"Smelly Calore" Debut EP from Styles Bentley

Cover of "Smelly Calore"

EXPERIMENTAL LOVE POP. Can you dig?! 'Smelly Calore', which is directly translated from the french language, means 'Love Stinks'. These love songs are not molded to the good old grease lightning love lullaby's of yesterday, but of more interesting situations like; that girl who is in all of your dreams, peepin fine hunny's at the club, and even the love of a child and parent. The EP is compiled of old tracks, new lyrics, old lyrics and new tracks pieced together in simplicity for your enjoyment. Shows are soon to come, as well as a full length album summer 2011 Presented by Styles Bentley called "Charming Friends"!! But for now kiddos, enjoy the "Smelly Calore"!!

Free Download and Streaming at:www.reverbnation.com/stylesbentley

Who is the 2011 Coachella NOS MONSTER!?!?!

NOS energy drinks hold 357 MG of caffeine. When microwaved, the liquid solution actually melts and destroyed ceramic plates! When consumed by a human, even just one can, you are committed to having an ulcer at some point in your life! Fortunately, for the 27 people residing at the Coachella NOS Estate in Palm Desert, California this past weekend, we had an unlimited supply, unlimited energy, unlimited drugs, and liquor! The effect of Fear and Loathing during our pot smoking adolescence has led us to a house of ultimate physical destruction and ultimate mental enlightenment. A place where masters of the silliness like the NOS Father could finally thrive as crazed loonies jabbering gibberish at the Statue of David’s dirty condom hanging from a limp stone wang!! This is not our first adventure of such desires. It was our sophomore year in such situations for my heterosexual life partner Julian Gavilanes and I, last year taking the word ‘Party’ to a new height. Yet, as true renaissance men we had to progress. On a level of 1-10, our goal this year was to reach a 13th level of rambunctiousness! Meaning that between Julian, Father NOS, and myself we would reach, yes, a 39!! We had to go further, harder, and sillier than ever before!

In the past year of 2010, a similar territory was created as a home when away from the Coachella Music Festival. Here I learned from ‘Father NOS’ the true effects of such a concoction. This energy drink does something beyond waking you up after your lunch break to make it through the rest of the work day. After consuming so much it changes you, it melts you, and births a new life form, an outcast, an alien, it transforms you into a ‘NOS Monster’! ‘Father NOS’ legally know as Aaron Glatzer, told us tales of years past, the mayhem he spread, and the powers that NOS can give you. Father NOS was the original NOS Monster, he has been so enlighten by NOS he doesn’t even drink it anymore… he eats it!! (http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1593652139#!/video/video.php?v=10150552432230467) In the year of 2010, I, Styles Bentley became the NOS monster during the traditional episode of Cribs Coachella. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=63Da3uCR8Xg)  And now, 2011, a new NOS Monster must be crowned!! But who would reach the new heights of silliness, perhaps perform a 14 on the silliness scale? We could only wait and see who the NOS would choose to posses.




The NOS Father, Aaron Glatzer, at
our Coachella NOS Estate.

 Newly a single man, Julian Gavilanes (yes, he’s single ladies) had a raging boner from the time we took our first shot of Tequila in the Alaskan Lodge at the Sea-Tac Airport Thursday morning at 6am. New to sexuality in the 21 century, Julian forgot to bring any “protection”, and realized this at the first sight of a girl in a bikini at the pool. Luckily, a local Flamingo was in town and purchased him a variety pack of condoms from the convenience store. The first night was unsuccessfully sexy for him. After the high consumption of booze and NOS I’m positive his penis was inoperable and a quarter inch in length. Despite his kebbler elf sized wang, Julian finished the first night with an epic 720 gainer off the diving board completely naked! He was not in control. NOS was.

The weekend continued and Julian’s condoms had not even been opened!! The second day of the concert, while walking the half mile from the parking lot to the festival, Allen Stone, (yes, of ‘Allen Stone Makes Dreams Come True’) noticed Julian with his hands down his pants following the group in an awkward wiggle. He approached and inquired the situation;

“Julian! What the Fuck are you doing?!”

“I’m putting on a condom!!” He replied.

“What! A condom? It’s 97 degrees, you don’t have a bonesie, and are definitely not about to have sexual relations?!” Then repeats,

“What the Fuck are you doing?!”

In passionate defense Julian states,

“Look man, I got my pink fanny pack, I got my wrist band, I got my tequila water bottles, my Dr. Pepper lip smackers, and I got a fucking condom on my little wankis, I mean FUCK! You never know what’s going to happen at Coachella!!”



Julain after attaching his limped wang condom.



No Julian, you never do know what’s going to happen! Like you probably didn’t think you would have given out 738 hugs, primarily to other men, you probably didn’t think you were going to spill a bottle of Tequila on your bloody cut and cracked feet burning them to all extremes, and you probably after 2 hours of wearing your condom at Coachella didn’t think it would fall off in the middle of the dance party to Yelle at the Mohave tent. Once you realized that a condom slid off your dick and out the bottom of your board shorts you continued to pick it up in excitement thinking it was money. Suddenly turning disgusted realizing you were picking up a condom off the ground, yet instantly again realizing it was your condom that fell off your limp dick making you completely giddy with pride that it stayed on your wang the entire time!! Then you smelled it!? Needless to say the levels of silliness were definitely hitting a 13!!

The final evening was upon us! To ensure our silliness level had hit a 13, the NOS Father, Julain, and I did the only thing we knew could spill us over the top. We started a skinny dipping swim session in our NOS Coachella Estate pool, the largest residential pool in the Palm Springs area!! We all jumped in with nothing but birthday suits, NOS, and booze! Feeling the water flow over our bodies was such relief after a treacherous weekend of molly, sassafras, cs2g5 or some crazy shit like that, cocaine, NOS, Don Q, Bud Light, marijuana cigarettes, Tequila, Vodka, laced sweet tarts, and some acid. As we all surfaced from our inaugural skinny dip jump, we realized that no others had followed. We were 3 silly boys, naked, in the poosie. Yes, my friends we had all reached a 13!! The rest of the night went as most do, sleepless, naked dance parties, the filming of the traditional cribs episode, drugs, liquor, NOS, NOS, NOS!!! At the end of the evening it was 7:20 in the morning. The sun was fully up in the sky as NOS Father, Julian, myself, Blakely, Deltron 3000, and some crazy chick Pierce brought over caught the first rays. Julian looked as though he was relieved. I asked him;

“Julian! What the Fuck are you doing?!”

He says,

“I was wearing my condom, and I had to pee… so I started peeing… then it filled up the condom until it exploded on my tummy all warm.” He replied in delighted abandon.

At that point it was clear and evident, that the Coachella NOS Estate would crown this year’s NOS Monster as JULIAN GAVILANES!!!! Congrats my heterosexual life partner, I love you, welcome once again to insanity!!

Kanye West finished the festival weekend with one of the most amazing live performances of all time, just as Julian performed with his highest levels of silliness at a 13!! “Can we get much higher” Kanye asks?! Yes, Mr. West , we can with the power of NOS, friends, love, and music…. So high. I will leave you all with the inspiration behind Julian’s condom wearing. Gabriel and Julian’s father Diego Gavilanes always told them as children…

“Boys! Muchachos! Remember to always wear protection, I’m wearing one right now!”

So let us all strap condoms on our limp penises and rejoice in the glory that is the 2011 NOS MONSTER, Julian Paul Gavilanes!

Allen Stone Makes Dreams Come True

A furiously crowded Nuemos rambled with anticipation. Allen Stone, a singer song writer, from the oh so rural Chewelah, Wa is achieving the American dream. Not to be confused with the other American dream that was sought out by millions immigrating to the new western land, but the small droplet of hope and passion that some people actually still have! The people who are not subsiding to society, who are following a talent, a skill, a passion just as so many artists have before. But this ain’t no game like our daddies played, this shit here is new, it’s different, and Allonious Funk (as I like to call him) is playin, and damn boi, he’s good! Like so many country boys with a dream, Allen packed up his handkerchief and walking stick traveling outward to the biggest and closet city, Spokane. No, no no, only an idiot would do that, he moved to Seattle! From than he played cafes, house parties, and any gig a man could get. The struggle of every local musician, except Allen’s raw talent slowly started making a local impact. In the last 2 years he has progressed from playing the Q Café, to selling out the High Dive, than the Tractor, and to what belief, a boy may believe his dreams to come true when he sold out the historic Crocodile! But now, after continuously touring the states, hot off of playing multiple SXSW showcases, Allen Stone is on the headlining bill at Nuemos. Excitement is happening, hard work is paying off, I am getting completely drunk and having a great time! Then the house lights drop.

A sound begins to grow from the speakers, though through the darkness, there was light. A glowing halo of wavy blonde locks flows to center stage. The crowd chants in rhythm with the band, “Allen Stone, Allen Stone, Allen Stone”! He had the people, wild, at “hello”!  He began to sing, what I and most Seattleites are cursing about this time of the year, “I can’t stand the rain”. Smooth, sexual, fucking groovy baby. The band was in instant synchronicity, Allen’s voice, smooth and gritty, cheerful and soulful, warm, the party rages! Strung together by Allonious himself a band of local players was highlighted by Sharief Hobley on lead guitar, a musician from NYC who’s played with big soul sound hitters like John Legend. To Al’s left, BGP front man Brandon Ghorley kept the keys and harmonies kickin, along with Andrew Vait from Eternal Fair tootin on that saxophone, and superior booms and blaps thumped by Tyler Carrol, a UW student with fucking skills. On the sticks, Nick Molenda was steady, smooth, and striking side by side with Greg Ehrlich on the organ pushin in the funk with a goal to unload the soul. “3 TIMES”… BAM BAM BAM, Allen shouts and the band delivers. Right on righteous brother of bravery! All the while, mayhem is happening, an overjoyed lad in the crowd simultaneously was dancing vigorously with four ladies of lush and singing lyric for lyric every cut. Slowly he pushed the females off one by one, to put his full energy into the music, and perhaps save the ladies for later. Needless to say Allen Stone on stage is a tractor beam of attention! His flailing hands and grandpa thick spectacles leaves most newcomers in awkward belief that the voice they are hearing is… that guy?! Note by note, he guides you with a sound and tone of a soulful brotha with lyrical content that is deep, emotional, and even at times political. Somewhere in the middle of the set, it seemed that an elf princess hovered to center stage as Allonious Funk took a seat at the keys. This was no elf, but perhaps a princess as her voice was perfection for the song “Reality” arranged tonight as a duet. Her name is Alessandra Rose.  Her and Allen’s voices were a blessing to experience together and needs to be laid down on some wax stat. The moment of mellow was quickly changed up to a power house ending with cuts like “Vibe With You”, “Push, Pull, Tear”, and “Not Another Break Up Song”. We danced and drank, cheered with joys, and even sang Happy Birthday to one of Allen’s high school teachers who was in attendance! A thanks is given, but the crowd pounded for more, when moments later Allen returned to stage with his guitar. The crowded and inebriated Nuemos populous went silent as “Last to Speak” resonated the rafters with righteous glory. A dream that we all were watching unfold before our eyes was making the dreams that we have seem possible in an impossible world of hurdles and bounds. Allen Stone has landed on the other side and is lighting the way for all believers to follow in sound and soul. Go into the light, and find Allen Stone.

www.myspace.com/allenstone

www.twitter.com/allen_stone

www.facebook.com/allenstone

                                                                                                                               

The Sexual Insanity that is 'Sugar Skulls'

Two eyes, a lens, and a machine of power far beyond our universe took hold of my conscious being and melted it to the floor. Her stare pierced through each strings vibration, charming them to tingle in the tones of her soul. Vibrations were everywhere, and a taste for sin dove down my spinal cord and into my toes. These girls are sexy, sensual and divine, goddesses harvesting the fruit of my loins through electro keyed funk punk pendulum of poweress metal purities!  A symphony of strings struck from the violin player, her fingers moving as if not attached to her hand, audibly creating her hallucinations for all to hear. Her dress transparent in the stage light gave way to her stockings, dancing in synchronicity with the swaying of her arm, piecing together the woes and wants of the typical man fantasy.  Which most typical men aren’t quite typical at all. They’re filled with wild sex fantasies of multiple woman and snorting copious amounts of cocaine, at the same time! Watching the Sugar Skulls on stage made that all seem possible. A roaring stream of sexual insanity flourished by the thrilling echoes of “love me” or “fuck me” or maybe that’s just what I was hearing… ah, I ache for more. The tenderness of each face radiates the stage with awe as my head bounces to the drummer’s strikes. He pounds the rubble into a feminine ensemble and makes everyone want to say, “fuck yea”.  As each sight shares an epic beauty, your attention is not held for long as equivalent qualifications jive next door. From the violin player I move center stage and find Ursula. Stunning. I have never seen a female bass player pound the foundation of the civilization that is Sugar Skulls like I did that night. Her fingers where quick and nimble, powerful yet full of finesse. Talented and tantalizing! I gazed in with a blank stare, unexpected of wild desire. Her eyes move across the crowd as if they were a politely rolling wave gracing the middle of the Pacific Ocean with a rustic groove. They locked with mine. I was thrown into a contortion of, YYYYEEEEEEAAAAAAAAA!! I rumbled with a furry that I hoped to be equivalent with the proportions of Sugar Skulls, and I believe it was. Answered by the drummer, I strode upon the blessed alter and proceeded to seduce and conduct the stimulation of sinful desire, of sexual destiny, of what the early believers called rock and roll. And yes, I rocked the fuck out to one nasty drum solo that my mind never fully comprehended in the first place. Nicely done. And yet, the light beams still reach beyond, further onto the stage to find behind a Motif which motive is to manipulate men into her malice and madness, the key player powered by the red vinyl tie strapped around her neck, holding on for safety as she shrills spoken words of acceptable insanity. Her left heel stomps in time as she simultaneously plays harmonies with crooked fingers of fantasy. At times pure punk was flowing, and at times the funk, at times the metal, at times Bob Ross’s scientifically experimental twin painted rainbows of sound waves overhead that dripped into the crowd and melted the wicked away. The Sugar Skulls finished and began to leave… but, they forgot about one thing, their promise! The promise of silly toys! Lighted gems and a model Chevy machine hung gracefully from my chain of glitter. Thank you key player’s mom, for the Marde Gras beads! They are hung in my home around the Buddha’s neck, in peaceful remembrance of the night I was saved, the night I found salvation. The night I saw the Sugar Skulls.

                                                                              

http://www.myspace.com/sugarskullsrocks

The Continuing Adventures of X, Y, and Z.

A.

It started about 4 years ago. Of course just as a hypothesis. Two variables of the world collided as they do and don’t so oftenly living as parts of natural habitats. Upon the variables congregation, the scientists in the sky took note on the interesting energy reactions they had made together. The equation to make sense of these variables was believed to been lost in the dreams of before, so naturally the scientists in the sky had to find its solution! They had no choice as chosen specimens for the scientists in the sky, which is perhaps why they valued such desires. The godly creation of a woman, even by the scientist in the sky, seemed to be impossible. So, the variables created nectar of another mind with the small amount of available resources in their imprisoned home to get through the infinite days of observations. They made beer.  Here, they shared tales of once before and never again, ideas of their own wonder wasted away in the inevitable imprisonment, each day they sunk into that big blue sofa churning ideas.  X was young, Y was younger, both adult males of the human species. The sofa was a stolen gift from an old friend who felt bad. An item at the furniture warehouse was purchased, by the X in this equation, for a full undiscounted price. The employee then supplied X with a free sofa and love seat to match, relinquishing his stupidity for not discounting X’s originally purchased items in the first place. Later it was found that not only had the employee been stealing furniture to give to friends, but the management was simply just stealing money. Needless to say that particular furniture warehouse did not last long. Luckily the sofa did.

X and Y puzzled the scientists in the clouds for countless days, months, and years while further grooves and stories filled this sofa until it stank of their creation. Yet, no equation had been solved or reconciled. Mostly it seemed by the experiments that these variables chose to speak more often than listen. They spoke for the unspoken and gave them words, Robin Hoods of life, using these words as weapons, battling each other and themselves! Y found refuge in the aesthetics and X in the functions. Yet, each found argument of the other side convincing, and yet again, for each finding sprung a disappearance! There are two sides to every story but nothing on the back of this page. Time grew and the appetite for discovery was wearing thin in the sky. The scientists in the clouds were ready to mark such a case as inconclusive. The variables were ready to make their case elusive. Still the day wore on.