The New Vague

Is it a parody? Is it sincere? One listen leaves me feeling, well, vague. How is Nouvelle Vague any different from The Moog Cookbook? Or Bud E. Luv? Or Richard Cheese? I'm a lover of kitsch as much as any other collector of vintage skinny ties, but seeing this one-joke-pretending-it's-not-a-joke cd (and-not-even-a-good-pretend-joke-cd-at-that) receive heaps of praise (not to mention that it's on David Byrne's label) leaves me scratching my head in befuddlement. If I wanted to hear watered-down bossa-nova, I'd listen to Tropicalia.

The Sadness Of Sex

It's probably been up for a while, but I'm just now bothering to discover it: Secretly Canadian has a music video posted to accompany the sadness of Hope There's Someone, the still-stunning-no-matter-how-many-times-I've-heard-it first single off I Am A Bird Now by Anthony & The Johnsons. If you'd rather own the video (and who doesn't?), the EP contains the video in all its melancholic gender-bending glory.

The Selling-Outiest Guy On The Lower East Side

The connection between the dysfunctional family on The Lucky Ones and the new Mercury Mariner SUV is still a head-scratcher (navigating through the labyrinth of clues doesn't help much, either) but the soundtrack makes it all worthwhile: it features a new song (as far as I can tell) by Stephen Merritt of The Magnetic Fields (whose title, I'm guessing, is The Lucky Ones). I hope he's making a bundle off this thing. If you want an available-for-a-limited-time super-duper illegal download of this track minus the visuals, click here. Please note: I've saved it as an AAC file, so if you're living large PC-style, you're shit outta luck. As Flava Flav once sang to me, "I can't do nuthin' for ya, man." UPDATE: I'm told by some of my readers that Real Player can sometimes play AAC files. Hopefully this will prevent any anti-Mac comments flying my way.

Good Music And Circular Beats

Today, two songs instead of one, (mainly because I've been unable to find cd covers at the proper pixel size to illustrate the postings). The northern Swedish town of Umeà, has given us two worthy pop bands: Komeda and Ray Wonder. Komeda is still going strong (as far as I know) but Ray Wonder ended some years back, splintering into a few new outfits (including Hank, not to be confused with Hank). All that's left is Good Music, from which General Hugging Center is taken. The uplift in the song's message is genuinely heartwarming, without coming off maudlin or soppy. The other side of the coin, literally, is Coin, formed by Thermos Malling after Bob Log went solo upon leaving Doo Rag. Back in 1999, when Coin's self-titled CD-R debut was released, the Apple synthesizer voice motif on songs such as Circular Beats were still a neo-post-electronica novelty, but now it just sounds dated. Seeing the band play is the key, where the live vocals of Malling's über-Teutonic bride assist in easing the deadpan irony. There appears to be no way to buy this CD on the web--perhaps sending an e-mail to Coin via their e-mail address (chcl8@brink.com) might net something. Good luck.

1,702 American Invitees Dead So Far

Ah, Memorial Day. Another pointless exercise in honoring those fighting in a trumped-up war we never should have started in the first place, unless, like White House spokesman Scott McClellan, you believe the US was invited (which also means victims of rape were asking for it). Is the purpose of this war to defend the freedoms of misguided, religion-baiting assholes like this? Because the amount of patriotism I feel today could fit in a thimble, I have decided to offer a track whose lyrics make inadvertent ironic commentary on the current state of the twisted American mind: Jesus Is The First Line Of Defence by The Pilgrim Travellers. You can find this track on Like An Atom Bomb: Apocalyptic Songs From The Cold War Era, released by Buzzola Records in 2004. Their other excellent collections include Reefer Madness (vintage drug songs), Sugar In My Bowl (sex songs circa 1923 - 1952), and You Done Me Wrong (old-time country cheating songs). You can find them all at Amazon.

Thank You For Not Smokin'

Another find during my recent record store jaunts in San Diego. When I was in the 4th grade, I considered the album Do It ('Til You're Satisfied) by B.T. Express to be da bomb, except it was 1974 and this term had not yet come into use. Also, I was an awkward non-funky white boy and never would have spoken such slang had it even been in vogue (my exact recollection is that I found the album to be "neat"). The title track was the big hit but I always leaned towards the album's closer, This House Is Smokin', which I had always assumed to be a live track due to the cavernous ambience of the recording and what sounded like cheering after the first line (I now realize it's supposed to be the sound of crackling flames--apparently, I was so cracker I didn't even get the congruous analogy of blazing heat and hot funk). The vinyl copy purchased upon its initial release is still in my music collection but it's so scratched and unplayable that I was delighted to find it anew in digital form. Edsel Records reissued it earlier this year, tacking on the 1977 album Function At The Junction (which, due to its disco string arrangements on nearly every track, is more Fire Island than fire-on-the-dancefloor). You can purchase this cd at Dusty Groove.

Freestyle Grumbling

Sure, the latest Stereolab compilation, Oscillons From the Anti-Sun (top left) featuring rare tracks and B-sides is a real humdinger of a bargain (not just one, not just two but three CDs of music plus a DVD of music videos and TV appearances all for $25???). My only grumpy old man grumbling is that anyone outside of Japan and the UK will still have to pay big prices to own the pro-Atheism, grunge-tastic, riff-eriffic Freestyle Dumpling, which came inside initial Japanese editions of Aluminum Tunes (middle left) and, thereafter, was also featured on the UK-only Rough Trade comp Electronic 01 (bottom left). I had to pony up I'm-not-going-to-tell-you-how-much to own a copy of the coveted Japanese single (minus the Aluminum), but in the spirit of blog camaraderie, I'm going to share my well-worn 7-inches with you now. The all-inclusive Gemm.com has both the Japanese single and the UK Rough Trade comp but if I were you, I'd wait to see if this track ends up on their next rarities comp. Considering the frequency of the 'Lab's output, it should be released sometime next week.

It's The Fall, Damnit

Conventional wisdom dictates that The Fall made some rather spotty albums after the departure of Brix Smith. Although this rings true on some levels, I continue to buy the seemingly thousands of albums released during the post-Brix period because...well, because it's The Fall, damnit. But mostly because every album has at least one track worth hearing. For my money, on 2000's The Unutterable, it's Hands Up Billy, a tidy little rave-up that is probably a hoot to hear live. You can order it from DooYoo Records in the UK.  Let the full-on spastic rave-up pogo dancing commence.

Mr. Keith Goes To Washington

It took me almost 10 years to buy I Died Today, the Rodd Keith collection on Tzadik Records, which came out in 1996. At this rate, you can expect me to offer mp3's from Ecstacy to Frenzy (Tzadik's follow-up collection of Keith oddities) in the year 2013 (it was released in January 2004). Most of you are probably well aware of Keith's surreal genius (if not, check out this all-inclusive WFMU article, or buy the only song/poem collection currently in print, on Bar/None Records). Anything in the American Song/Poem canon is a must-hear, but the songs of Rodd Keith somehow outshine them all. Our Senators isn't the best track on this collection (that honor would go to Do The Pig), but in light of the recent behavior in Washington DC, this track somehow seemed more fitting for today. You can buy this cd direct from the label or from such fine stores as Tone Vendor.

Half The Bonanza At Half The Price

Unlike most Jamaican ska songs from the 1960's, Don Cosmic (by Don Drummond And His Group) has a gentle downhearted quality to it that always gets to me, especially that last held note, sounding like a question mark at the end of a musical sentence. Heartbeat Records has released this song on two similar collections, pictured above: Ska Bonanza! and Streets Of Ska. The former is a 2-disc, 48-track collection (top-notch from beginning to end) and the latter is nothing more than Disc One of the former. Why they would release one half of a 2-disc set is beyond me. Don't make the same mistake I did: splurge for the 2-cd set from the get-go. You can order it directly from the label or from Reggae CD.

Foxy (Disembodied Vocal) Lady

This song doesn't make any sense at all, even coming from the off-center mind of Neil Michael Hagerty. The rhythm stumbles along, as if recovering from each herky-jerky beat as it propels itself forward. The disembodied female vocals singing each non sequitur are so wrapped in layers of echo, so distanced from the action up front, that they almost come off as paranormal. Like the best songs of Captain Beefheart (or even The Shaggs), it contains its own inner logic. After Royal Trux dissipated, it didn't seem certain that Hagerty would be able to recoup his losses and regain what had been lost. With All-Night Fox, the latest cd by his new outfit, The Howling Hex, his fans can rest easy. Every track on this album is killer, and although Instilled With Mem'ry is arguably the least accessible song on the new cd, you still might find yourself banging your head (as best you can) as it grooves down its own crooked lane. You can purchase it at almost any record store you care to name (on-line or not) or get it direct from Drag City.

This Band Goes To Eleven

The best feature of technology is when it somehow organically heals itself. For whatever reason, the strange noises emitted by my hard drive over the last week have suddenly stopped. That's good news for you, too: the download postings will be delayed no longer (or at least not until I pony up for a bigger GB drive). There are, however, strange noises in my ears at the moment--a long, high-pitched roar searing through my head ever since seeing Caribou last night. Louder than all get-out, there were particular parts of their set where I felt the ceiling was going to cave in as the massive din they stirred up rattled the rafters of the nightclub. If they come to your town, drop everything you're doing--school, work, sleep--and see them. Be sure to bring a tenner for the above untitled cd--sold only at the live shows--which I'm told is comprised of outtakes from The Milk Of Human Kindness. Better to own your own copy of The Snow Capes now rather than pay five times that amount later on eBay. It's worth it alone for the crazy 36-minute mix that starts the cd off with a bang--layers of old soul records, Bollywood funk-ups and bizarre foreign language pop songs. Very cool.

I Walked The Line With Johnny Cash

So much music to post and so many interruptions preventing me from doing so. First my birthday, and now this--my computer is making odd noises and needs to visit the Mac doc for a few days. Here, then, is an mp3 you'll have to make do with while my G4 is getting serviced, Man vs. The Empire Brain Building, featured on the Ze Records compilation cd Mutant Disco #3: Garage Sale (top left). This track originally came out on the Was (Not Was) album Born To Laugh At Tornadoes (bottom left) back in 1983, a favorite cd of mine which some asshole swiped from my collection during a raccous house party about 10 years ago. Until Ze Records reissues that wonderful album (which they have been promising to do for at least a year), this is all I have to tide me over. Although every track in the Mutant Disco series is worth owning, I've always had a fondness for the music of Was (Not Was), if only because they openly admit that every album they made was influenced by taking LSD. You can find this superb cd at Forced Exposure. I promise to include more tracks from this cd in the future, as soon as my Mac is up and running again.

One Day I'll Grow Up And Be A Beautiful Girl

If there was ever an album deserving a "you either love it or hate it" tagline, I Am A Bird Now, by Antony And The Johnsons is it. The initial shock might be the melancholy cover photo of transexual heroine Candy Darling as she lounges in her hospital death bed. Or it might be the forceful, angelic vocals, which leap across any and all boundaries of gender. Perhaps the most surprising: a performer wielding such raw yet delicate emotional depths in a cultural climate overburdened with ironic satire. It's almost unsettling to hear such a personal work informed with unflinching sadness and pain. Every song on this album is weighted heavy with death and mourning, conversely seeking release in metaphoric flight from the darkness, finding its power through defiance against unseen odds. Don't feel bad if you find his work too painful to witness upon first listen--it's taken me almost four months to warm up to this most enlightening of albums. Antony almost dares you not to be affected when crooning the album's opening lines of Hope There's Someone. Press on, and you'll be rewarded. You can find this superb cd at most record stores, or buy it from the record label itself.

Stompin' All The Way Home

Because I was gone for several days, I feel I owe it to all my readers to make up for my absence with two songs instead of one. I do have readers, right? Hello? Is this thing on? I'm still in vacation mode so both song titles will make reference to this state of mind: Take A Trip (by Jimmy Vick and The Victors) and Come On Home (by Prince Charles), both tracks taken from Volume 3 of the (quasi-legal) 1950's/60's R&B series Stompin', which I found at the wonderful Lou's Records in Encinitas, CA (about 10 minutes outside of San Diego). This cd series is difficult to come by (I've only ever seen it on-line at such places as Roots And Rhythm). Remarkably, Lou's Records had nearly every cd in the entire series. How I wish I'd bought Volume 12, though, because I'm having the hardest time finding the cover for Volume 3 to post at the top of this paragraph. You'll have to trust me: they all look pretty much the same. I was genuinely shocked at some of the rare cds I found at Lou's (by such artists as Rodd Keith, Steve Nieve and The Band of Blacky Ranchette) but was also surprised at the cds I couldn't find (nothing by Annie, Vitalic or Circle). Still, their prices are quite cheap, and they were nice enough to find my cell phone when I thought I'd lost it. What more could you ask for?

I Got It All Wrong, Maybe. I'm Saying So Long, Baby

This Sunday, May 15th, is my birthday, and my traditional celebration involves a trip to a somewhat far off locale (this year: San Diego). Because you won't be hearing from me again until Wednesday, May 18th, my plan was to leave you with a song which, either in the title or theme, would reflect on birthdays or vacations. The two most obvious ideas--"Vacation" by The Go-Go's, and "Birthday" by The Beatles were quickly nixed (that overplayed Old Navy commercial has caused me to curse those L.A. femme-popsters in my sleep, and I am not wealthy enough to fight a copyright lawsuit by the Fab Four). After much thought, the decision was made to use So Long, Baby by The Wedding Present, for two good reasons: 1) the lyrics are concerned with the act of leaving (and being left behind), and 2) The Wedding Present are playing at a club down the street from me tonight. Sadly, I excel at procrastinating so instead of seeing them live, I'll be at home packing my suitcase. Offering this track (taken from Watusi), is my inadequate attempt at redemption. One more reason I'm staying home: the cover is $12 and I need every penny I own for spending in the record stores of San Diego. Who knows--maybe I'll find a used copy of Watusi for less than Amazon currently offers.

Chicken Del Sol

This new compilation album is getting lots of press, and it's easy to see why. Although Antena were ignored by both critics and record buyers when they began recording in 1982, their breezy tunes hit the current zeitgeist bullseye dead in the middle. With their softly-sung French lyrics, and cocktail party sound draped around a Kraftwerk-inspired tick-tock drum machine, you can't help but compare them to Stereolab (the boring current Stereolab, not the exciting Neu-influenced Stereolab of old), and The Boy From Ipanema, featured on Camino Del Sol, seems to be the track I hear everyone fawning over the most. Personally, I like the rest of the album much better, if only because the vocal effects on this track remind me of this absurdist commercial from Estonia (I've had more comforting images in my nightmares). You can find this album at the record label's website, or you can order a copy from Aquarius Records like I did.

Performance To Performance, Doing What You Want Me To

Of all the best qualities of early punk music, the most potent would be when dispossessed and bored rockers would throw the curtains back on the music machinery and expose it for the farce it really is: rebellious youth culture as just another form of drag. Late '70's punk was ready-made for this sentiment: if your band formed before even learning to play instruments, why pretend to invest on an emotional or intellectual level anyway? Going Through The Motions, taken from Amateur Wankers, a newly-released Acute Records compilation of everything by the 1976 working class British group The Prefects, distills this essence into a not-so-tidy nearly-5-minute rant, almost daring the audience to admit that they're as much a part of the sham as the band is. Although they toured with The Clash, The Jam and Buzzcocks, The Prefects as a whole never really fit into the standard punk mold and, unable to play the game the same way their peers did, quietly imploded soon after they'd formed. "Eventually," says vocalist/guitarist Alan Apperley in the liner notes, "We all got fed up and it fell apart. But that's how it should be, isn't it?" Purchase this essential cd at the on-line services of Carpark Records.

Your Love Made Me An Infidel

As Terri Ex (of politcal noise-niks The Ex and Terp Records) was recently assisting in the hunt of new material for the ongoing Ethiopiques series, the name Tsehaytu Beraki kept coming up during his musical hunt. After some investigating, it was determined she was an enormously popular performer who was forced to flee from the dangerous unrest of Eritrea, seeking asylum in Rotterdam, which is where she was eventually found living peacefully in exile. From there, an idea was hatched to release a cd of her songs but, sadly, very little of Beraki's music has actually been made available--despite decades of performing. So, recording time was booked, a few musical guests were hired to tastefully fill out the admittedly sparse sounds and the 2-cd set Selam was born. Beraki's weathered and soulful vocals glide over the rhythmic strumming of a krar (and occasionally a bass krar), a droning stringed instrument which looks like a harp but sounds somewhat like a zither. Many of the songs are centered on love, many more on loss and suffering. This is powerful stuff but not for the faint of heart--the average song clocks in at the 11-minute mark. In the interest of saving my server space, I'm offering Lale Bola, one of the few songs timed at 5 minutes (the headline above is a line translated from the lyrics). I bought my copy of this wonderful cd at the always-reliable Aquarius Records.

Playing With The Majors

What I am about to say will confound and amaze you: I actually enjoy it when major corporations use pop songs in their commercials. If a mainstream ad campaign helps bring more audiences to appreciate Nick Drake, Trio or The Caesars, isn't that a benefit to advancing great music? Sure, Carnival Cruise Line looks pretty stupid milking "Lust For Life", an ode to the joys of heroin addiction, to peddle their oceanic yuppie movers, but I'd rather hear Karen O singing on the Spike Jonze Nike commercial than...well, I don't know exactly how to finish that sentence. I mention all this simply because I finally found a used copy of Street Mix: Music From Volkswagen Commercials (Volume 1), which, I'm ashamed to say, took me so long to find that Volume 2 came out in the interim (lacking, for some reason, Ariel Ramierez by Richard Buckner). Volume 1 contains a lot of tracks we all own already (Pink Moon, Da Da Da, etc), but it has one track that seems to be available only on this cd: Jung At Heart by Master Cylinder. This was the song used in the ad where almost everyone on the street--a boy dribbling a ball, a man sweeping the sidwalk--are all moving to the same funky drummer. Try to forgive the gawd-awful pun of the track's title, and good luck finding this cd for sale anywhere on the web. Every copy seems to have disappeared, and I have no intention of selling mine.

The Place That Makes Managing Your Money As Easy As Spending It

Some of you may already know this song, some of you might not. If you've seen that TV commercial for Citibank, the one with the moody shots of kites and cloudy skies or whatever, here is a free download of the song the commercial uses. It's called Slow Down and it's by The Feelies, taken from their 1986 masterpiece The Good Earth (produced by Peter Buck of R.E.M.). I've often wondered if it was Buck or the band who decided to record the entire album with the vocals buried deep in the mix. It gives the entire disc a subdued feeling, even when songs such as Slipping (Into Something) are almost bursting with unchecked energy. Sadly, this album has been out of print for years, and I'm shocked--shocked!--that Rhino Records has not seen fit to reissue it in some deluxe 2-CD edition (they've rereleased albums by the truly wretched Firefall, for gawd's sake). I command you to send them an e-mail and complain. Be sure to use plenty of big words.

Woodpeckers Are In The House

Today's post is dedicated to the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker--a rare and beautiful bird thought to be extinct for the last 60 years--which was sighted in the Big Woods of eastern Arkansas, a large acreage of bottomland swamp forest. Bird enthusiasts and experts in the natural science world are bugging out, yo. There aren't many songs about woodpeckers, and if there are, I don't own them, so Woodpecker Rock by Nat Couty & The Braves will have to do for now. The 50's kitsch of this track doesn't do justice to such an important environmental discovery, but I doubt my man Woody will mind. This track is from Volume 4 of Born Bad: Songs The Cramps Taught Us, and because it's a bootleg series, it's not always easy to find. I suggest you try ordering it from Roots and Rhythm.

Blessed Are The Noise Makers

If there is a God, does he (or she?) permit us free will? If so, this would be the only proof we have that God begat freeform jazz. Well, make that freeform jazz and Soul Junk, because the two are so very similar in their means and in their ends. Much like their hero Jesus, Soul Junk are aggressively preaching their sermon on the mount to those who might not believe or understand, but unlike our Lord, lead yelper Glen Galaxy is using turntables, samplers and the noise of belching sax squanks. Yes, Soul Junk are Christians, but more than that, they're rappers, but much more than that, they create the most wigged-out, original and uncompromising hip hop this side of Infinite Livez. You actually have to admire a band that forges ahead year after year, despite being too pious for an indie rock audience and too bipolar for a holy audience. Can you imagine how Pat Robertson would react to Ruby Doomsday? My guess is he'd hire an exorcist to rid the recording of its demons (even though this is actually one of the least angular tracks off 1957). If you're itching to step into Galaxy's unique view of heaven and hell--and I highly recommend you do--you might begin your first purchase with the relatively-mellow 1956 and then stab at random from there.

Those Who Cannot Remember The Past Are Condemned To Buy Recordings Of It

If one really was able to employ a time machine to visit historical eras and witness events taking place which changed the course of history, why would you want to see the signing of the Declaration of Independence? Who would really want to observe first-hand the debut performance of Hamlet? My choice would be to transport to the year when New Dance In France was being recorded and ask its creators, "Why??" Why introduce Arkansas non-entity Bobby Lee Trammell as "...the very first American Beatle"? Why drop in fake applause every other verse? Why the ridiculous attempt at French lyrics? You can find this track on Wildsville, a collection of obscure 1950's/1960's no-hit-wonders a la Wavy Gravy and Las Vegas Grind. I myself found this cd used at Amoeba Records (along with a companion in the series, from which I might be posting later, entitled Weirdsville) but finding a place to order it on the web is proving difficult. You can try some stores in Australia or Germany, or you can write to the nice people at Midnight Records and see what they can do.

Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom

Hands up: who remembers New Wave? Not today's neo-New Wave but the original stuff from the late '70's? One of the most ridiculous New Wave albums ever released (in a good way) is the self-titled debut of the Suburban Lawns, five arty post-punk goofballs from Long Beach, CA. Most of the songs (on what turned out to be their only album) are the usual smug attacks on what we would now call "family values" (exemplified by the hi-energy white kid ska of "Mom And Dad And God"). When the band sidesteps this stance is when they really chose the route less travelled. Take one listen to Janitor to see what I mean. The chorus ("I'm a janitor/Oh my genitals") was created around a misheard statement by one band member to another. Lead vocalist Su Tissue couldn't sound more deadpan, even outdoing the bored delivery of Deborah Evans from the dearly-missed Flying Lizards. I see this album used now and then at various vinyl shops specializing in the castoffs of music fads from the past. If you're looking for the easy way in, always start with the good folks at Gemm. If you're interested in knowing more about the band, there isn't much out there, except here and here.

Mea Culpa, Blog Kong, Mea Culpa

No sooner had I written the last post blaming Blogger.com for all the world's ills (i.e., fucking up the comment links on my postings, ruining my life, global warming, having a hand in nominating an even-more-homophobic-pope-with-a-Nazi-past, etc, etc), when I realized it was my fault postings did not show the comment links. I'd send Blogger a personal apology but then I wouldn't have time to post the latest track, now would I? And speaking of the latest track: it's by the incomparable Gabby Pahinui, the reigning King of the Slack Key Hawaiian Guitar. I know next to nothing about Hawaiian music, but I know what I like, and I really like Hi'Ilawe. It's taken from The Legends of Waikiki on the Hanaola Records/Cord International labels.

Technical Difficulties 'R' Us

For some reason, my recent posts do not have the ability to allow comments from my thousands of readers. I'm not sure what I've done wrong to upset the Blogger God but He/She/It must be angry with me for not posting anything last night. I'll be posting some new tunes very soon (provided there is nothing good on TV tonight), so anything short of sacrificing virgins (I don't know any), I'm not sure what else I can do to appease Blog Lord-Bot Almighty. If you have any comments to send, you can always send me an e-mail at peecat [at] mac.com until fixes are made. Might I suggest you send Blogger a nasty e-mail, full of threats and swearing? I hear they get off on that sort of thing.

Whitey As You Wanna Be

As a kid growing up in the bland, stripmall hell of the Southwest during the '70's, my first impressions of rap were mixed. My oldest sister was my first big musical influence--whatever she listened to, I listened to. Her tastes ran from the pedestrian (The Beatles, The Turtles, Crosby Stills Nash & Young, Carly Simon, etc) to the more esoteric artists that were staples of the freeform FM radio waves at that time: Frank Zappa, Randy Newman and so on. This might explain why, when I began formulating my own tastes in my teens, I leaned towards the obvious (Queen, Styx, Heart, ELO) and the fringe (Kraftwerk, more Randy Newman). During this time, rap did not enter the equation. So you can imagine why my early opinions of rap were stunted by this myopic viewpoint. Nobody at my school was playing it--the only person I knew actively collecting it was a cousin of mine, but even then I just didn't get it. The shortsighted opinions I had about rap at the time are the same opinions I hear some rap-haters using today: "That's not singing! Where's the melody? Those are just nursery school rhymes set to music!" Anyone born during the 1980's probably never knew of a time when there wasn't rap, but when it emerged during my youth, this just wasn't the case. It was too new, too urban and too outside of our cultural signposts to make any sense. That's why it's such a pleasure to be older and wiser, because now I'm able to dig deep back into the origins of hip hop and discover all these gems I left behind during my formative years. Case in point: Get Up (And Go To School) by Pookey Blow. By today's ears, it's such a cute little record (even Kris Kross wouldn't have attempted something like this), but it also shows how the early leanings of rap were perhaps more wide open than today's standards. I couldn't imagine any of today's rap stars attempting a song about waking up to face the school day. You can find this on the wonderful The Third Unheard: Connecticut Hip Hop, 1979-1983, which is chock full of tracks like this. I suggest you buy it here.

Un Slit Du Homme

Any song that actually encourages and celebrates the art of stealing is always going to be a gold record on my hit parade. Punk aficionados, start your engines: I give you a brand new recording of Shoplifting by The Slits. Hearing this insanely raw live version--taken from the overly-expensive import-only release Live At The Gibus Club--is quite a jolt, especially when compared to the relatively slicker studio effort released about one year later on Cut. For my money, there isn't a band on the planet that has ever sounded like these punk goddesses. They may have influenced a wide swatch of bands (Hole, Bikini Girl, Frightwig, The Butchies, etc) but they've always been in a league all their own. My hope is that this 1978 concert recording sells like mad, which will then bring about more Slits performances seeing the light of day. An odd sidenote: there appears to be censored edits during the second and final verses of this track (you can't miss them--listen for the ring of a cash register), yet the lines preceding them, "We paid fuck all!", remains. Odder still: another track, the previously unreleased "Enemy Numero Uno" has numerous expletives directed at an unruly audience member, with no bleeping inserted whatsoever. Am I the only one who finds it weird that the label (or the band?) wanted a "clean" version of a Slits song? Is there a Slits fan in existence who would care about the excessive cussing? I fucking doubt it.

Call Home, William Hung: All Is Forgiven

Almost anything released by Romulan Records is worth hearing. They're one of the more prolific compilation labels seeking out vintage oddball recordings from the 1950's and '60's. Because this quasi-fake label keeps its identity hidden (for legal reasons--none of its copyrights are cleared), it's not always easy to find their records (except by mail order), so if you see one, my advice is to snatch it up immediately. This is what I did during my recent trip to LA when I found Girls In The Garage (Oriental Edition) in the used racks. I own a few of Romulan's cds in this Girls series but I'd never heard of this particular release, which focuses on Asian recordings. It's packed full of jaw-dropping versions of popular American/UK tunes of the day, of course, which almost makes me weep with glee. Does that make me a racist, just because I find pleasure in hearing foreign cultures attempting to perform music outside their borders? Am I a bad person for wanting to share Come Back When You Grow Up by Nancy Sit with the world? Is this just the She Bangs of its day? Perhaps I've been rationalizing my love of this tune for a different reason: when the title is being sung during the chorus, it sounds as if she's singing "Come back/When you grow old", which is a unique sentiment you don't hear very often. How many of us would love to be told by a potential mate that they'd rather be dating us when we're in our 60's or 70's instead of when we're young?

Now We Pause For An Apology. And A Rant. (And Another Rant.)

The reason I haven't added any posts in a while: A business trip to Los Angeles stalled my on-line actions for a few days (that was the apology). Not that it matters: judging by the amount of responses each posting gets (read: zero), my guess is that nobody is reading this at all and I'm simply blowing smoke rings up my own ass. ASS! Now that I have your attention, please be sure to check back sometime in the next 24 hours as I add heaping spoonfuls of music to this site, all of it purchased at my favorite (physical) record store in the world, Amoeba Records on Sunset Blvd. in LA. I say physical because their website offers no on-line sales and bites ass--ASS!--but entering the store itself is like you've died and gone to music collector heaven. My one complaint of Amoeba Records (the physical store) is that you can't have the staff open used cds for in-store play. I'm not sure why they've never offered this service--don't tell me it's a security issue because I've been to plenty of stores around the world that have set up used cd listening stations with affordable security measures in place. The closest Amoeba Records comes to allowing cds to be opened and played is a listening station with a 10,000 cd database, the type where you can scan the barcode to hear the album tracks. Sadly, most of the cds entered into the database are well-known artists such as Beck, The Decemberists or Iron & Wine--artists whose albums are easy to hear everywhere else (for instance, as streaming audio on their websites). Considering the millions of cds Amoeba has for sale, plugging them into the database would take years of non-stop effort, but shouldn't that be more of a reason to allow the customer to open and play used cds in-store? Why, oh why won't Amoeba Records listen to my precious feelings? Why won't they take my rants into consideration? Sigh...anyway, please check back in a few hours for the latest downloads I'll be offering.

Hell Is For Soon-To-Be-41-Year-Old Children

I die of a massive coronary, and in a dreadfully ironic twist, it turns out for this hardcore atheist there actually is a hell. While it's true the temperatures are extemely hot, I was born and raised in Phoenix, AZ so I'm pretty good at dealing with the heat. Of course, being Hades, there is not much to do except writhe in agony and suffer in all eternity for my sins (oh, so many sins) committed while alive here on Earth. The good news is that Satan has found it in his dirty black little heart to provide his minions with entertainment. The bad news is that there are only two choices: 1) non-stop, back-to-back 24-hour performances of Movin' Out, and 2) an endless loop of this music video (if I ever decide to direct a biopic of the band Journey, I'm casting this guy as Steve Perry). I hope those of you reading this will heed my words and turn your lives around now, while you still have the chance. I wouldn't wish this fate on even my worst enemies (well, perhaps just on Billy Joel).

Empty Places

Tinariwen are another band that, if they bother to tour the US at all, would most likely only hit major cities such as New York or Chicago. Because I'm late in the game of discovering them, I'm only now beginning to gain an understanding of what gives their music such power: they're a Touareg group from the southern Sahara whose music is similar to that of Ali Farka Toure. The band's name means "empty places" which certainly reflects the condition of their homeland, both geographically (vast deserts) and politically (they were fighters in the Touareg insurgency against the Malian government). The band formed in 1982 in Colonel Ghadaffi's rebel camps, emotionally driven by the war and drought to express their plight in musical terms, invented a new style of music known as Tishoumaren in the process. They have combined traditional musical forms with a modern rock sensibility -- traditional instruments such as the teherdent lute and shepherd flute were discarded in favor of the electric guitar, electric bass and drums. Their music is loosely based on traditional Touareg music and the harsh melodies of the one-stringed Touareg violin, but also incorporate other western and middle eastern influences, which managed to penetrate that far into the desert. But enough talk--listen to Anassakoul N Tenere to hear why this band has gained a worldwide following. You can hear the centuries of struggle in the lead singer's raspy vocals, which are then lifted by the call-and-response motifs the rest of the band offers. It's not too far off the mark, I believe, to hear similarities in Tinariwen to that of the American Civil Rights-era blues and gospel music.

Doorbells-a-Plenty

When I was much younger, my family lived across the street from this crazy alcoholic neighbor woman who used to walk into our house unannouced every morning to visit with my mother (this was back when people didn't lock doors). My siblings and I used to find this action quite rude (I don't remember my mother's feelings on the matter), and one day, as this neighborhood looney entered our house, my brother shouted out to her in a loud sing-song voice: "Ding, dong! We have a doorbell!" All of us kids had a good laugh over my brother's outburst, although I seem to recall he probably received a whipping from my mother for his behavior. I relive this memory whenever I pass the wide selection of doorbells in certain well-known, unnamed home improvement chain stores (they don't need any free advertising from me), usually trying out every one of the doorbells on display just to hear the different sounds. Sometimes I will compose little on-the-spot melodies by alternating the different tones and timbres of each doorbell, making crude attempts at creating an instrumental chorus or verse by repeating certain doorbell figures over and over. My guess is that this track, No One At Home, by Doktor Kosmos could have been composed by this same method. This amusing ditty is available on the Pop Tics compilation, released by the wonderful Bungalow label in Germany. I bought mine (used) at Amazon. If you yourself should ever decide to compose doorbell melodies in certain well-known, unnamed home improvement chain stores, be on the lookout for employees coming to scold you, because they have to hear these doorbells being rung all day long and the last thing they want is a pop obsessive attempting to write a Top 40 hit song in their department.

It's The Puppetmastaz, Steppin' Up...

Guess who's back in the studio? The world's best German gangsta rap puppet act, Puppetmastaz (not that there are all that many gangsta rap puppet acts out there to begin with, at least not outside of Germany). For a sneak preview of their latest studio antics, check out their website to see for yourself. Is it just me or does the drummer sound more and more like Snoop Dogg with every release? What with Cookie Monster making exercise videos, it's good to see there are still some puppets out there willing to corrupt the world's youth. I doubt if they'd ever tour the US, but I would drive for days to see them if they did. The new album won't hit stores until August or September 2005, so this little snippet of video hijinx will have to hold me until then. If you're unfamiliar with their flow (however much a puppet can be said to have a flow), you can find all their releases (including some great remix singles) at Gemm.com.

They're Loud, They're Sloppy, They're Canadian

From the environs of Toronto (the city featured in almost every recent US movie set in NYC, Detroit or Chicago) comes the slap-happy sounds of this multi-gender pop/rock/noise foursome. For my money, Danes In Peril is their best song (taken from the oddly-titled Ackrill/Venning '91, and if you want to disagree with me on that, we can step outside and hash it out. Be warned: it is the loudest song you will ever hear in your life, especially if you play it extra loud like I do. I recommend everything in their discography, which you can find on iTunes here and here.

Music Video Du Jour

My ultimate wish would be to see Vitalic perform live. Until then, I have to make do with this. You'll come for the cheesecake but you'll stay for the air drums.