Like most teenagers, I decided to get out of town for spring break. LA seemed like the best option for me—it was the polar opposite of Salt Lake City—and one fateful mid-March morning I awoke in an unfamiliar UCLA dorm room with Earl Sweatshirt rhymes blasting in my head, a lyrical hangover from the night before.
I ate a banana, laced up my Converse high tops, and threw on my favorite Atlanta Braves sweatshirt (which, I hoped, was the sort of thing a member of Odd Future might compliment), and headed out the door. My quest had begun.
There was no direct road map or GPS tracker to guide me on this journey. I had no idea where I was going. All I had were Earl’s tweets from the day before, which I had already memorized but also saved on my phone just in case I blanked on any important details. He had posed a tantalizing offer to his followers, and I was determined to take him up on it. He had tweeted, “Hai. If you’re in la come to the 7-11 on Olympic and barrington and buy this jersey and meet me. I need lunch money. We’ll be there for 15.” My heart skipped a beat. My favorite living rapper, one who had been missing in action for more than a year, was now back and willing to reveal himself to anyone who would buy an article of his clothing so that he could get a bite to eat.
Minutes after landing in LA, I was once again feverishly checking Earl’s Twitter. “Back to School,” he wrote. “Damn. I’ll still sell this. Tomorrow same time at stoner doe. Maybe.” No one wanted Earl’s jersey, which was sad but worked in my favor. I had another chance. His somewhat cryptic tweet prompted me to google “LA stoner,” which, in addition to numerous references to an herbivorous counterculture, led me to a skate park near Santa Monica, just three miles from my friend’s dorm at UCLA. It was worth a shot.
A few days ago, we discovered Groupie Dirt. Noticing it hadn’t been updated in quite a few years, Noisey decided to contact our more scurrilous acquaintances to get the scoop on bedding some of today’s buzziest bands.
The newly-single Death Cab For Cutie frontman hasn’t wasted any time in getting back into the dating scene. In fact, from what we hear, he never let his marriage to one New Girl stop him from dipping his mic into any stand that would hold it. Apparently, while Zooey was at home knitting, wearing cotton, and talking to Siri, Mr. Gibbard was out chasing tail. Blondes are his choice; think Pam Anderson, pre-reduction surgery. Now double that. One of our sources sent in this note: “The glove compartment/Isn’t accurately named/Because it’s where Ben keeps his Trojan Magnums/Dude loves banging in cars.” Vroom!
Mount Eerie/The Microphones
Field recordings aren’t the only “field” things Phil Elverum is into. Several groupies have also told us he loves the outdoors. By which we mean: he makes loves outdoors (by which we mean: he does sex in fields). While no one’s quite sure why Phil decided to change his name from “Elvrum” to “Elverum,” one source suggests that it’s because he wanted to let ladies know that they’re in for some superfluous length, if you know what we’re getting at! ;-) Mr. Elverum is known for being quite the wordsmith. We hear he regularly sends his flings text messages like, “Do you have any melancholic longing in you? No? Well, do you want some? ;-0” ~pond sounds~ HOWL!
“Hi, I’m Tyler. Some Of You Might Know Me As Tyler The Creator Or That One Guy Who Tries So Hard Thats It’s Borderline Annoying, Or That One Nigga Who Ate The Bug. These Photos You Are Looking At Are By Josh Terris. Josh Takes Photos Of Teenagers Who Do Stupid Shit At Parties. Or Skateboarding. I Actually Think I Seen A Pig In One Of Them. He’s My Friend And Always Wanted To Somehow Do Something With VICE. So Hey, Why The Fuck Not Introduce The World To Him On…. VICE!
PS: We aren’t sure why Tyler is really into capitalizing every word these days, but it’s also fine with us. Just sayin’; that’s how he sent it in, so that’s how we posted it. Check out more of Josh’s (or Josesh’s, if you will) photos over at his tumblr.”