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October 31, 2007
Retrohump B-Side
Guns N' Roses - Knocking on heavens door
[with working video]
Today's jaunt through the cobwebs of the Retrohump crypt allowed me to re-discover this drafted but never published post. Call it the Chinese Democracy effect, or the first ever Merry Swankster unreleased b-side.
I know this song has been covered by everyone, as has most of Bob Dylan's catalog. That doesn't stop GnR from tearing it a new one on this live version. Ever since I picked up the Live Era GnR double disk a few years back, I've always been drawn to Axl's version. I dig the whole thing. Axl's soul singer primal scream, and even the ridiculous reggae interlude. What really gets me though, is the crowd. Take a listen to the Live Era disk version and you'll see what I mean.
Guns n' Roses - "Knockin On Heaven's Door"
//Guns n' Roses - Live Era: '87 - '93 - buy
Posted by Merry Swankster at 05:00 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Video: Liars "Houseclouds"
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:24 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Video: Panda Bear "Comfy in Nautica"
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Retrohump Retrospective: MS.com is primed for the terrible twos
Two years ago today Merry Swankster.com officially launched.
We aren't doing anything special to mark the occasion, but since the site's birthday falls on fan-favorite Retrohump day, we figured the time was right for a re-introduction to the feature for newer readers. Envisioned as a Youtube branded window into the past where we'd "scour the depths of the Internet and present a video we think is cool. The focus will be on older acts, the pioneers, the originals, the masters. The clips will be of very poor quality."
Happy to say it and us are still going strong. So while you reflect over this momentous occasion may I suggest indulging in a few select Retrohump videos from the archives? Forgive the lazy clip show. Thanks. (Happy Halloween too).
The first Retrohump:
Jimi Hendrix - "Machine Gun"
Jimi is ripping it up badass style for about ten minutes.
Roxy Music - "In Every Dream Home a Heartache"
If the initial slow pace isn't sufficiently livened up for you by the surprisingly interesting old time-y TV editing, please, please wait for the freak out that follows the line "I blew up her body....but she blew my mind." Is Eno ripping and manipulating tape from a huge reel to reel playback machine? Kind of makes Jonny Greenwood's fiddling with a transistor radio on stage seem a little half assed, huh?
Orange Juice - "Rip it Up" (Top of the Pops, 1983)
Edwyn Collins looks alternately charmed and frazzled, lip synch or no, and the hand selected crowd is going nuts. I only wish there was more camera time given to the synchronized dancers who are just killing it.
...and looking far into the future...Coachella 2014:
Unicorns - "I Was Born a Unicorn"
Sonic Youth - "Bull in the Heather"
Here is a precursory Venn diagram for the Long Blondes, who easily straddle the line between melody and grit; tenderness and moxy forthrightness and coyness.
Barnes & Barnes - "Fish Heads"
The collectively repressed ghosts of a generation return from backroom obscurity And Bill Paxton returns to it.
Oh, my. That is obscene. I mean, subtext is one thing, and giant dancing cocks are another thing entirely. Has anyone ever seen a lollipop shaped like that? Could you even show this on TRL today? Trumping "Dirrty" some 40 years earlier is impressive. Hats off Serge, you filthy bastard..
Wire - "the 15th"
Rockpalast, German televsion, 1979
Wire were Britain's best original era punk band. Period. They some times get lumped immediately into the post-punk category, basically because they were too interesting to be simplistic enough for purists. But look at the sneer on Colin Newman's face and tell me this isn't a punk band.
the Monochrome Set - "Eine Symphonie des Grauens"
(Minneapolis 1979)
The stern visage of singer Bid in this contextless footage suggests that he had to part ways with his former bandmate Adam Ant due to an acute allergy to foolishness and foppery.
Posted by Merry Swankster at 12:00 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Sign of the times or the Apocalypse?
Remember when the Internets where really slow? I remember being thrilled when I discovered music files could be downloaded in just 30 minutes! Might be why I feel the need to point out an interesting comment I read at eMusic's page for Celebration's the Modern Tribe. From the "Well I'll show you!" in conjunction with "not only slow, but for 3 miles in two feet of snow!" files:
It took me about 8 tries (and 30 minutes) to successfully download this album with the new eMusic Remote. I could have just gone down the street to the record store and gotten this album for $7 by the time the Remote was done. Next time, I'll do that.
(Apologies to Sports Illustrated.)
//Celebration - The Modern Tribe - eMusic
Posted by Merry Swankster at 02:45 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
October 30, 2007
Sunset Rubdown - Live @ the Music Hall of Williamsburg, 10.08.07
photos by Devon Banks (in tough conditions)
I've been there a time or two since, but this show, Sunset Rubdown's first Brooklyn appearance in support of the knotty but great Random Spirit Lover, was my first time in the pompously named Music Hall of Williamsburg. It's actually sort of disorienting. When folks say, "There should be more venues like the Bowery Ballroom," I don't think they mean that they should actually be a completely identical simulacrum of that space. But common owners Bowery Presents apparently decided that all their Northsix demo costs could be alleviated by just using those old blueprints they had lying around. Seriously, right down to the basement bar and the overlooking balcony set up, it's a Single White Venue situation. Of course, the sight lines are good and there's plenty of room, but this is exactly the sort of thing that you might list on the con half of the sheet weighing the merits of having a singular entity owning most of the city's marquee venues. You should at least know what borough you're in, I think.
Krug however seemed fairly chuffed to be in the revamped space, playing for a packed and fanatical Monday night room. It's increasingly hard to write off Spencer Krug as a product of blog hype, or another disposable artist thrown up by the hype and destroy cycle. People are genuinely moved by the crazed energy he throws behind his vague epics. The opening notes of last year's stunning "Us Ones in Between" began the evening, giving the devoted a swoon instead of a spark plug. When I first saw Sun Rub last year, the song was augmented by a thumping rhythm. Here it was serene again, Krug lightly sighing his gloomy metaphors, and leaving the heaviness to its final boy-girl surge. The following "Shut Up I'm Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings" was fantastic as usual. There's an energy to this song that wasn't captured in its studio take, which always seems to come out when played live. The dynamic shifts are more pronounced and thrilling, becoming a launched rocket or a heart to heart chat when needed.
The ecstatic mood dropped slightly when the band dipped into Random Spirit Lover. I'm don't think it was a lack of audience familiarity that did it either, as I saw plenty lips moving precisely on the floor below. It's just that the live arrangements of the new material might need some tinkering. On record, the complexity of the songs is an asset, letting a listener slowly unlock its melodic puzzles. In the room, it was perhaps a bit busy (they've added an extra guitarist for the tour), with too many moving parts stunting the vocal impact of the song's best lines. "The Taming of the Hands That Came Back to Life" and "For the Pier (and Dead Shimmering)," though enthusiastically performed (and Krug's sweat level lets you know how hard a man can play a synthesizer) didn't have the intangible emotional connection of which the group is capable. "What Would Neil Young Do?" read the banner draped over the band's tech, and it's hard to imagine that adding more circular guitars, meaningful xylophone sections, and lyrics about leopard riding would be that question's answer. It wasn't until the relatively stripped down authority of "Winged/Wicked Things" that a performance of a new song surpassed its recording, rather than merely executing it. That's a tough, high bar, I know, but the man has earned his high expectations. A regal "Stadiums and Shrines" gave the short proper set its needed climactic release.
The encore, or "half-core" as Krug called it since he never fully left the stage, fell back again on older torch songs. The two installments of "Three Colours" (from the self titled EP released in the first months of '06) were melted together into one shivering epic. Finally getting to hear the band tackle the wailing wind tunnel effect from the song's second half was probably my personal highlight for the entire show. For most everyone else, it had to be closer, "the Empty Threats of Little Lord." I hadn't considered that track to be the band's communal torch song, but that's how it was received. I'd say an easy third of the room chanted "You Snake..." back at Spencer when the ratched up its building tension. More than half, were ready to riot when the drums and guitar meltdown finally released it.
A couple more murky photos and a setlist after the jump...
Setlist:
Us Ones in Between
Shut Up I'm Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings
Taming of the Hands That Came Back to Life
For the Pier (and Dead Shimmering)
Up on Your Leopard, Upon the End of Your Feral Days
New song
Stallion
Trumpet Trumpet Toot Toot
Winged/Wicked Things
Stadiums and Shrines II
--
Three Colours/Three Colours II
The Empty Threats of Little Lord
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:30 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
October 29, 2007
Grainy coverage from every angle
I'm sure every blogger with a pulse was pitched this, but nonetheless, enjoy.
Daft Punk - Harder Better Faster Stronger (from Alive 2007 tour)
Posted by Keith O'Brien at 12:19 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Best car stereo ever?
2008 Ford Focus
Three things: 1- I always figured Apple would think of this for the iPod first, but Ford gets it done. Hopefully it works well. 2- Shouting artist requests to a voice recognition radio in a packed car is fuel for incredible hilarity, like forever. 3- The car is awful looking.
Posted by Merry Swankster at 11:30 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Denver/Boulder: Shows this week | 10.29 - 11.4
Monday, October 29
Ghosts Of Predators Past @ Larimer Lounge
Gogol Bordello @ Boulder Theater
Little Brother @ Fox Theatre
Maroon 5 @ Pepsi Center
Minus The Bear @ Gothic Theatre
Tuesday, October 30
Little Brother @ Bluebird Theater
Maroon 5 @ Fillmore Auditorium
Mum @ Gothic Theatre
Thic @ Larimer Lounge
Uproot @ Fox Theatre
Wednesday, October 31
3 Oh! 3 @ Fox Theatre
Git Some @ Larimer Lounge
Jesu @ Marquis Theater
The Raveonettes @ Bluebird Theater
Twizted @ Ogden Theater
Umprhey's McGee @ Fillmore Auditorium
Thursday, November 1
Backyard Tire Fire @ Larimer Lounge
Gaelic Storm @ Gothic Theatre
Kevin Drew @ Fox Theatre
Magic Cyclops @ Hi-Dive
Friday, November 2
B. Diddle @ Hi-Dive
Dada @ Bluebird Theater
Festival In The Desert @ Boulder Theater
Job For A Cowboy @ Gothic Theatre
The Octopus Project @ Larimer Lounge
Saturday, November 3
Erin McKeown @ Walnut Room
The Ponys @ Larimer Lounge
Tegan & Sara @ Boulder Theater
Watt Wertz @ Fox Theatre
Sunday, November 4
Aloft In The Sundry @ Larimer Lounge
David Kilgour @ Hi-Dive
Del Tha Funky Homosapien @ Fox Theatre
Schedule appears courtesy of Mystik Spiral.
Posted by Merry Swankster at 11:07 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Indie Rock contains more than two bands.
Some MS.com'ers had a bit of discussion Friday re: this Sasha Frere-Jones article, (what I deem) a bad exercise in using an important publication to draw tenuous conclusions and justifications based on a personal opinion.
Sadly, the New Yorker, one of my favorite publications, tends to allow this from time to time. The piece had the lack of cohesion and rhythm as the bands (he claims) that seemed to influence his thesis. Also, Wilco and Decemberists do not make up indie rock (and are not incredibly relevant today, when compared to other artists). Spank Rock, LCD Soundsystem, Rapture, Of Montreal... I could go on.
I won't belabor my dissatisfaction with the piece (and subsequent podcast), but to say that it's my belief that SFJ truly does think (and know) way more about music than me, and, thus, he will be likely to have transcendent pieces and very bad pieces mixed in his resume, while I will be doomed to good, average, and pretty bad. What did you think (about the piece, not my mediocre estimations of my music criticism career).
And also (via Gawker), here is an update.
Posted by Keith O'Brien at 10:28 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
October 28, 2007
Numerology: 32 Bits
After the scanty offerings that 31 offered, it came as a happy surprise to find 32 a veritable wellspring by comparison. Maybe that was to be expected: as any mathematician will tell you, there’s a world of difference between an obstinate prime like 31, and 32, the fifth power of two; something like a longshoreman standing next to Veronica Lake. Thirty-two is a high-profile numeral; it has a publicist. Water freezes at 32 degrees F; there are 32 teeth in the mouth of adult homo sapiens, and lest we forget, there’s the 32 caliber revolver. Ice, chewing and shooting: what more do you want?
Genesis - "The Chamber of 32 Doors"
The wizards behind Genesis had their reasons for choosing 32 as the number of doors in exceedingly Merlin-esque “The Chamber of 32 Doors,” from The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway. The deeper meanings of this lushly designed two-disc concept album set have always eluded me, even as Genesis-loving friends of mine insisted it was the band’s magnum opus. The Lamb was supposed to be about the spiritual journey of a graffiti-scribbling Puerto Rican youth named Rael, but that made no sense, because all of Genesis music emanates from a fog-enshrouded glade in Avalon, right? How could the reedy voice of Peter Gabriel, intoning lines like, “I’d rather trust a country man than a town man” amid a sea of treated keyboards, ever evoke Times Square? To this day, it remains a mystery known only to the robed art rock gods on high.
They Might Be Giants - "32 Footsteps"
They Might Be Giants on the other hand, couldn’t evoke a glade if they (might be) tried. You can’t be wearing pleated pants in a glade and live, and certainly not with those nasal voices and hyper-literate songs about Belgian painters and birdhouses. Although the duo was capable of straightforwardness, “32 Footsteps,” from their eponymous 1986 debut, is the kind of song they’re known for: tricky rhythms, a skewed sensibility and a lot of detail squeezed into a musical miniature. But if you listen closely, you realize it’s just a nerd’s version of a love song.
And then there’s Van Morrison’s “Thirty Two.” You’re probably not familiar with it, which is better for you. When Van was under contract to Bang Records in 1967, he somehow “made good” on his contract by cranking out a bunch of spoken-word crapola that is as devoid of merit as anything ever produced by someone of Van the Man’s stature. Worse by a mile than anything on Dylan’s Self Portrait or the Stones’ Emotional Rescue. Not fascinating, though. Just bad. Similarly spoken-word but far less heinous is Beat poet Kenneth Rexroth’s “State & 32nd,” which still proves more than definitively just why poets should avoid fronting bands, unless they’re Patti Smith or the guy from Prinzhorn Dance School. It’s actually not bad. Rexroth’s voice, aptly described as “crabby” in a review I read, has a sly way with lines like: “Dice girls going home. Whores eating chop suey/Pimps eat chile mac/Drowsy flatfeet/ham and eggs.” And the band is first-rate; it’s just a bit short on hooks.
So is Ani DiFranco’s entire ouevre, voluminous though it may be. In fact, it would almost be surprising if she hadn’t recorded a song with 32 in it. In any case, while I respect the work and the DIY attitude, I’ve never really enjoyed Ani’s music much. Besides, the winner of the 31 spot, “31 Flavors” is all the flavors we need right for awhile.
I enjoy reading about the failures of others as much as the next guy, but the reports of Pete Doherty’s travails are just depressing. Like most people stateside, I am more familiar with this perennial screw-up’s exploits than his music. “32nd December,” by Doherty’s band Babyshambles, sounds as off-the-cuff, apathetic, and definitively English as one would expect, but at least it’s good-natured.
So much has been said about Robert Johnson that it forces one to choose his words carefully. In that respect, he has a lot more in common with Pete Doherty than I initially suspected. In typically dire fashion, Johnson’s “32-20 Blues” is a tale of vengeance, a cocky boast of the damage a big bullet will do to an unfaithful woman. No wonder the Stones covered it.
If I send for my baby, man, and she don't come /All the doctors in Hot Springs sure can't help her noneIf she gets unruly thinks she don't wan do
Take my 32-20 now and cut her half in two
Robert Johnson - "32-20 Blues"
The proud sons of Hicksville, WV, known as Karma to Burn, had a song called “32” on Wild Wonderful Purgatory (1999), which consisted solely of numerically named instrumentals, each as fierce as Stephen King’s possessed lawnmower.
But I never even considered any of these songs. The 32 slot has always belonged to The House of Love. When I first encountered the band’s second eponymous CD (the one with the butterfly on it, with “Shine On” and “The Beatles and the Stones”) it struck me as one of the most gorgeous guitar records ever to grace my bright yellow Sony Walkman. Those guitars: a perfect combination of fuzzy and sweet, wailing but warm; and the dark, anguished vocals of Guy Chadwick. Even the name Guy Chadwick was something I considered surpassingly cool.
“32nd Floor” begins with silence and then, like a dropped match that ignites the drapes, roars to glowing life. Ringing guitar lines circle each other in a sensuous two-step, a chin-bobbing beat takes hold, and Guy Chadwick burnished baritone comes in. The words might seem heavy-handed on their own, but in the song they make such perfect sense (in a Ben Hur) kind of way, that you don’t even notice that “mind” rhymes with “mind.”
Money is the heartache, moral is the shameDuty comes to those who love the numbers and the name
So find the State of Israel, find the State of Rome
Crush the fools, in huts of clay, there's danger in the garden
Take me to your Station, take me through your mind
Drop that code you give me, just let me feel your mind
Take me through the evening, on my 32nd floor
And I'll never ask for more
The years have not diminished the music for me. Nor have the critical summaries I have come across recently, saying the band amounted to a brief fad, a quick flash of chiming guitars before the acid house/rave scene and grunge changed the musical landscape. Maybe so, but guitars that flash this brilliantly will always paint purple-hued visions in my mind’s eye, set my chin bobbing and spread a sly grin on my face. And I’ll never ask for more.
Numerology is our pal Dave's ill advised quest to find the definitive song for every number from one to a hundred. It's starting to get a bit tricky.
Previously: No. 1, 2-4, 5-7, 7 (counterpoint), 8, 9, 10/11, 12/13. 13 (counterpoint), 14/15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26/27, 28 , 29 , 30, 30 (counterpoint), 31
Posted by David Klein at 08:20 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
October 26, 2007
It's better to fade away than to burn out
And with its last dying breadth, it uttered “And I am a writer, writer of fictions…”
Oddly, it isn’t all that rare an occurrence when I’m offered something “that fell off the back of a truck”. As it turns out, I know a guy who knows a guy, a relationship that, coupled with my ’04 fantasy football winnings, helped to create the perfect storm known as iPod ownership. It probably isn’t wholly necessary for me to tell you that music-listening-wise, the past almost-three years have been the best of my life. Countless songs and stories, each one more randomly shuffled than the one before it, so I suppose it's coda track is rather fitting.
True: I have straight-faced, and on more than one occasion called the iPod my “favorite invention ever.” So it is with surprisingly little regret that I meet its passing.
Mine didn’t end with a frowny-face or a battery with an exclamation point. There were no flying sparks or loud bangs. Instead, it went gentle into that good night without any fanfare or pomp and circumstance. (Although in its livelier days it could have played us some Elgar.) Looking back, I suppose I would always prefer it that way; no fuss. It was over without much argument or discussion. Still, it is impossible not to lament this loss, or more appropriately, the impending loss of another $250.
When it comes my time for my corpse to be set a drift a flaming ship, here's what I want soundtracking:
Posted by Randall Monty at 10:51 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
In Which the Marvelous Possibilities of the Internet are Overwhelmed by Splintered Niches filled with Escalating Stupidity instead of Intelligent Sharing of Ideas
Against my better judgment I participated in arguing with an OiNK defender. Internet arguing...yeah. The Zeitgeist encourages extreme anger and hope in equal measures. Be careful what rock you pick up and know which to avoid like the plague. This week I went over to the darkside, and at the end of the day nothing changed. I just feel dumb for even trying.
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.
Posted by Merry Swankster at 05:21 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
October 25, 2007
Video: Sunset Rubdown "the Mending of the Gown" (live @ Bowery Ballroom)
Here's a pretty clear view of Krug and Co. doing a very delicate rendition of Random Spirit Lover's lead off track. I keep stalling on putting up my review of the Canadian band's performance at the Music Hall of Williamsburg earlier this month, so consider this a minor place holder. (via Qro)
--
The show is sold out, so I wasn't going to mention it, but since I was talking about the Bowery Ballroom anyway (cough), I'll note that D and I will be DJ'ing for a bit tonight at that venerable venue. Feeling pretty psyched about it, thank you very much. So, if there are any Shout Out Louds ticket holders who are getting there super early to camp out, I'll be in the balcony, come say hi.
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:59 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
OiNK idiocy reaches new levels
Jeff and I have been blowing our figurative tops via IM this week discussing the ridiculous reactions since the OiNK fallout. While our official response/rant to the matter is still being worked on, I feel the need to spotlight the insanity published by Alex Carnevale, editor in chief of This Recording blog. Most of it follows the same ideologically unsound, misguided rantings littering blogosphere alleys, until this little gem appears.
"What scares me the most about all this is the loss of a revolutionary feeling. Why are all these people, most of them young people, on the side of the government? Do you know what the government does? Are you familiar with the 60s? Before civil rights, were these the same people who were like, “Well it’s the law, so let’s go lynch some peeps.” (Note: yes, lynching was the law in the South. It was the law.)" (via)
Did he compare the crystal clear, un-muddled moral righteousness of the US Civil Rights movement with the delusional idea of OiNK being a spark for revolution in the music industry by implicitly advocating theft of intellectual property? Holy fuck. What's next? Comparing the atrocity of 9/11 with OiNK's shutdown? Oh wait.
Posted by Merry Swankster at 12:56 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 22, 2007
Retrohump: the bomb exploded repeatedly, but never ceased
In a simpler time (quite literally: late summer 2001), I lived first in Edinburgh and then in Dublin to totally evade adulthood. PoMo! Without any meaningful job (and failing (sometimes flailing) at my stabs at the great Benetton novel), I often found myself reduced to languorously lapping healthy amounts of cut-rate whiskey and Spar beer (oh, yes, grocery beer) while absentmindedly watching MTV UK or cricket. Also, the two unimportant jobs I held down were at clubs or coffee shops where they were thick on the current tunes making all the chavs (English for fake thugs), tarts, and lager lugs go nuts. They're seared - SEARED - into my mind. And, now, hopefully yours.
So Solid Crew - 21 Seconds
So many members; so little talent (I guess the "best" of the talent was to be found in Oxide and Neutrino in a - at least they're a manageable level of mediocrity - if you're interested: here and here).
[ASIDE: This reminds me: Our society is so socially fragmented, one needs a Rosetta Stone to communicate with anyone else. Or, at least, with me. Of my favorite phrases in my weird multicultural argot is referring to a ostentatious amount of people (and sometime objects) as a So Solid Crew. Few seem to get this reference. Eff them].
Of all the things to dislike about this song and video (and there are many - a So Solid Crew amount), I am drawn to the poor man's Prodigy-trying-to-be hook singer - who seems to be hosting his own call-in show "If you lemme, lemme know..." Real artists toil in vacuums; for realz.
Kosheen - Hide U
This is not the drum and bass version that I kind of fell in love with, but she's cute and, hey, it's not So Solid Crew.
Sophie Ellis-Bextor - Take Me Home
We've talked about her before. Jeff showed the other video. Of all the ladies in 2001, only Kylie got more love than SE-B. Not you, Seb.
Tom Jones - Sex Bomb
This fucking song. I thought I lost you in Dublin, but there you are, taunting me - old man and your damn sex bomb.
Daniel Beddingfield - Gotta Get Thru This
My stars; 2001 popular British music = nadir music. Poor Daniel; his sister made some waves here, but not he.
Jeff K. is currently stabbing his ears with daggers.
Posted by Keith O'Brien at 09:46 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
Video: Glass Candy "Digital Versicolor"
I concentrated real hard on this song and a video appeared. I'll leave you to enjoy it as I visualize giant piles of cash.
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 08:07 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Denver/Boulder: Shows this week | 10.22 - 10.28
Monday, October 22
Chevelle @ Boulder Theater
Dark Funeral @ Bluebird Theater
Electric 6 @ Larimer Lounge
Rooney/Polyphonic Spree @ Gothic Theatre
Unwed Sailor @ Hi-Dive
Zap Mama @ Fox Theatre
Tuesday, October 23
Alice In Chains @ Ogden Theater
Caribou @ Larimer Lounge
Softlightes @ Hi-Dive
Therion @ Gothic Theatre
Trampled By Turtles @ Fox Theatre
Wednesday, October 24
Chiodos @ Gothic Theatre
David Crowder @ Fillmore Auditorium
DJ Quote The Beatmaker @ Fox Theatre
Los Lobos @ Paramount Theatre
The Rooster Brothers @ Larimer Lounge
Tiger Army @ Ogden Theater
Thursday, October 25
Benevento/Russo Duo @ Fox Theatre
Blue Million Miles @ Hi-Dive
Dashboard Confessional @ Ogden Theater
Public Enemy @ Boulder Theater
Static-X @ Fillmore Auditorium
Three Cheers Faraday @ Larimer Lounge
Friday, October 26
Abra Moore @ Soiled Dove
Architecture In Helsinki @ Ogden Theater
The Black Ops @ Larimer Lounge
Brand New @ Fillmore Auditorium
Giant Panda Guerilla Dub Squad @ Fox Theatre
IAMX @ Bluebird Theater
Switchpin @ Gothic Theatre
The Wheel @ Hi-Dive
Saturday, October 27
Blackalicious @ Fox Theatre
Busdriver @ Hi-Dive
DeVotchKa @ Fillmore Auditorium
Kinski @ Larimer Lounge
Matt Nathanson @ Bluebird Theater
Salsa Masquerade @ Soiled Dove
Zilla @ Ogden Theater
Sunday, October 28
Juliet Mission @ Larimer Lounge
Junior Brown @ Bluebird Theater
Matt Nathanson/Ian Ball @ Boulder Theater (E-Town)
Menomena @ Fox Theatre
Shipwreck @ Hi-Dive
Schedule appears courtesy of Mystik Spiral.
Posted by Merry Swankster at 12:10 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Remembrances of Lights Once Lit
photos by Devon Banks
I don't know why it always takes me about a month to get it together enough to finally give you a written account of the shows D and I throw as Neon Lights. The (lazy) human need for celebratory vacation after a period of intense work, perhaps? The shivers I get when lying in bed, thinking of the hundreds of photos sitting in a folder, waiting to be sorted? I leave it for the historians to decide.
Well now you've got your write-up of our September 21st show, I've got my closure, and we'll leave it at that. Below is my hopelessly subjective recollection of a bill gone by. Thanks to the bands who played, the Cracker's United crew and Chris Battering Room for their lent DJ prowess, the full room of folks who turned up, and Union Hall, who provided that room.
She Keeps Bees
As She Keeps Bees took the stage to a respectable first band crowd, singer Jessica Larrabee was a sparking power line of nervous energy. Her stream of consciousness, mile-a-minute patter seemed alien from the soulful alt-blues tracks I'd heard on her band's album Minisink Hotel and its following Shhhhhhh! EP. Then, as soon as the drum kicked in behind her, her posture immediately relaxed. She uncaged an overpowering voice that couldn't be more self assured. With only that drum kit, and some sparse electric strums to back her up, the set would have felt thin if her pipes could'nae hack it. But her rich tones filled the vast swaths of empty instrumental space. In the between song gaps, Jess was back to her unending jabber mode, spouting non-sequiturs freely with no pause for the crowd's chuckles. But give her that metronome beat, and the hypnotic transformation back to fully controlled stage warrior, with a direct line to a higher plane of emotional depth and human frailties was complete. It was an opening set that, for once, commanded complete attention.
High Places
High Places were the last band added to the night's bill, but the one who completely stole the show. Lugging their own tall and battered PA into Union Hall, they were not giving their signature sound over to anyone else's whims. The band's unconventional set up featured Rob Barber on a Deacon/Deakin-esque electronics console, with wires spilling from every possible point of entry. A rig so awkward and precarious wouldn't seem capable of producing such sunny, almost tropical sounds. As Rob massaged drum pads into providing deceptively steady beats, giddy squeals were commanded by knobs unseen. To his left was a percussion tree with metal limbs sprouting cymbals. Though similar instruments of terror are used by (future High Places split 7" partner) Xiu Xiu, their effect in context couldn't be much different. In a Xiu Xiu song, the chiming metal makes things seem more strange or austere, where a High Places cymbal strike is likely to punctuate a sugar shocked hook. When all of your songs clock in at roughly two minutes, you'd better make them count, and though the arrangements were definitely atypical, they never lacked a kinetic beat or engaging melody.
Much of the immediacy of the band's music came from singer Mary Pearson. Mary's singing would sound slightly innocent even if she weren't button cute in pigtails and pink. But run through a treated mic, Mary's small voice floated over here cohort's rhythms, always direct and dominant in the wobbly mix. Her live vocals on skewed pop tracks like "Head Spins" and "Sandy Feat" were more nuanced and delicate than they are in the band's recordings. The songs ended quickly, though not abruptly. Once the melody was delivered and the textures skewed, they burned out gracefully. For a twenty-five minute set, it was immensely satisfying. Though the band seems more concerned with pursuing their art in a low-key manner for now, with D.I.Y. aesthetics taking prominence over shrewd marketing, it's hard to imagine fans not flocking to their side once more of their songs become widely available.
The band's set also made an intense impression on a cadre of front stage die hards who appeared to be holding some sort of performance art wager to invent a new dance every six seconds. Above, you see the early stages of a fan favorite, "the Vertical Worm."
the Most Serene Republic
When we started putting this night together, and Union Hall approached us with the idea of booking the Most Serene Republic, it was a fairly easy decision to agree. From a booking and promotional standpoint, the band's well regarded debut record, Arts & Crafts label pedigree, critical attention, and enthusiastic cult of fans made them a very strong and attractive headliner. From my island of personal opinion in the room itself, they just weren't my cup of soup. Though the band's small army of players were clearly the most intensely studied and musically accomplished group of the evening, their spinning parts often seemed at odds with each other. Gentle twee harmonies were crammed into ill fitting prog time changes, or simmering build-ups were rendered moot by replacing the expected climax with dextrous free-jazz flavors that stifled any chance of euphoric release. I'm all for diabolically experimenting with the standard verse chorus verse (as regular readers hopefully know by now), but the band's compositions, even when thrilling in their technical prowess, never really amounted to "songs" as I enjoy them.
But maybe I'm some sort of simp. The overwhelmingly partisan crowd cheered every wave of brass, and welcomed the fist pumping bravado with which MSR approached even their most difficult passages of work. The conglomerated fans were vigorously entertained, and vocally grateful for the Canadian twee-prog barrage. I'm obviously glad that the show was exactly what they wanted, and definitely in debt to MSR themselves for eagerly rendering that service. But, I will factually state that the booking for future Neon Lights nights will probably veer in a different aesthetic direction.
As to when those future Neon Lights show might be, I can't exactly say. It's looking like you might have to wait until '08 to get another dose of our bad medicine. When we do snap back in action, you'll be among the very first to get word, and the uncontrollable excitement that word will surely command.
Many more photos, beneath the fold...
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:31 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
October 20, 2007
Ninja Fights, Skeletal Lamping
photo by Devon Banks
There were many inherent thrills in Of Montreal's set at the Roseland Ballroom last weekend; a giant "Close Encounters" stage bought from better than ever record sales and concert attendance, seeing a giant room full of severely wasted teenagers treating songs like "She's A Rejector" like the instant pop classics that they are, and of course the depicted metaphorical slow motion samurai sword fights fights between front man Kevin Barnes and his dark ninja of self-doubt. But to those of us who've played the band's Hissing Fauna, are You the Destroyer? album near to death, perhaps the most exciting aspect was getting a glimpse into its successor, already apparently finished and dubbed Skeletal Lamping. The two scavenged tracks below predict a 2008 album that's more varied, but no less accomplished than their last.
Of Montreal - "We Can Do it Softcore if You Want" (Live @ Roseland Ballroom, Manhattan)
This recording, made by the avid audio documentarians* known as nyctaper during last weekend's set, sees Kevin Barnes perpetuating the glam alter-ego, "Georgie Fruit," who appeared scattered throughout Hissing Fauna...'s narrative. Recent interviews with Barnes suggested that he might experiment with the ADD mini song suites that he's admired on Fiery Furnaces records. The sexually ambiguous "We Can Do it Softcore if You Want" does have it's share of diversions, but it's primarily the sort of sugar rush glitter ball that you might expect. If there are long from multi-part epics in store, I didn't see them last Saturday. There is some boot fetishism tacked on to the end, though, just for good measure.
Of Montreal - "Feminine Effects" (Live on Minnesota Public Radio)
While Hissing Fauna... was chock full of lyrics about emotional collapse, the music that scored them was often too rambunctiously catchy to really convey true vulnerability. It was as if Barnes was turning his despair into a suit of armor, proudly declaring himself the strongest, hottest mess on the planet. On this second bootleg Skeletal Lamping contender, recorded recently for a Minnesota Public Radio session, feels like a truly naked declaration. The crystal piano notes and vocal undulations put me in mind of tracks like "Lady Stardust" or maybe even "Goodbye Yellowbrick Road." Those comparisons are a bit misleading though, because there was still a proud brave face in those vocal performances that Bowie or Elton couldn't help but give. "Feminine Effects" is even more intimate, wounded, and lovely than that.
* I originally referred to nyctaper crew as bootleggers, which they've gently corrected in the comments.
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:40 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 18, 2007
Video: "What's a Girl To Do?"
Bats For Lashes - "What's a Girl To Do?"
Our obsession from last week continues.
Posted by Merry Swankster at 02:06 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 17, 2007
Fence Sitters, Decide!
Those sitting at home, pacing the room, deciding whether or not to attend tonight's After the Jump CMJ showcase at the Music Hall of Williamsburg behold a bill sampling and man up:
A Place to Bury Strangers - "To Fix the Gash in Your Head"
Foals - "Mathletics"
Yeasayer - "2080"
(Brixton, UK August 14th, 2007, amateur vid)
Cadence Weapon - "Black Hand"
Door at 7, show at 8.
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 05:34 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Music Snob Theorem
(Hat tip: the C. Rizzle gangster)
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Retrohump: Gyrations
This week saw the first ever CD release of Pylon's classic 1980 debut, Gyrate. It had been languishing in scattered crates and fraying sleeves for nearly three decades before the heroes at DFA Records finally freed the seminal album from its dusty vinyl prisons. To celebrate the occasion, we've located the most fitting piece of footage from the Athens band's well spent youth currently available. It's a truncated document of a concert at the Mad Hatter club in Athens, recorded on December 1st, 1983. In the years between the band's first record and this show, they had been touring incessantly in support of such legendary bands as Gang of Four, Mission of Burma, and their city mates, the B-52's. After graduating to an opening slot on U2's first American tour, the band decided to call it quits. This is the last show they played before reforming in 1989 to tour with R.E.M., whom they had profoundly inspired. As far as everyone in the room was concerned, this was the last Pylon show ever. it's hard to quantify the energy that misconception brought to the room.
The first three song slice kicks off with Gyrate's "Working is No Problem." Vanessa Briscoe's guttural screams would seem to be at odds with her carefree nature, manifested by sweet twirls across the stage. She crosses paths with various band mates, also in near constant motion. Next is the post-Gyrate single "Crazy," which was later covered by R.E.M., and suggests the sounds that Stipe and Co. would become much more famous for. The last song seems to be a medley of the single "Beep" and EP cut "Four Minutes," though any confirmation of that from some old time Pylon heads would be much appreciated. Most of the band's catalog is still stranded out of print limbo, and internet guesswork can only take me so far.
Pylon - "Working is No Problem"
Part two features 1981 single "M-Train" as well as Gyrate's classic lead track, "Volume." Both kinetic bounders receive a hero's welcome from the congregation.
The final song preserved for our pleasure is called "Party Zone," which appeared years later on a db records compilation entitled Squares Blot Out the Sun. The trickle of enraptured Georgians filling the stage turns into a flood by the song's end (a similar response to Pylon's music was documented here). Even though this climactic finale wasn't the last anyone would see of Pylon, the band couldn't have asked for a warmer hometown "farewell."
Of course, you can disprove their early demise yourselves at the Mercury Lounge in Manhattan come November 7th, and the next night in Brooklyn at the Music Hall of Williamsburg. Only twelve dollars, holmes, cough up.
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:01 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
October 15, 2007
Denver/Boulder: Shows this week | 10.15 - 10.21
Monday, October 15
The Caves @ Larimer Lounge
Found Magazine @ Hi-Dive
Tuesday, October 16
Annie Lennox @ Mackey Auditorium
Before Rome @ Larimer Lounge
Cradle Of Filth @ Fillmore Auditorium
Nellie McKay @ Trilogy Lounge
Pat Monahan @ Ogden Theater
Scout Niblett @ Hi-Dive
Shout Out Louds @ Bluebird Theater
The Tragically Hip @ Boulder Theater
Wednesday, October 17
24th Peak Project @ Larimer Lounge
The Axe That Chopped The Cherry Tree @ Bluebird Theater
Stars Of Track & Field @ Hi-Dive
Thursday, October 18
Shawn Colvin @ Paramount Theatre
Josh Ritter @ Fox Theatre
Dark Star Orchestra @ Boulder Theater
Phosphorescent @ Hi-Dive
Turdus Musicus @ Larimer Lounge
Wednesday13 @ Bluebird Theater
Friday, October 19
Aesop Rock @ Fox Theatre
Dark Star Orchestra @ Oriental Theater
Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter @ Larimer Lounge
John Cowan Band @ Boulder Theater
Los Straitjackets @ Soiled Dove
Pinback @ Gothic Theatre
Rogue Wave @ Bluebird Theater
Saturday, October 20
Blue October @ Fillmore Auditorium
Brandi Carlile @ Gothic Theatre
Dark Star Orchestra @ Oriental Theater
DJ Krush @ Bluebird Theater
Earlimart @ Larimer Lounge
Hellogoodbye @ Paramount Theatre
Jackpierce @ Soiled Dove
LUPEC - Crush Party @ Hi-Dive
Willy Porter @ Marquis Theater
Sunday, October 21
Andrew Rieu @ Pepsi Center
Big Time Entertainment Show @ Hi-Dive
Michelle Shocked @ Soiled Dove
Schedule appears courtesy of Mystik Spiral.
Posted by Merry Swankster at 11:30 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 14, 2007
After the Jump @ CMJ This Week
As I've previously mentioned, the unholy blogging conglomerate After the Jump did not fade into the good night following the success of our summer fundraiser. No sir, the committee's presence at this week's CMJ Festival in New York will be pervasive as not one but three bills will bear the ATJ stamp of approval. Our first bill takes place at the newly cavernous Music Hall in my 'hood, Williamsburg. Tickets available now for $12, and $14 on the day (if there's still space to be had). The details below once more:
After the Jump @ CMJ
Music Hall of Williamsburg, October 17th, 2007
Doors 7 PM/ Show 8 PM
A Place to Bury Strangers
Foals
Cadence Weapon
Sam Champion
Yeasayer
Alberta Cross
A Place to Bury Strangers - "Missing You"
I previously failed to mention that there will be an additional two afternoons, chock full of action. First we have a free of charge regional showdown at Lower East Side haunt, the Annex;
Northern Bands:
1:45 pm The Antlers
3:15 pm Nous Non Plus
4:50 pm The Silent Years
Southern Bands:
1:00 pm Dead Confederate
2:30 pm Shovels and Rope (feat. Cary Ann Hearst and Michael Trent)
4:00 pm The Pendletons
5:30 pm Morning State
the Silent Years - "Take the Money Out"
Then for a measly 5 bucks, we have this pastoral knockout at Brooklyn's picturesque outdoor venue, the Yard.
Saturday, October 20th, NOON, at The Yard
400 Carroll St
Brooklyn, NY
After the Jump’s Fall Fest at The Yard:
1:00 pm The Lisps
2:00 pm Balthrop Alabama
3:00 pm Eagle Seagull
4:00 pm Rock Plaza Central
5:00 pm Old Time Relijun
6:00 pm O’Death
Overwhelming I know. Drink it in for a second, follow a link or ten, and we'll chat calmly next week.
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:00 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
October 13, 2007
the Once and Future Oz
In the Western Hemisphere, the dominant cultural identity of Australia still falls into the stereotypical Ocker mode, i.e. Mick Dundee and Foster's beer commercials. To painfully hip and cosmopolitan Sydney residents, this comes as quite a rude shock. The words "Australian music" might instantly trigger didgeridoos more than dance beats, but the brand of upbeat tunes that remind me of that swell locale are about as far from the Outback mentality as New York. A trio;
There's always been something inherently appealing about Kylie Minogue, and returning from her cancer leave with this glam stomping sex bomb isn't likely to decrease the goodwiil. People on the streets on America, when given a multiple choice, would clearly identify Britney as the bigger star than Kylie. But compare this to Ms. Spears' latest and see which stands up better as a comeback single. Slagging off "disposable pop" stars for not providing sole authorship of their own material (this track was written and produced by London duo Kish Mauve) discounts crucial factors of taste, professionalism, and painstaking collaborator selection. There won't be a Britney/Nick Cave duet anytime soon, and I'll be fucking shocked if there's a single near as good as "2 Hearts." Even though drag queens in Sydney are generally about 6' 4", and Kylie roughly 4'2", I'd predict nothing but Marilyn wigs and cat suits on Oxford St, for the next decade.
Midnight Juggernauts - "Into the Galaxy"
On the rising band front, we have Midnight Juggernauts, sure to gain a boatload of interest from their spot opening Justice's North American tour. Like their French patrons, Juggernauts are pretty safely over the top, but using the ornate synth towers of ELO and the booming vocal authority of a hyper serious Bowie tune to fill the dance floor. The above video gives me a chuckle, as the three bearded men rock out intensely in a warehouse, while an art school film grad captures it in tortured, slow pans. Why does this need a letterbox exactly? The song has a similar whiff of dry ice to it, but we all know that late nights and drink specials erase self consciousness, and the band's name will seem strangely appropriate with this leaps at you from club speakers in the proper state of mind.
Midnight Juggernauts - "Into the Galaxy"
During a bout of recent mock bachelorhood, with my girlfriend far, far away, I decided to dig in to the racks and toss a couple of understudied post-punk compilations on the stereo. There's been approximately three jillion such compilations released this decade, and I'm the dream consumer for the boutique labels that keep pumping them out. I'm reluctant to give them open airing as they are always abrasive, and usually only contain one ir two bonafide standouts. But punk impacted small pockets of so many culturally disparate locales that it's always interesting to hear how the amateurs who sprang to action interpreted the music through their own prism of culture. Granted, the Australian environment that gave birth to the artists from Chapter Music's Can't Stop It series isn't so different than the neighborhoods spawning Flying Nun bands in Christchurch, New Zealand. But the difference between those two scenes is maybe even more interesting because of the seeming cultural hegemony. Why would Australia produce a more keyboard centric Euro sound, where the Kiwi kids would basically be inventing lo-fi indie rock? Were the metropolitan islands of my old Sydney home (and it's bitter little rival Melbourne) enough to color the country's output?
Of all the tracks on the second collection, Can't Stop It! II , the one that grabbed me the quickest was apparently also the least thought out. Rob Griffiths, the main man for a Melbourne group called International Exiles (also featuring future Crowded House drummer Paul Hester), claims in the compilation's liner notes to have written this 1980 single it in five minutes, because the band did not yet have a "decent pop song." Well, I guess it's just that easy.
International Exiles - "Let's Be Sophisticated"
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:20 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
October 11, 2007
Numerology: Thirty-One's Flavors
Now that we’ve reached 31, I am not surprised to hear a chorus of crickets. Thirty-one does not come across as a hot and happening number. If it were a color it would be ecru, but let’s give ecru its due. There’s that sweet baseball legacy: Hall of Famers Ferguson Jenkins and Dave Winfield both wore no. 31, and it’s the number of wins that Denny McLain—a Tigers pitching phenom with the heart of a smalltime crook—won in 1968. Think of it: 31 games. No one has come close since, and with the current “get to the sixth inning” mentality, 31 wins is unlikely to be topped. I wonder what Denny McLain’s entrance music was at Tiger Stadium in 1968.
In my mind, the third of the 44 known Mersenne prime numbers (Mersennes are numbers that are one less than a power of two) suffers from its featured role in that dreary yet useful little rhyme we learned in school: “Thirty days hath September/April, June and November/All the rest have thirty-one/Excepting February alone” (Some rhyme, eh? A white person definitely wrote that.) I guess my associations with the poem are uniformly negative because I tend to recite it when I have to write a check or commit to something.
But let’s not forget, 31 was pretty damned kind to the Baskin-Robbins people (we’ll get to that), and Nick Hornby’s 31 Songs (it was called Songbook in the States) is one great piece of music writing. Even the Beatles got around to making a specific reference to 31, Paul McCartney did anyway, in a song John Lennon famously detested, “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.” Maybe the sticking point was hearing Paul sing the line “PC Thirty-One, says we’ve caught a dirty one/Maxwell stands alone” 31 times before he was satisfied. (PC in this case means police constable, but PC 31 sounds more like an earlier version of Bowie’s TVC15. It was said at the time that TVC15 had something to do with masturbation, and oddly enough, thirty-one is Turkish slang for masturbation, apparently. If anyone knows of a song that incorporates 31 in this particular sense I hope you will alert me, and pronto.)
Let’s summon our inner Buddhist and not dwell on what we lack. Let’s be thankful for our small repast. I feel like a nomadic herdsman rooting through his rucksack and spilling out an austere collection of edible pinecones for all of us to enjoy. First pinecone: “Thirty One Flavors” by Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Dig in! It’s a decent enough extended vamp that you can shake your hips to. But that’s about it. The band enjoyed a lot of critical praise in the ‘90s but I never quite got what all the fuss was about. Of course, when I surveyed the arid pickings for 31, I was happy to find a song from a band that many people whom I respect dig, and who knew, maybe this would be the moment where I’d discover JSBE and realize what I’d been missing all these years. Sadly, I remain unconverted.
the Moving Sidewalks - "Pluto, September 31st"
The next morsel—the shimmering, day-glo pinecone—is better known as “Pluto, September 31st” by the Moving Sidewalks, a ‘60s psychedelic outfit that spawned Billy Gibbons of Z.Z. Top. The group had a numerically titled hit in 1967 with “99th Floor,” which first came to my ears via the essential Nuggets collection. “PS31,” from the Sidewalks’ sole album, Flash (1968) is the album’s epic, replete with an echo-drenched, melody-free interlude in the middle and lyrics that rival pre-Shark Sandwich-era Spinal Tap: “A mystic fog is in my eyes/the carpet’s been pulled from under my butt/and as the dark begins to clear/my brain’s reduced to one watt/But slowly it’s all happenin’/my mind might melt today/But don’t relate too late/Just remind your little body you might be late…” Can’t you just hear David St. Hubbins belting this shit out? But say what you will, there’s no denying the song’s kicking groove.
That scary-looking pinecone giving off don’t fuck with me vibes? Say hello to “Thirty-One” by Karma to Burn, from a coiled, menacing collection of numerically named instrumentals from 1999, called Wild Wonderful Purgatory. This West Virginia band didn’t muck about with names of songs, or even with words. They just played hard and fierce. Like the other offerings on the record (e.g., “Twenty,” “Twenty Two,” “Three”) “Thirty One” is a multipart head banger that would please both Dave Mustaine and Butthead. All hail not giving a shit about song names. That’s just ballsy. You want a title? Fuck that. Next song! What are we up to? 32? Thirty-two!!!! Keeerraaang!
We’re down to our last pinecone (I promise never to use this or any metaphor again.) The Shirelles were a proto girl group; they were brassy and sassy and tuneful, capable of musical coquettishness as well as what music critic Charlie Gillett termed, “vulnerable and suppliant availability.” They were also favorites of the Beatles. Formed in 1958 as the Poquelles, the Shirelles have already locked up the column’s coveted 21 spot with their frustrated ode to turning 21 and being liberated from all strictures. “31 Flavors” is not quite up to the level of “Twenty-One.” It’s definitely no “Baby it’s You,” and it doesn’t approach the depth of signature singles “Dedicated to the One I Love,” “Will You Love Me Tomorrow,” and “Soldier Boy,” but as infectious trifles go, it’s hard to beat. Even the geniuses behind It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World knew enough to put it on the soundtrack to their tightly plotted epic. I was putty in this song’s hands from its opening purred syllables, “Ya ya ya ya”
Like so many songs of this ilk, the sexual subtext is buried in a lot of ice cream imagery, but I think William Burroughs had something to say about kissing in 31 flavors in Cities of the Red Night, and as I recall, and there was no doubt about what he meant. Then again, Burroughs was never this good a singer, I mean, during his girl-group phase. And gooey as it may be, the song is undeniably sensual. Ice Cream Joe has a few tricks up his sleeve, you can be sure. Obviously the term “31 flavors” is not original; Baskin-Robbins came up with that in 1953 to distinguish it from Ho-Jo’s, which was proud of having 28 flavors. But somehow it’s not irksome in the way it would be if the song had been based on a slogan for say, the Jolly Green Giant or Campbell’s Soup. In this world of 19-game-winning Cy Young Award winners, it’s hard to deny the innocent charms of a song that goes:
I call him Ice Cream JoeHe is the most delicious boy I know
Every time his tasty lips are kissing mine
He gives me 31 flavors
(And we like tutti-frutti best)
And finally, I do realize there’s a Snoop Dogg song by the same name, but this one is better.
the Shirelles - "31 Flavors"
Numerology is our pal Dave's ill advised quest to find the definitive song for every number from one to a hundred. It's starting to get a bit tricky.
Previously: No. 1, 2-4, 5-7, 7 (counterpoint), 8, 9, 10/11, 12/13. 13 (counterpoint), 14/15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26/27, 28