“Yo, we’re going to have to push that time back an hour,” said a deep voice that reminded me of what Suge Knight would sound like if he ever stopped scowling and actually spoke.

“Okay,” I said quickly, still excited for the opportunity. “So, does that mean an hour from right now because I think we were supposed to do this an hour ago.”

“Huh?” he paused. I felt I’d made a wrong move, so I hushed up. “Wait. You out in Cali?”

Before I had a chance to answer, he said, “Kellz runs on Mountain Time,” like it was common knowledge.

“Sounds good. Do you think he’s going to be tired?” The line went dead.

At 5:15am (PST), the phone rang. I held off for two rings then picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey girl,” said a soft voice – exactly the kind you’d expect from an R&B superstar.

“Oh, actually my name’s Caleb,” I said lightly, hoping we’d have a laugh and break the ice on that misfire.

“That don’t matter,” said Kelly in his smooth voice. I think he refers to everyone as ‘girl.’ “What’s on your mind, girl?”

“I’m really excited about this new album. I’ve only – .”

” – Me too. Me too,” he said nonchalantly, cutting me off. “It’s probably the third best version of this album,” he said, making it seem like that was a really good thing.

“There’s other versions of this album?”

“Yeah there’s probably 7 or 12 different versions. Some are like cuban flavor. Some are like Nestle Quik, you know?”

I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Ummm….well, why don’t you release the best version of the album?”

“I haven’t heard it yet shawty!” laughing as if the question was crazy.

“Oh, okay. What about the second best version?”

“That one’s for my mom.” Then he pulled back from the phone and I could quietly hear him say, “For you, momma.” I let him have a moment. It was honestly emotionally draining. Then he said, “I just pointed up to heaven and told my momma that the second best version is for her.”

“Yeah, I thought that’s what you were -.”

” – Hey let me call you back.”

Before I said, “Okay,” he hung up. I thought it was over, but I swear to god, he called me right back.

I picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey girl. Sorry about that. I had to hang up for 15 seconds.”

“Well, we should probably be wrapping this up because that sun is rising, but I just wanted to say that ‘Echo’ is a dope record.”

I could hear him smiling over the phone. “Right-right. Word.”

“You really are one of the best rap-slash-singers ever.” At this point, all of my interview questions were thrown out the window. “I mean, ‘Ignition (remix)’ is the jam!”

“True. True. I appreciate that, girl.”

“I’m getting carried away, but seriously, ‘Echo’ will be the jam of the year.”

“It already is in Puerto Rico, Quebec and,” in an Oprah-type shout, “Cleeeeevelaaaaaand!”

“Wait, I thought it wasn’t out yet?”

“I’ve got 3 ‘Jam of the Year’ trophies that say otherwise.”

Again, I didn’t know how to respond to that. “Well, thanks a lot, Kellz. Can I call you Kellz?”

“Of course, girl.”

“Is that with an ‘s’ or a ‘z’?”

Without hesitation, he responded, “It’s with a ‘k’.”

“Right. Umm…right. Well, thanks for letting me do this. I really appreciate it.”

“Alright. You tell your mom I said, ‘hey girl’.”

“What did you say about my momma!”

I hung up and hid under the bed before he could finish.

(this interview never happened)

First there was this, and then this, and then YT’s own, Eugene & Shelley, along with the SF Music Group, banded together to bring the brat pack to the bay.

Lover, You Should’ve Come Over comes close to killing me every time. By song’s end I’m exhausted, chasing melodies away like stray cats that scratch the skin so it stings to the touch and scabs slowly.

No other love song describes the twenty-something experience like ‘Lover You Should’ve Come Over.’ Wise beyond his years, Buckley wonders “maybe I’m too young to keep good love from going wrong.” Well yeah, MAYBE YOU ARE!  But Jeff, like me, and like you, doesn’t spend much time on this thought, he quickly turns to flirting, “but tonight you’re on my mind so, you never know.”

And just as his quivering falsetto dismantles your defenses, he slips and admits a bit of truth he hopes you won’t hear, “sometimes a man gets carried away when he feels like he should be having his fun, and much too blind to see the damage he’s done, sometimes a man must awake to find that really he has no one.”

We’re all stuck between loyalty and lust; trying to experience youth through promiscuity while spending mornings tending to those we’ve hurt with our actions. But no one expects a happy ending: fairy tales are fake and romantic comedies are for first dates. So we plunge into love, fall in, fall out, “its never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter, it’s never over, she is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever.”

Happy Birthday Jeff Buckley (November 17, 1966 – May 29, 1997)

Jose James exudes cool in the same way Miles, Frank, and Jay do; tickling elephant tusks with lids shut and shades, toothsome baritone with a grin across his face, an MC’s hands with permanent Yankee fitted, and a hard to define presence that warms the room before he lifts it. As vocalist, composer, lyricist and performer, Jose’s mission is to make the worlds of hip-hop, soul, jazz and funk shake hands, and then give each other a pound.  His forthcoming album, for Giles Petersen’s Brownswood Recordings, is a step closer to James’ ideal sound, featuring less live instrumentation and more colorful canvases from blunted beatsmiths like Flying Lotus. The title track, “Blackmagic” (produced by Flying Lotus) recently got the remix treatment courtesy of dubstep wunderkind, Joy Orbison, whose “Hyph Myngo” chune has the whole interweb a-flutter.

Blackmagic (Joy Orbison re-creation)

Hit the jump for a snippet of the original tune (full version @ myspace) and a great video profile on Jose.

According to Thao:

“Know Better Learn Faster is a song about being too late, ill-equipped upon arrival, and a little too lacking throughout.
It is the audit and condemnation of both parties of a relationship– neither one can nor will cut it and so the very important, sweet thing they have haphazardly built of course falls down.

The line ” I was up in arms all night” is somewhat literal. I have terrible sleep patterns, especially when shit goes down. But i don’t stand sentinel with weapons; that was for the sake of word play. Also how weird and dangerous would I be if I did that.”

In 1996, when The Ghost Town DJ’s dropped “My Boo,” I was six inches shorter than the average 8th grader, with home-hemmed jeans, Stussy tee’s down to my knees, bleached blond hair and bad acne. I wish I could say that I was up on Jay, UGK, and DJ Shadow, copping cassettes and playing them for friends, but in reality, I was forcing myself through shitty Top 40 mixshows, trying to memorize the Dru Hill, Monica and Coolio songs they’d play at school dances. I figured If I knew the songs in advance, then it would be easier to step up and ask girls to dance.

Rejection is tough and I saw my share of it, but the one song I never danced alone to was “My Boo.” As soon as it came on I’d drop the search and give in to the beat. Then, by some stroke of “Weird Science” like luck, some girl would come grind on me and I’d spend the second half of the song sticking my ass out away from her, smiling like the last day of school, with summer stretched out like a diving board at my feet.

Now without further ado, Yours Truly’s “My Boo” marathon, in order of awesome-ness

My Boo – The OG Version

H.A.T.E.U. – Mariah Carey, Gucci Mane and Big Boi

My Beau – Daedelus

My Boo – American Dream Team

And if you’re into 90′s pool party videos complete with car-wash scenes, stone washed jeans and roller-skates than

We should record in here,” said Eric Johnson, the man behind Fruit Bats, as he admired the resonance within the cellars of the Gundlach-Bundschu winery. His reaction was one of surprise, previously unaware of the aural power that the cellars permitted. There was excitement in the air and spirits were high. We sat around the table and drank good wine, talking about their amazing new album The Ruminant Band. Eric stepped out for a moment as the rest of the band topped off their glasses of red and white. Then, all of sudden, we heard music. Eric strolled in with his guitar and the band burst into a rocking rendition of “The Hobo Girl.” The sound in the room was too good to stop there, so they sipped a bit more wine, then eased their way into “Flamingo.” In this version, Eric’s voice is so powerful it could give God goosebumps. In fact, it’s so powerful that if you weren’t aware of your love for Fruit Bats, you will be now. It was a beautiful evening filled with great wine and great music. What more could we ask for.

A uniformed police officer ceremoniously empties a beer on the sidewalk beside a young couple slumped against the adjacent wall like a pile of dirty laundry. One floor above on a rusted fire escape overlooking Mission Street sits Kurt Vile, sucking on a tall Tecate I bought him. On the other side of the glass, standing around stinking like cigarettes, sweat, and angst are the busy mission hip kids, sardine stuffed into a nondescript apartment turned bordello/bandstand for the evening. Kurt’s solo set is the second of the evening, and the one most people came to see judging from the rows of lips mouthing lyrics and shouting out song requests like it was ladies night at the Copa. In between “He’s Alright” and “Breathin’ Out” –the two songs captured in the above video– I overheard a messy-haired spandex sporting twentysomething whisper to her girlfriend, “He’s like a much cuter version of Neil Young.” I still can’t think of a nicer sounding compliment.

You can get a free 7-inch of “He’s Alright” when you pre-oder Kurt’s upcoming album Childish Prodigy

My earliest musical memory is of my Dad singing Beach Boys songs to put me to sleep. Then at 5, I got dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and white shorts to sing “Little Surfer” at my Kindergarten graduation ceremony. Years later, at Neil Young’s Bridge School Benefit concert, my Dad and I watched Brian Wilson struggle through his first performance since suffering a stroke that froze half his face.

After hearing the Pet Sounds sessions sans instruments, you’re immediately aware of just how talented Brian and the Boys were as vocalists, how drum tight their harmonies lay across a track, and how perfect pop songs stand up even when you remove their guts.

The Beach Boys – Wouldn’t It Be Nice (acapella)

thanks for the photo Justin