If you’ve been paying attention, you’ve noticed that the last few years have seen a boom on the festival scene, with all genres getting in on the action. The appeal of an event like Coachella, Street Scene, or Reading, undoubtedly lies in the massive and eclectic rosters the festivals have become known for. After all, people aren’t gonna dish out hundreds of dollars, and wallow in the muck or languish in the sweltering desert heat if you don’t offer them one hell of a show.

Fortunately, if you’re in NYC tonight, you don’t have to brave the elements or proffer a pound of flesh to get your socks knocked off. In one of the better shows to roll through the venue in recent months, Greenpoint, Brooklyn’s Studio B is bringing the hammer down with a festival-esque lineup in celebration of DC/NYC producer/remixer/engineer Jonathan K’s birthday (the “Super Sweet 16 he never had”). Presented by MAS, the BOOTAY Shakin’ Blow Out’s lineup is on some serious cornucopia shit (Ace Ventura deep breath): Spank Rock, The Rapture, Busy P, So-Me, JD Samson, Tippy, Dances With White Girls, Andy Pry, Eamon Harkin, Amanda Blank, Devlin + Darko, Pase Rock, and newly added, The GZA. Whew. That’s right. You’ve got Ed Rec, Bangers and Cash, the DFA and the 36 Chambers all in one place. Not to mention DJs by the bowlful.

I hear them now… It’s miserable outside. Yeah. There may be a line. Yeah. But maybe you didn’t fully grasp the gravity of the situation. This is a something-for-everybody, off-the-top-rope, can’t-miss sensory assault you’ll be recounting to your grandkids when you’re toothless and all prune-like and no one really wants to be around you because you smell odd. And you don’t even have to sell your iPod to get a piece of the pie. See you in Flavor Country.

The ticket jumpoff can be found here.

What’s in a name? It’s been said that a rose is a rose by any other name? So by that rationale, is a teenager a teenager, regardless of his age? Three 20-somethings from Paris (and London) seem to think so. Growing up is hard to do, and indietronica heroes The Teenagers (whose debut Reality Check hits stores March 18th) don’t want to leave their Wonder Years behind, as they cut a swath through the hearts and minds of Valley Girls and Club Kids alike. With tracks that run the gamut from danceable post-new-wave to synth-rich monster ballads, hype has followed the outfit like insecure, cool-hunting cheerleaders tailing John J. Quarterback since the release of its debut single “Homecoming”.

“It-band” designations aside, singer Quentin Delafon, along with guitarist/synth-man Dorian Dumont and bassist Michael Szpiner, don’t like to take themselves too seriously, deftly pulling off the illusion of jaded everyboys, naive slaves to hormones, dysfunctional relationships and confusing mixed messages. Yes, it is French pop, and yes, puppy love is often the subject matter. The band makes no apologies for these facts. Yet floating behind the playful facade are instances of hard-heartedness, spoken from the mouths of men, wounded as boys, trying to make sense of the girls they’ve loved, hated, lusted after, fucked and forgotten. As bassist Szpiner told me over the phone hours before launching their North American tour in Vancouver, the boys simply “want to have another chance at the teenage years”.

Playing, partying and living together since they were 11, the band grew up listening to Britpop, dance and electronica and angsty American grunge, wading through adolescence in a typically awkward and boring fashion (i.e. sans the excitement of finger-banging frenzies and basement-bound drunkenness). Having torn the MP3 blogosphere a new one in ‘07 with originals and remixes, the threesome also had the good fortune to support the likes of Brazilian indie outfit CSS and Parisian electro demi-gods Justice. Describing their sound as “low-rent music”, The Teenagers count sex, vodka, Red Bull and naturally, puberty, as their (non-musical) influences. Certainly fine things to drive men, who would be boys, who would be men to greatness. At first listen it’s easy to see that a number of computer-music sensibilities permeate the songs’ lyrics and melodies (from the trancey “Make It Happen” to the Kraftwerkian bitch-goddess diss “Fuck Nicole”), and virtually all of Reality Check’s 13 tracks feature the band’s alternating spoken-word-verse, sung-chorus style, with all three members contributing to vocal duties. “At the beginning, we used regular singing, but then we became interested in the narrative style”, said Szpiner.

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With the early to mid-’90s permeating the fashion sensibilities of so many in this post-American century of ours, it pays to revisit the source from time to time. The year was 1992. The pants were obscenely baggy and they were worn backwards. Daddy Mac and Mac Daddy, or Kris Kross as they were referred to for cataloging purposes, were Totally Krossed Out (1992; number 1 on the Billboard chart; 4x Platinum, for what it’s worth), boys among men in a work-a-day, dog-eat-dog, kill-or-be-killed, apple-a-day-keeps-the-doctor-away, mi casa es su casa world.

Yeah, they turned centuries of sartorial convention upside down. So? They were Young, Rich and Dangerous, and that’s all that really mattered. They just wanted you to “Jump”. And who cares if their Sega CD title Kris Kross: Make My Video was ranked 18th on Electronic Gaming Monthly’s “20 Worst Video Games Of All Time” list? Do you have a video game using your likeness? Neither do I. Besides, it wasn’t about 16-bit games with negligibly enhanced graphics. Oh no. Because when you “Live And Die For Hip Hop”, it’s all about the rhyme. Yet looking back, it wasn’t all sugar-coated puppies and money-rainbows (those would be rainbows made out of money, natch). Dark days that I remember quite well. Heavy was my heart when, after saving coin after coin and finally busting up my piggy bank (yes, it was an actual ceramic pig; I felt kind of bad afterwards) to cop Young, Rich and Dangerous at the now-defunct Recordmasters, Kris Kross fell off the face of the earth.

But after hearing a rumor that Chris and Chris plan to release an album this year (don’t call it a comeback; allegedly with their former producer/style consultant Jermaine Dupri and the cat that owes them everything, Bow Wow), I’ve decided to rock the zipper-in-the-back-steez as an homage to the boys who would be kings. Can’t come with me on this one y’all. Wearing your pants backwards is a lot more uncomfortable than they made it seem. But what is life without sacrifice? Exactly.

Shut your eyes and clear your mind. That’s it. I want you to dial it back. Back to your teenhood. Remember your best friend’s cool-as-fuck younger sister from back in the day? You know the one I’m talking about. Damn was she cool. She knew all the lyrics to every rap song ever recorded, could dance circles around everybody on your block (even Mookie the Magnificent, and motherfucker could dance) and her kick game was always way stronger than yours could ever hope to be. And the craziest thing about it was that she made being that fly look oh-so-easy. Just like that friend’s sister, Rye Rye is cooler than you. Her friends are most likely cooler (and more relevant) as well. And to add insult to injury, she’s also way younger than you. But given all this, it’s damn near impossible to hate on the girl. At just 16, she’s been signed to Diplo’s Mad Decent label, toured with indie goddess M.I.A. and along with friend, labelmate and collaborator DJ Blaqstarr, she has emerged as one of the freshest and most exciting faces of the B-More (Club) scene.  Yet she never throws out the diva vibe that leaves that sour taste in your mouth.

When I got a friend request from Rye Rye on MySpace, though I accepted, I just as well assumed that she was just another West Baltimore girl with an internet connection and stars in her eyes. That was last summer, and needless to say that a) I had no idea who I was dealing with and b) the girl’s been well on her grind since then. And if you really mull it over, her success comes as no surprise: young, vibrant, talented and a Baltimore native, she is the genuine article that B-More-obsessed tastemakers like Diplo and M.I.A. have been seeking out for a while now. A diamond in the rough that is Harm City, if you will. Having escaped the Beltway, the Blaqstarr/Rye Rye collabo “Shake It To The Ground” has caught the attention of the hipsterverse in recent months, so of course everybody and their mother has cooked up a remix to the track (the best of the lot are featured on Blaqstarr’s Supastarr EP, p.s.). But before all the Brooklyn-based hype, around Rye Rye’s way, the song could be heard blasting out of stoop-bound jamboxes and open Crown Vic windows on 92Q (Bodymore’s local/only “urban” station) during the Five-O’Clock Ride with Konan.

It’s been a few months since the video for “Shake It To The Ground” blew up on YouTube, and the shit’s still got the hood (and the interzone) on smash. The “Crazy Leg Edit” version we’ve got here shows Rye Rye and friends doing what it is that they do best in various parts of “The City That Reads/Bleeds”. Take note of the “Greatest City In America” bench, cameo from B-More Club legend Scottie B, the Inner Harbor waterfalls and the Misfits poster in her room. Respeck. And don’t sleep on your boy Crazy Leg either. In addition to the Blaqstarr vid, it seems that every week, a new clip of a Rye Rye performance pops up on the Tube, brightening lil’ homie’s star that much more. Also featured here is a vid of our self-proclaimed “ghetto superstar” droppin’ some science on a crowd at NYC chillspot (and TRACE hangout) Dante’s Fried Chicken.

And just as a heads up, Rye Rye will be performing at the Lower East Side’s Club 205 on January 20th. Hands up, thumbs down, represent that D-Town!

Gaining just as much attention for the visuals that populate his seizure-inducing MySpace page as his quasi-gothic, man-on-a-mission electropop, 23 year-old French producer Danger understands the meaning of synergy. Originally a freelance graphic designer, Danger, aka Frank Rivoire, seems to have launched a campaign to make soundscapes to complement the bizarre imagery on his site (much of which he injects animated versions of himself into) as well as enveloping himself in a shroud of mystique in the vein of certain French electronic elites.

Even this early into his musical career, Danger is drawing comparisons, namely to fellow man-of-mystery Kavinsky, the Testarossa-driving, too-cool-for-school zombie synth-slayer from the Ed Banger imprint (Does anyone do a gimmick as well as this set? I should think not!). Though the sounds are admittedly somewhat similar, in the place of Kavinsky’s synth-prog nostalgia is Mssr. Rivoire’s penchant for the party. Albeit his would be the kind of party where you’re well mashed, you know absolutely no one, and you’d best not leave your drink unattended, lest you end up in some former Russian republic, hooked up to strange machines, lobotomized and short a kidney. Sounds like my kinda jam.

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As the end of twisted/awesome weather patterns knock all us East Coasters down a peg, let the New York area rejoice before the culmination of another twisted/awesome thing. Tonight, Brooklyn FUNhouse Studio B reps that Beltway-to-Bankhead shit with the last date of The Kleavage Tour. Helmed by Atlanta’s Klever and DC’s Tittsworth, the traveling roadshow has been storming the land since November. What to expect? Well, ATLien Klever is all about reppin’ the 404, sprinkling his pouch of Krunk Dust on the likes of Purple Ribbon All-Stars and Lil’ Jon, among others. And as for Tittsworth, having refixed AC/DC, The Commodores, Justice and the Ying Yang Twins, the man stands as one of the select few producers who has been able to apply the ever-popular Baltimore Club genre to rock, rap and dance tracks tactfully and effectively (Diplo also comes to mind, yeah).

And if the KryptoBounce and Bmore Club music aren’t obscene enough for you, The Rub’s DJ Ayres and SuperStar DJ/party girl Roxy Cottontail will also be in the building (along with FUN residents Rok One and Eamon Harkin). When you get down to brass tax, hearing Tittsworth drop his remix of Bel Biv Devoe’s “Poison” should be worth the price of admission alone. So if you think about it (not too hard), this is some Lightning Round shit right here.

And just so the Left Coast doesn’t feel, well, left out, L.A. DJs/remixers Villains will be pushing the limits of what’s sane and good at Hollywood’s Crimson tonight, bringing plenty of that TechnoTronik electro-banger circuit-bent-chainsaw Moogerfooger shit that seems to be so en vogue these days. And why the fuck not? If it ain’t broke don’t fix it I always say. Relatively new to the scene yet already inducing critical hard-ons, Villains are Mad V, Philthy B and Koncept, and so far they’ve made quick work of tracks from Bloc Party, Daft Punk and Buddy Akai. And yes, they have a few original tracks as well, including a surprisingly fuckwitable revision of the song that shaped a generation (maybe two?), MJ’s “Thriller”. Yippe Ki Yay Motherfuckers!

Info on the shows here and here (LA)

And just because we love you… Download Villains’ Vol. 1 Mix and… Tittsworth’s OD Mix, courtesy of redthreat and… Klever’s “Ski Mask Way” mix.

What do you get when you cross Old Dirty Bastard (aka Big Baby Jesus aka “The Osiris Of This Shit” aka Dirt McGirt) with G.G. Allin (oh sweet child of the nude, scatological, head-banging, “I’m gonna kill myself on stage one day” tantrum/Murder Junkies fame)? Well if I had to hazard a guess, I’d have to say it would be an affair rife with rampant misogyny, missed child support hearings, full frontal nudity, poorly concealed handguns, delusions of grandeur and possibly even petty theft of bargain-bin sneakers. Yes, a vulgar, hate-filled, cracked out, blood-soaked shitshow. Literally.

But were you to ask Reverend McFly and DJ Teenwolf, combining the two parts would yield not a textbook example of entropy, but Ninjasonik, the Brooklyn guttertech duo (nay, tour de force) your parent’s parent’s parents warned you about. From beyond the grave and shit. Spooky, right? McFly and The Wolf are of course, the members of said tour de force (doy!), yet which one is G.G. and which is ODB is still up for debate. Sure, it could be argued all that really matters is that Ninjasonik rep the world wide web and (non-ironic) emo-thug-life harder than Al Gore on his first day doing laundry in the dorms. Told you not to set it on Cold/Cold silly goose.

Yet how can we fault the duo for speaking to the sensibilities of a net-minded generation? Similarly, how can we bring the hammer down on two young emo-thugs in tight ass pants trying to ensure that all the world’s children understand the importance of universal, unfettered internet access. Like their scenester smash “Internet Bitch” says, “I got a MySpace, I got a Gmail, I got a Facebook, but I don’t do Friendster/I’m on the internet, bitch/I’m fuckin’ famous!” Knowledge is power!

Oh yes it is. And be they mildly time-stretched hand claps slithering between ping-ponged bassy synths, Third Coast hi-hats ridin’ under some 808 shit that’ll put the pussy in a sleeper hold, or Lil Jon-esque chants attesting to their affinity for tight pants, Ninjasonik are opening up their bag of tricks tonight at The Charleston in Williamsburg with one of their notoriously buckwild live shows. Cash Dot Dash Dot Com. Yeah, you heard it right. I’m on the internet bitch!

Far from burned out, it seems that we (as in, media of all stripes, the listening public, “all of God’s children”, the Lollipop Guild, the 1972 Miami Dolphins, the Peanut Gallery, the Corvette Club of America, the House of Lords and the People Under The Stairs) are all basking in the post-coital glow of the mindfuck that was Radiohead’s In Rainbows. Whether it was the countless bits of mainstream coverage of the album’s paradigm shift (and all the industry ramifications that surrounded it), critical praise from journos who’d listened to the actual album tracks way before you did, or the personal epiphany that is wholly possible when you bury yourself in some blankets, close your eyes and give the the album a run, front to back, it’s certain that Thom Yorke and Co. have accomplished their mission.

Not easily sated, however, the band has once again turned its attention towards the interweb, creating webcasts to complement the album. For the new year, the boys from Oxfordshire have released Scotch Mist: A film with Radiohead in it. Put simply, the piece features the band running through In Rainbows in its entirety, with brief interstitials featuring the band, animations and you guessed it, the Scotch Mist, serving as transitions. Sure, the bruhaha over the “pay what you feel like” headtrip has died down a bit and this year will see a conventional, physical release of the album. But as Yorke sings (bemoans?) in “Bodysnatchers”, “This is the 21st century”. And I’m not sure what he’s on about specifically there, but I’m thinking it’s something along the lines of, no more words, just watch.

Being from Baltimore, the question comes my way regularly: “Is it really like that, the way it is on The Wire?” In an instant, I’m a spokesperson for all of (C)harm City. Yeah. Well I’ve said it once and I’ll say it here yet again: In a city of 600,000+ with a defeated, ailing police force mired in scandal, an ever-growing gang presence, a grossly underfunded public school system, 282 murders in ‘07 (the highest total since ‘99), a ne’er-do-well City Council, a massive crack and heroin market/problem and good old-fashioned gentrification worsening disparities in an already balkanized metropolis (read: Guilford, the city’s priciest housing market, adjacent to Greenmount Ave., B-More drug and homicide hotspot), yes, it can be like that - and it is.

In the face of these grim realizations, it is the astute manner in which the past four seasons of HBO’s The Wire have depicted that which maligns “Bodymore, Murdaland” that has made the show a critical darling in its five years on the air. Created, produced and (partially) written by former Baltimore Sun crime reporter David Simon, who is also the brains behind NBC’s Homicide: Life On The Streets and HBO’s miniseries The Corner, the series has been called the best show on television by TIME, Entertainment Weekly, The Guardian, Chicago Tribune and Slate. Yet strangely, critical acclaim hasn’t translated into a warm popular reception. While certainly not an easy pill to swallow for the cast and crew, the show, with its ample drug references, ruthless killings, scenes of actual American ghettos and depictions of urban decay and corruption at its most extraordinary, may admittedly be a bit too real for the typical HBO subscriber. So it goes.

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In consideration of the last few decades, no one can refute the importance of French artists within the electronic music scene. From Etienne de Crecy to Bob Sinclair, Jean Michel Jarre to Air, the nation never ceases to amaze, churning out talent at a level a few shades shy of oversaturation. Perhaps the wildest shit about the proverbial Fifth Republic of electronic music’s French invasion (read: French Touch) is that in ‘07, both its pioneers and its newcomers were given the chance to bask in the glow. While Spin Magazine co-Entertainers of the Year Daft Punk are the most visible example of the old guard still doin’ the damn thing, a bit of sniffing around the Ed Banger camp reveals yet another: producer/DJ/moustache connoisseur Mr. Oizo.

In the game for just over a decade, Oizo enjoyed a 2007 that looked a lot like his 1999. That would of course be the year he released “Flat Beat”, the single that topped the charts in the UK and had one of the most enjoyable videos in recent memory. Signed to crowd favorite Ed Banger Records, many have attributed the success of non-Justice Ed Rec acts such as Uffie to producer Oizo’s staccato-crunk beats. And as though helping to fuel the label’s electronic blitzkrieg and remixing the likes of Cassius, Kavinsky and the Scissor Sisters weren’t enough, Mr. Dupieux also found the time this year to release a feature-length film, Steak, and drop the Transexual EP.

To the delight of club kids from Brighton Beach to the Boogie Down Bronx, Oizo will be spinning at Manhattan’s Hiro Ballroom tonight! And while we can’t speak to whether Flat Eric will grace the floor with his presence, we wouldn’t rule it out.

RSVP here for free admission.