Let’s all get sick! People at record labels are always touching each other and making out and stuff – so it’s
no wonder we all get infected with germs. I personally don’t bid the happy hands hello as often as some,
but you know, the way we ignore the sign on the wall in the hall about sexual harassment, germs are sent
on their merry way every time we play grab-ass around here. I’m the only one who keeps actual kleenex at
my desk so everyone with snot pays me a visit at least once a day. Lozenges are nice but the lemon kind
make me want to barf a lot – which I waste no time sharing with anyone even remotely listening to me complain.
Did you ever notice that everyone has their own sneeze and cough signature? I’d rather not think about the
other bodily functions… but unfortunately they tell about them all the same. And of course I made the mistake
- “I lost $100 in a shell game [on the street in NYC], which still makes me queasy”- Steve Manning, Publicist.
- “ My boob rash has finally cleared up, only to leave me with a nasty cough, swollen glands, and a massively sore throat.” – Kristen Meyer, Senior Product Manager.
- “Buboes erupting all over my body, blood oozing from every orifice, black diarrhea and open blisters in my mouth.” – Jonathan Poneman, owner and CEO.
- “I’ve had permanent sinus problems since 7th grade, and I just re-bit my lip about 5 minutes ago. Other than that, I’m as healthy as granola. Does that count?” – Jesse LeDoux, Assistant Art Director.
- “Flannel shirt, backwards hat, combat boots and long-johns under my cut-off shorts” – Kwab Copeland, shipping.
- “I have had serious bouts of nausea due to the high levels of ********* (aka ass candy) in the bathrooms that we share with our neighbors at ********, what do they put in that coffee?” – Josh Ayala, New Media Director.
- “My shiznitties is fugged up big time!” – James Bertram, Sales.
- “Oh, just the same old, same old—simultaneous pukes and squirts. Oh yeah, I also have blood coming out of my eyes. Does that seem weird?” – Megan Jasper, General Manager.
- “I have worms crawling in and out of me and just recently they started playing pinochle right on my snout.” Kendrick Deaton, Sales.
- mine’s kinda hard to explain [ picture of man with elephantitus of the nuts] – Jed Maheu, Sales.
See what I mean? We’re all a mess. What does this have to do with records and CDs and the intricate operations
of commerce in America? Learn the way, in your next 55 second Sub Pop sidewalk.
Your National Parks, that is. And while you’re there you should take a listen to this here Oxford Collapse tune.
Yo-Yos on Rolling Stone Online
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for staying.
Plexi. The Blue Rags. Green Magnet School. The Evil Tambourines. The Yo-Yo’s.
These names and many others like them seem now inextricably synonymous with Sub Pop Records. It is, however, not solely a history written in forgotten failures. For there has also been a handful of almost-was-es, one or two kind-of-closes, and an occasional bonafide barely-profitables. It is for this legacy of small percentages that, tonight, Sub Pop Records is being honored by the Pacific Northwest Chapter of the Recording Academy.
Sub Pop began sometime in the late 1980s by two gentlemen who met each other somewhere and did something that eventually led to them releasing some records. The early years of Sub Pop were marked by a clarity of vision and an unwavering sense of integrity: two qualities that co-founder Bruce Pavitt seemingly took with him when he left in 1990-something.
It was during this period that remaining co-founder, and tonight’s honoree, Jonathan Poneman earned the still popular inter-office nickname, The Impotent Wizard.
During the next several years, as Sub Pop’s status, credibility and cultural significance waned, Mr. Poneman took an unorthodox approach to resuscitating his company by embarking on an increasing number of lengthy overseas vacations to some the world’s most sacred spiritual centers in an attempt to add some glint of meaning to an otherwise empty existence.
It was during this period that he earned the still popular inter-office nickname, The Absent Ghost.
Recently, Fortune’s Bird of Pity seems to have found a friendly perch on Sub Pop’s fetid hovel as, over the last four years, they have enjoyed an unlikely string of critical and commercial successes that can only be attributed to two factors: luck & institutionalized racism. In an accidental misplacement of funds that has been mistakenly heralded by some as charity, Sub Pop has also been a key contributor to such worthwhile institutions as The Service Board and The Vera Project. Never mind that Mr. Poneman still believes the both of these to be code names for two of his many phony tax shelters and offshore accounts.
It has been during this most recent period that he has earned the still popular inter-office nickname, The Clueless Detective.
In reciting this history, perhaps you are like me in wondering why Sub Pop and Jonathan Poneman should be deemed worthy of receiving this otherwise well-merited award when I can’t even find a girlfriend. The answer, I’m afraid, is “I Don’t Know.”
PROFILED: Pleasure Forever
Andrew Rothbard, Joshua Hughes and Dave Clifford
EASE OF MOTION: Well it was Sub Pop Anniversary Day, the annual day we have our party slash show, so when these guys came in, the office was hopping. Therefore, I did not ferociously eyeball the band’s entrance. Plus they huddled around in a slouchy pile for the duration of their stay, which makes it difficult to really scope out someone’s ability to walk.
ATTITUDE: As always, the band was nice and did not demand quarters from me. Parking meters and candy machines immediately confuse the herd; which gives me the opportunity to scrutinize every little detail and also take the opportunity to inhale deeply the stench of rock stardom.
APPEARANCE: I didn’t stare, god. They looked rather like they had slept in their clothes. And, although charming – there was a slight oiliness and pallor about them that seemed somehow diabolical. Deliberate? Hard to say.
STINKINESS: Pleasure Forever did not get within huffing range, but I’m reasonably sure the band smelled fair to midland with undertones of hangover.
P&Q: Very polite, no hat wearing was done inside, unless that wasn’t actually someone’s hair. I did not take the opportunity to check the band for proper serviette usage. They drank some tea and coffee.
GIFTS: Again, no gifts. I should just give up on getting any gifts. Why would I? No one thinks about these things on the way to the office. I should have known better. A mere rock from rock people is really not asking for very much. Any one of them could just hang out of the van and grab me a pebble. Geez.
FLAG: Wave it high with pride. Looking non-plussed is good.
ENTOURAGE: It’s quite possible that they were each other’s entourage, because they didn’t bring additional dirtbags with them, sadly.
SPAZZINESS: Pleasure Forever was most un-spazzy. They weren’t even festive for such pleasured people. I think they must have been tired.
FINAL GRADE: I give them a B. I wrote it down with a big red pencil. B for bedazzling!
Pernice Brothers on NME.com