Wreck'd

New Wreckers single (sort of their first, except for the one featured on "One Tree Hill," which I've never seen...and judging from the clip, never will) is being previewed on AOL Music.

If y'all didn't know, the Wreckers are one half Michelle Branch and one half Michelle Branch back-up singer (Jessica Harp). I think I like Jessica Harp more than Michelle Branch! Interesting mixture of pop country and confessional rock/teen pop (or, uh, Michelle Branch goes country?).

The new single is pretty boring, but you can judge for yerself:

Stream "Leave the Pieces"

And check out this "One Tree Hill" clip with the previous song. It's not exactly a "single"..."The Good Kind," is better than the new one, I suppose, but still nothing extraordinary. But dig that stick-in-butt acting! Major bonus...there should be like thirteen wooden "skits" on their full-length to evoke this TV drama vibe. Check it out from YouTube:



I'll skip the Myspace discussion and just post this separately because 1) I don't have much time today and 2) The Wreckers' Myspace is AWFUL. YOU ARE A MUSICAL ACT. STREAM MUSIC. NO ONE IS GOING TO SWIPE YOUR PRECIOUS INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY. Who runs some of these pages??

Speaking of Myspace, please please PLEASE read Brie Larson's blog. Currently listening to: The Cramps, Big Star, Jimi Hendrix, and Daft Punk, among others. And she's reading up, too:

"And the more substantial, the more solid core of me became, the more delicate and extravagant appeared the close, palpable reality out of which I was being squeezed. In the measure that I became more and more metallic, in the same measure the scene before my eyes becamse inflated. The state of tension was so finely drawn now that the introduction of a since foreign particle, even a mircoscopic particle, as I say, would have shattered everything. For the fraction of a second perhaps I expericed that utter clarity which is epileptic, it is said, is given to know. In that moment I lost completely in the illusion of time and space: the world unfurled its drama simultaniously along a meridian whish had no axis. In this sort of hair-trigger eternity I felt that everything was justified, supremely justified; I felt the wars inside me that had behind this pulp and wrack; I felt that crimes were seething here to emerge tomorrow in blatant screamers; felt the misery grinding itself out with pestle and mortar, the long dull misery that dribbles away in dirty hankerchiefs. On the meridian of time there is no injustice: there is only the poetry of motioncreating the illusion of truth and drama. If at any moment anywhere on comes face to face with the absolute that great sympathy which makes men like Gautama and Jesus seem divine freezes away; the monstrous thing is not that men have created roses out of this dung-heap, but that, for some reason or other, they should want roses. For some reason or the other man looks for the miracle, and to accomplish it he will wade through blood. He will debauch himself with ideas, he will reduce himself to a shadow if for one second of his life he can close his eyes to the hideousness of reality. Everything is endured, diegrace, humiliation, poverty, war, crime, ennui-in the belief that overnight something will occour, a miracle, which will render life tolerable. And all the while the meter is running inside and there is no hand that can reach in there and shut it off. All the while someone is eating the bread of life and drinking the wine, some dirty fat coackroach of a priest who hides away in the cellar guzzling it, while up above in the light of the street a phantom host touches the lips and the blood no miracle somes forth, no microsopic vestige even of relief. Only ideas, pale, attenuated idea which have to be fattened by slaughter; ideas which come forth like bile, like the guts of a pig when the carcass is ripped open"
-henry miller.


the first time I read that, my heart started racing.

SIC(K)!

But hey, Skye better watch her back. And so should you, dear reader -- at least two bubblegum brainiacs walk among us...


This, apparently, is a "stick up."