Oh, and by the way...

A long overdue new 8 Track:

Link

Labels: 8 Tracks, mixtapes

Young, Free, With Singles, Part # 2.



Manic Cough – Eggs & Chips (Purr)

Oh man, how could I possibly not love this? Sounding like the early Slits if they’d discovered a little bit of ‘60s basement funk instead of the reggae, Manic Cough dispatch the a-side here in about eighty seconds, letting us know their penchant for “eggs and chips and weetabix” early in the morning. “Fuck the euro, fuck the euro!” they inexplicably yell in the middle. The rather convoluted song-writing credits on the back name four different people, only one of whom is in the band, as contributing lyricists, making me think they perhaps gave a credit to everyone present at the breakfast meet-up where the song had its genesis, and threw in a passing euro-sceptic waiter for good measure. What larks! B-side ‘Get Some’ is even shorter and even better, a girl-punk twist party classic with massive bass-line, gang vocals and really well-developed melody, like Kenickie hitting the beach in a cadillac or something. I’ve never bought a record on Purr that’s been anything less than a bona fide winner, and this is no exception. MORE PLEASE!

http://www.myspace.com/maniccoughh
http://www.purr.org.uk

Dean McPhee / Chapters – split 7” (World In Winter)

Here’s an unexpected treat I found on my doorstep this week – seven inches of low-key psychedelic beauty from the appropriately named World in Winter label. I heard on the radio this morning that the temperature’s going to hit -7 in the Uk’s city centres tonight, and the radiator in my room’s not working too good, so this whole package suits the circumstances quite well, I feel. On side one, loop-happy guitarist Dean Mcphee gently entwines some deeply comforting, sorta-melodic Sitar-tinged guitar lines over a steady interstellar bass pulse, cocooned within a mist of dense analogue echo, tape delay and tremolo, recalling both Sandy Bull’s electronic excursions on his Valentines Day ’69 record, and Tom Carter’s more laidback work on recent Charalambides albums, but with an odd, inexplicably British flavour about it, a potentially perfect soundtrack to some hauntastic Sunday afternoon visit to some icy hilltop ruins. On the flip, Derbyshire trio Chapters continue in a broadly similar vein, looped phrases merging into crystalline echo-fog, a thick, enveloping sound and Eno-like attention to detail preventing it from ever sinking into sub-ambient drudgery or post-rock nowheresville. Like feeling reality return as you sit in the car and wait for the heater to kick in? A pretty great record anyway, bringing back happy memories of freezing & dreaming in my lonely garret to the sounds of Flying Saucer Attack’s ‘Mirror’ and the darker reaches of the Ochre records back catalogue…. so if that particular, indefinable strand of British soundscaping has ever been your cup of warm, warm tea, I’d deem this one well worth tracking down.

http://www.myspace.com/worldinwinte
http:// www.myspace.com/deanmcphee
http:// www.myspace.com/chapterswiw

Projekt A-Ko / Horowitz split 7” (Filthy Little Angels)

Projekt A-Ko, you’ll recall, are the band formed by three quarters of my teenage idols Urusei Yatsura after UY called it a day back in about 2001-ish. They’ve always kept a pretty low profile though, and to be honest I had no idea they were still in operation, so to find ‘em popping up on this split with popscene heroes Horowitz is a glorious and unexpected surprise. And I’m pleased to report that despite the apparent years of silence, they’re pretty much picking up right where they left off too, as their first tune here, ironically entitled ‘Nothing Works Twice’, kicks straight into a fuzzed up Slanted-era Pavement riff, working downbeat verses hinting at some kinda dystopian sci-fi scenario into a huge, rollicking pop chorus complete with all the ‘ba ba ba’s you could ask for. It’s all here; those sneery, transatlantic vocals that have apparently worked their way so thoroughly into my DNA over the years that I sing like that automatically, and plenty of that rampant, string-breaking guitar scuzz too. It’s a fucking winner, and reassures me I was no fool back when I was obsessively taping every repeat play of UY songs off Steve Lamacq when I should have been doing my homework. Their other song here, ‘Goodbye Sunlight’, is a touch more subdued, starting off with acoustic strumming, even more ‘ba ba ba’s, and some lovely female backing vox… presumably the work of previously silent bass player Elaine? It’s another good song anyway – great to have these guys back.

Horowitz’ two songs on the other side are entitled ‘Hug Target’ and ‘Sweetness I Could Die In Your Arms’, and your kneejerk reaction to those titles will likely mirror your reaction to the music. Predictably, I love it. As with all Horowitz stuff, it’s about the most perfectly realised homemade guitar pop imaginable, rejecting sadsack indie cliché in favour of compressed doses wideeyed, swooning, naïve love-joy, graced with the kind of melodies the skinny tie power-pop contingent would kill for. Like the sound of a geeky schoolboy gazing in wonder at the departing back of the girl who just kissed him for so long that he accidentally gets hit by a bus and floats off to a heaven where Dan Treacy joined Big Star and Boyracer rule supreme.

So, in conclusion, both sides of this record make my tummy feel funny and bring a tear to my eye, and you should get a copy! It’s limited to 200 though, and mine is number 186, so assuming Filthy Little Angels opened the box the right way around, you might have to get a move on.

http://www.myspace.com/projektako
http:// www.myspace.com/horowitzband
http://filthylittleangels.blogspot.com/

Used Kids 7” (Salinas Records)

Tons of good vibes exploding out of the debut(?) single from these funloving punkers, apparently based in Brooklyn, although they celebrate the Midwest in song and their label is based in Ferndale, MI. Anyway, the score is some distinctly un-Brooklynlike good, old fashioned six pack on the lawn pre-hardcore rock n’ roll, and that’s certainly no bad thing. Musically, things manage to be sorta simultaneously sloppy and tight, but happily rockin’ either way (think Replacements). A-side ‘Midwest Midsummer’ is an absolute BLAST anyway, a mighty, widescreen feel-good beast of Springsteen proportions on a Ramones budget, and near five minutes of it too, complete chorus repeats, ‘na na na na na, na na’s, solos and exhortations – I mean more than one - to “sing it!” and to “keep on rocking!”. Wowza! High fives all round! Fantastic stuff! The b-sides aren’t quite as good, and reveal the band’s primary weakness; namely, the vocals. Although the three fellas in the band take lead on one song each (“..and Kate screamed”), only the guy who sings the A side really seems to have a strong enough voice to get the point across, which is a shame cos the other songs are still pretty good, and have some great lyrics (as printed on the back); “Cupid’s landlord would keep your deposit / you would get the horns if you did this to Odin / it’s true you don’t need a licence to drive in Wisconsin / but you still gotta pay if you cause a wreck”…? Just tighten up the recording and playing a bit, tweak the vocals, and I’m with you guys.

Just checked the Used Kids myspace, on which they describe what they’re going for musically as follows:

“Like when it's midnight and you're at a dance party with your friends, maybe some enemies, and someone's been hijacking the stereo and playing shitty ironic indie dance music all night. Maybe you've just cracked open a can of Schlitz, or passed around a fifth of Evan Williams, but whatever you're doing, you're ready to really cut loose, and suddenly the Exploding Hearts are on the sound system and you're running around the place, knocking over chairs and preaching Gospel-style to all the clueless hipsters how you're a Pretender at the Game of Love. And as you rampage and thrash around the place, you feel once more what it was like when you heard the Ramones for the first time and there was a nuclear detonation in your brain. Or maybe the songs of the Used Kids recall for you how it felt that time when you and your roommate were driving straight from Seattle to Minneapolis, the tape deck broken, and as you searched at dawn through the toxic waste on the FM dial in the badlands of Montana, you heard the riff from Tom Petty's "Running Down A Dream" and you punched the ceiling of your car as you both sang along with every word.”

*blinks *
*reconsiders *

The Used Kids can be my friends forever. I’m sorry about the stuff I said about the vocals. I was wrong, and everyone should buy this record and give these guys money and/or beer. SING IT!

http://www.myspace.com/usedkidsny
http:// www.myspace.com/salinasrecords

POST-SCRIPT: The temperature didn't actually hit anything like -7 on the night I wrote that Dean McPhee/Chapters review, I think a young weatherman on Radio 4 just got overexcited. So I didn't freeze to death in the end, which was nice.

Labels: Chapters, Dean McPhee, Horowitz, Manic Cough, Projekt Ako, singles reviews, Used Kids

They Don't Make... well, *anything*... Like This Anymore;

A certain amount of stupidity can be a wonderful thing, as our parents' generation knew well.

A recent post on the always reliable WFMU blog featured a bunch of strange and joyful bubblegum pop videos, and, in this sad era when all varieties of popular culture seem intractably tangled in the wretched business of trying to be 'clever' and failing, it is my duty, in the name of public well-being, so pass a few of them on.

So if, as the winter drags on, you find your life sinking into a morass of darkness, headaches, hassles, entropy, poverty and procrastination, just take a few moments to enjoy some of the wonderful, wonderful mindless awesomeness below, and, seriously.... you'll find yourself feeling a whole lot better. "Bubblegum therapy", you might call it.

First here's The Gentrys, performing "Spread It On Thick" in the 1967 movie "It's A Bikini World". I refuse to be held responsible for the amount of time this song will spend stuck in your head:



Ah, "you the man?", "I'm the man!", etc, etc. Great stuff. I could happily watch that for a solid hour.

Now, most social historians will tell you that 1970 was a pretty grim year in the UK for any number of reasons, not least the fact that the big hit of the summer was Mungo Jerry, with their (his? their? - oh who cares) eternally hateful ode to drunk driving and taking advantage of girls with poor daddies, "In The Summertime". Not so in Australia, where the discerning public gave Mungo the heave-ho, and instead propelled The Mixtures, with their infinitely superior "Pushbike Song", to number 1 for six weeks. Get pedaling, brothers:

Labels: bubblegum, pop, stupidity, The Gentrys, The Mixtures, videos

Spreading Myself Even Thinner

A couple of quick announcements…

1.

Foolish as it may seem given the trouble I’ve often had updating this weblog on a regular basis, I’ve branched out and started a second weblog - Breakfast In The Ruins - to sit alongside this one.

The idea is that Stereo Sanctity will be a purely music-based blog (which it pretty much is anyway, let’s face it), and I’ll use the new blog as an outlet for stuff relating to movies, books, comic books, general weirdness, history, wider culture and so forth. Which is not to say I won’t be posting music-related content over there from time to time (scans of unusual record covers, movie soundtracks, that sort of thing), or that I won’t reserve the right to post non-music stuff over here should I feel like it.

My plan is to make Breakfast.. more focused on pictorial/aesthetic posts – scans of interesting old book and record covers, comics, fanzines, posters etc. from my, er, ‘collection’, with only sporadic pieces of original writing, which should make it easier to update regularly without diminishing the effort I put into this site.

‘Breakfast In The Ruins’ has of course been my email address and sometime internet alias for quite a while now, but I thought it would suit the intentions of my new venture a lot better than any of the other contenders that were floating around my brain, so decided well go with it. The name is taken of course from a Michael Moorcock book, in which Karl Glogaeur (protagonist of Moorcock’s earlier crucifixion time travel caper, ‘Behold The Man’) is picked up by a muscular African man in Derry & Tom’s Roof Garden in London, and they proceed to spend the rest of the novel having rough sex, interspersed with disturbing visions of assorted alternate world apocalyptic scenarios. Truth be told, I didn’t enjoy the book all that much, but it was certainly a characteristically daring bit of experimental fiction from Moorcock, and I did enjoy imagining the reaction of all the straight-laced Elric fans who must have picked it up by accident, and hopefully a similar sort of vibe will be in evidence on the new weblog (well, minus all the rough man-sex at least).

And that, my friends, is perhaps the last time you’ll be subjected to a pointless digression about old Michael Moorcock books getting in the way of my indie-rock type musings here on Stereo Sanctity, as my plan for establishing my own cultural schizophrenia is put into full effect! I’ve already put a few posts up on the new blog before announcing it to the world, in order to avoid that ‘first guest at the party’ type feeling, so if you’re remotely interested, then by all means, visit regularly, tell your friends, put up links, etc!

2.

Also, I got given a hand-me-down digital camera over Christmas, and have started taking pictures of stuff for the first time since my old analogue camera died a few years back. And so, years behind everyone else as per usual, I’ve reactivated my Flickr account and started regularly uploading stuff to it.

Of course, there’s no reason why this should be of much interest to people who don’t know me in real life (and frankly it’s of precious little interest to those who do), but the same thing could be said of about 85% of the internet, so hell, I’m not going to let that stop me now. It’s there anyway, so look at it if you like. I’ll be trying to keep a visual record of all the bands I see play, amongst other things.

Normnal service to be resumed here within a day or two hopefully, so stay tuned.

Labels: announcements, self promotion

Deathblog: Lux Interior 1948 - 2009

"For Immediate Release: February 4, 2009

Lux Interior, lead singer of The Cramps, passed away this morning due to an existing heart condition at Glendale Memorial Hospital in Glendale, California at 4:30 AM PST today. Lux has been an inspiration and influence to millions of artists and fans around the world. He and wife Poison Ivy’s contributions with The Cramps have had an immeasurable impact on modern music.

The Cramps emerged from the original New York punk scene of CBGB and Max’s Kansas City, with a singular sound and iconography. Their distinct take on rockabilly and surf along with their midnight movie imagery reminded us all just how exciting, dangerous, vital and sexy rock and roll should be and has spawned entire subcultures. Lux was a fearless frontman who transformed every stage he stepped on into a place of passion, abandon, and true freedom. He is a rare icon who will be missed dearly.

The family requests that you respect their privacy during this difficult time."


WHY DO AWESOME PEOPLE KEEP DYING...?!?

It's such a drag I can't hardly stand it no more.

I never got to see The Cramps play.

*lurches off, snivelling, crashing into furniture, etc*

Howls speak louder than words. If for some reason you've never heard these, do yourself a favour:

The Cramps - Teenage Werewolf (outtake with false start/argument)

The Cramps - Garbageman

The Cramps - Sunglasses After Dark (demo)

The Cramps - Human Fly (live at CBGBs 1978)

The Cramps - Fever


Rock n' Roll in action:

Labels: deathblog, horror, punk rock, The Cramps

Young, Free, With Singles, Part # 1.

Yes, more singles. People keep making ‘em, I keep buying ‘em, I play them all over the space of a spare Saturday, and, after a fashion, you have to read about them. That’s the way it works. I bought all of these before Christmas, so let’s assume they’re all ’08, unless it turns out they’re actually from ’07 or ’06 or 1994 or something, as records in the ‘new releases’ racks of our capital’s noble, embattled independent record shops are often apt to be.

Also, seeing how this is becoming an increasingly regular feature, it strikes me that I really should have some snazzy title for these posts. Unfortunately though, Doug Mosurock already resides over ‘Still Single’, and Plan B hold the current lease on ‘Singles Club’, leaving me to make do with the rather clunky ‘Young, Free, With Singles’. So, a contest: if you can come up with a better bit of singles-related wordplay I might use for a title, send it in to the usual address, and the winner gets, uh, I dunno…. some singles. Either that or I could take you out to dinner and attempt to lay the foundations for a meaningful relationship, whichever you’d prefer (go for the singles).

Acid Mothers Temple & The Cosmic Inferno / White Hills – Brainstorm / Be Yourself (Trensmat Records)

This forms one part of a trilogy of tributes to Hawkwind from Ireland's Trensmat records, all expressed within that most un-Hawkwindlike of formats, the split 7”. It does at least play at 33 though, so calm down, you’ve still got time to skin up. As you might well expect from AMT paying tribute to the Hawklords, their take on ‘Brainstorm’ kicks straight into a demented orgy of ring modulated oscillator carnage, stereo-panning wah-wah hyper-shred, senseless, garbled chanting and extensive exploration of that good ol’ ‘falling down a spiralling time tunnel’ sound effect. The inbuilt limitations of the Cosmic Inferno’s trio line-up keeps thing vaguely under control with a steady motorik churn, but largely this is just another identikit blast of the kind of beyond-gratuitous multiple overdubbed cartoon psychedelic splatter Kawabata could knock out in his sleep, and god knows, probably does.

White Hills – a band I’ve always meant to check out but have never quite got around to – are the clear winners here then, slicing up ‘Be Yourself’ into a monstrously heavy bass groove, martial drum riff and some distinct and vicious psyche-overload guitar, the whole trio compressed down to a single, floor-shaking entity, like some mud splattered behemoth beating its morbid way through a swamp of speaker fuzz, until it’s buried by the rise of the obligatory oscillations, fades out, and, brilliantly, re-emerges as the full realisation of Hawkwind’s hypnotic, glam stomp of a two chord chorus/mantra – BE YOURSELF, indeed. Absolute ‘storming the gates of heaven’ material all things considered, and I wish Trensmat could have shelled out to have this one end on the locked groove the song is just crying out for; that would have been beautiful. Anyway, my guess is, if you’ve enjoyed reading this review, you’ll probably enjoy the record, so let’s call it a day and move on to our next item of business…

http://www.trensmat.com/
http://www.acidmothers.com/
http://www.myspace.com/whitehills

The Bridport Dagger – Spanish One / Magpie’s Nest (Death Records)

I saw these guys dealing with the unenviable task of opening up the bill at about 8ish for the soon-to-be-legendary Vivian Girls / Pains Of Being Pure At Heart / Betty & The Werewolves line up before xmas, and thought they made a good enough job of it to take a chance on this proudly self-released single, and… well, it’s pretty good.
Dancing over the borders of a whole mess of potentially troublesome musical territory – rockabilly, swamp-rock, ‘80s indie gloom – the Bridports miraculously get out alive, managing to sidestep any obvious cliché or aesthetic shtick and emerging with a razorsharp guitar/guitar/drums sound that’s intimately familiar yet difficult to really pin down with easy reference points. Dreamy/sinister ‘Wicked Game’ reverb guitar gives way to a frantic staccato boogie on ‘Spanish One’, backing up some understated, early Nick Cave woe-is-me type hollering, and all over in under 2 minutes – a great slice of cinematic urgency. ‘Cinematic’ in music crit terminology is usually taken to mean vast, expansive, landscapes, blah; but this stuff is ‘cinematic’ more like a thirty second jump cut scene where some guy gets stabbed and thrown off a train. ‘Magpie’s Nest’ is just as short, even more train-like, and even better, adding a great, clean-toned rockabilly lead line that could momentarily pass for ‘80s jangle-pop, for a brighter, sharper take on the kind of menacing choogle practiced by The Scientists. Man, it’s great. These Bridport Daggers strike me as some seriously smart cats in fact, clearly blessed with the know-how, ideas and understanding of musical history necessary to take a bunch of their favourite hackneyed comfort-sounds and twist them back into something hard, fast, and somewhat exhilarating. Oh, and some of the singer’s vocal inflections keep reminding me of the early take of ‘Venus In Furs’ with John Cale singing, which is a nice bonus, because I like being reminded of that – all dark n’ odious, but keeping it just the right side of ludicrous. A band worth investigating.

http://www.myspace.com/thebridportdagger

The Corey Orbison – Your Name Is Poison (Everard Records)

Cripes – HEAVY Huggy Bear vibes coming off this one, brainchild of the folks behind Bristol’s Local Kid label/promoter/collective type gang. And that’s Huggy Bear as they actually sounded too, not as revisionist riot grrl/indie-pop historians might like to remember them sounding. “File under No Wave Cissy Hardcore” says the label, and, whilst I’m sure they’ll make a happy addition to my No Wave Cissy Hardcore collection, I fear The Corey Orbison are verging more on “File Under Indescribable” to be honest. It may be thirty years since no wave, since Half Japanese and The Dead C, even a couple of years since Magik Markers brought the idea of improvising non-musicians rocking out to the indie masses, but it’s hard to overstate the extent to which this is STILL a genuinely brave and challenging record for it’s makers to put out. Recorded live-in-studio with hear-a-pin-drop clarity, The Corey Orbison refuse to hide behind scuzz, distortion or mysique, instead bringing the performers’ every strike, lunge, shriek and fumble to us loud and clear with the unassailable confidence of politically motivated free expression.

What results is certainly quite something, recalling nothing so much as Mars’s systematic dehumanisation of rock music on their section of ‘No New York’. Like those tracks, everything that happens on this disc is so utterly *wrong*, it becomes alien and disorientating. The girl’s voice is so high-pitched it doesn’t sound natural at either speed, so pure guesswork leads me to conclude 45. The drums are particularly wrecked also, random tom hits going off rather like a recording of a kid shooting a pellet gun, leaving only the bass to thump out rudimentary time. Guitar moves are pure Arto Lindsey/Teenage Jesus, but less showy and lacking in explicit violence, instead working out a free improv-inspired vocabulary of abstract scrape n’ clang. One side features no less than six songs, all arbitrarily exploding into being and collapsing back into silence in a matter of seconds, before they can be caught in even the swiftest butterfly net, whilst the other side is given over to a single freeform freakout that seems determined to outstay it’s welcome. Why? Because.

To characterise this record as formless however would be grossly misleading. There’s a solid structure behind everything here, with voluminous lyrics reproduced on the insert to back it up, and if the songs have a tendency to begin with a burst of unrepeatable shred, it’s not long before they crystallise into recognisably livid grrl-punk war-chants, directly in the tradition of early Sleater Kinney, God Is My Co-Pilot and yes, Huggy Bear. What we’ve got here is a fiery combo of ideological commitment, rage, refusal, stifled utopianism and a full spectrum frustration so inexpressible it can only be given voice be kicking music’s internal logic squarely in the head. But what we’ve also got here is, perhaps, some kinda huge sense of FUN…? I think I can just see it. As they put it on their myspace: “..our style of music is the short and the sharp and the stop and the start. make a mess. break a heart. stick the rules. punk rock is for the wimps.” This here punk rock wimp is uncertain whether to worship or run away.

http://www.myspace.com/coreyorbison
http://www.everardrecords.com

The Cute Lepers – Terminal Boredom (Damaged Goods)

Well if we take The Corey Orbison’s line on things, this is certainly one for the wimps. Thoroughly enjoyable but kinda generic trash-punk fun; the A-side does a good impression of a late perod Johnny/DeeDee led Ramones cut (think ‘Warthog’), with chunky production to match, great snotty vocals and a good Buzzcocks bounce to it. B-side ‘Any Danger Love’ goes for an authentically air-punching Bomp! Records ’79 power-pop sound – it’s a good little blaster with sweet female backing vox, but it never really breaks through the way it should, as the nonsensical chorus hook gets repeated ad-nauseum in place of any melodic development or hot rockin’. It’s cool, but I think it would work best as a 30 second theme for a crazy, dumbass TV show. Not a bad record by any means – it fact it’s sure to be graded as a pretty good one by people like me who can’t get enough this kinda thing – but given the heavy competition for scraps of awesome-ness in the garage, punk and power-pop sectors, Cute Lepers can’t help but come off as a tad unexceptional on the strength of these two numbers. That said, I’m sure they’d be great fun live, and I sure enjoyed the video for this single on their myspace.

http://www.myspace.com/thecutelepers
http://www.damagedgoods.co.uk

The Manhattan Love Suicides – Veronica / 10th Victim (Squirrel)

As much as I like them, The Manhattan Love Suicides' increasingly numerous records are in many ways much of a muchness, and as such, I primarily refer you to my thoughts on their previous single.

That said, I confess I’m not enjoying this one half as much as the ‘Clusterfuck’ EP. The sound is muddy (and not in a good way), and both sides are a tad sluggish and overlong, which is a shame, and detracts from the fact that ‘Veronica’ is easily one of the loveliest songs this band have ever written… if only they’d up the tempo a bit and give it some oomph, rather than subjecting it to their strung out shoegazer thang. ‘10th Victim’ meanwhile hooks up the ‘be my baby’ drum intro with a matching sludge guitar riff – a move so obvious and obviously good it’s a wonder it’s not been done more frequently – and proceeds to plough it into the ground for a few minutes with a nice, droning cyclical vocal. All very Spacemen 3, but stuck as it is somewhere that’s longer than a short song but too short to be a long song, it’s gnarly repetition thing doesn’t really go anywhere (and, more importantly, doesn’t give the impression of going anywhere).

http://www.myspace.com/themls

Labels: Acid Mothers Temple, singles reviews, The Bridport Daggers, The Corey Orbison, The Cute Lepers, The Manhattan Love Suicides, White Hills

Being Awesome = Putting In The Effort.

Myself and a couple of friends went on a quick jaunt to Amsterdam this weekend (I know, leaving the country twice in a month - very uncharacteristic). And look who we found in the hotel visitors book...


*swoon*

I mean, the rest of the book with just full of drunken, incoherent biro scribbling, but look at the effort Those Dancing Days have out into it - the colours they brought along, and the amazing lettering! No half measures there. Another perfect demonstration of why TDD RULE.

Speaking of half measures, some proper posts are forthcoming as soon as I finish writing them, but in the meantime, enjoy one of the better pop videos of recent years:

Labels: spacefiller, Those Dancing Days, videos