A collective of mind numbing new surrealists from around the globe, this one stop visual shop is the quickest way to get current on the movement.

SPONSOR

Marches, dances, boogies, woogies and outrages to his own drummer — himself. A one man rappin’ band, That One Guy is good enough to agitate your parents and your children alike.

A little infectious lollipop rock anyone? Feel free to embarrass yourself singing along at the stoplight. If the other drivers give you that look, roll down the windows and spread the love.

The Travis Louie cover on Les Claypool’s latest offering Fungi and Foe serves as the perfect lure into a backwoods intellectual playground of the man who graced us with the iconic group Primus. A grovin’ bass player with Captain Beefheart cool and Daniel Johnston soul, Les paints lovingly jagged portraits of something slightly akin to real life in the shadow of an abundant imagination.

Montana has been the high octane fuel driving the global graffiti revolution for some time now. With the advent of the Alien line they have unleashed World War III weaponry in the battle against the banal.

SPONSOR

Logan Hicks is the Johnny Appleseed of art. Hicks and his partners curate the neighborhood-engulfing project they call Primary Flight, enlisting the world’s best artists to pit their skills against the walls of South Beach, Florida, for a mindblowing outdoor art gallery.

I was first drawn to MGMT by the awesome Ausgang album cover for Congratulations, and they did not disappoint. They are like a secret spaceship hidden in your garage waiting to jet you away to world smoothed over with imagination and magic.

Exquisite harmonic tapestries woven together with pop perfect hooks are the staple of The Apples in stereo overture and the latest release Travellers in Space and Time once again crystallizes their unique brilliance for the ages.

Spearheaded by the young art star Beau Stanton, this is hip art collective stages museum quality pop-up art exhibitions featuring art at cash-machine price limits. While last-generation luminaries are getting off-the-easel prices of a million dollars, the Mod Melange offers an affordable entrance-level ticket on the collecting carousel. Get tomorrow’s stars at today’s prices

SPONSOR

I don’t know what he’s smoking but I’d be happy to buy him a pack. Singing from the folk side of the fence, Mr. Smolin is a joyous companion to the voices in your head.

The original New York porthole into Japanese Kyju and vinyl toy culture, Toy Tokyo is back with a new East Village storefront showcase for cutting-edge designer sculpture. Along with other luminaries such as Kid Robot, Toy Tokyo has filled the void between the comic book shop and the art gallery with some of the most intriguingly beautiful and affordable art ever created.

Banksy is Howard Hughes, Mr. Brainwash is Charlie Chaplin and this is not a documentary about A list street artists (although they make cameos), this is a moving narrative with a real point of view. Stop talking about it; go see it, then talk about it.

Culture Jamming’s hot new aficionado, Tristan Eaton is armed with a mix of sharp wit, daring and design acumen. He transforms the collective visual environment and the collective consciousness. [Read Tristan Eaton's guest posts for Lost At E Minor]

SPONSOR

Fronted by a Tourette’s Syndrome Tiny Tim on adrenaline, lead singer Jimmy Urine, Mindless Self Indulgence is pitch-perfect rollercoaster rock for the ages. When I first head these guys, it was reminiscent of my first encounter with Queen: they have the same instruments (and samples) as the other bands, but they are voodooing something completely original out of them. Their recordings are exquisite, but their live shows are the big bang experience. [Listen to a track by Mindless Self Indulgence]

Super catchy old-school pop songs delivered by the enigmatic raspy-voiced Jack Medicine keep The Electric Illuminati on regular rotation here at the English household. Subjects for songs range from a messianic Barack Obama, to MC Supersized (the 500 pound Ronald McDonald), to a sequel to the Beatles song, Fool on the Hill. Jack sings the clever, darkly optimistic lyrics I have always wanted to hear in pop songs with energetic aplomb and a glee that would make Kurt Cobain’s corpse blush. Full disclosure: I am the band’s lyricist.

Morgan Spurlock takes on the role of the viewer’s best friend as he explores some pretty intense social terrain. The technique allows him to explore controversial subject matter without ever coming off as preachy or holier than thou.

You may have to work your way through the flock of sheep being hustled down the street by your local shepherd on your way to breakfast, but the people are extremely friendly and helpful. Everything is cheap. You can get a nice four-ounce glass of cognac for three dollars. Shopping is not as extensive as some other locations, like Dubai, but they have the coolest hand-carved olive wood sculptures, and you can visit the many mom and pop factories that make them.

The artisan’s tools are attached to a machine that has corresponding levers that simultaneously carve ten other pieces of wood. Simple yet effective technology. You can also check out a Banksy [above] or a Swoon on the oppressive separation wall nearby. Or you could swing by Ramallah after an eight-hour strip search at the checkpoint to dine on some camel meat. Be sure and have that cognac first. [photo via Trey Barrow]

SPONSOR

Southern gothic swampwater singer and poet Jim White weaves spooky humanistic tales of the Deep South through beautifully haunting melodies. In his live act, White slips endearing stories of his experiences between the songs, making for an extremely personal encounter with the audience.

I love monsters. I love old photographs. I love Travis Louie’s paintings. His masterfully refined technique allows him to take stunning portraits of the monsters in the recesses of his endless imagination. A beautiful balance of the grotesque and the comic, they are the perfect metaphor for the modern human. Once you acquire a taste for his product, you just keep wanting more and thankfully he keeps delivering his miniature masterpieces at an inhuman pace.

A religious experience tailor made for the soul hardened agnostic hipster scene would be a good way to describe a Polyphonic Spree concert. Tim Delaughter’s unabashed joy is infectious enough to cultivate a Dead Head-esque cult of Jesus-robe-wearing followers, who have, throughout the band’s history, been allowed to join in on the on-stage festivities.

Last time I saw the group, I was standing in awe at the back of the auditorium when Tim abruptly stopped a song and sang a couple lines of Cartoon Bikini, a song we wrote together when he was still in Tripping Daisy, followed by a ‘Hello, Ron English, I see you back there’. My wife looked at me and said, ‘Did that really just happen?’ At the end of the concert, I realized I couldn’t go back to being the person I had been before the show.