For as long as I can remember, Michael Franti has been one of those guys I wouldn’t dare fuck with. Ever. He seems like a big dude. And he’s intelligent as hell. Just listen to some old Beatnigs records or the Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy. He was pretty pissed then, and seemed to possess the raw fury of all four members of Rage Against the Machine.

All I ever wanted besides a milkshake with two straws was a Saddle Creek mix tape. If someone were trying to win my love with that tape, it would have been highway robbery with my heart. Well, too bad, boys. I guess Doug Van Sloun wins it for mastering the Saddle Creek 50, a compilation of bands on the Omaha label.

Writing a music review can be really fucking annoying sometimes. You’re responsible to keep in mind that, if it’s good, you want people to get it and listen to it for themselves. So you need to mention some things about it. You can build up a scenario or an atmosphere for the reader to relate to, but you gotta let them know some things about the band, right?

Someone famous once said that when things are at their worst, we make our best art. It makes sense. Perfect examples: Bob Dylan’s The Times They Are A-Changin’, Public Enemy’s Fear of a Black Planet, and Bob Marley and the Wailers’ Exodus. Pretty big shoes, were they to be filled. These records had a message and a point. If you listened to them, and I mean really listened to them, you’d get it. They aren't just fun shit to hum along to. They're telling you something.
That’s what this record’s like.

"President" Bush and Pope John Paul II have recently addressed issues regarding "reserving marriage for heterosexuals" and "fighting against gay marriages". As if marriage were a table in a restaurant or an enemy country. It's humorous that a country that lets Elvis marry couples is now saying that the institution of marriage is such a holy and sacred thing that it needs to be reserved strictly for a select group.

Country music is one of the most discouraging genres out there. It used to be fucking amazing, back when cats like Hank Sr. and Willie Nelson made their debuts. But something happened, and country became this bland, poppy, flashy-white-trashy circus music that held no substance or class. And it’s stayed that way. The Dixie Chicks and Shania aren’t examples of country’s evolution. They’re examples of its sad, pathetic state.

My father told me two very important things when I was a child. First, he said to never trust a woman who won't let you suck her toes. Second, he told me to always powder my balls. Needless to say, my dad is the most well-laid man I know. I have absolutely no idea what any of this has to do with Hybrid or their new album. I just thought I'd share.