WORST MONDAYS: with Girl Talk

At JUICEBOX HQ, we’ve never really had a case of the Mondays because we don’t have real-people jobs. But for those feeling a bit garfield this A.M., feel free to wallow in other people’s most hated things. Every Monday!

What do you get when you combine Top 40 pop hooks and super science engineering brains? A party, that’s what. And it comes in the form of seamlessly intricate mash ups from sir hit-loving smarty-pants, Girl Talk.

Not to be confused with the borderline insulting 1980s board game of the same name, Girl Talk is the stage name of Pittsburgh’s most famous laptop DJ, Gregg Gillis. He’s been around since 2002, but you’ve maybe only heard of him recently. In 2006 Night Ripper was released, containing far more (mostly current) hit song snippets than his previous releases. The hooks, so conscientiously woven together (in either their original or slightly re-worked state) found their way to the taste-making ears of the blog world. Next stop, the rest of the real life world.

The short and the kitsch of it is that, regardless of your level of popular music consumption, you attach yourself to the time, place and feeling of a song. Listening to a Girl Talk record is like an audio scrapbook of pop music past and present, but with less decoupage and less lame. The nerd (and long?) of it is that everything is so mathematically dissected and rearranged, it’s hard to write this stuff off as mere coattail riding. The Wikijunkies have (almost complete) lists of all GT’s samples per album, so you should go read those, and love him.

Mr. Talk’s newest album, Feed the Animals, has been available as a pay-what-you-want download via Illegal Art since June 19th, and it comes out in stores on shiny CD format next Tuesday. Oh, and the party won’t stop anytime soon; Gillis got to quit his job as a biomedical engineer last year to focus full time on making you dance. Jealous?

Worst day-job?
K-Mart, summer 2003. I’ve worked a bunch of jobs like this but usually, I would try to get a stock position or anything where I didn’t have to deal with people. I worked at the front register, and everyday was a battle against the world. These jobs can be cool or horrible depending on your managers, and I had some of the oldest, most horrible managers ever. I had to miss the Van Halen reunion show with Diamond Dave on one of the last days of summer for this! I had tickets and was not supposed to work. They called me in and told me I would be fired if I didn’t come, and I needed the money!

Worst haircut?
I’m proud of almost all my haircuts over the years but looking back on the yearbooks now, my middle school complete shaved head look was pretty weird in a not-good way. I was really into playing basketball, so it was a functional cut but it really didn’t work with my skinny frame.

Worst subculture?
Friendster.

Worst date?
I went to London, Paris, and Brussels with a girl I had met once and my rude and annoying best friend. It was difficult to define what was happening, but I think she was coming for an extened European date and my buddy was coming for an extended European rager. Those interests conflicted heavily. I tried to juggle the two, but it just wasn’t happening. The girl slowly grew to hate my friend and I. She said at one point that we were “on a constant quest to out-dumb each other.” It all peaked with her drunkenly crying and throwing McDonalds’ french fries on the ground in the Moulin Rouge district.

Worst invention?
Diet Pepsi.

Worst purchase?
I just had my flight canceled out of Newark airport yesterday. The only flight they could re-schedule was out of New York Laguardia. I didn’t know it when I got in, but the car service to the airport cost me $120! It sucked.

Worst way to die?
Being eaten by ants, Indian Jones style.

Posted on September 15, 2008 by | Old Stuff | 1 Comment »| Tags:


One Response »

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