Tag Archives: DJ Tanner

DJ Tanner Brings the Beats

DJ Tanner 

Silence in Architecture is happy to present you with DJ Tanner’s already legendary “Bowling Alley Mix”!  If you weren’t able to make it out to that immortal show of hand clapping and boom bapping, well, you can now pretend that you were there in front of your mirror.

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Rattled By the Rush

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The All These Teepees/DJ Tanner show on Saturday was great and allowed me the chance to experience a double-header of head-scratching.  I know that the always classy A.B.C. Sports Center isn’t known for regularly pumpin’ out the Justice jamz, but to the “music fans” (without a legitimate medical excuse) who came out and didn’t do the d.a.n.c.e. before the A.T.T.?  Equal sign LAMERS.  What?  Too tired from slowly tapping your foot to Ryan Adams all day?  I keed, I keed (maybe).  But me, Ty Demp, A. Sumpty, Dave “Detroit” Dickinson, and Ohhhhhlen freaking carried your sofistafunk ASSES!  I broke it down IN FLIP-FLOPS, and all you could do is stand back there and fold your arms?  Will Krause: thank you.  Thanx also go out to my sponsor, Miller Light 16 oz. cans.  No thankx go out to the “A.B.C. Regulars” who apparently were too busy attempting to pick up Syphilis to notice the rocking that was rolling around on stage.  Aaron: I’m still disappointed in the lack of shirtlessness and peanut butter.  Other than that, it was a tight night. 

Every Time That We Walk the Streets

A Clockwork Orange

I admit that I feel an odd form of consumer’s guilt whenever I go to Papa Gjorgio’s.  To say that it is Ada’s best place to consume calories would be quite the local culinary understatement.  It just seems almost culturally inappropriate for a town like this to have a place with a satisfying wine list and where cheese fries and a side of ranch dressing is an impossibility.  Wednesday night I enjoyed a couple hours in the restaurant’s reassuringly intimate Martini Bar with several of my close “buds”.  Though I have been m.i.a. for a few weeks, this became a weekly pilgrimage sometime during my final semester of college.  This is our Wednesday night fellowship.  In place of potluck casserole, Blake and I mutually masticated our margarita pizza, and casual conversation about “The Whitest Kids U Know” skit-lifting from MTV’s “The State” replaced weepy diatribes against the dangers of inter-religion dating.  Sipping on a Will-prepared drink, I listened to Dave D. recount his Radio Shack Story of the Day.  This consisted of a senile lady shopper leaving poo poo in places not designated a toilet bowl and left me wondering what kind of paycheck would balance out selling coaxial cable to potty untrained customers.  Mental answer: medical school amounts.  Will comes to the table to announce that he will indeed be opening the upcoming All These Teepees show as his dance music alter-ego DJ Tanner.  And I end the night reminded of why I find it so hard to leave this home of twenty-four years. 

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