Cut Your Hair (and Your Losses)

If you needed further convincing on just how reprehensible Iron & Wine frontman Samuel Beam really is, take a moment to let your eardrums get raped by this. Iron & Wine's hemp seed granola persona has been inching ever closer to the early-70's era of shaggy hair and even shaggier music tastes, but now he's crossed a very long-haired, lice-infested line. Little Feat is one of those bands which we should be thankful has bit the dust--our lives are more enriched now that they're no longer on the charts and only brought up in conversation by Over Sixties who still think Lowell George was some sort of music icon. But with the legion of Iron & Wine fans growing each year, I worry that we'll soon be seeing a Little Feat resurgence thanks to this faux-folkie who resembles Jesus Christ but with none of the sex appeal. Are you going to tell me that all these years Beam has been secretly harboring a love of this funky-bluesy-funk/blues? Where does this slippery slope end? Will he next release a one-off single covering Firefall? Is he going to spearhead a tribute album to Barefoot Jerry? Is the next step a collaborative folk-cycle album with Gilbert O'Sullivan? For pete's sake, Sam, let the lunacy end.

The Unintentionally Hilarious Press Photos of Bands Playing in My Area in the Near Future [Part 2] [Click Photo to Enlarge the Lulz]

Run Away From the Blight

 

There are those who would tell you Alabama Shakes and Rubblebucket are two new bands into which you should be plugging your earbuds, but I am here to warn you, children, that these are freshly-shaved lies. The morally reprehensible Alabama Shakes sport the most generic, lame-ass bar-band sound you could ever muster, tailor-made/readymade for Bonnaroo burnouts;  Rubblebucket are the polar opposite, pushing so far at appearing quirky, you can only respond by patting them on the head and pointing them towards the cut-out bin which they'll soon be inhabiting. The hype machine surrounding these yawn-inducing embarrassments must be avoided above all else. These are dangerous times to be a music lover, and we need to protect each other from all this lethal danger to our tastes.

Sleepy-Time Music for Sleepy-Life People

On the pie chart in my head, snooze-inducing bearded bard Bon Iver is as compelling a listen as swallowing a bottle of Lunesta.  But now that we have to take him seriously after winning the 2012 Grammy for Best New Artist, the obvious questions becomes whether or not his career will mirror that of past New Artist winners?  Out of the professional options below, pick the one he will least likely embark upon:

1. Will become, like The Swingle Singers, the source of a stupefying Trivial Pursuit question.
2. Will go blind, like José Feliciano, from congenital glaucoma but get to enjoy image-enhancing sunglasses with untapped coolness factor.
3. Will give the gift of sperm to a famous lesbian, the same way David Crosby did.
4. Will be profiled in an underground film by Todd Haynes after dying of chemical imbalances associated with anorexia nervosa.
5. Like Milli Vanilli, will be revealed to lip-synching at every performance
6. Like The Beatles, he will become the best-selling artist in history, with estimated sales of over one billion units, influencing countless genres of music the world over.

The correct answer is: g) Bon Iver who?

The Unintentionally Hilarious Press Photos of Bands Playing in My Area in the Near Future [Part 1] [Click Photo to Enlarge the Lulz]

With Only 39 Years Left to Live, It's Time I Finally Got Around to Digitizing My Cassette & Vinyl Collection [Part 13]

Alix Dobkin - xxAlix (LP on Ladyslipper Records, 1980)

Now that we have a Lesbian President, can we finally allow ourselves to have a laugh over this awesome aural relic? This is Camp of the highest order, every track dripping with irony-free earnest fist-in-the-air political fury (and all of it, remarkably, still available for purchase on cassette). How can you not love an album who lists the name of a key musician as River Lightwomoon and credits the album graphics as being "Typeset with Lesbian love by J. DeMaris Hearn, a Lesbian typographer"? As for the music, well, make no mistake about it: we're in total post-Ferron territory here. If you're a Grrrl wanting to get your riot on, you're about 20 years too early. For those of you reading this who are shocked by my audacity to poke some fun at what some would see as a sacred artifact, may I simply argue that my qualifications are in order. It would be remiss of me to defend myself by stating that some of my best friends are lesbians but...um, [ahem]: Some of my best friends are Lesbians.

Shelter Schmelter

The only question one can ask after viewing this eye-rolling/face palm inducing video: why didn't they get that dorky spaz-dancing-equals-world-peace guy to be in it?

The Joanna Newsom Drinking Game

The newest masterpiece by Joanna Newsom is about to hit stores. As you bask in its unicorn-ey goodness, have some fun and take a drink whenever she uses the following bullshit-meter-breaking words or phrases:

Svetlana

A seagull weeps

Sage

I'm oozing surprise

Yoke

Chim-Choo-Ree

Ursala

Two-by-two (re-loo-re-loo)

Inflammatory writ

Seahorse

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Gasplessly

I am big-boned and fey

Dragons

Exhume your pinecone

E-Mail Message Caught in My Spam Filter Which Could Easily Double as Lyrics to a Song by Joanna Newsom

Scamp sap nibble baboo? Bled arise public elan. Emir luting. Sniffy valuer tare thyme? Bingo bled. Potboy ape palmy palmy! Elan arise. Arise ladder. Elan wen cooker. Chump chalk. Swathe feel bingo nibble? Bled estop gird. Potion feed bled tops! Find acuity. How chump wen swathe? Cooker chalk tops renew? Tare voter. Fetid nopal scamp. Mix luting flake bounty? Valuer novel ingle gasper. Morgue flood potboy chump? Module luting feed. Tandem gas large lumper! Nimbus public arise. Scamp sap nibble baboo? Bled arise public elan. Emir luting. Sniffy valuer tare thyme? Bingo bled. Potboy ape palmy palmy! Elan arise. Arise ladder. Elan wen cooker. Chump chalk. Swathe feel bingo nibble? Bled estop gird. Potion feed bled tops! Find acuity. How chump wen swathe? Cooker chalk tops renew? Tare voter. Fetid nopal scamp. Mix luting flake bounty? Valuer novel ingle gasper. Morgue flood potboy chump? Module luting feed. Tandem gas large lumper! Nimbus public arise.

Duck and Cover (or At Least Mimic Closely)

Seeing how America is currently waging three unwinnable wars--one against Iraq, one against Afghanistan and one against twee icon Sufjan Stevens (in the form of a prolonged backlash)--it should be considered treason to find a few songs by the Australian outfit Clue to Kalo somewhat catchy. Yes, they ape Stevens in a symphonic-pop-stars-who-majored-in-Literature kind of way, but I'll be the first to admit I'm a musical Benedict Arnold while swooning to certain movements within The Infinite Orphan and User to a Carrier. Thankfully, when the enemy engages in torture via the too-cute-by-half Kate Bush-esque vocals of Ellen Carey (on the ghastly What Went Down Around), I come to my senses and toss my grenade towards the proper target. If excessively precious songwriting was a homemade dirty bomb, that track would elevate the current threat level of the Homeland Security Advisory System to "Severe".

Live Blogging While Viewing the Restored Edition of The Last Waltz Which I Avoided Watching In the Past Because the Soundtrack Makes Me Gag

00:09 This film should be played loud, the intro titles read. I would concur, except I would also add, "Be sure to turn the volume down during the actual music segments.".

09:28 Our first glimpse of how The Band looks. Now I know where Wilco get their fashion sense.

15:14 Oh, look--it's Ronnie Hawkins performing one of my favorite rock and roll mannerisms: redneck band leader screaming encouraging rev-it-up phrases over the guitar solo. Darby Crash died for your sins, Ronnie--please don't let his loss be in vain.

26:51 If there is anything more painful than hearing a fuzzy-brained hippie reading the introduction to The Canterbury Tales, I have yet to experience it.

30:28 "You know this guy, I bet..." Robbie Robertson exclaims as Neil Young ambles his ramshackle self onto the stage. I certainly do: I saw him begging for change in the parking lot of my local Walgreens this morning. He said he needed money to buy diapers, but I wasn't born yesterday.

53:29 The puzzling sight of Neil Diamond playing on this bill is akin to witnessing Sha Na Na when they performed at Woodstock. I'm half expecting The Manhattan Transfer to make an appearance next.

57:43 "What about women on the road?", Scorsese asks The Band during a backstage interview. "I love 'em!", exclaims the nearly-toothless, homeless-looking Richard Manuel. The follow-up question should have been, "How much did you end up having to pay for each one?"

59:25 Is the necklace draped around the skinny neck of delicate songstress Joni Mitchell fashioned from Nazi insignia? No wonder she was so furious that Neil Diamond was invited to play!

105:18 If I never again have to hear another White man crooning "Train Kept a Rollin'" (in this case, the insufferable Paul Butterfield), I will die a happy man.

109:10 For reasons unclear to me, the blues great Muddy Waters is performing without a guitar, with that role being supplanted by some anonymous long-haired hack behind him. Were the concert organizers afraid to give him an instrument for fear he would steal it?

113:33 Two words: Eric Clapton. Good sweet Jesus, our Lord and Savior, I've passed gas more interesting than this drivel.

126:48 Levon Helm gives a nutty quote: "The greatest priests on 52nd Street were the musicians. They were doing the greatest healing work. And they knew how to push through music which would cure and make people feel good." So our national health plan should be...get some NYC street buskers to run our hospitals??

130:26 I think Levon Helm should charge Grandaddy royalties for using his look without permission.

132:24 The proto-Las Vegas stylings of Van Morrison remind me exactly of my high school Economics teacher. Especially when he does the karate kicks mid-song.

136:56 Hearing poet/boho artist/vagabond Lawrence Ferlinghetti give his refashioned reading of "The Lord's Prayer" is almost enough to make me vote Republican.

141:06 I can't decide if the hat atop Bob Dylan makes him look like a pimp or like Jeff Lynne circa Xanadu.

146:06 So it's come to this: the All-Star jam version of "I Shall Be Released" which sees more musicians on stage at one time than there are members remaining in the audience. If only this farewell concert could have been held at Altamont.

A Big Load of Down

Just like taxes and death, you simply cannot escape the mammoth bigness of the annual best-of year-end comp from your pal at Disco:Very. However, for the first time in history, you'll now have three choices: 1) if you're a fan of Joanna Newsom, you can ignore this offer completely, or, 2), if you prefer a 2-CD set in your postal box, you can toss me an e-mail (peecat[at]mac.com) with your name (fake is fine) and address, or, 3) you can download it directly from my hairless little hands right this very minute (Disc One is here, Disc Two is here; titles/names can be downloaded here.) Of course, you must consider carefully all of the ups/downs/pluses/minues of choosing a cold, heartless download over receiving a warm and fuzzy 2-CD set in the mail [click on image to embiggen]:

The fine print: If you choose to have a CD package mailed you you, please be assured that once you have received this free gift, your (real or fake) name and e-mail/home address will be thrown away and you will not be mailed anything by me ever again (unless you want me to). I will not send you spam (unless you want me to). Delivery time of a CD package can be anywhere between 5 days and 6 weeks, depending on my energy level. This offer is good until my patience runs out.

Y Kant Tori Kill Off Joanna?

The best part of 2006: a lot of superb reissued music made it to the marketplace, such as Crushed Butler's visceral, wigged-out It's My Life. The worst part of 2006: Joanna Newsom continued to wreak havoc on our ear canals with such mind-numbingly awful lyrics as, "Picking through your pocket linings/Well, what is this?/Scrap of sassafras/Eh, Sisyphus?" DO YOU SEE WHAT PROBLEMS YOU HAVE WROUGHT UPON THE HUMAN RACE, TORI AMOS??? Obviously, the unicorn-ness twaddle of Newsome's latest musical missive didn't make it onto my annual 2-CD year-end free giveaway Disco:Very 2006. Want to know who did? Want to know how to get a copy? Check back in a few hours and all shall be revealed.

Acid Flash-In-The-Pan

As the weird outsider folk fad creeps along, it leads to more early oddball outsider music from around the world being discovered on a monthly basis. 1970's psych-Swede freak show Pugh Rogefeldt probably has a leg up on this trend, mostly because he sings in Swedish, but also because he was doing it over 30 years ago. I only mention the timeframe because everyone is seemingly drooling over the latest Devendra Banhard as if he were the first elfin acid casualty to crawl out of the rustic forest peat with a guitar strapped to his back. Compare Rogefeldt's Stinsen I Bro (Del I & II) to Banhard's Chinese Children and tell me the tiny (Tim) acorn didn't fall very far from the tree. You can purchase Pughish (top left) from Aquarius Records, and you can easily purchase Cripple Crow (bottom left) just about anywhere else.