It’s well past 1:00 a.m., the Lakers lost game four, Andrew Bynum may be out for the rest of the playoffs, and my brain is wobbling like a 504 Boy punching Glen Davis’ gut. Also, I may never recover from seeing the sight of Brian Scalabrine in a suit — it was like putting lipstick on a pig that vaguely resembles a jumbo-sized El-P. The last thing I want this blog to be is a compendium of links to my stuff at the Times, but I am overworked and underpaid, and….I’ll stop now — I have been listening to the Drake album and it makes me want to kvetch. There are other things that I hope to write later today or this weekend, or at some point before this blog is the last blog that refuses to switch to Tumblr. We will rage against the dying of the trite.
The point is that I wrote something on Konono No. 1, a Congolese scrap-heap trance outfit. I can’t believe I just typed that last sentence. I take it back. Though I stand by the first sentence of the review: you know you’re doing something right when your die-hard fans include post-rock pioneers Tortoise, Björk and “Simpsons” creator Matt Groening. Such is the case of Konono No.1, the Congo-based legend that is revered internationally, but largely overlooked in its own Kinshasa neighborhood.” Because this is an MP3 blog, there is a song below. It contains whistles that are blown too frequently — everything in June relates to the NBA finals — this is how it is. Also,I hear they are D.J. Mbenga’s favorite too.