choice Awards after-party at the Trocadero. As you may recall, the 'Stamps boys took home some major CP honors, and we're as excited to celebrate our own excellence as we are to hob-knob with some of the other "Bests" who will surely be in attendance. What's more, since we're winners, we've got passes to the super-exclusive, invite-only VIP reception from 7-9PM, which features a free open bar, food, and circus freaks. But something just doesn't feel right. We won this award for our mad crazy hip-hop style, yet we've got no entourage for the party. That ain't very street. We need a posse to help us represent, 'Stampers, and we're lookin' at you. Wanna get in on all the non-stop VIP acksheeown? Send an email with the subject: CRASHIN' WIT DA 'STAMPS to contest@badmintonstamps.com right now. At noon on Thursday, we'll pick one e-mail at random, and if it's yours, you and a friend are totally gettin' on a guest list where you totally don't belong. We'll make sure of it. And if you're not the lucky e-mailer, please take comfort in this bouncy little grin-and-bear-it number from Orange Juice.

On a scale of 1 - 14, 1 being the lowest degree of likelihood and 14 being absolute metaphysical certitude, what are the odds that The Knack play "My Sharona" during their set tonight at the WXPN World Cafe? We're sayin' 15.

The Arcade Fire go busking in Union Square at 2AM. Ya know, just 'cause they can. Somebody also caught it on video.

Oh yeah, and the SEPTA strike's over. Still, you just know The Gov had to be pissed off about missing his face time on Eagles Post-Game Live.

I think we can all agree that charity is awesome, and that riots are supremely entertaining. But it's nigh unto impossible to succesfully combine charity and riots into a single evening's agenda, right? Ah, but it's to take on tasks of this seemingly insurmountable magnitude that the University of Pennsylvania recruits the nation's best and brightest. And so it came to pass last night that, by applying all their finely honed Management 100 know-how, the students of Penn managed to incite, and then get their asses beat down in, what will surely be remembered as the greatest, if not the only, riot ever at the WXPN World Cafe. Some will blame the violence on rock music. Others will blame muppets. Just for kicks, we're gonna blame SEPTA. But culpability isn't the real issue here. What's important is that every penny raised went towards fighting domestic violence. Congratulations to the sisters of Alpha Chi Omega for throwing the most financially succesful civil disturbance since The Libertines sold out and then destroyed The Underground last year.

Jack White wants to buy the world a Coke the world to buy a Coke.

Dr. Dog answers both "How does sandpaper feel?" and "What label handles your international distribution?" with pun-laden "Ruff!".

John Mayer expresses his desire to make the whitest music ever. Yeah, even whiter than this.

The Sun are doing opening duties tonight at the TLA. We love this band. Win a free pair tickets to the show right now at Philebrity. Swedish popsters Shout Out Louds are the headliners.

We're number one. All the honeys know it. Buzz over the global phenomenon that is BadmintonStamps has been spreading across the interweb faster than pop-up ads. But today, we break new ground, stickin' our 'Stampy noses where many were quite certain they didn't belong: into an Old Media, ink-on-your-fingers, honest-to-goodness newspaper. Philadelphia's own City Paper has awarded our scorching hot "Central Village Idiot" the honor of Best Blog Diss Track in their 2005 City Paper Choice Awards. We humbly, but very deservedly, accept. For readers in the Deleware Valley region, we urge you to go out and find a copy of the publication as a keepsake ('Slim and I will be happy to autograph it for you). Non-locals can read the Paper's praise by scrolling just a shade more than half-way down this page. And of course, if you still haven't heard our controversial, universally acclaimed slice of rippity-rap, then take a deep breath and get in on the blogosphere's biggest joke by clicking here right now. Meanwhile, here's another bunch of cool guys takin' a dip in the hip-hop pool and comin' out on top.

The video for chapters 6 through 8 of R Kelly's R&B opus "Trapped in the Closet" will air tonight on VH1 at 11PM. 'Stamps suggests reviewing the previous installments' plot twists beforehand.

Gorillaz kicked off a five-night residency of live shows at Manchester last night, playing new album Demon Days in its entirety along with a bevy of special guests. No Dennis Hopper on night #1, but since his last memorable role was a voice-over on a video game, we're guessing he'll be able to set aside time one of these nights.

Dasun Allah, editor-in-chief of The Source Magazine, already had his hands full dealing with the publication's financial crisis. Now, on top of that, he gets rung up for tagging religious property. Can I getta witness???

Okkervil River will be hitting New York and Philly next weekend, and they've decided to run the shows TRL-style. Quick, somebody write in and request "Freebird"!

Okay, so we're a little confused as to exactly how to respond to this one. I mean, the 'Stamps is always happy to jump in on some ol' fashioned Kanye hatin' whenever the opportunity presents itself. But what are we supposed to make of these comments from 50 Cent, denouncing Kanye's controversial televised statements about the President back in September. Does this mean Curtis Jackson is a rapper, an actor, AND a republican? And can the 'Stamps boys really applaud him for beefin' with Kanye when the last giant sucking sound we remember hearing was Fiddy's latest album, aka Hurricane Olivia? We'll take a pass on this one. Now, can some talented rapper please say something that makes the slightest bit of sense?
(Thanks to long-time 'Stamper The Consiglierie for the tip)