Thursday, March 08, 2007:
Kings of Convenience -- Stay out of Trouble
The beauty of this song completely defies my attempts to describe it. Picture a Norwegian Simon and Garfunkel with syncopated violin, plucked strings, and acoustic bass. And it's just the mellowest thing you've heard, a warm blanket, shadows on the wall, light falling in from the hall golden and nostalgic. Feist guests on the album and is, as usual, excellent.
[Riot on an Empty Street ]
Bob Marley -- So Much Trouble in the World
I remember loaning someone this CD in 1993 and being utterly amazed that he couldn't get into it. This is Bob! backbeat! sweet melodies! fiery political lyrics! Mon Dieu.
[Rebel Music]
Cat Stevens -- Trouble
Surely one of the supreme editing achievements in film is Harold getting the news at the hospital and driving away angry, shocked, tearful, speeding, to Cat Stevens' plaintive lament. Surely one of the more deliciously perverse decisions in music was to leave this song "If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out" unavailable for thirteen years except on the film. (thanks, David!)
[Footsteps in the Dark: Greatest Hits, Vol. 2]
a million miles from reality
I'd thought of doing a "trouble" mix some time back and abandoned it, thinking half the songs too obvious and the other half not good enough. And now I've landed myself a cold, days suffused with the taint of unreality, going from meal to bed to meal to bed to meal to bed, so here I am again. I hope you'll forgive me if these tunes aren't exactly new to you but for the moment it's back to comfort music, old friends, familiar joys.Kings of Convenience -- Stay out of Trouble
The beauty of this song completely defies my attempts to describe it. Picture a Norwegian Simon and Garfunkel with syncopated violin, plucked strings, and acoustic bass. And it's just the mellowest thing you've heard, a warm blanket, shadows on the wall, light falling in from the hall golden and nostalgic. Feist guests on the album and is, as usual, excellent.
[Riot on an Empty Street ]
Bob Marley -- So Much Trouble in the World
I remember loaning someone this CD in 1993 and being utterly amazed that he couldn't get into it. This is Bob! backbeat! sweet melodies! fiery political lyrics! Mon Dieu.
[Rebel Music]
Cat Stevens -- Trouble
Surely one of the supreme editing achievements in film is Harold getting the news at the hospital and driving away angry, shocked, tearful, speeding, to Cat Stevens' plaintive lament. Surely one of the more deliciously perverse decisions in music was to leave this song "If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out" unavailable for thirteen years except on the film. (thanks, David!)
[Footsteps in the Dark: Greatest Hits, Vol. 2]
Labels: folk rock, pop, reggae
posted by Tuwa @
22:22 | permalink |
4 comments
|
Monday, March 05, 2007:
Lylas -- Tiny Echoes
It's possible that Lylas have more than a passing acquaintance with Alan Parker and that they most like Paul McCartney's work on the white album. It's also possible (always possible) that I'm wrong but that, even when you're tired and hungry and don't understand the lyrics, you can walk around in a relatively good mood humming this melody.
[Lylas' site]
[Lylas' Team Clermont page]
[Lylas @ Myspace]
Conner -- Cold Feelings
Conner were born at the intersection between danceable New Wave and artsy alt-rock, producing head-bobbing smile-making music that sounds like a summer road trip.
[Conner's site]
[Conner's Team Clermont page, with additional mp3s]
Candy Bars -- Violets
This song is dark and cold and beautiful, like a Polish winter landscape seen from indoors. If it were a film it would be Decalogue Eleven: make a joyful noise unto the Lord. In this film Candy Bars would strive for, and never reach, catharsis, the film's text implying that pain is perpetuated in its expression, its cultural context implying the reverse: the audience would experience catharsis, happy to have known about the pain but not lived it, able to turn off the television and go make a sandwich.
[Candy Bars seem not to have an official site or Team Clermont page.]
...
Team Clermont sent me these songs; I don't always remember to say who sent me what but I think I have labeled all the IODA/promonet, band-sent tracks, and other PR (or partly PR) posts here, in case anyone's interested.
I'm not always prompt about looking over tracks sent to me but I do try to give them all a chance; and I'm always happy to find new (or new-to-me) good music.
Lylas, Conner, Candy Bars
Got behind; now I'm playing catch-up. Here are three from the mail bag (more tomorrow):Lylas -- Tiny Echoes
It's possible that Lylas have more than a passing acquaintance with Alan Parker and that they most like Paul McCartney's work on the white album. It's also possible (always possible) that I'm wrong but that, even when you're tired and hungry and don't understand the lyrics, you can walk around in a relatively good mood humming this melody.
[Lylas' site]
[Lylas' Team Clermont page]
[Lylas @ Myspace]
Conner -- Cold Feelings
Conner were born at the intersection between danceable New Wave and artsy alt-rock, producing head-bobbing smile-making music that sounds like a summer road trip.
[Conner's site]
[Conner's Team Clermont page, with additional mp3s]
Candy Bars -- Violets
This song is dark and cold and beautiful, like a Polish winter landscape seen from indoors. If it were a film it would be Decalogue Eleven: make a joyful noise unto the Lord. In this film Candy Bars would strive for, and never reach, catharsis, the film's text implying that pain is perpetuated in its expression, its cultural context implying the reverse: the audience would experience catharsis, happy to have known about the pain but not lived it, able to turn off the television and go make a sandwich.
[Candy Bars seem not to have an official site or Team Clermont page.]
...
Team Clermont sent me these songs; I don't always remember to say who sent me what but I think I have labeled all the IODA/promonet, band-sent tracks, and other PR (or partly PR) posts here, in case anyone's interested.
I'm not always prompt about looking over tracks sent to me but I do try to give them all a chance; and I'm always happy to find new (or new-to-me) good music.
posted by Tuwa @
21:52 | permalink |
2 comments
|
Sunday, August 06, 2006:
Schoolhouse Rock! -- Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla
If you're in your 40s or younger and grew up in the U.S. you're probably familiar with Schoolhouse Rock. A series of educational musical cartoon shorts, three minutes apiece, the episodes aired between Saturday morning cartoons from 1973 through to the mid-1980s. The shorts took on a number of subjects, falling into broad areas like math, English, science, civics and history; but they were not dryly "educational"; instead, they were infectious entertaining mnemonics apt to get you singing along, even about multiplication tables or interjections.
In this regard, the shorts were ahead of their time, integrating perfectly with Howard Gardner's theory of Multiple Intelligences, which holds that there aren't simply two kinds of intelligence (linguistic/verbal and logical/mathematical) but at least eight, including visual/spatial, bodily/kinesthetic, musical, naturalist, intrapersonal, and interpersonal. I've never met anyone who'd seen the shorts as a youngster and didn't like them; most people, even if they hadn't thought of the series in decades, could at least respond to "Conjunction Junction" with "What's your function?"
One of my favorites in the series is "Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla," which is a cheerfully over-the-top explanation of the usefulness of pronouns, but if I had to pick a second it would probably be "The Tale of Mr. Morton." "Mr. Norton" is a story of predicates and loneliness which toys with melancholy and then resolves itself quite nicely with both humor and a bit of forward-thinking action. In terms of Gardner's theory, this episode is probably the most complete--it touches on all of them, really--but it's not as fun as "Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla" or "Electricity, Electricity."
The program had a lot of good tracks, though, in addition to the ones mentioned already: "Three Is a Magic Number" is a tuneful work sampled by De La Soul; "Ready or Not, Here I Come" is about counting and multiplying by fives, with the trademark Schoolhouse Rock humor ("Look at that boy with seventeen fingers sticking up. How do you do that, kid?"); "Little Twelvetoes" is a sci-fi track about what it would be like if man had twelve fingers and toes (he'd count by the base-twelve system); "Sufferin' Till Suffrage" is a soulful song about Susan B. Anthony and other suffragettes; "Them Not-So-Dry Bones" explains bones and the need for calcium; and "A Victim of Gravity" is a comedic doo-wop science lesson.
The series is mostly very sensible, but a couple of the episodes made in the 1990s show the ad-men roots, with a blatant emphasis on consumption not apparent in the earlier ones. Which is not to say that the others are completely without problems; "Elbow Room" in particular indulges in the great national lie of Manifest Destiny, apparently agreeing that it was "our" destiny to expand across the country and implying, by extension, both that "we" are not black or Native American, and, further, that the black and Native American destiny was to be subjugated. It's ugly, vicious stuff packed in a saccharine melody, completely out of step with most of the series.
Also troubling is that suffrage got mention in the original series but slavery and civil rights both did not. In a series that spent three songs on the fight for independence, one on The Preamble, and another on the three branches of government, it's a bit jarring to jump ahead from that to Women's Suffrage. The series debuted in 1973, so it's possible that the producers or the network considered slavery and civil rights still (!) too contentious, especially for the Southeastern market, where much of the public has no compunctions about showing its racism. The series released new episodes in the 1990s, including ones dealing with computers and "The Tale of Mr. Morton," mentioned above. You'd think that would give the authors a chance to redress their error, but they didn't; I think the absence points towards one of those "polite fictions" the powerful like to indulge in to avoid dealing with uncomfortable discussions.
If self-perception and willful self-delusion are subtext in Schoolhouse Rock, they serve as the text itself in the experimental film Panorama Ephemera. The film starts with Don and Claire, a young man and woman sitting at a desk, being asked if they know what the signal was that will cause them to fall into a deep sleep again. Neither of them can remember it. The voice offscreen says that perhaps they can find the signal.
The film cuts to a clip asking if we think it's strange that the land might develop a fondness for its people; and both the film's means and its main theme are soon apparent. Edited together from what Rick Prelinger calls "ephemeral films," Panorama Ephemera incorporates social guidance films, industrial films, home movies, and other disparate sources into a feature-length examination of how the U.S. portrays itself.
The clips are often grouped thematically and, in a sense, the film is a glorification of B-roll--these kinds of clips are often used to depict some point being made in documentaries--but in another sense the film is a glorification of the invisible, a cousin to Joseph Cornell's Rose Hobart, which Girish wrote about as decontextualizing reaction shots to foreground them in the viewer's attention.
In Panorama Ephemera the connections between the clips are sometimes blatant and sometimes not--footage of a scientific experiment using mice follows footage of toy cars on a toy highway, weaving past each other. In the experiment, mice must push a button for rewards; one of the mice ends up doing all the work and the other two become social parasites. A title card in the original footage informs us "A 'class society' has emerged." It's tempting to relate this experiment to the previous shot of cars and to dismiss the traffic as part a "rat race"; it's equally tempting to relate the experiment to later footage of police beating down union members on strike.
Many of the connections, though, are less immediately obvious. Halfway through the film, Don and Claire witness the signal again: a book closes. They both fall into hypnosis. The offscreen voice continues asking them questions. In the clips that follow, a principal arrives at school to serve as poll-place volunteer; settlers travel west; a worker loads corncribs with corn; a couple drives through the country to picnic, the woman working herself up to announce that she's pregnant, the man steadfastly not understanding her allusions.
There is so much to consider, so much of it open to interpretation and so much of it potentially related to half a dozen other clips both before and after, that interpretation is something of a challenge. It's clear, though, that the film deals with some overarching themes, conveyed directly through visuals and through diegetic sound: dependence on oil, mechanization, alienation, anxiety about child safety, consumption as an entertainment or distraction.
What isn't clear, even as Don and Claire come out of their long hypnosis, is whether we the audience are waking up as well. A woman sitting in a circle of friends states that sometimes the land loves its people and that sometimes people must be hurt to force them to learn. In the next clip a cat sitting on a windowsill gets up and goes to clean another cat's head. The footage could point towards selfless socialization, an answer to the alienation presented earlier; or it could be an echo of the class societies that the mice established and the police enforced. It's possible the film, like The Day the Earth Stood Still, was meant to end with a lingering question rather than an easy statement.
Sing along with "Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla."
[Schoolhouse Rock! @ amazon.com]
[Panorama Ephemera @ archive.org]
Don and Claire and Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla
Schoolhouse Rock! -- Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla
If you're in your 40s or younger and grew up in the U.S. you're probably familiar with Schoolhouse Rock. A series of educational musical cartoon shorts, three minutes apiece, the episodes aired between Saturday morning cartoons from 1973 through to the mid-1980s. The shorts took on a number of subjects, falling into broad areas like math, English, science, civics and history; but they were not dryly "educational"; instead, they were infectious entertaining mnemonics apt to get you singing along, even about multiplication tables or interjections.
In this regard, the shorts were ahead of their time, integrating perfectly with Howard Gardner's theory of Multiple Intelligences, which holds that there aren't simply two kinds of intelligence (linguistic/verbal and logical/mathematical) but at least eight, including visual/spatial, bodily/kinesthetic, musical, naturalist, intrapersonal, and interpersonal. I've never met anyone who'd seen the shorts as a youngster and didn't like them; most people, even if they hadn't thought of the series in decades, could at least respond to "Conjunction Junction" with "What's your function?"
One of my favorites in the series is "Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla," which is a cheerfully over-the-top explanation of the usefulness of pronouns, but if I had to pick a second it would probably be "The Tale of Mr. Morton." "Mr. Norton" is a story of predicates and loneliness which toys with melancholy and then resolves itself quite nicely with both humor and a bit of forward-thinking action. In terms of Gardner's theory, this episode is probably the most complete--it touches on all of them, really--but it's not as fun as "Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla" or "Electricity, Electricity."
The program had a lot of good tracks, though, in addition to the ones mentioned already: "Three Is a Magic Number" is a tuneful work sampled by De La Soul; "Ready or Not, Here I Come" is about counting and multiplying by fives, with the trademark Schoolhouse Rock humor ("Look at that boy with seventeen fingers sticking up. How do you do that, kid?"); "Little Twelvetoes" is a sci-fi track about what it would be like if man had twelve fingers and toes (he'd count by the base-twelve system); "Sufferin' Till Suffrage" is a soulful song about Susan B. Anthony and other suffragettes; "Them Not-So-Dry Bones" explains bones and the need for calcium; and "A Victim of Gravity" is a comedic doo-wop science lesson.
The series is mostly very sensible, but a couple of the episodes made in the 1990s show the ad-men roots, with a blatant emphasis on consumption not apparent in the earlier ones. Which is not to say that the others are completely without problems; "Elbow Room" in particular indulges in the great national lie of Manifest Destiny, apparently agreeing that it was "our" destiny to expand across the country and implying, by extension, both that "we" are not black or Native American, and, further, that the black and Native American destiny was to be subjugated. It's ugly, vicious stuff packed in a saccharine melody, completely out of step with most of the series.
Also troubling is that suffrage got mention in the original series but slavery and civil rights both did not. In a series that spent three songs on the fight for independence, one on The Preamble, and another on the three branches of government, it's a bit jarring to jump ahead from that to Women's Suffrage. The series debuted in 1973, so it's possible that the producers or the network considered slavery and civil rights still (!) too contentious, especially for the Southeastern market, where much of the public has no compunctions about showing its racism. The series released new episodes in the 1990s, including ones dealing with computers and "The Tale of Mr. Morton," mentioned above. You'd think that would give the authors a chance to redress their error, but they didn't; I think the absence points towards one of those "polite fictions" the powerful like to indulge in to avoid dealing with uncomfortable discussions.
If self-perception and willful self-delusion are subtext in Schoolhouse Rock, they serve as the text itself in the experimental film Panorama Ephemera. The film starts with Don and Claire, a young man and woman sitting at a desk, being asked if they know what the signal was that will cause them to fall into a deep sleep again. Neither of them can remember it. The voice offscreen says that perhaps they can find the signal.
The film cuts to a clip asking if we think it's strange that the land might develop a fondness for its people; and both the film's means and its main theme are soon apparent. Edited together from what Rick Prelinger calls "ephemeral films," Panorama Ephemera incorporates social guidance films, industrial films, home movies, and other disparate sources into a feature-length examination of how the U.S. portrays itself.
The clips are often grouped thematically and, in a sense, the film is a glorification of B-roll--these kinds of clips are often used to depict some point being made in documentaries--but in another sense the film is a glorification of the invisible, a cousin to Joseph Cornell's Rose Hobart, which Girish wrote about as decontextualizing reaction shots to foreground them in the viewer's attention.
In Panorama Ephemera the connections between the clips are sometimes blatant and sometimes not--footage of a scientific experiment using mice follows footage of toy cars on a toy highway, weaving past each other. In the experiment, mice must push a button for rewards; one of the mice ends up doing all the work and the other two become social parasites. A title card in the original footage informs us "A 'class society' has emerged." It's tempting to relate this experiment to the previous shot of cars and to dismiss the traffic as part a "rat race"; it's equally tempting to relate the experiment to later footage of police beating down union members on strike.
Many of the connections, though, are less immediately obvious. Halfway through the film, Don and Claire witness the signal again: a book closes. They both fall into hypnosis. The offscreen voice continues asking them questions. In the clips that follow, a principal arrives at school to serve as poll-place volunteer; settlers travel west; a worker loads corncribs with corn; a couple drives through the country to picnic, the woman working herself up to announce that she's pregnant, the man steadfastly not understanding her allusions.
There is so much to consider, so much of it open to interpretation and so much of it potentially related to half a dozen other clips both before and after, that interpretation is something of a challenge. It's clear, though, that the film deals with some overarching themes, conveyed directly through visuals and through diegetic sound: dependence on oil, mechanization, alienation, anxiety about child safety, consumption as an entertainment or distraction.
What isn't clear, even as Don and Claire come out of their long hypnosis, is whether we the audience are waking up as well. A woman sitting in a circle of friends states that sometimes the land loves its people and that sometimes people must be hurt to force them to learn. In the next clip a cat sitting on a windowsill gets up and goes to clean another cat's head. The footage could point towards selfless socialization, an answer to the alienation presented earlier; or it could be an echo of the class societies that the mice established and the police enforced. It's possible the film, like The Day the Earth Stood Still, was meant to end with a lingering question rather than an easy statement.
Sing along with "Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla."
[Schoolhouse Rock! @ amazon.com]
[Panorama Ephemera @ archive.org]
Labels: comedy, culture, ephemera, movies, pop, tv
posted by Tuwa @
00:17 | permalink |
4 comments
|
Monday, July 17, 2006:
Here's Syl Johnson with a song about living in the ghetto. This isn't the maudlin Mac Davis ghetto, and Syl Johnson isn't most interested in mamas crying because they had a baby; he's more interested in mamas crying because they lost a baby, in couples fighting becaue they're jealous, and in people burning to death because there's no back door on the apartments. The vocals are, appropriately, not mournful but full of a simmering rage; the guitar snaps, the strings stab, the lyrics sting:
Here in the ghetto, it's a bad situation / Call it what you want to; it's just a concrete reservation.
Johnson's also known for his track "Is It Because I'm Black?" which I have by Johnson only in a version that drags on a bit too long for my interest, though Ken Boothe also recorded an impressive version of it.
"Concrete Reservation" is off Is It Because I'm Black?, which is also available in a pricy re-release with Dresses Too Short; or you can pick it up on the greatest hits comp Twilight and Twinight.
...
More HiFi finds: "I Am a Demon and Will Swallow Your Soul," "Olivia," and "Ocean Bottom," another track from The Scarring Party. It's my favorite song about writer's block at the bottom of the ocean with percussion by a typewriter.
...
Monday last week I got a promotional email for an indie rock band--not at all uncommon for an mp3blog--but the music was good, which is somewhat less common. Gentleman Caller's track "Bomb the Castle" seemed likely to be an A-B-A-B-C construction with chunky distorted guitar on the bridge, with people screaming into the mic, and it wasn't, and I liked it for it. They have other tracks up, mostly with a dreamy pop-rock vibe with countryish vocal stylings. They self-compare to Okkervil River and Rilo Kiley.
...
Secretly Canadian sent me an email about a new release from Jason Molina, and I enjoyed the track there for download, and so I'm passing it along.
...
Vindaloo, the fight song, and the response: a writer's fight song. 99/100 for that, -1 for failure to include "B.I.C."
Syl Johnson -- Concrete Reservation
Syl Johnson -- Concrete ReservationHere's Syl Johnson with a song about living in the ghetto. This isn't the maudlin Mac Davis ghetto, and Syl Johnson isn't most interested in mamas crying because they had a baby; he's more interested in mamas crying because they lost a baby, in couples fighting becaue they're jealous, and in people burning to death because there's no back door on the apartments. The vocals are, appropriately, not mournful but full of a simmering rage; the guitar snaps, the strings stab, the lyrics sting:
Here in the ghetto, it's a bad situation / Call it what you want to; it's just a concrete reservation.
Johnson's also known for his track "Is It Because I'm Black?" which I have by Johnson only in a version that drags on a bit too long for my interest, though Ken Boothe also recorded an impressive version of it.
"Concrete Reservation" is off Is It Because I'm Black?, which is also available in a pricy re-release with Dresses Too Short; or you can pick it up on the greatest hits comp Twilight and Twinight.
...
More HiFi finds: "I Am a Demon and Will Swallow Your Soul," "Olivia," and "Ocean Bottom," another track from The Scarring Party. It's my favorite song about writer's block at the bottom of the ocean with percussion by a typewriter.
...
Monday last week I got a promotional email for an indie rock band--not at all uncommon for an mp3blog--but the music was good, which is somewhat less common. Gentleman Caller's track "Bomb the Castle" seemed likely to be an A-B-A-B-C construction with chunky distorted guitar on the bridge, with people screaming into the mic, and it wasn't, and I liked it for it. They have other tracks up, mostly with a dreamy pop-rock vibe with countryish vocal stylings. They self-compare to Okkervil River and Rilo Kiley.
...
Secretly Canadian sent me an email about a new release from Jason Molina, and I enjoyed the track there for download, and so I'm passing it along.
...
Vindaloo, the fight song, and the response: a writer's fight song. 99/100 for that, -1 for failure to include "B.I.C."
Labels: dance, indie, pop, PR, RnB, rock
posted by Tuwa @
21:16 | permalink |
0 comments
|
Monday, July 03, 2006:
Diamond Joe, a drunken country tune with fiddle, acoustic guitar, galloping drums, and drunk musicians. A match made in heaven. Greg Nog at Metafilter nails it: This is what whisky would sound like, if whisky was music.
["Diamond Joe" @ HiFi)]
[No site for this band? Was this a one-off? Say it ain't so, Jack; say it ain't so.]
Criminal is slow, moody, deliberate work with a subdued vocal melody. The guitar cuts in with a muted intensity like a bright painful memory announcing itself in the middle of a stunned grief. The song is not for all moods, maybe, but damn is it beautfiul.
["Criminal" @ HiFi)]
[Edlundart's site]
Light On is folksy jangly acoustic pop in waltz time, with an accordion that sneaked out of City of Lost Children so it could come pick your soul up and dust it off and straighten its tie. Everyone should have a neighbor who plays accordion.
["Light On" @ HiFi)]
[No site for Chococat?]
Making Me Nervous is a bouncy electro-pop tune rivalling "Diamond Joe" in energy, except "Diamond Joe" makes me want a beer and a concert and "Making Me Nervous" makes me want to dance down the street singing badly and making an ass of myself. I've listened to this song half a dozen times trying to figure out what it is I like so much about it--is it the snap in the percussion? The ridiculous fake bassline? The distorted guitar? The driving beat? ... Frenetic says it's ironic, which is fine, but I thought I was tired of irony and apparently I'm not.
["Making Me Nervous" @ HiFi)]
[Brad Sucks' site]
No More Room in Hell is one of my favorites so far, a jaunty tune with banjo, tuba, and vaudevillian vocals, like a cross between Squirrel Nut Zippers and Triplets of Belleville. This is the happiest apocalypse I've ever heard.
["No More Room in Hell" @ HiFi)]
[The Scarring Party's site]
Metafilter Music
A new branch of the Metafilter family: as if Ask Metafilter and Metafilter Projects weren't cool enough, mathowie recently resurrected Metafilter Music. Some picks from that, then: (I'm posting these here because Matt already mentioned high bandwidth bills and I don't want to leach off his bandwidth; if you like the tracks please consider sending the original authors a message.)Diamond Joe, a drunken country tune with fiddle, acoustic guitar, galloping drums, and drunk musicians. A match made in heaven. Greg Nog at Metafilter nails it: This is what whisky would sound like, if whisky was music.
["Diamond Joe" @ HiFi)]
[No site for this band? Was this a one-off? Say it ain't so, Jack; say it ain't so.]
Criminal is slow, moody, deliberate work with a subdued vocal melody. The guitar cuts in with a muted intensity like a bright painful memory announcing itself in the middle of a stunned grief. The song is not for all moods, maybe, but damn is it beautfiul.
["Criminal" @ HiFi)]
[Edlundart's site]
Light On is folksy jangly acoustic pop in waltz time, with an accordion that sneaked out of City of Lost Children so it could come pick your soul up and dust it off and straighten its tie. Everyone should have a neighbor who plays accordion.
["Light On" @ HiFi)]
[No site for Chococat?]
Making Me Nervous is a bouncy electro-pop tune rivalling "Diamond Joe" in energy, except "Diamond Joe" makes me want a beer and a concert and "Making Me Nervous" makes me want to dance down the street singing badly and making an ass of myself. I've listened to this song half a dozen times trying to figure out what it is I like so much about it--is it the snap in the percussion? The ridiculous fake bassline? The distorted guitar? The driving beat? ... Frenetic says it's ironic, which is fine, but I thought I was tired of irony and apparently I'm not.
["Making Me Nervous" @ HiFi)]
[Brad Sucks' site]
No More Room in Hell is one of my favorites so far, a jaunty tune with banjo, tuba, and vaudevillian vocals, like a cross between Squirrel Nut Zippers and Triplets of Belleville. This is the happiest apocalypse I've ever heard.
["No More Room in Hell" @ HiFi)]
[The Scarring Party's site]
Labels: country music, dance, indie, pop, rock
posted by Tuwa @
01:18 | permalink |
2 comments
|
Monday, June 12, 2006:
Zap Mama -- Mr. Brown
Orchestra Baobab -- Hommage À Tonton Ferrer
Ibrahim Ferrer -- Buenos Hermanos
Paul Simon -- Gone At Last
rapidshare download
-- or --
sendspace download
Ever have one of those weekends where you're walking down the sidewalk minding your own business and someone punches you in the face, and then when you stand up someone else hits you in the knee with a two by four, and then when you get back up and lean against the nearest light post--hand to forehead, eyes closed, concentrating on summer breezes and chocolate mint and "Elvira Madigan"--a passing elephant stops just long enough to piss on your foot?
If you have, take a few of these and post in the comments if it doesn't help.
[Complete Upsetter Singles 1970-1972]
[Sabsylma ]
[Specialist in All Styles]
[Buenos Hermanos]
[Still Crazy After All These Years]
punches, two by fours, & inconsiderate elephants
Bob Marley -- Mr. BrownZap Mama -- Mr. Brown
Orchestra Baobab -- Hommage À Tonton Ferrer
Ibrahim Ferrer -- Buenos Hermanos
Paul Simon -- Gone At Last
rapidshare download
-- or --
sendspace download
Ever have one of those weekends where you're walking down the sidewalk minding your own business and someone punches you in the face, and then when you stand up someone else hits you in the knee with a two by four, and then when you get back up and lean against the nearest light post--hand to forehead, eyes closed, concentrating on summer breezes and chocolate mint and "Elvira Madigan"--a passing elephant stops just long enough to piss on your foot?
If you have, take a few of these and post in the comments if it doesn't help.
[Complete Upsetter Singles 1970-1972]
[Sabsylma ]
[Specialist in All Styles]
[Buenos Hermanos]
[Still Crazy After All These Years]
posted by Tuwa @
01:31 | permalink |
2 comments
|
Monday, May 29, 2006:
X-Wife -- Ping Pong
I was sent this track in mid-March and, just to prove that I don't always know a good thing when it comes around, I didn't start listening to it much until a couple of weeks ago.
On their MySpace page, they self-identify as "post punk electronic rock power trio," which is a good start to a description that continues on into "funky neurosis crossed with retro-technolust, catchy verses, and clubhopping joie de vivre."
*Bandwidth is tapped at dot-mac, which decided to start sucking once I signed up to it (they switched from unmetered bandwidth to 20GB/month, which isn't nearly enough even for this site). So this track is at box.net and the earlier tracks don't work at the moment.
[X-Wife's site]
[X-Wife @ Myspace]
...
As you may know, reggae/rocksteady legend Desmond Dekker died on May 25. Plenty of tracks floating around the blogosphere, for instance "007 Shantytown" at Retrobabe, "Pretty Africa" at Music for Robots, "Bongo Gal" and "Pickney Girl" at Number One Songs in Heaven, and "Unity" and "Intensified '68" at Can't Stop Won't Stop.
...
Neil Gaiman tries to call his daughter, and MCI gives some unusual customer service.
...
An awesome post pointing out "Beatles moments."
...
And don't miss two AskMe classics, "I just started dating this really awesome girl, and we spend the night together often, and I want to know how long I have to wait before I can fart in bed" and "What does it mean when a man shows an anal sex video on the first date?" I love the range of human conduct shown on that site....
X-Wife -- Ping Pong
X-Wife -- Ping Pong
I was sent this track in mid-March and, just to prove that I don't always know a good thing when it comes around, I didn't start listening to it much until a couple of weeks ago.
On their MySpace page, they self-identify as "post punk electronic rock power trio," which is a good start to a description that continues on into "funky neurosis crossed with retro-technolust, catchy verses, and clubhopping joie de vivre."
*Bandwidth is tapped at dot-mac, which decided to start sucking once I signed up to it (they switched from unmetered bandwidth to 20GB/month, which isn't nearly enough even for this site). So this track is at box.net and the earlier tracks don't work at the moment.
[X-Wife's site]
[X-Wife @ Myspace]
...
As you may know, reggae/rocksteady legend Desmond Dekker died on May 25. Plenty of tracks floating around the blogosphere, for instance "007 Shantytown" at Retrobabe, "Pretty Africa" at Music for Robots, "Bongo Gal" and "Pickney Girl" at Number One Songs in Heaven, and "Unity" and "Intensified '68" at Can't Stop Won't Stop.
...
Neil Gaiman tries to call his daughter, and MCI gives some unusual customer service.
...
An awesome post pointing out "Beatles moments."
...
And don't miss two AskMe classics, "I just started dating this really awesome girl, and we spend the night together often, and I want to know how long I have to wait before I can fart in bed" and "What does it mean when a man shows an anal sex video on the first date?" I love the range of human conduct shown on that site....
Labels: electronica, pop
posted by Tuwa @
01:10 | permalink |
3 comments
|
Tuesday, May 23, 2006:
This is from a disc that got a fairly bad writeup on allmusic; their second disc got a much better review (and I think the second disc probably is more solid all-around).
[Cyne's official site]
Popcanon -- Ballyhoo
Say, what do we really use from science?
"E=mc2"
Are reason and faith an unholy alliance?
"I don't know and I don't care."
A lot of my family has a sincere love for kitsch--Precious Moments bells, cow-spotted milk jugs, etc.--and I've only just now realized that I probably do too. This is a very nerdy, goofy song.
[Popcanon's official site]
Whoreculture -- Crop Duster
I like this song; I think it's a lot of fun. Whoreculture's Join strikes me as more rock-oriented; Boondocked is slower and heavier but equally impressive. I've been unable to find anything more by the band, as they broke up years ago. They don't seem to have a site up.
Lars Din -- Ness City Bank Job (Yer So Sweet)
[Lars Din's (older) site]
[Lars Din's newer site]: lyrics, tour dates, songs.
The lyrics are in five sections: a series of vignettes, some choice details, activity in the ellipses. Who are these four people? Or are they two? And that valentine--why for her mother?
This song is not the best-sung song you'll hear. Lars is nearing the end of a concert and his voice is tired. He aims high and misses, aims high and misses, aims high and misses ... aims high and nails it, nails it when it counts the most.
It's a quiet number, exhausted--on the ropes, maybe about to give up. And then, out of nowhere: left hook, stars, roofbeams on a tilt. Mat.
the mix part three
Cyne -- Nothing's SacredMike Williams -- The second hip hop track is loads better. The vocal sample is great, and it has (nu-)soul. A keeper.
Jerimee Bloemeke -- The production sounds like something Kanye would do. I'm not a big fan of rap, but this is not bad. I can't really get into it, though, because it has no chorus.
This is from a disc that got a fairly bad writeup on allmusic; their second disc got a much better review (and I think the second disc probably is more solid all-around).
[Cyne's official site]
Popcanon -- Ballyhoo
Mike Williams -- I think this song is about religion and science. It finds in favour of the latter, which is fine by me, but there are better forums for such a discussion than a song with humorous instrumentation. It sounds like a number from The Producers musical.
Jerimee Bloemeke -- No, no, no. The back-up singers said it so well.
Say, what do we really use from science?
"E=mc2"
Are reason and faith an unholy alliance?
"I don't know and I don't care."
A lot of my family has a sincere love for kitsch--Precious Moments bells, cow-spotted milk jugs, etc.--and I've only just now realized that I probably do too. This is a very nerdy, goofy song.
[Popcanon's official site]
Whoreculture -- Crop Duster
Mike Williams -- Ridiculously entertaining and very Southern rock. This song takes an idea (what it's like to be a cropduster) and solves it. The result is a McSweeney's article set to music by George Thorogood and the Destroyers. If joycore was people having fun for a reason (rather than no reason) it would sound like this.
Footnote: Whoreculture is probably one of the top five band names ever.
Jerimee Bloemeke -- With a name like Whoreculture, how can anyone take you seriously? The music doesn't help either....
I like this song; I think it's a lot of fun. Whoreculture's Join strikes me as more rock-oriented; Boondocked is slower and heavier but equally impressive. I've been unable to find anything more by the band, as they broke up years ago. They don't seem to have a site up.
Lars Din -- Ness City Bank Job (Yer So Sweet)
Mike Williams -- This is singer-songwriter storytelling that manages to be poetic and avoid the literal hectoring that can easily befall a song about Events. The Band were good at this. Bruce Springsteen is good at this when he isn't too busy being awful at this. Lars Din is good at this, and I want to hear more of his stuff.
This is my favourite track on the CD.
Jerimee Bloemeke -- This is soothing. The singer is like an unironic Morrissey at times. And he plays nice acoustic guitar.
[Lars Din's (older) site]
[Lars Din's newer site]: lyrics, tour dates, songs.
The lyrics are in five sections: a series of vignettes, some choice details, activity in the ellipses. Who are these four people? Or are they two? And that valentine--why for her mother?
This song is not the best-sung song you'll hear. Lars is nearing the end of a concert and his voice is tired. He aims high and misses, aims high and misses, aims high and misses ... aims high and nails it, nails it when it counts the most.
It's a quiet number, exhausted--on the ropes, maybe about to give up. And then, out of nowhere: left hook, stars, roofbeams on a tilt. Mat.
Labels: folk rock, hip-hop, indie, pop, rock
posted by Tuwa @
00:31 | permalink |
2 comments
|
Tuesday, March 07, 2006:
Morningbell -- Me Bastard 2003
Morningbell is a band from Gainesville FL who introduce themselves in their second release as "a rock band that wants you to be a happy person" and follow the introduction with the request "Please be nice to people today." I can dig it.
A musical genetic analysis of their work shows White Album Beatles crossed with the Flaming Lips, dipped in Amnesiac-era Radiohead and dusted with Pet Sounds: somewhat moody work that tends to float downstream skystruck, running slowly ashore, pushing off again gently, drifting, sounding odd and effortlessly beautiful. The harmonies, the melodies, the instrumentation, the arrangements: all top-notch.
And this song: melodic passive-aggressiveness. "I will be there if you call me / I will be there if you call," with "call me, bastard" as a lovely singalong. Bonus points for bass solo spotlight, guitar freakout, and Wyld Stallyns ending.
I think Morningbell and Bishop Allen are vying for the title "Best Unsigned Pop/Rock Band in the States."
[Morningbell's Myspace page, with some other great tracks]
[Morningbell's website with some songs which are, well, mostly live and not nearly as good]
from the "Here's something neat in my inbox" department:
Tigs -- Don't Tell Me
Alicia "Tigs" Huertas plays punk tinged with country and touches of Siouxsie and Television.
From the press release:
Part Spanish and born into a bohemian musician family Tigs grew up in the sleepy Gloucestershire town of Woodchester. She started writing her songs as an 18 year old college drop out bumming around Bristol on the dole. A family friend put her in touch with French producer Dimitri Tikovoi (Placebo, Ravonettes) and together they started recording her dark, brooding songs.
Going to New York in 2004, Tigs blagged her way into an aftershow party and met Yeah Yeah Yeahs guitarist Nick Zinner. Within weeks, they were recording together in former Smashing Pumpkin James Iha's Stratosphere Sound Studios in New York.
What the press release fails to mention is that Nick Zinner's guitar can scorch your eyebrows and that Huertas can sing with hurricane force, blowing out your windows and crashing a tree on your house.
I can't decide if that guitar solo is brilliantly jarring or just jarring, but it's definitely strongly felt, to the point, and in service of the song. And the song is much too busy kicking ass to stop and smell the roses. So maybe brilliant?
It seems Tigs doesn't yet have a website. [Tigs' myspace site]
Mittens -- Big Decisions
Mittens are a Boston trio priding themselves on "melodic, enduring, concise" music. They cite Squeeze and Violent Femmes as influence, sensibly enough. This is a pastoral song: an oak tree, a breeze, warm sun, lying on a spot of short grass with fields on all sides. There's an understated serenity to the song, the lyrics about living in the moment.
[Mittens' official site, with three more downloads]
[Mittens' Myspace account]
from the "palm/forehead" department:
•Red Ruin did a noteworthy post on international hip-hop some time back that I've kept forgetting to post about. Apparently there's another in the works.
•Birdy Nam Nam plays some neat turntablism, but either myspace is choking yet again or Birdy Nam Nam doesn't allow downloads. Their official site has a Flash-only interface, some videos, and also no mp3s. Ah well.
•Here's MORESUKINE, the weblog of a German comic artist living in Tokyo, accepting assignments and drawing them for his comic strips. Nice work he has up. I especially like the roller coaster assignment.
From the "you might not care" department:
I got a volunteer job recently with a boss who makes William Faulkner look concise. It's making me rethink my approach to writing--luckily, purposeful self-reflection is usually not a bad thing.
Morningbell, Mittens, Tigs
from the "I really love this band and I have them on a mix CD I'll be posting eventually and I didn't want to post them twice but, you know what, I really love this band" department:Morningbell -- Me Bastard 2003
Morningbell is a band from Gainesville FL who introduce themselves in their second release as "a rock band that wants you to be a happy person" and follow the introduction with the request "Please be nice to people today." I can dig it.
A musical genetic analysis of their work shows White Album Beatles crossed with the Flaming Lips, dipped in Amnesiac-era Radiohead and dusted with Pet Sounds: somewhat moody work that tends to float downstream skystruck, running slowly ashore, pushing off again gently, drifting, sounding odd and effortlessly beautiful. The harmonies, the melodies, the instrumentation, the arrangements: all top-notch.
And this song: melodic passive-aggressiveness. "I will be there if you call me / I will be there if you call," with "call me, bastard" as a lovely singalong. Bonus points for bass solo spotlight, guitar freakout, and Wyld Stallyns ending.
I think Morningbell and Bishop Allen are vying for the title "Best Unsigned Pop/Rock Band in the States."
[Morningbell's Myspace page, with some other great tracks]
[Morningbell's website with some songs which are, well, mostly live and not nearly as good]
from the "Here's something neat in my inbox" department:
Tigs -- Don't Tell Me
Alicia "Tigs" Huertas plays punk tinged with country and touches of Siouxsie and Television.
From the press release:
Part Spanish and born into a bohemian musician family Tigs grew up in the sleepy Gloucestershire town of Woodchester. She started writing her songs as an 18 year old college drop out bumming around Bristol on the dole. A family friend put her in touch with French producer Dimitri Tikovoi (Placebo, Ravonettes) and together they started recording her dark, brooding songs.
Going to New York in 2004, Tigs blagged her way into an aftershow party and met Yeah Yeah Yeahs guitarist Nick Zinner. Within weeks, they were recording together in former Smashing Pumpkin James Iha's Stratosphere Sound Studios in New York.
What the press release fails to mention is that Nick Zinner's guitar can scorch your eyebrows and that Huertas can sing with hurricane force, blowing out your windows and crashing a tree on your house.
I can't decide if that guitar solo is brilliantly jarring or just jarring, but it's definitely strongly felt, to the point, and in service of the song. And the song is much too busy kicking ass to stop and smell the roses. So maybe brilliant?
It seems Tigs doesn't yet have a website. [Tigs' myspace site]
Mittens -- Big Decisions
Mittens are a Boston trio priding themselves on "melodic, enduring, concise" music. They cite Squeeze and Violent Femmes as influence, sensibly enough. This is a pastoral song: an oak tree, a breeze, warm sun, lying on a spot of short grass with fields on all sides. There's an understated serenity to the song, the lyrics about living in the moment.
[Mittens' official site, with three more downloads]
[Mittens' Myspace account]
from the "palm/forehead" department:
•Red Ruin did a noteworthy post on international hip-hop some time back that I've kept forgetting to post about. Apparently there's another in the works.
•Birdy Nam Nam plays some neat turntablism, but either myspace is choking yet again or Birdy Nam Nam doesn't allow downloads. Their official site has a Flash-only interface, some videos, and also no mp3s. Ah well.
•Here's MORESUKINE, the weblog of a German comic artist living in Tokyo, accepting assignments and drawing them for his comic strips. Nice work he has up. I especially like the roller coaster assignment.
From the "you might not care" department:
I got a volunteer job recently with a boss who makes William Faulkner look concise. It's making me rethink my approach to writing--luckily, purposeful self-reflection is usually not a bad thing.
Labels: indie, pop, punk, rock
posted by Tuwa @
12:25 | permalink |
9 comments
|
Wednesday, February 22, 2006:
Here's a song from Peasant, who found me through Said the Gramophone (keep crankin', fellas!) and sent along a link to more of his work. Good points here: the tremulous falsetto, the way the guitar slides and hops and chicka-chickas, the notes on the high end ringing out friendly! unafraid! listen up!, the lulls in the delivery, lines like "Got to keep on movin', movin' along / Life is too short and misery too long" delivered as a sweet singalong. This song is apple pie with a crumbly cranberry/almond crust.
[Peasant's site]
Thunderegg -- You Showed Them to Me
"You Showed Them to Me" is a whimsical whiplash romance and anti-romance, from meet-cute to consummation to meeting the parents to meeting in court to sort out property rights. "Them" in the title is, in each verse: poems, unspecified things formerly beneath a shirt, parents, and children on weekend visitation.
The track is from Open Book, Will Georgantas' collection of every song Thunderegg recorded from 1995 through 2004. Most of it is pop/rock but there are also dips into folk/pop, country, and electronica; over the years "Thunderegg" has gone from Georgantas and a four-track to a full band with backup vocals. I think I like the self-titled the most, but with over 200 tracks to choose from there's plenty of room for differing opinions.
[Thunderegg's site]
Bishop Allen -- Ghosts Are Good Company
Sean has it that Bishop Allen is the best unsigned rock band in the U.S. Some days I think he's right, and other days I think that honor goes to a local band I haven't yet posted (soon, I hope!... still waiting on one final review to come in on that mix CD). But make no mistake about it, Bishop Allen are good: gleeful, catchy, accomplished, with a great sense of melody and composition.
The band's releasing an EP a month this year. February is not yet released, but January made for a great start.
[Bishop Allen's site], with more downloads for yer perusal. Especially recommended: "Little Black Ache" and "Eve of Destruction."
Peasant, Thunderegg, Bishop Allen
Peasant -- Sun, Moon, SingHere's a song from Peasant, who found me through Said the Gramophone (keep crankin', fellas!) and sent along a link to more of his work. Good points here: the tremulous falsetto, the way the guitar slides and hops and chicka-chickas, the notes on the high end ringing out friendly! unafraid! listen up!, the lulls in the delivery, lines like "Got to keep on movin', movin' along / Life is too short and misery too long" delivered as a sweet singalong. This song is apple pie with a crumbly cranberry/almond crust.
[Peasant's site]
Thunderegg -- You Showed Them to Me
"You Showed Them to Me" is a whimsical whiplash romance and anti-romance, from meet-cute to consummation to meeting the parents to meeting in court to sort out property rights. "Them" in the title is, in each verse: poems, unspecified things formerly beneath a shirt, parents, and children on weekend visitation.
The track is from Open Book, Will Georgantas' collection of every song Thunderegg recorded from 1995 through 2004. Most of it is pop/rock but there are also dips into folk/pop, country, and electronica; over the years "Thunderegg" has gone from Georgantas and a four-track to a full band with backup vocals. I think I like the self-titled the most, but with over 200 tracks to choose from there's plenty of room for differing opinions.
[Thunderegg's site]
Bishop Allen -- Ghosts Are Good Company
Sean has it that Bishop Allen is the best unsigned rock band in the U.S. Some days I think he's right, and other days I think that honor goes to a local band I haven't yet posted (soon, I hope!... still waiting on one final review to come in on that mix CD). But make no mistake about it, Bishop Allen are good: gleeful, catchy, accomplished, with a great sense of melody and composition.
The band's releasing an EP a month this year. February is not yet released, but January made for a great start.
[Bishop Allen's site], with more downloads for yer perusal. Especially recommended: "Little Black Ache" and "Eve of Destruction."
posted by Tuwa @
01:35 | permalink |
1 comments
|
Sunday, February 12, 2006:
I don't know if you could call what I do 'digging.' Someone like DJ Shadow goes in with a portable turntable, knowing quite a lot about popular, obscure, and cult music, and when he finds something with a scratch he can't judge the severity of--or when he finds something new to him--he puts it on and gives it a listen. His work makes it clear that he comes away with a lot of great stuff. Whereas with me, without the extensive knowledge and the portable turntable, it's more like lowering a bucket into a shaft to get filled up by someone at the other end with a mischievous sense of humor. Pulling it into the light might show pocket lint, fossilized dung, fool's gold, a ripped styrofoam cup, and a hornet's nest (with angry hornets).
In this case, I'm both the person lowering the bucket and the person filling it up. I can sometimes avoid what I hate, but I'm not as good finding what I love.
I found this LP yesterday morning. Getting home to listen to them showed the take to be roughly .5 for 10--crap, mostly--until this one came up. I decided the LP might be worth a shot because it was obviously made in the 1970s yet the title was Dawn's New Ragtime Follies, leading me to think it was a sincere tribute (perhaps one they'd been advised against) to the music of 40 to 70 years earlier. And it's good music, an experiment that works--catchy and buoyant, mostly traditional, but with bits of 1970s rock mixed up in it in the guitar work.
Other standouts: "Daydream," "Say, Has Anybody Seen My Sweet Gypsy Rose?" "Who's in the Strawberry Patch with Sally."
The album has been re-released on CD just last year. Who knew? Not me. Maybe the Shadow.
[Dawn's New Ragtime Follies]
[Allmusic.com review]
Dawn's Ragtime Follies
Dawn feat. Tony Orlando -- Steppin' Out, I'm Gonna Boogie TonightI don't know if you could call what I do 'digging.' Someone like DJ Shadow goes in with a portable turntable, knowing quite a lot about popular, obscure, and cult music, and when he finds something with a scratch he can't judge the severity of--or when he finds something new to him--he puts it on and gives it a listen. His work makes it clear that he comes away with a lot of great stuff. Whereas with me, without the extensive knowledge and the portable turntable, it's more like lowering a bucket into a shaft to get filled up by someone at the other end with a mischievous sense of humor. Pulling it into the light might show pocket lint, fossilized dung, fool's gold, a ripped styrofoam cup, and a hornet's nest (with angry hornets).
In this case, I'm both the person lowering the bucket and the person filling it up. I can sometimes avoid what I hate, but I'm not as good finding what I love.
I found this LP yesterday morning. Getting home to listen to them showed the take to be roughly .5 for 10--crap, mostly--until this one came up. I decided the LP might be worth a shot because it was obviously made in the 1970s yet the title was Dawn's New Ragtime Follies, leading me to think it was a sincere tribute (perhaps one they'd been advised against) to the music of 40 to 70 years earlier. And it's good music, an experiment that works--catchy and buoyant, mostly traditional, but with bits of 1970s rock mixed up in it in the guitar work.
Other standouts: "Daydream," "Say, Has Anybody Seen My Sweet Gypsy Rose?" "Who's in the Strawberry Patch with Sally."
The album has been re-released on CD just last year. Who knew? Not me. Maybe the Shadow.
[Dawn's New Ragtime Follies]
[Allmusic.com review]
Labels: pop
posted by Tuwa @
13:18 | permalink |
4 comments
|
Tuesday, January 31, 2006:
Some time ago I got an email from Spoilt Victorian Child mentioning the Victor Scott release on the SVC record label, and I've been remiss in mentioning it. I've listened to it a bit; and if it took me awhile to warm up to it I think that's more my fault than the music's--sometimes I'm immediately taken with music I later hate and sometimes I'm immediately guarded towards music I later love. Scott's music falls in the latter category: it's bold, it strikes out in all directions, exploring, experimenting, poking and prodding, finding things and turning them over and giving them a vigorous shake to see what falls out. There's hip-hop, mariachi instrumentals, folkish pop ballads, soundtrack stylings with dialogue samples, the ghost of Antonio Carlos Jobim, and brassy butt-shaking dance music with bawdy double entendres.
I've gone with the freaky thumping joie de vivre here because it's what I'm feeling most at the moment.
[Victor Scott's site]
[Buy the CD at SVC records for 3 quid and get a free B-sides CD]
The Vogues -- Five O'Clock World
The Vogues were popular in the 1960s and 70s and "Five O'Clock World" was their biggest hit. They had some other good ones (including ones that charted, like "You're the One" and "My Special Angel"), but this one's just the one for me right now: lyrics about the daily grind at work presented with an easy melody, backing harmonies, yodelling, and yips. It's just a very confident, accomplished, and comforting sound; the song is concise and perfect, a bullseye.
[The Vogues -- Greatest Hits]
...
Voice of experience: if you are, say, changing from one DSL company that sucks to another that takes over your line days before even shipping the modem, thus rudely ending your internet connection while claiming that they haven't and claiming also that they can't help you, you can get back online through the new company without waiting for their modem. So if you're ever tempted to spend most of a day on the phone talking to a number of tech support people--from the concerned and helpful to the deeply confused and helpless--taking their advice, rebooting the computer when it doesn't need it, checking drivers that are uncorrupted and firmware that's current, swapping cables like thumb drives and tapping the reset button on your modem enough to send a sonnet in Morse code, don't. Just go to 192.168.1.254 and change your login from x@y.z to a@b.c, and don't forget to change over to the new password. And, as long as both services support the same connection type (e.g. PPPoE), that's that, you're in business, good to go, connection clipping along like normal. It doesn't matter that the modem's user interface says it's a modem for "y.z" service or that after you log in with the other company it tells you you're logged in with the previous one. It's just cosmetics. When the new (unnecessary) modem arrives you can unwrap it and use it as a geeky paperweight, or leave it in the box in case the older one fails sometime later.
Which leads to the assumption that DSL companies make a big to-do about contract lengths and charging $150 "for the modem" if you cancel before a year is up because the modems really don't cost all that much, but they do serve as a handy way to sell you a cheap plastic box you don't need at a markup they don't deserve.
One positive that emerged from the 8+ hours of fruitless phone conversations was a bit of sympathy with the tech support workers (even the incompetent ones): it must be daunting trying to solve problems that have six trillion possible causes, and there must be long stretches of boredom mixed in with the frustration as they sit waiting for some unseen computer to reboot and log on and let them continue.
Gotta Go / Five O'Clock World
Victor Scott -- Gotta GoSome time ago I got an email from Spoilt Victorian Child mentioning the Victor Scott release on the SVC record label, and I've been remiss in mentioning it. I've listened to it a bit; and if it took me awhile to warm up to it I think that's more my fault than the music's--sometimes I'm immediately taken with music I later hate and sometimes I'm immediately guarded towards music I later love. Scott's music falls in the latter category: it's bold, it strikes out in all directions, exploring, experimenting, poking and prodding, finding things and turning them over and giving them a vigorous shake to see what falls out. There's hip-hop, mariachi instrumentals, folkish pop ballads, soundtrack stylings with dialogue samples, the ghost of Antonio Carlos Jobim, and brassy butt-shaking dance music with bawdy double entendres.
I've gone with the freaky thumping joie de vivre here because it's what I'm feeling most at the moment.
[Victor Scott's site]
[Buy the CD at SVC records for 3 quid and get a free B-sides CD]
The Vogues -- Five O'Clock World
The Vogues were popular in the 1960s and 70s and "Five O'Clock World" was their biggest hit. They had some other good ones (including ones that charted, like "You're the One" and "My Special Angel"), but this one's just the one for me right now: lyrics about the daily grind at work presented with an easy melody, backing harmonies, yodelling, and yips. It's just a very confident, accomplished, and comforting sound; the song is concise and perfect, a bullseye.
[The Vogues -- Greatest Hits]
...
Voice of experience: if you are, say, changing from one DSL company that sucks to another that takes over your line days before even shipping the modem, thus rudely ending your internet connection while claiming that they haven't and claiming also that they can't help you, you can get back online through the new company without waiting for their modem. So if you're ever tempted to spend most of a day on the phone talking to a number of tech support people--from the concerned and helpful to the deeply confused and helpless--taking their advice, rebooting the computer when it doesn't need it, checking drivers that are uncorrupted and firmware that's current, swapping cables like thumb drives and tapping the reset button on your modem enough to send a sonnet in Morse code, don't. Just go to 192.168.1.254 and change your login from x@y.z to a@b.c, and don't forget to change over to the new password. And, as long as both services support the same connection type (e.g. PPPoE), that's that, you're in business, good to go, connection clipping along like normal. It doesn't matter that the modem's user interface says it's a modem for "y.z" service or that after you log in with the other company it tells you you're logged in with the previous one. It's just cosmetics. When the new (unnecessary) modem arrives you can unwrap it and use it as a geeky paperweight, or leave it in the box in case the older one fails sometime later.
Which leads to the assumption that DSL companies make a big to-do about contract lengths and charging $150 "for the modem" if you cancel before a year is up because the modems really don't cost all that much, but they do serve as a handy way to sell you a cheap plastic box you don't need at a markup they don't deserve.
One positive that emerged from the 8+ hours of fruitless phone conversations was a bit of sympathy with the tech support workers (even the incompetent ones): it must be daunting trying to solve problems that have six trillion possible causes, and there must be long stretches of boredom mixed in with the frustration as they sit waiting for some unseen computer to reboot and log on and let them continue.
Labels: electronica, pop
posted by Tuwa @
13:14 | permalink |
1 comments
|
Wednesday, January 25, 2006:
Here's a bit of sunshiney easy-going funky R&B certain to put a grin on yer mug. The Doobies wrote it, sure; but I think it's better here, without the thick glasses and the bowtie. (Thanks, Andy, for the correction--you're right; I had it backwards.)
This track is from the 3+3 incarnation of the Isley Brothers; it isn't rare at all, but it is great.
[Isley Brothers -- 3 + 3 @ amazon.com]
Team Clermont (a PR firm) sends me a fair amount of emails promoting various bands (sometimes promoting the same bands and songs they've been promoting, and sometimes promoting something not previously mentioned) (but at least they're not sending links to e-cards with the songs embedded, a sure-fire way to have their songs not listened to). Some of Team Clermont's bands are absolutely not my cup of tea, but there have been things I've liked in what they've sent:
Meredith Bragg and The Terminals -- Work and Winter
"Work and Winter" is a folkish pop tune: acoustic guitars, an occasional triangle, keyboards in the background, stuttering drums accenting the song's angularity, all of it smoothed over with that vocal melody like mannah from heaven.
Jeff Merchant -- Landlord Song
"Landlord Song" finds the narrator living in a dive and trying to make light of it; the flutes, the easy open melodies, and the gently drifting pace help give the song a falsely bucolic feel.
Jeff Merchant's myspace page.
...
I took part in the Metafilter swap at the end of last year. So far I've received three of the five mixes and they've been uniformly excellent; if everyone else is as happy with what I sent as I am with what they sent, then they're very happy indeed.
...
Neil Gaiman points to a bad agent. I point there too: it's a good read. You couldn't make this stuff up (or, if you did, people would say it's too absurd to be good fiction; no one would believe it).
Isley Brothers -- Listen to the Music
Isley Brothers -- Listen to the MusicHere's a bit of sunshiney easy-going funky R&B certain to put a grin on yer mug. The Doobies wrote it, sure; but I think it's better here, without the thick glasses and the bowtie. (Thanks, Andy, for the correction--you're right; I had it backwards.)
This track is from the 3+3 incarnation of the Isley Brothers; it isn't rare at all, but it is great.
[Isley Brothers -- 3 + 3 @ amazon.com]
Team Clermont (a PR firm) sends me a fair amount of emails promoting various bands (sometimes promoting the same bands and songs they've been promoting, and sometimes promoting something not previously mentioned) (but at least they're not sending links to e-cards with the songs embedded, a sure-fire way to have their songs not listened to). Some of Team Clermont's bands are absolutely not my cup of tea, but there have been things I've liked in what they've sent:
Meredith Bragg and The Terminals -- Work and Winter
"Work and Winter" is a folkish pop tune: acoustic guitars, an occasional triangle, keyboards in the background, stuttering drums accenting the song's angularity, all of it smoothed over with that vocal melody like mannah from heaven.
Jeff Merchant -- Landlord Song
"Landlord Song" finds the narrator living in a dive and trying to make light of it; the flutes, the easy open melodies, and the gently drifting pace help give the song a falsely bucolic feel.
Jeff Merchant's myspace page.
...
I took part in the Metafilter swap at the end of last year. So far I've received three of the five mixes and they've been uniformly excellent; if everyone else is as happy with what I sent as I am with what they sent, then they're very happy indeed.
...
Neil Gaiman points to a bad agent. I point there too: it's a good read. You couldn't make this stuff up (or, if you did, people would say it's too absurd to be good fiction; no one would believe it).
posted by Tuwa @
12:53 | permalink |
6 comments
|
Thursday, January 12, 2006:
Nellie McKay -- Work Song
In lieu of joining the Showgirls fray (Girish has a link roundup) I decided to watch Live Nude Girls Unite!, a documentary about strippers who decide to unionize their workplace. While strippers' work gets a number of different treatments in film, this one is a bit different: it pitches the work as just that--work--with its typical drawbacks as well as some others peculiar to the line of work. Strippers talk about being bored on the job and letting their minds wander, which seems a common enough comment about work, as do many of their others--getting underscheduled, having pay cut for spurious reasons, being fired at whim. There are other complaints more specific to their work: customers sometimes film them covertly through one-way mirrors in the booths; only one worker of color works a shift in the big room; no workers of color work in private booths; workers can not call in sick unless they find a replacement, but the replacement must have skin as light or lighter and their breasts must be as big or bigger.
The labor commission won't help them because of the nature of the work (a luxury the property tax collector probably doesn't have) and when management proves indifferent to the grievances, the strippers decide to unionize. Finding representation and voting in the union proves to be the easy part; the hard part is negotiating a contract.
The documentary is filmed and narrated by one of the workers, who is also the daughter of an activist for prostitutes' rights; the mother doesn't know about her daughter's work. And here is where the film fails a bit: it's not that the filming is clumsy, though it is, or that the audio is poor, though it is, but that the film is a bit self-indulgent. The narrator is a stand-up comedian, but the bits of her routine that she includes just aren't very funny, and don't compete with some of the relayed conversations between customers and strippers. One in particular:
Customer: "Where do you work?"
Stripper: "I'm a stripper."
Customer: [pauses a beat] "What do you do for money?"
The tendency for documentary film makers to insert themselves into the film is understandable, since they're so close to the material, but I think it's a challenge to do it skillfully enough that the director doesn't prove boring, annoying, or superfluous. In this case, the director's story arc adds a bit, but the integration of the two stories is somewhat clumsy, and the director admits on-camera that she's telling her mother about her work in part because she'd likely find out anyway and in part because it would help the film. This admission shifts the viewer's attention away from worker exploitation towards family exploitation: the daughter knows her mother will find the conversation stressful--it's about something she's been hiding from her for years--yet she films it. The conversation is just as uncomfortable as imagined, prompting questions about negative space in film narrative.
While the film is somewhat self-indulgent, it's at least consistently interesting, especially in its depiction of struggle in an industry that's mostly scorned and ignored, and I was happy to see it.
...
Before I left for college there was a bookstore I used to go to in my little hometown: a ramshackle homely little booth in a flea market, with a garage door over the front and the walls nothing more than chicken wire held in place with bits of scrap wood. The owner was a fixture there for as long as I could remember; and I used to walk the four or five miles from my home two or three times a weekend, at first to get away from my family and then because the walk was less boring than staying at home, and then out of a wish for some sort of companionship, even the small bit of conversation I'd have around the purchase. The owner had had arthritis and tinnitus for as long as I could remember, but she was always cheerful and optimistic, quick with a joke or a sweet anecdote. I started out buying comic books from her for a quarter, when I was about eight; that progressed to young adult fiction then to science fiction and then to horror and then to some dabbling in mass-market fiction and "literature." Eventually the owner stopped selling me the books; she'd loan them to me instead, with a promise that I'd bring them back with a brief plot summary and a review; and when I moved to attend college I used to write and call frequently.
Over the years we drifted apart--she stayed at the book store, four days a week, opening before sunrise, closing at sunset, with her husband at her side, both of them living a hardscrabble life, but modest and uncomplaining; and I got wrapped up in what seems like endless school. In late 2004 I found out she had cancer but no insurance, and that as a result she'd gotten behind on her house payments trying to pay her medical bills and had lost her house and moved into a trailer. She and her husband left town for Hurricane Ivan and came back to find their trailer completely destroyed, nothing left standing but the toilet. I couldn't get in touch with her for ages--no one knew where she was staying; my family would give her messages at work and she'd send the message back that she was fine and she looked forward to seeing me.
The next time I saw her she was at work still, and only slightly less cheerful than usual. It was just before Christmas 2004; we talked awhile and I noticed that people would come buy things and pay her, and she would tuck the money in without looking at it. So I looked through her books, which had mostly survived the storm, and picked some out to put on top of the knee-high stack at my house awaiting my attention. She told me the total and I overpayed and she tucked it away without looking at it. I stayed awhile, wanting to say different things and feeling unable, and then feeling I hadn't done enough, and finally taking more money out when she was busy with a customer and hiding it where I knew she'd find it when closing shop at the end of the day.
The next time I was home was in June. It was a miserable trip: full of failed attempts to meet up with family and friends, and characterized any number of frustrated attempts to get schoolwork done: much of my family had cancelled internet service; the rest had flaky broadband that spent more time off than on; draconian librarians and the lack of a car served up more frustration, and the experience was capped off by marital discord at three of the four places I stayed. I felt unwanted and in the way everywhere, but I was low on money and couldn't afford a hotel or a car, and so everything that I could do depended on someone else's schedule. It was a poorly planned trip. Eventually I settled in with my aunt, my infirm grandmother, and my cousins in an already packed house, only to have another cousin, her husband, and their batshit insane pit bull move in when Hurricane Dennis hit. After that there was no power and no potable water, just a stultifying humid heat and short tempers all around, and it was an absolute relief to leave. I didn't get to see my friend at the flea market.
I was home again in December, just before Christmas. I ran into her husband at an auto parts store; he asked me if I'd heard about his wife. I said yes, thinking he'd meant about moving shop: the older flea market was being torn down. I asked him if she'd be at the new place that weekend because I'd like to see her. No, he said, I hadn't heard. She died on December 11, 2005. It was barely the 20th and here he was, this man who'd been married to her for decades, back at work, extended vacations not a poor man's prerogative. We talked about her awhile, about how optimistic and generous she was; and he mentioned that she had been looking forward to seeing me over Christmas. It hurt, not because he meant it to, but because she was my friend and I hadn't done enough for her; and going to San Francisco instead of going to my hometown earlier was just the last of it.
He began to get choked up, talking about her at the register, and his coworker began giving him sidelong glances, and so I asked him about his upcoming trip to visit his son. He seemed relieved about the change in subject; not long after that, my sister had to leave to meet her husband, so we left. But I've been thinking about it since: about how kind she was, about how she used to joke that some day she'd be selling my books and I'd have to autograph her a copy, about how a year and three months can come to seem like a few weeks, opportunities slipping by daily, unattended, unnoticed. It's odd to think about her not being in that little shop, odd to think about the shop not being there at all, and disappointing to know that she died hoping to see me again and that she didn't.
[Maxwell -- MTV Unplugged (what happened to the domestic version? The one without track 8, that was half as expensive? Is this it? Because they have their tracklisting all wrong)]
[Nellie McKay -- Get Away from Me]
This Woman's Work / Work Song
Maxwell -- This Woman's WorkNellie McKay -- Work Song
In lieu of joining the Showgirls fray (Girish has a link roundup) I decided to watch Live Nude Girls Unite!, a documentary about strippers who decide to unionize their workplace. While strippers' work gets a number of different treatments in film, this one is a bit different: it pitches the work as just that--work--with its typical drawbacks as well as some others peculiar to the line of work. Strippers talk about being bored on the job and letting their minds wander, which seems a common enough comment about work, as do many of their others--getting underscheduled, having pay cut for spurious reasons, being fired at whim. There are other complaints more specific to their work: customers sometimes film them covertly through one-way mirrors in the booths; only one worker of color works a shift in the big room; no workers of color work in private booths; workers can not call in sick unless they find a replacement, but the replacement must have skin as light or lighter and their breasts must be as big or bigger.
The labor commission won't help them because of the nature of the work (a luxury the property tax collector probably doesn't have) and when management proves indifferent to the grievances, the strippers decide to unionize. Finding representation and voting in the union proves to be the easy part; the hard part is negotiating a contract.
The documentary is filmed and narrated by one of the workers, who is also the daughter of an activist for prostitutes' rights; the mother doesn't know about her daughter's work. And here is where the film fails a bit: it's not that the filming is clumsy, though it is, or that the audio is poor, though it is, but that the film is a bit self-indulgent. The narrator is a stand-up comedian, but the bits of her routine that she includes just aren't very funny, and don't compete with some of the relayed conversations between customers and strippers. One in particular:
Customer: "Where do you work?"
Stripper: "I'm a stripper."
Customer: [pauses a beat] "What do you do for money?"
The tendency for documentary film makers to insert themselves into the film is understandable, since they're so close to the material, but I think it's a challenge to do it skillfully enough that the director doesn't prove boring, annoying, or superfluous. In this case, the director's story arc adds a bit, but the integration of the two stories is somewhat clumsy, and the director admits on-camera that she's telling her mother about her work in part because she'd likely find out anyway and in part because it would help the film. This admission shifts the viewer's attention away from worker exploitation towards family exploitation: the daughter knows her mother will find the conversation stressful--it's about something she's been hiding from her for years--yet she films it. The conversation is just as uncomfortable as imagined, prompting questions about negative space in film narrative.
While the film is somewhat self-indulgent, it's at least consistently interesting, especially in its depiction of struggle in an industry that's mostly scorned and ignored, and I was happy to see it.
...
Before I left for college there was a bookstore I used to go to in my little hometown: a ramshackle homely little booth in a flea market, with a garage door over the front and the walls nothing more than chicken wire held in place with bits of scrap wood. The owner was a fixture there for as long as I could remember; and I used to walk the four or five miles from my home two or three times a weekend, at first to get away from my family and then because the walk was less boring than staying at home, and then out of a wish for some sort of companionship, even the small bit of conversation I'd have around the purchase. The owner had had arthritis and tinnitus for as long as I could remember, but she was always cheerful and optimistic, quick with a joke or a sweet anecdote. I started out buying comic books from her for a quarter, when I was about eight; that progressed to young adult fiction then to science fiction and then to horror and then to some dabbling in mass-market fiction and "literature." Eventually the owner stopped selling me the books; she'd loan them to me instead, with a promise that I'd bring them back with a brief plot summary and a review; and when I moved to attend college I used to write and call frequently.
Over the years we drifted apart--she stayed at the book store, four days a week, opening before sunrise, closing at sunset, with her husband at her side, both of them living a hardscrabble life, but modest and uncomplaining; and I got wrapped up in what seems like endless school. In late 2004 I found out she had cancer but no insurance, and that as a result she'd gotten behind on her house payments trying to pay her medical bills and had lost her house and moved into a trailer. She and her husband left town for Hurricane Ivan and came back to find their trailer completely destroyed, nothing left standing but the toilet. I couldn't get in touch with her for ages--no one knew where she was staying; my family would give her messages at work and she'd send the message back that she was fine and she looked forward to seeing me.
The next time I saw her she was at work still, and only slightly less cheerful than usual. It was just before Christmas 2004; we talked awhile and I noticed that people would come buy things and pay her, and she would tuck the money in without looking at it. So I looked through her books, which had mostly survived the storm, and picked some out to put on top of the knee-high stack at my house awaiting my attention. She told me the total and I overpayed and she tucked it away without looking at it. I stayed awhile, wanting to say different things and feeling unable, and then feeling I hadn't done enough, and finally taking more money out when she was busy with a customer and hiding it where I knew she'd find it when closing shop at the end of the day.
The next time I was home was in June. It was a miserable trip: full of failed attempts to meet up with family and friends, and characterized any number of frustrated attempts to get schoolwork done: much of my family had cancelled internet service; the rest had flaky broadband that spent more time off than on; draconian librarians and the lack of a car served up more frustration, and the experience was capped off by marital discord at three of the four places I stayed. I felt unwanted and in the way everywhere, but I was low on money and couldn't afford a hotel or a car, and so everything that I could do depended on someone else's schedule. It was a poorly planned trip. Eventually I settled in with my aunt, my infirm grandmother, and my cousins in an already packed house, only to have another cousin, her husband, and their batshit insane pit bull move in when Hurricane Dennis hit. After that there was no power and no potable water, just a stultifying humid heat and short tempers all around, and it was an absolute relief to leave. I didn't get to see my friend at the flea market.
I was home again in December, just before Christmas. I ran into her husband at an auto parts store; he asked me if I'd heard about his wife. I said yes, thinking he'd meant about moving shop: the older flea market was being torn down. I asked him if she'd be at the new place that weekend because I'd like to see her. No, he said, I hadn't heard. She died on December 11, 2005. It was barely the 20th and here he was, this man who'd been married to her for decades, back at work, extended vacations not a poor man's prerogative. We talked about her awhile, about how optimistic and generous she was; and he mentioned that she had been looking forward to seeing me over Christmas. It hurt, not because he meant it to, but because she was my friend and I hadn't done enough for her; and going to San Francisco instead of going to my hometown earlier was just the last of it.
He began to get choked up, talking about her at the register, and his coworker began giving him sidelong glances, and so I asked him about his upcoming trip to visit his son. He seemed relieved about the change in subject; not long after that, my sister had to leave to meet her husband, so we left. But I've been thinking about it since: about how kind she was, about how she used to joke that some day she'd be selling my books and I'd have to autograph her a copy, about how a year and three months can come to seem like a few weeks, opportunities slipping by daily, unattended, unnoticed. It's odd to think about her not being in that little shop, odd to think about the shop not being there at all, and disappointing to know that she died hoping to see me again and that she didn't.
[Maxwell -- MTV Unplugged (what happened to the domestic version? The one without track 8, that was half as expensive? Is this it? Because they have their tracklisting all wrong)]
[Nellie McKay -- Get Away from Me]
posted by Tuwa @
14:50 | permalink |
7 comments
|
Wednesday, November 30, 2005:
This song is like an overnight drive back to your loved ones, sunrise glinting through the trees. You're tired but you can't stop, and besides, you've had too much coffee to sleep. So you drive on and stop occasionally to get out and walk around and bring some feeling back into your legs. In the car you pound on the steering wheel in time, looking out at all the mostly-empty streets; you pound on the steering wheel and sing along, poorly, loudly, because it makes the time go faster. In your neighborhood you watch the people stepping out bleary-eyed and bathrobed to collect the paper, and then it's one turn more and you've arrived and parked and let yourself in. Your family is up already and it's big hugs all around and a home-cooked breakfast. And then suddenly you are tired, and once things quiet down a bit you sit talking and find yourself dozing, perfectly at peace, and sprawl out on the couch and someone comes up and puts the blankets over you.
Why do the stars jump side to side? I don't know, but they do. They do.
[seems Ian Love has no website.]
Listing Ship -- Chinese Song
This one's like the next day--or is it the next season?--raking leaves, baking pumpkin pie, sipping apple cider. The song's got a cloistered warmth to it, a sort of autumnal peacefulness in the strings that's belied by the lyrics.
I love the crazy instrumentation--what's that, bass, woodblocks, violin, theremin? Is it? Works for me. Folkadelic.
[Listing Ship's site]
...
I got these two in a PR email yesterday from Team Clermont Publicity. Pleasant surprises....
There are other emails I've read but not yet followed through on, and still others that I've downloaded and liked and for some reason not yet posted. There's really no rhyme or reason to it. I'm sorry.
Ian Love and Listing Ship
Ian Love -- The Only NightThis song is like an overnight drive back to your loved ones, sunrise glinting through the trees. You're tired but you can't stop, and besides, you've had too much coffee to sleep. So you drive on and stop occasionally to get out and walk around and bring some feeling back into your legs. In the car you pound on the steering wheel in time, looking out at all the mostly-empty streets; you pound on the steering wheel and sing along, poorly, loudly, because it makes the time go faster. In your neighborhood you watch the people stepping out bleary-eyed and bathrobed to collect the paper, and then it's one turn more and you've arrived and parked and let yourself in. Your family is up already and it's big hugs all around and a home-cooked breakfast. And then suddenly you are tired, and once things quiet down a bit you sit talking and find yourself dozing, perfectly at peace, and sprawl out on the couch and someone comes up and puts the blankets over you.
Why do the stars jump side to side? I don't know, but they do. They do.
[seems Ian Love has no website.]
Listing Ship -- Chinese Song
This one's like the next day--or is it the next season?--raking leaves, baking pumpkin pie, sipping apple cider. The song's got a cloistered warmth to it, a sort of autumnal peacefulness in the strings that's belied by the lyrics.
I love the crazy instrumentation--what's that, bass, woodblocks, violin, theremin? Is it? Works for me. Folkadelic.
[Listing Ship's site]
...
I got these two in a PR email yesterday from Team Clermont Publicity. Pleasant surprises....
There are other emails I've read but not yet followed through on, and still others that I've downloaded and liked and for some reason not yet posted. There's really no rhyme or reason to it. I'm sorry.
posted by Tuwa @
02:17 | permalink |
8 comments
|
Monday, November 21, 2005:
The B-52's are best known for their campy manic tracks, but I love their chilled out tracks more. Exhibit A: probably the most laid back track on their 2nd LP, Wild Planet, and something I wish they'd done more of. Easy to nod along to, and I think I'd heard it half a dozen times before I paid any attention to the lyrics and found out it's not about driving.
The song ends with crickets, which keeps making me expect "Sun King" next.
[Wild Planet @ amazon.com]
The B-52's -- Dirty Back Road
The B-52's -- Dirty Back RoadThe B-52's are best known for their campy manic tracks, but I love their chilled out tracks more. Exhibit A: probably the most laid back track on their 2nd LP, Wild Planet, and something I wish they'd done more of. Easy to nod along to, and I think I'd heard it half a dozen times before I paid any attention to the lyrics and found out it's not about driving.
The song ends with crickets, which keeps making me expect "Sun King" next.
[Wild Planet @ amazon.com]
Labels: pop
posted by Tuwa @
01:54 | permalink |
0 comments
|
Monday, November 07, 2005:
After months of humidity and stultifying heat, we had two days of fall--chilly mornings and brisk breezes--and then it snapped back into good weather for shorts and sandals. If Florida were a person it would be not be a Buddhist: it's quite attached to summer and stands terrified at the prospect of anything else: "what would it be like, this ... 'coldness' thing of which you speak? Sort of a humid heat, only ... without hurricanes? No? Oh. So ... sort of a humid heat, only ... less hot?"
Tom Paxton -- Bottle of Wine
Tom Paxton kicks us off with a very springy sort of song: picked guitar ringing out "life-fun-everything great," with lyrics that it would be easy to sing along to without paying much attention to: "Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine, when you gonna let me get sober? / Let me alone, let me go home, let me go back and start over." Tricksy, that: a cheerful-sounding song about a drinking problem.
Paxton has a strong voice--confident but not overpowering, giving just enough and not a bit too much. His work ranges from the bitterly satiric to the plaintive to the mellow and accepting. He started performing in the 1960s, often focusing on political themes (some of which, like "Lyndon Johnson Told the Nation," are more specific than universal; others, like "Daily News" or "What Did You Learn in School Today?," still have a clear relevance). Paxton is still performing, still releasing new albums.
Tom Paxton's site;
I Can't Help But Wonder Where I'm Bound @ amazon.com;
Karamelo Santo -- Fruta Amarga
Sylvie from Delanuca Records wrote some time back introducing me to Karamelo Santo, an Argentinean ska-punk band. "Fruto Amargo" is a Rubén Blades cover: stuttering funky bassline, horn section, slightly distorted rubber-wristed electric guitar, and a melody that telegraphs high noon, barbecues, volleyball on the beach. Good times.
Karamelo Santo's site;
Delanuca Records, which has a downloads section under "media/press";
Sylvie's blog;
Soft -- Higher
The rock band Soft, based in Brooklyn, wrote me a few days ago mentioning that their EP would be released soon. They have a good sense of composition and arrangement--when to add things, drop them out, bring them back--and a great sense of melody; I bet they put on good shows. I posted their track "You Make Me Wanna Die" about a year ago and I was glad to hear from them again.
The band Soft;
The Soft EP @ insound.com;
Pet Politics -- In My Head
Magnus from Pet Politics emailed me in late August; we swapped a couple of emails and then the conversation fell off. He had a round of postings in September but here he is again in case you missed him. Pet Politics is one of those "bands" that's just one person: that's Magnus arranging drums, playing guitar, singing. His music has sort of a wintry quality to it that I like quite a lot: it's like sitting in watching a film, cozy in your pile of blankets, cold creeping in around the curtains. There's something about the melodies he comes up with that's somehow both new and immediately familiar; it gives his sound a sense of nostalgia and oddness at the same time.
The Pet Politics site, with another mp3 up for download;
Calvanes -- Buzz Buzz Buzz
The Calvanes are a doo-wop group that cut a few sides in the 1950s and never put together a full album before 2001. In Harmony has some great tracks on it, especially this one, their Leiber/Stoller cover "Smokey Joe's Cafe," and their lead-off track "Travellin' Stranger". This one's exuberant, catchy, with an open love and a contagious joy broadcasting sunrise, dewy grass, tweeting birds, green twigs, flowers in bloom.
In Harmony @ amazon.com.
Tom Paxton, Karamelo Santo, Soft, Pet Politics, Calvanes
After months of humidity and stultifying heat, we had two days of fall--chilly mornings and brisk breezes--and then it snapped back into good weather for shorts and sandals. If Florida were a person it would be not be a Buddhist: it's quite attached to summer and stands terrified at the prospect of anything else: "what would it be like, this ... 'coldness' thing of which you speak? Sort of a humid heat, only ... without hurricanes? No? Oh. So ... sort of a humid heat, only ... less hot?"
Tom Paxton -- Bottle of Wine
Tom Paxton kicks us off with a very springy sort of song: picked guitar ringing out "life-fun-everything great," with lyrics that it would be easy to sing along to without paying much attention to: "Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine, when you gonna let me get sober? / Let me alone, let me go home, let me go back and start over." Tricksy, that: a cheerful-sounding song about a drinking problem.
Paxton has a strong voice--confident but not overpowering, giving just enough and not a bit too much. His work ranges from the bitterly satiric to the plaintive to the mellow and accepting. He started performing in the 1960s, often focusing on political themes (some of which, like "Lyndon Johnson Told the Nation," are more specific than universal; others, like "Daily News" or "What Did You Learn in School Today?," still have a clear relevance). Paxton is still performing, still releasing new albums.
Tom Paxton's site;
I Can't Help But Wonder Where I'm Bound @ amazon.com;
Karamelo Santo -- Fruta Amarga
Sylvie from Delanuca Records wrote some time back introducing me to Karamelo Santo, an Argentinean ska-punk band. "Fruto Amargo" is a Rubén Blades cover: stuttering funky bassline, horn section, slightly distorted rubber-wristed electric guitar, and a melody that telegraphs high noon, barbecues, volleyball on the beach. Good times.
Karamelo Santo's site;
Delanuca Records, which has a downloads section under "media/press";
Sylvie's blog;
Soft -- Higher
The rock band Soft, based in Brooklyn, wrote me a few days ago mentioning that their EP would be released soon. They have a good sense of composition and arrangement--when to add things, drop them out, bring them back--and a great sense of melody; I bet they put on good shows. I posted their track "You Make Me Wanna Die" about a year ago and I was glad to hear from them again.
The band Soft;
The Soft EP @ insound.com;
Pet Politics -- In My Head
Magnus from Pet Politics emailed me in late August; we swapped a couple of emails and then the conversation fell off. He had a round of postings in September but here he is again in case you missed him. Pet Politics is one of those "bands" that's just one person: that's Magnus arranging drums, playing guitar, singing. His music has sort of a wintry quality to it that I like quite a lot: it's like sitting in watching a film, cozy in your pile of blankets, cold creeping in around the curtains. There's something about the melodies he comes up with that's somehow both new and immediately familiar; it gives his sound a sense of nostalgia and oddness at the same time.
The Pet Politics site, with another mp3 up for download;
Calvanes -- Buzz Buzz Buzz
The Calvanes are a doo-wop group that cut a few sides in the 1950s and never put together a full album before 2001. In Harmony has some great tracks on it, especially this one, their Leiber/Stoller cover "Smokey Joe's Cafe," and their lead-off track "Travellin' Stranger". This one's exuberant, catchy, with an open love and a contagious joy broadcasting sunrise, dewy grass, tweeting birds, green twigs, flowers in bloom.
In Harmony @ amazon.com.
Labels: doo wop, folk, pop, PR, punk, rock
posted by Tuwa @
09:54 | permalink |
5 comments
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Monday, October 31, 2005:
Marisa Monte -- Segue O Seco
Marisa Monte -- Para Ver As Meninas
Marisa Monte is a Brazilian singer who tends to combine traditional Brazilian rhythms and instrumentation with modern pop tendencies: keyboards, electric guitar, light friendly melodies.
Barulhinho Bom is a two-disc set, the first disc studio recordings with a pop bent; the second disc is live recordings with a more traditional sound. Both of them have some great tracks. I'm hard pressed to say which I like more, though I think the pop disc might be more immediately accessible to people unfamiliar with Brazilian music. Memórias, Crônicas & Declarações De Amor continues Monte's experiments in combining traditional and pop instrumentation; it's also an interesting and accessible CD with some great tracks.
"Para Ver As Meninas" is a samba off Memórias, Crônicas & Declarações De Amor; it's not so typical of the album it's on, except maybe in the cello and the addition of bits of distortion, but it's compelling work and well worth sharing.
"Cérebro Eletrônico" has a funky guitar and bassline, bouncing thumping drums, and the occasional vocals through a megaphone. Plus it's fun, which is always a plus.
"Segue O Seco" is more traditional and subdued but no less impressive; it's an Afro-Brazilian tune, which would have been my guess based just on the harmonizing background vocals. Lovely work.
Monte has a number of other CDs that are well-regarded but that I haven't yet heard; I first heard her on a mix CD a friend made for me and immediately added her to my (already too-long) list of musicians to look into. It's an ongoing process.
Allmusic.com biography
[amazon.com]: Memórias, Crônicas & Declarações De Amor (allmusic review)
[amazon.com]: Barulhinho Bom (allmusic review)
Marisa Monte
Marisa Monte -- Cérebro EletrônicoMarisa Monte -- Segue O Seco
Marisa Monte -- Para Ver As Meninas
Marisa Monte is a Brazilian singer who tends to combine traditional Brazilian rhythms and instrumentation with modern pop tendencies: keyboards, electric guitar, light friendly melodies.
Barulhinho Bom is a two-disc set, the first disc studio recordings with a pop bent; the second disc is live recordings with a more traditional sound. Both of them have some great tracks. I'm hard pressed to say which I like more, though I think the pop disc might be more immediately accessible to people unfamiliar with Brazilian music. Memórias, Crônicas & Declarações De Amor continues Monte's experiments in combining traditional and pop instrumentation; it's also an interesting and accessible CD with some great tracks.
"Para Ver As Meninas" is a samba off Memórias, Crônicas & Declarações De Amor; it's not so typical of the album it's on, except maybe in the cello and the addition of bits of distortion, but it's compelling work and well worth sharing.
"Cérebro Eletrônico" has a funky guitar and bassline, bouncing thumping drums, and the occasional vocals through a megaphone. Plus it's fun, which is always a plus.
"Segue O Seco" is more traditional and subdued but no less impressive; it's an Afro-Brazilian tune, which would have been my guess based just on the harmonizing background vocals. Lovely work.
Monte has a number of other CDs that are well-regarded but that I haven't yet heard; I first heard her on a mix CD a friend made for me and immediately added her to my (already too-long) list of musicians to look into. It's an ongoing process.
Allmusic.com biography
[amazon.com]: Memórias, Crônicas & Declarações De Amor (allmusic review)
[amazon.com]: Barulhinho Bom (allmusic review)
Labels: electronica, pop, world pop
posted by Tuwa @
12:25 | permalink |
0 comments
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Tuesday, October 25, 2005:
Thumpin' 1-3 1-3 beat going KICK (hi hat) KICK (hi hat), a trilled R interpolated with "ay-oh-ay-oh," with lyrics something like "Flip. Flip. Flip. Filip flip, filip filip flip. Flipeh peh-peh peh-peh peh-peh. La la-la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la-la la-la la-mam ma-ma ma-ma ma-ma fliperama" and--hey--this is aural amphetamines.
Tom Zé mentioned not wanting to be just somebody you dance to, and I'm all for political speech in general, but really, now: can you listen to this and sit still? Do you not break into a grin, nod your head, tap your foot?
More to the point, Luaka Bop has the lyrics in translation, but they leave me puzzled. Maybe, like another Luaka Bopper once said, about his own lyrics, I will understand it better if I dance to it. It's worth a try, right?
[amazon.com]: Tom Zé -- Brazil Classics 5 (The Hips of Tradition)
Tom Zé -- Fliperama
Tom Zé -- FliperamaThumpin' 1-3 1-3 beat going KICK (hi hat) KICK (hi hat), a trilled R interpolated with "ay-oh-ay-oh," with lyrics something like "Flip. Flip. Flip. Filip flip, filip filip flip. Flipeh peh-peh peh-peh peh-peh. La la-la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la-la la-la la-mam ma-ma ma-ma ma-ma fliperama" and--hey--this is aural amphetamines.
Tom Zé mentioned not wanting to be just somebody you dance to, and I'm all for political speech in general, but really, now: can you listen to this and sit still? Do you not break into a grin, nod your head, tap your foot?
More to the point, Luaka Bop has the lyrics in translation, but they leave me puzzled. Maybe, like another Luaka Bopper once said, about his own lyrics, I will understand it better if I dance to it. It's worth a try, right?
[amazon.com]: Tom Zé -- Brazil Classics 5 (The Hips of Tradition)
posted by Tuwa @
02:15 | permalink |
0 comments
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Monday, October 24, 2005:
Jim Croce is a big figure in American pop history, or at least in the singer/songwriter niche. He's probably well-enough known that he doesn't need an introduction, or a mention of the helicopter crash (and, honestly, except for the occasional evil person, doesn't everyone die too soon?) "Rapid Roy," "Bad Bad Leroy Brown," and "Roller Derby Queen" all are broadly humorous songs, and entertaining in their own right, but I think what I'm most interested in in his work is his ballads. His ballads seem almost to have been written by a different person; they tend to have a real warmth and kindness to the lyrics that I find wonderfully embracing, like a trip home to a family you love.
"Walking Back to Georgia" is not one of his best-known songs, but that's probably just because it's not on that shortest greatest-hits comp he has. It's still a solid track: guitar, melody, lyrics are all on point weaving together a short poppy distillation of goodwill and longing. This one is digitized from the Don't Mess Around with Jim LP; it's available on CD as well.
[amazon.com]: Jim Croce -- The Definitive Collection
The Del Vikings -- When I Come Home
The Del Vikings had some splits and some lineup changes that make tracking their catalog a bit of a challenge, especially since they split into the "Del Vikings" and the "Dell-Vikings." The Vikings' best known tracks are probably "Come Go With Me" and "Whispering Bells" (both, if I remember right, on the Stand by Me soundtrack), but their less-famous tracks are solid too. This one has all the typical doo-wop charms: mid-range lead, soaring backup, low accents. It would be easy to take it as simple, nostalgic music, sweet and harmless, but there is some real anxiety at play in the lyrics. I think the track is fitting enough thematically, as I've cut the walking short.
[amazon.com]: Come Go With Me: The Best of the Del-Vikings Dot/ABC Recordings
Walkin' Back to Georgia
Jim Croce -- Walkin' Back to GeorgiaJim Croce is a big figure in American pop history, or at least in the singer/songwriter niche. He's probably well-enough known that he doesn't need an introduction, or a mention of the helicopter crash (and, honestly, except for the occasional evil person, doesn't everyone die too soon?) "Rapid Roy," "Bad Bad Leroy Brown," and "Roller Derby Queen" all are broadly humorous songs, and entertaining in their own right, but I think what I'm most interested in in his work is his ballads. His ballads seem almost to have been written by a different person; they tend to have a real warmth and kindness to the lyrics that I find wonderfully embracing, like a trip home to a family you love.
"Walking Back to Georgia" is not one of his best-known songs, but that's probably just because it's not on that shortest greatest-hits comp he has. It's still a solid track: guitar, melody, lyrics are all on point weaving together a short poppy distillation of goodwill and longing. This one is digitized from the Don't Mess Around with Jim LP; it's available on CD as well.
[amazon.com]: Jim Croce -- The Definitive Collection
The Del Vikings -- When I Come Home
The Del Vikings had some splits and some lineup changes that make tracking their catalog a bit of a challenge, especially since they split into the "Del Vikings" and the "Dell-Vikings." The Vikings' best known tracks are probably "Come Go With Me" and "Whispering Bells" (both, if I remember right, on the Stand by Me soundtrack), but their less-famous tracks are solid too. This one has all the typical doo-wop charms: mid-range lead, soaring backup, low accents. It would be easy to take it as simple, nostalgic music, sweet and harmless, but there is some real anxiety at play in the lyrics. I think the track is fitting enough thematically, as I've cut the walking short.
[amazon.com]: Come Go With Me: The Best of the Del-Vikings Dot/ABC Recordings
posted by Tuwa @
12:35 | permalink |
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