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November 28, 2008
Thanksgiving Leftovers
Seeking desperately to ease my lingering post-feast fullness by clearing up room from someplace, any place, here are a few non-thematically linked tracks that have been cluttering my mind...
The Shop Assistants - "All Day Long"
Bloggers who've searched for flavor combinations that add up to Brooklyn's Vivian Girls have perhaps been overthinking things. Instead of evoking Phil Spector + Kevin Shields, or wherever the prevailing hyperbole pinwheel ended up, it probably should have started on the Shop Assistants and refused to budge. The Scots group was a minor NME cause celebre in the mid-80s, but their debut album Will Anything Happen has been out of print for over a decade. As the sharper tacks among you may have already guessed, that is no longer the case (tip of the hat to chronically hip label Cherry Red for continuing to monitor shifting retro trends). "All Day Long" is a nicely representative miniature of the album's charm, and prestigiously, Morrissey's declared favorite single of 1985. Simple, cymbal-less drums pound away relentlessly, only partially moored to the sheets of warm fuzz guitarist David Keegan lays down. Vocally, it's sweet and muddled both. Annabel Wright (who'd go on to wider, yet still fairly narrow renown in the Pastels) has a flat but reassuring delivery, struggling slightly to be understood in the midst of rhythm and color. Around 1:20, a simple adjustment to the mix brings the blur into sharper focus. Annabel is placed out front, the spotlight casting a lovely echo behind her. If the 1:50 running time is a bit too slight for you, the re-issue also offers a "long version" that clocks in at a whopping 2:30. You may have to clear your schedule to fit that epic in.
Robert Rental - "Double Heart"
Robert Rental was a minor player in the UK post-punk scene, who made a few drips but no real splash. "Double Heart," one A of a double A-side single released on Mute in 1980, has a warm constitution despite a construction from cold Teutonic elements. The stuttering drum machine delay is not far from sounds conjured by many other early eighties DIY dabblers. The synths sound poorly calibrated and possibly woozy on box wine. But Rob always sounds sincerely and soberly lovelorn, elevating his track above scores of similar unknowns who all sought to distinguish themselves with chilly disconnect. "I like your colors" he wails, perhaps cryptically referring to a dress pattern or just an interior glow. I like his tone, myself.
Christian Fennesz' crackling ambient compositions always have a bit more going on inside them than a first passive listen might suggest. "Glass Ceiling" from his latest record, Black Sea, starts off typically enough for him, with a still pond of sputtering static parted by steady string-plucked oar strokes. As it settles in to become stiller still, it becomes beautifully alien. The conspicuous notes cease, clearing space for the palest shades of a hidden pop song. From around two minutes on, it sounds like the strains of a vocal choir, somehow kept aloft on an arctic wind a decade after all its members hung up their robes and drove home from the concert hall.
Max Tundra - "The Entertainment"
I enjoy Ben Jacobs' compositions as a curio, more than a trigger for deeply felt affection. You have to admire an artist who testifies so adamantly in a songwriting language so inscrutable. (Well, I guess you don't, but I do). I fear it suggests a lack of imagination that most of 2008's Parallax Error Beheads You leaves me sputtering around my head and hard drive for familiar reference points. I suppose it is still possible for an artist at this late date, to, gasp, just sound like themselves. The version of himself that's I've hit repeat on most often is "The Entertainment," a broadly named track that sounds specifically like the residents of Nintendoland attending a late 90s rave. "I was born to entertain," he sings calmly amid a manic backdrop. Even if I suspect that he was born mainly to entertain Ben Jacobs, you might well catch some shrapnel of amusement.
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 05:00 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
B & S on the BBC
I've been meaning to post a couple tracks from Belle & Sebastian: The BBC Sessions, a recently released compilation of the band's excellent early compositions laid to tape in the years just before the internet would have immediately delivered them to my greedy hands. Vacation travel and general hustle/bustle held this intent up. I will do so now, with no further delay...
Belle & Sebastian - "Lazy Jane"
"Lazy Line Painter Jane" obviously stands out among the band's endlessly charming 90s EPs because of guest vocalist Monica Queen. She's a showy extrovert in one of the most introverted pop bands of all time (or at least that was the shtick in their early configuration). Comparing her singing to Isobel Campbell's anemic whispers (or her pale duet partner Stuart Murdoch's for that matter), you get the feeling that she could rip that poor waif limb from limb. Her singing out always made "LLPJ" feel oddly triumphant, in spite of its protagonist's relatively dire straits. Monica Queen wouldn't have to wonder about how she got her name and what she was going to do about it; A) she wouldn't give a shit, and B) if she did she'd go bust some heads. With her part taken in this radio session by fellow wallflower Stevie Jackson, our Jane sounds much more plausibly adrift. That is until the 4:30 mark, when the band summons a instrumental force that restores the original's power, and perhaps even tops it.
Belle & Sebastian - "(My Girl's Got) Miraculous Technique"
Of the four non-released tracks the record contains, this is the best. By 2001, B & S were a band in flux. They'd not yet begun to morph into the good-time fun band of recent albums, but the old bookish persona had lost a lot of critical steam. Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant was an uneven record with fantastic high points that got shafted in the press despite them. Their soundtrack to Todd Solondz's Storytelling was just flat out bad. It could have used a song like this, with a disconnected piano loop and carefree string samples that predicts the sound Jens Lekman would later ride to his initial minor fame. The session its taken from was the last time Isobel would be present in the band's compositions, and illustrates the toll her departure took. It seems impossible that two voices as shy and retiring as hers and Stuart's could come together in such a grand, romantic way.
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:20 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
November 27, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving
[Pumpkin Pie Cheesecake]
Happy Thanksgiving folks. If you are reading this, stop. Spend time with your friends and family.
Of Montreal - "Nonpareil Of Favor"
[Of Montreal: Denver's Ogden Theater - 11.6.08 - photo by Chip Diffendaffer]
Posted by Merry Swankster at 04:07 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
November 24, 2008
Denver/Boulder: Shows this week | 11/24 - 11/30
[Happy Thanksgiving]
Monday, November 24
Calexico @ Gothic Theatre
Los Lonely Boys @ Ogden Theater
Tuesday, November 25
AC/DC @ Pepsi Center
Brothers & Sisters @ Hi-Dive
Dub Trio @ Larimer Lounge
JD Souther @ Soiled Dove
Secondhand Serenade @ Gothic Theatre
Wednesday, November 26
Agent Orange @ Larimer Lounge
The Classic Crime @ Marquis Theater
Dub Trio @ Fox Theatre
In Flames @ Fillmore Auditorium
The Photo Atlas @ Bluebird Theater
Seneca @ Walnut Room
Umconscious @ Soiled Dove
Wish We Were Floyd @ Gothic Theatre
Thursday, November 27
OHGR @ Bluebird Theater
Friday, November 28
Andrea Ball @ Hi-Dive
Barcelona @ Marquis Theater
Boyz II Men @ Ogden Theater
Michael Franti & Spearhead @ Fillmore Auditorium
Ozric Tentacles @ Fox Theatre
Quemando @ Boulder Theater
Suicidal Tendencies @ Gothic Theatre
Vonnegut @ Bluebird Theater
Wetlands CD Release @ Larimer Lounge
Saturday, November 29
Dance Gavin Dance @ Marquis Theater
Elephant Revival @ Boulder Theater
GWAR @ Gothic Theatre
Jessica Sonner @ Walnut Room
Matisyahu @ Ogden Theater
Michael Franti & Spearhead @ Fillmore Auditorium
The Pilot Light @ Larimer Lounge
The Rebel Alliance Jam XIV @ Fox Theatre
Spetsnaz @ Hi-Dive
Yeasayer @ Bluebird Theater
Sunday, November 30
Bring Me The Horizon @ Marquis Theater
Matisyahu @ Fox Theatre
Schedule appears courtesy of Mystik Spiral.
Posted by Merry Swankster at 09:30 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
November 21, 2008
Numerology: 59: A Highly Cototient Number (as well as a "Magical Golf Score")
The process of diligently, sometimes desperately, searching for number songs never fails to turn up interesting tidbits. In the early ‘70s, when women were paid 59 ¢ for every dollar earned by men (many of them male chauvinist pigs), proponents of women’s liberation wore buttons that read simply “59 ¢.” (If 21st-century feminists felt inclined to protest the wage gap, their buttons would read “77 ¢.”) Another thing this quest has taught me is that for every number between 1-100, some kind of connection can usually be made to Bob Dylan, and 59 is no exception. “The Ballad of Donald White,” which Dylan adapted from a traditional Canadian ballad called “Peter Emberley” and performed early on before concentrating on his own material, contains the lines, “And so it was on Christmas eve /In the year of ‘59/It was on that night I killed a man, I did not try to hide.” Hardly an uplifting sentiment, but when you’re Dylan you don’t need to write an anthem every time out.
The Gaslight Anthem - "The '59 Sound"
I firmly believe that a band whose name incorporates the word “anthem” has a responsibility to render listeners physically unable to keep their fists from clenching and their heads from bobbing to its music. The Gaslight Anthem, punk rockers from New Brunswick, N.J, deliver the goods with “The ’59 Sound.” It’s the kind of song that would sound glorious blaring through a car stereo on the Jersey Turnpike beneath a splendidly polluted sunset, or even just ringing through headphones while waiting for your toast to pop. While it may not break any new ground (in fact, there’s an unsettling vocal similarity to the Gin Blossoms’ “Hey Jealousy”) “The ’59 Sound” succeeds; rock ‘n’ roll allows for almost infinite variations on a theme, and the force of good crunchy guitars and a sturdy melody will often carry you through with flying colors. “’59” by the Brian Setzer Orchestra is more specific to the year 1959 than “The ’59 Sound,” but this earnest but edgeless tribute to a great year in rock does little to evoke the spirit of the times.
For all you sidewalk social-scientist Blondie fans out there, please know that “11:59” has already nabbed top honors for the 11 slot, so chill. The Postmarks of Miami, Florida, perform a faithful cover version of the song on their By the Numbers CD, a collection guaranteed to warm the heart of numerologists worldwide: each song, from “One Note Samba” to “Five Years” to “11:59,” has a number in its title, proof positive that this author is not alone in obsessing about number songs. Speaking of covers, on the mini-album entitled 59, the adorable Japanese duo Puffy Ami Yumi performs a crisp rendition of “Joining a Fan Club” by Jellyfish, overlooked power pop proponents from San Francisco of the early ‘90s. Moving from the briefly appreciated to the largely unknown, “59.58” is a song by Headcase, a solo project from session man and former Curve bass player, Dean Garcia.
Imagine, if you will, that a songwriter ended up turning into a chicken. Wouldn’t you be tempted to look at his early work for references to laying eggs and clucking? It’s like when a singer commits suicide; one can’t help poring over song lyrics for intimations of his self-destructive plans. In that same vein, when a writer comes out of the closet, there is an urge to look back at his body of work for signs of self-loathing, or an over-reliance on neutral pronouns. Hüsker Dü provides a case in point; two of the three members of this seminal Minneapolis power trio eventually came out as gay. (Oddly enough, it was bassist Greg Norton, the one with the swishy handlebar moustache, who was the band’s lone heterosexual.) It’s hard to say how much of the angst that marked the band’s early records was fueled by Bob Mould and Grant Hart feeling forced to live a lie, but “59 Times the Pain” certainly exemplifies the inner turmoil of a deeply conflicted man. The song is brutal and grinding, with lyrics that speak of unbridled torment:
Husker Du - "59 Times the Pain"
The most intense of burning hells
Blasting expectations into smithereens
Never feeling normal, can’t accept the truth
Resign myself to hating it, I hate it all…
59 Times the Pain/I could never be like you
A Swedish hardcore band was so taken with the song that it took the title as a band name, and had a pretty successful 10-year run starting with a single called “Blind Anger & Hate.” Well, what did you expect from a band called 59 Times the Pain, “Feelin’ Groovy”? Ah, there’s my cue. As with no. 50, a composition by Paul Simon is the proverbial elephant in the room. But unlike the 50 slot, which offered a multitude of choices, this elephant can neither be ignored nor passed over for a more esoteric choice. “The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Groovy)”—let’s be glad he named the song after a structure properly known as the Queensborough Bridge—is the quintessential feel-good song of the ‘60s or just about any other era. Oh, there are countless songs about feeling good, but most focus on something specific—like “a new dawn, a new day, a new life,” as Nina Simone sang in “Feeling Good” or “the only one who can bring me joy” in Otis Redding’s “Happy Song,” to name just two. In “Feelin’ Groovy,” Simon turns this idea on its head by appreciating what we tend to overlook. It’s easy to feel good because you just got paid, just got laid, just met the girl of your dreams, but the source of Simon’s groovy feeling is freedom (no deeds to do, no promises to keep) and the simple sweetness of ordinary things: the morning, cobblestones, flowers, and that lamppost he is moved to address by name. Taking stock, Simon concludes, “Life I love you. All is groovy,” and somehow it doesn’t seem trite or mindless, like the ‘80s equivalent, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.”
Simon & Garfunkel - "The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)"
Simon & Garfunkel - "The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)"
(live in Central Park, NYC, 1981)
Cochise - "The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)"
Few of the cover versions of the song were half as groovy as the original. In 1967, Harpers Bizarre, then known as the Tikis, were a Santa Cruz surf band led by future Van Halen producer Ted Templeman. The music industry legend Lenny Waronker, who knew catchy when he heard it, approached the Tikis to record the song. Changing their name so as not to lose the hard-earned street cred of their Tikis fan base, the renamed Harpers Bizarre scored a monster hit with a lush, syrupy version replete with key change. Early in the ‘70s, a progressive-minded quartet called Cochise decided that “Feelin’ Groovy” needed an infusion of Heavy in the tradition of the Vanilla Fudge, who took the wired, sprightly intensity of the Supremes’ “You Keep Me Hanging On” and bludgeoned the song into submission. Cochise’s “Feelin’ Groovy” wasn’t quite as misguided, but it shared a common impulse to break a butterfly on a wheel. The debut LP by Cochise, whose members went on to play with Procol Harum, Foreigner, and Pink Floyd, was notable for its cover art, designed by future Pink Floyd cover-meister Storm Thorgerson. It depicted the sun rising over the Grand Teton-esque expanse of a woman’s naked breasts (quite daring for the time) and probably led to more than a few impulse buys by mammary-minded adolescents. Former street musician Ted Hawkins, who enjoyed a few years of notoriety before his death in 1995, did a soulful, stripped down version, and Jimmy Page liked to incorporate the melody into live versions of “Heartbreaker” and “Whole Lotta Love.” But the S&G original reigns supreme. During the duo’s 1966 concert tour, Simon explained the origins of the song to their audiences via the following charming spiel, which he tweaked from night to night:
"I came back from England to the United States in December of 1965, and “The Sounds of Silence” had become a big hit…. I had to make this transition from being relatively unknown in England to being semi-famous here. I didn’t adjust well. It was always slightly embarrassing to me, teeny bops, etcetera. So I used to think, all my sweets are gone, good times gone, left over in England. All the songs I was writing were very down type of songs, nothing happy, until about last June. For some reason last June I start to come out of it. I start to get into a good mood, I don’t know why….
So here I am getting into this pleasant frame of mind, and I was coming home one morning about 6:00, comin’ over the 59th Street Bridge in New York, and what a groovy day it was, a real good one, and one of those times when you know you’re not gonna be tired for about an hour. You know it’s gonna be nice. So I started writing a song that later became “The 59th Street Bridge Song” or “Feelin’ Groovy.”
Groovy little footnote: Simon & Garfunkel’s song was the first song to fully exploit the term “groovy,” which, along with “far-out,” “too much,” and “out of site,” vied for the title of essential superlative of the ‘60s. The cheesy “Groovy Kind of Love” swiftly followed, and years later came the Clash’s sublime “Groovy Times” and the acid house gem “Groovy Train” by the Farm.
Numerology is our pal Dave's ill advised quest to find the definitive song for every number from one to a hundred. The higher the digit, the lonelier the climb.
Previously: No. 1, 2-4, , 4 (redux), 5-7, 6 (redux), 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, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46 , 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, Footnotes, 57, 58
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 08:00 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
November 20, 2008
Stephen Malkmus / Blitzen Trapper @ Gothic Theatre, Denver 11.6.2008
[Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks - Photos by Chip Diffendaffer]
[Blitzen Trapper]
Portland's Blitzen Trapper looks exactly like what one imagines a classic American rock band should. The sextet's wardrobe pulls inspiration from the utilitarian basics of plaid and flannel for shirts, denim for below and a look as unremarkable as any. They could be the band down the street playing your neighborhood bar. A grungy set of fellows, all long hairs with guitars. Of course the difference with your particular local heroes is that Blitzen Trapper is actually good.
Like master cultivators of musical Americana the band exists on the same logical plane as Subpop labelmates and miners of Appalachian heritage Fleet Foxes, both groups part of the welcome outreach from indie bands to an older, perhaps purer form of folk infused rock. The fact both bands hail from areas not traditionally associated with the type of music being made is a testament to the intra-national folding of regional sounds. As the world gets smaller so does acute awareness of anywhere by everywhere.
Much of Blitzen Trapper's volume sounded too low and I recall thinking the songs ending unexpectedly soon, though for clarity this shouldn't be confused with hastiness. The former I can understand for dynamic contrast in deference to the headliner, but the latter? Initially I doubted my own conclusion considering my personal history with the post-Grateful Dead kings from Vermont, but subsequent listens to BT's records I realized it was probably my relative lack of familiarity with Blitzen's catalog that betrayed my attempts at unbiased, free of baggage opinion. Probably an impossibility anyway since that is like saying one cannot critique anything if being completely informed is a prerequisite for opining. I can confidently add that this slight objection to the brevity of Blitzen Trapper's songs occurred prior to Stephen Malkmus and his Jicks noodly arrangements would cloud my judgment. The timestamp on my notepad proves it!
Notes: Malkmus joined the band on guitar for the jangly "Wild Mountain Nation".
Blitzen Trapper's title cut from 2008's Furr began like a facsimile Dylan tune, complete with frontman Eric Earley donning a handsfree harmonica. Speaking of Earley (warning: obscure reference for anyone who is not an avid watcher of the NY sports network SNY), the guy reminds me of a younger Giuseppe Franco, the Beverly Hills stylist of Procede commercials fame. Let me be the first to ask, Gary Busey? Really?
Stephen Malkmus
Here's a ridiculous statement: there are different kinds of people that go see Stephen Malkmus perform. That could be equally as meaningless a description as if I said that on any given Sunday afternoon there are different kinds of people at the grocery store. However, just like agreeing it's fair to assume specific demographics could be assembled from supermarket crowds one can also acquiesce to my initial point, there are certain kinds of people that go see Stephen Malkmus perform.
Some fans are full blown obsessives who will likely accept and defend anything their hero produces. Another sizable percentage are rabid Pavement fans who might not be familiar, or completely taken with Malkmus's solo material and secretly (or openly) hope the old boys bust out for a secret reunion blowout. These folks, while bound for terrible disappointment from such a valiant yet unlikely expectation, are hanging on to an extreme view of what I'll gander every single person at Malkmus shows holds out for. I'm not even going as far as a full blown reunion, just a modest request for a Pavement song from the legendary past as thrown bone to the crowd to pick on and undoubtedly freak.
Just for fun right, what's the harm? Here is how that conversation might go from someone in the first row:
Yeah yeah. I'm sorry. Yeah,..yeah ok right. I know, totally different band from long ago. Jicks right? No totally, they do...great, yes you guys all sound awesome. Jammy. What? Not trying to be sarcastic,..sorr- oh yeah, sure. Ok ya, bye.
Or they do it and everyone twitters furiously, "they're playing "Cut Your Hair" OMG!" I'll be the first to admit that I was not hitched in acquaintance during the heyday of Pavement. Growing up in the 90s on Long Island Pavement was not a band that entered my young sphere of awareness. I've already shared how I was one of the sorry people who ignored Pavement's Lollapalooza set in their infamous mid-90s billing. Since then however I've learned to appreciate the group by self guided exploration and through an acknowledged osmosis that comes with the territory of running a music blog with a Pavement expert and superfan from Salem, OR.
In terms of fandom for the group I don't believe I am in the minority who holds regrets. It is said that years after John F. Kennedy was elected president a disproportionate amount of people claimed they voted for him than was mathematically possible. I'm sure the same can be said of people who claim they were fans of Pavement "from the very beginning". Call it the Pixies theory - when an influential band experiences more success posthumously than they did in original incarnations. Skeptics should consider the following scenario: how big would a Pavement reunion be? What size venues would they fill? Surely the plum Coachella headliner spot would be offered.
Time to dig out of this rabbit hole of cliched critical trappings so I can shift gears and actually mention a thing or two on the Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks show. Two weeks ago the band played the Gothic Theatre, located due south of downtown Denver. Malkmus was his usual cool and jokey self. Engaging in low impact conversation with the crowd in between the sprawling songs that make up the bulk of his band's repertoire. One perhaps valid criticism of current era Malkmus originates from those averse to the extended, some might say jammy sections in much of the material. Valid only if that is not your cup of tea. I dig it.
Like we've seen so often with solo acts they can often take unpleasant indulgent routes filled with guitar solos, scattered arrangements and questionable turns into failed ambitiousness. Just this month Billy Corgan showed the world (or the tiny percentage that follow music blogs) how douchey that psyche can be. Nostalgia for a celebrated past at war with artists who move on can be a messy thing. Or better yet as this comment put it: "Billy's a dick because he's demanding that people follow him on his journey to irrelevance." If Corgan's journey to nowhere is one far extreme, certainly Stephen Malkmus and his easygoing evolution into a classic rock guitar dude is unoffensive enough.
Nostalgia aside the new stuff harps the melodic rock with some resemblance of the past but with clear delineation of something altogether new. Again, I dig it. Although if I didn't it might still be worth the price admission for the comedy show of Malkmus & his Jicks. A story about windy Midwestern drives turns into a mention of the "winds of change" blowing in post-election America. Calling out for a roadie perched high above in a backstage balcony he referred to as the "cocaine perch". When drinks offered by fans were turned away the sincerity of the thankfulness was punctuated by quips, "Thanks for the beer but we're flush backstage...Internet access too...plus, we're scared of your drugs." Cheesily asking, "Isn't this the mile HIGH city? Don't you guys have good drugs here?" Before finally self-consciously admitting, "Actually I don't endorse that, I have two kids." It was constant and hilarious. Like an old friend who can never be serious about anything.
The show ended with a party. Literally. Blitzen Trapper joined the band for the final two encores, first a cover of "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" and the Zeppelin-esque riffing of James Gang's "Funk #49". Pretty bonkers. Really fun.
Blitzen Trapper
//Chip can be contacted via email - chip.diffendaffer @ jetfiredesign dot com.
//Chip Diffendaffer @ Flickr
Posted by Merry Swankster at 06:00 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
November 19, 2008
Retrohump: Still Sighing
What's the statute of limitation on Retrohump? I know we had a Leonard Cohen post last March, when "the original Montreal hipster" was (finally) inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Who cares? I'm sure he's much prouder to be in the Canadian Music Hall of Fame, of which he has been a member since 1991.
Since we're on the subject, it's worth filing away for future Retrohump posts that the CMHoF will have one hell of an induction run sometime around 2025, more than making up for the lean years of today that have seen Bryan Adams and Triumph garner invites.
There are a number of unfunny music jokes where Bryan Adams is the unwilling punchline. My favorite comes from the pages of Spin, circa 1999. The non-specified issue contained a flow chart to help answer the question, "What rock and roll star are you?" Answering "no" to the first question, "Do you rock?", apparently meant that you were... alright, you get it.
Cohen is likewise in the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame (as are Paul Anka and Suzie McNeil, the latter best known south of the border for her work on INXS: Rockstar). Cohen is also a Companion of the Order of Canada, the highest honor bestowed upon only the finest civilian classes of Canuck and Nordique. Margaret Atwood is one. As is nearly every ex-politician in Canadian history (this is a mathematically inaccurate claim). Not Wayne Gretzky, though. Really? What's a guy got to do?
Back to Cohen. The last time Retrohump focused on arguably the coolest Polish Jew ever, the post's author turned a blind eye to this writer's personal favorite Cohen track, even though it's the centerpiece of Songs of Leonard Cohen. "So Long, Marianne" is the song that, in my imagined, alternate life, I use to romantically serenade a potential ex-girlfriend. Time to right that wrong (at least the song-posting aspect of it).
Leonard Cohen - "So Long, Marianne" (from something that looks like "3sat Pop Rock Special")
And from what looks like might be a similar television program, only this time Japanese in origin:
Leonard Cohen - "Bird on a Wire"
Monsieur Cohen's influence is vast indeed - Bonnie "Prince" Billy ought to pay back rent every time he takes the stage - but who are the Man's greatest agencies? Allmusic.com lists "Bob Dylan", which is about as unexpected as naming "water" your most important beverage. Yeats and Whitman are listed as early influences on his poetry; again, not too insightful there. Yet I may have stumbled upon a single track that bore the fruit on Cohen: a French-Canadian traditional, "V'la l'bon vent". The song tells the tale of a prince that shoots and kills a white duck that belonged to a peasant girl. The prince offers monetary compensation, but the pauper turns him down, citing, "What use to us is lots of money?/We send all our girls to the convent/And all the boys to the army." Even allowing for my now-depleted French skills, I'm not sure if you could name a better Leonard Cohan lyric than that! Not convinced? Wait until the slight percussion kicks in on the chorus.... there it is.
V'la l'bon vent
Posted by Randall Monty at 06:01 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Video: Fight Bite - "Swissex Lover"
Via Stereogum, a video for one of my smoldering single song crushes of the year. The vid itself has a bit of a Sinead O'Connor vibe. Given the tastes singer Leanne laid out for us a few weeks back, I'd not be surprised if it was completely intentional.
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 09:59 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
November 18, 2008
Interview: Ryan Schreiber
Or, "Review: The Pitchfork 500" (As promised.)
Seriously, this came up when I searched for "pitchfork."
It has been well publicized by voices louder and more authoritative than mine that Pitchforkmedia.com is a veritable trendsetter, all but launching the careers of artists such as Arcade Fire, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and Annie (Stateside, anyway), among others. The site’s influence is so vast that long-forgotten acts like Gang of Four, ESG and the Congos have posthumously become prescient. And who knew that Talk Talk and Jesus Lizard were so damn good? Pitchfork, apparently.
Not that they are the only ones on the internets with a stacked record collection; there are practically as many “indie” music websites as there are “indie” artists, each trying in their own way to match Pitchfork’s success and influence. Considering the pull that Pitchforkmedia holds, the decision to pursue a print publication is a rather odd one. Other than the fact that a book sucks in a whole lot more money for the work than simply posting the same information – oh, right.
More importantly, as far as I'm interested, Pitchfork is among the few websites to have made the jump from audience to performer. The gaze has shifted so that P4K isn’t simply chronicling their musical tastes, they are in effect making declarative statements with each new album review, and in doing so, are the subject of other’s criticisms. Their relationship to music is similar to a Keith Olbermann’s to news or a Tony Kornheiser’s to sports. Sure, the former is reporting on the latter, but the former has also reached a certain celebrity status in their own right. So now what they do is occasionally as newsworthy as the actions of the subjects they traditionally cover.
Unfairly or not, Pitchfork Media’s new The Pitchfork 500: Our Guide to the Greatest Songs from Punk to Present will inevitably be viewed through a hypercritical lens. Criticism of the book immediately fell into two camps: older, established media outlets hoping to ride the coattails of hipster cred back into relevance, like the Los Angeles Times, which praises it as, “An essential part of the iPod Generation’s lexicon, a must-read”; to envious, pajama-wearing, mother’s basement-living wannabe blogs and posters calling the books proprietor’s, “misguided and insecure”, as one recent reviewer on Amazon.com has done.
My thoughts on the book can be found at the end of this post, but before getting to that, I had the opportunity to exchange emails with Pitchforkmedia.com founder and Pitchfork 500 co-editor Ryan Schreiber. Find out what he had to say after the jump, replete with as much context as possible:
RM: I understand your move to appeal to a historical context with your book, to focus on chronology and the development of art as opposed to merely cataloging taste. Still, whether intentional or not, ranking the songs (or albums, baseball players, whatever) does provide a sort of built in narrative in its own right. There is a storytelling aspect present when things are ranked, and in my opinion, it's what makes your website's decade lists so worthwhile. So, would you care to elaborate as to why the songs on the Pitchfork 500 are not ranked? Or was naming "Don't Stop Believing" to the pinnacle spot viewed as a superfluous formality?
Ryan Schreiber: It's a funny thing because I usually feel like it's a little bit of a cop-out when other publications put together lists like this without ranking the songs. But it felt different here, since lists like that tend to work better online or in periodical form than in book form, and also because that's been our approach to list-making for so long that we felt like it'd be fun to try to a different approach for a change. The idea here was to shift the focus of discussion from which songs are considered better than other songs-- which is great to argue about online, but ultimately not a very compelling reason to drop $16. In the end, we thought it was more interesting to create a chronological narrative of the past three decades of music, to try to show how it got from point A to point B.
RM: As Pitchforkmedia.com has grown in influence, once-powerful print publications like Rolling Stone and Spin have (on multiple occasions) changed formats and approaches in attempts to keep up with the internets. With that in mind, why the Pitchfork book? (Or is the trend moving away from print media reason enough for making a book?) How did the project come to fruition?
RS: I've always loved these kinds of music guides. In fact, I think some of the ones I read growing up-- the Trouser Press ones especially, but also the Spin Alternative Record Guide, which is a lot better than you'd probably think-- were really my first inspiration for starting Pitchfork. So part of it is kind of a life-long dream type of thing, but also, most of what's out there now is out of date. Not only has the past decade of music not been accounted for, but music itself, and how we listen to it, has changed dramatically in that time, thanks in part to iPods, playlists, shuffle features, and music blogs. Most guides also focus on albums, which means some of the most influential tracks in hip-hop, dance, punk and indie-- which all began as single-based genres-- tend to get overlooked.
RM: Pitchforkmedia.com at times draws criticism for being, shall we say, esoteric. Was this sort of potential critique a consideration when compiling (as opposed to ranking) the songs for the book? Was there any concern that the book would be ill-received or that the claims it made would be considered too authoritative? (Do these criticisms even show up on the radar screen at all?)
RS: I think we're way past the point of worrying about whether anything we say is going to be well-received, hahaha. Part of what's great about music criticism, and part of what I love about it, is that it courts controversy and incites debate. I don't know if I've ever read a top 10 list-- let alone a top 500 list-- that I've wholly agreed with, but that's part of the purpose that criticism serves-- just being a good argument-starter for people who share the enthusiasm. The other part is potentially exposing new listeners to an amazing track or album or artist they wouldn't have otherwise known about. And both of those things are equally inspiring to us because they're both things that we relate to as music fans. We get pissed off at these things like everyone else, but at the end of the day, we read them because we're fascinated by the subject and because they so often turn us onto new music, new ideas, and honestly, the kind of dumb trivia that people like us obsess over.
RM: Further along that point, do you see the Pitchfork 500 fitting into any sort of historical context of art criticism? Or was it viewed more as a fleeting, for-fun effort?
RS: That's not really for us to decide. We certainly didn't approach it as carrying that kind of big-picture significance. Like everything we do, we did it because we thought it'd be a fun and rewarding project that hopefully would be useful or enjoyable for other people, too.
RM: At MerrySwankster.com, we put together our own relatively-modest year-end lists for albums and songs, and with only six people contributing, we still manage to have quite a bit of dissension among the ranks. I can appreciate that an endeavor such as yours probably spawned a number of worthwhile disagreements. Any noteworthy disputes? Did the higher-ups ever pull rank to get certain songs included? Anything come to blows? I'll bet someone walked out of the room after ELO made the cut.
RS: Yeah, we argued relentlessly and there were a ton of disputes, although almost everyone I know loves that ELO song. I really fought hard against Dexys Midnight Runners being included, but at the end of the day, there's a give and take you have to respect. I try not to be a rank-pulling kind of guy. In fact, there might be one or two picks that I initially supported which made the cut that I now think were really poor judgment on my behalf. One of those is Green Day's Longview-- whoops.
No argument about these guys.
RM: I can't imagine that anyone reasonably expects you (Pitchfolks?) to be the chroniclers of the entirety of music history, and I hate to nit-pick, but where's the jazz/country/classical/anything from Asia/anything in Spanish? Was there a point where the editors just decided, "OK, let's reel it in a bit here and set some parameters"?
RS: Hah, well, we definitely try to live up to that expectation whether it's expected of us or not. Collectively, we do have a pretty broad knowledge of all those genres, and I think there's probably one or two tracks represented in the book from each of those groups, or mentioned at the very least. Of course, there are always going to be a few gaps in these kinds of lists, and ultimately, sometimes you have to go with your vote rather than trying to ensure that all genres are equally recognized. The book is undoubtedly colored by Pitchfork's rock/pop/indie/hip-hop/electronic slant, but if it weren't I'd guess people would wonder why our name was on the cover.
RM: Will we be seeing the Pitchfork name expanding to release other books? Fictions, perhaps?
RS: We're considering it, but there aren't any firm plans at the moment. Obviously, how well this one does will probably shape our decision somewhat. I think for now we're trying to play it by ear. Maybe we'll do the 500 worst?
--
Mr. Schreiber addressed most of my concerns about his book, so rather than pontificate any further on those points, here are my impressions of the text:
If this book were the only remaining artifact of the Pitchforkmedia legacy, anthropologists and sociologists from future generations would surmise that not only was punk the greatest musical genre of the rock 'n roll era, but that is was likewise a cultural touchstone that single-handedly affected the development of every style of music for over 30 years. I agree with about 98% of that stance, but it must be said: I, for one, miss the ranking component. Whereas lists keep the reader glued to each turned or jumped-to page, time lines instead draw the audience’s attention initially only to the familiar. Furthermore, ranking the songs forces the writers to justify each track’s inclusion. The time line approach only requires a brief description or anecdote, a sort of writing that I find to be much less interesting and meaningful.
Even so, the Pitchfork 500 remains a fun read, and it certainly does provide some insight into a number of tracks and artists that otherwise wouldn’t get much publicity. (Seriously, when’s the last time you saw Einsturzende Neubauten’s name mentioned in a book?) So in that regard, the book is exactly what you’d expect from Pitchfork.
Posted by Randall Monty at 08:01 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
November 17, 2008
Denver/Boulder: Shows this week | 11/17 - 11/23
Monday, November 17
Castanets @ Hi-Dive
Pale Young Gentlemen @ Larimer Lounge
Talk To Angels @ Walnut Room
Tuesday, November 18
The Australian Pink Floyd Show @ Paramount Theatre
Danava @ Larimer Lounge
Grampall Jookabox @ Hi-Dive
Gription @ Fox Theatre
Hellogoodbye @ Marquis Theater
Wednesday, November 19
Darker My Love @ Larimer Lounge
Deadmau5 @ Fox Theatre
Old Crow Medicine Show @ Ogden Theater
Vic Chesnutt/Elf Power @ Hi-Dive
Thursday, November 20
Ben Kenney @ Walnut Room
Black Market Empire @ Bluebird Theater
Holly Golightly @ Larimer Lounge
Ian Harper @ Marquis Theater
Juno What?! @ Fox Theatre
Lordi @ Gothic Theatre
Old Crow Medicine Show @ Boulder Theater
The Sisters of Mercy @ Ogden Theater
Taun Taun @ Hi-Dive
Friday, November 21
Cat-A-Tac @ Larimer Lounge
Coldplay @ Pepsi Center
Dredg @ Bluebird Theater
The Foot @ Walnut Room
Hazel Miller @ Soiled Dove
Kan'nal @ Fox Theatre
Mason Jennings @ Boulder Theater
Moonspeed @ Hi-Dive
Mudvayne @ Fillmore Auditorium
Roe @ Marquis Theater
Synthetic Elements Video Release @ Gothic Theatre
Saturday, November 22
Dead Confederate @ Larimer Lounge
The Dropskots @ Marquis Theater
Faultline @ Bluebird Theater
Matt Morris @ Walnut Room
Murs @ Fox Theatre
Roger Clyne & The Peacemakers @ Gothic Theatre
Tech N9ne @ Fillmore Auditorium
Sunday, November 23
Asleep At The Wheel @ Fox Theatre
BigTime Entertainment Show @ Hi-Dive
Drowning Pool @ Marquis Theater
Jeremy Enigk @ Larimer Lounge
Schedule appears courtesy of Mystik Spiral.
Posted by Merry Swankster at 09:23 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
November 15, 2008
Happy Saturday from Felt
Posted by Keith O'Brien at 07:10 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
November 14, 2008
David Byrne @ Tower Theater: Upper Darby, PA 11.8.2008
Eighty years ago the Tower Theatre on 69th St. housed acrobats, magicians, contortionists, and dancers that all performed under the umbrella of vaudeville. Last Saturday in a meeting backstage someone got to say, “Ghosts of vaudeville meet David Byrne.”
I feel like I have to issue an erratum to anyone that I told I was going to see Byrne in concert. This is because at some point during the evening I started to think that there was something else at play that didn’t quite fit into the normal modes of “concert.” Then, just as Byrne dodged a graceful kick from a dancer while another one slid through his legs as he simultaneously hit his guitar and belted out that “this ain’t no disco...” it hit me... this ain’t no concert, this is performance art.
If Byrne’s tour that was so matter-of-factly named “Songs of David Byrne and Brian Eno” should be seen as a piece of performance art, then Byrne’s artistic statement would have to be that he is trying to "draw a line linking this new material with what we did 30 years ago, a little bit anyway.” At first this statement seems like the run of the mill kind of line that musicians will say to appease questions from the press about purpose and intention. But then I start thinking about what it would take to actually sketch out this “line” that Byrne is asking us to draw. We first put pencil to paper with the bridge between pop and punk, funk and African cross rhythms from the three Talking Heads albums produced by Eno (More Songs About Building and Flood, Fear of Music, and Remain in Light). From there we draw a line to connect the 1981 collaboration that technically introduced elements of electronic, ambient, and world music in My Life in the Bush of Ghosts. Skip almost thirty years and the line reaches its destination at the recently released Everything That Happens Will Happen Today described by Byrne and Eno as “Electronic Gospel.”
If we really are to "draw the line" to attempt to trace the sounds uncovered in Byrne and Eno’s journey from Talking Heads to Everything That Happens, we end up with something that looks like this Cy Twombly piece:
It has taken me nearly a week to digest Saturday’s performance and the new material from Everything That Happens. I can’t help but feel that there is some significance and symbolism in the fact that Byrne and Eno, champions of world music and distant sounds, have arrived on a sound that is distinctly American. Perhaps I’m still in a post election haze and not too far removed from slapping hands, honking horns, and watching Jesse Jackson cry, but I still can’t help but think that Byrne and Eno’s exploration into “Electronic Gospel” is also a reevaluation of the country itself in examining the sound that holds to the deepest roots of the American struggle and then bringing this sound into new territory.
Houses in Motion
(@ the Tower in Philly 11.8.08)
Byrne explains that he came to the lyrics of the song “One Fine Day” while reading David Egger’s What is the What. He describes the plot of the book as being about “a young man named Valentino and his hallucinatory and horrific journey from his destroyed village in Darfur to Atlanta, Georgia and beyond.” Now again, I may just be still under the Oprah spell and completely taken with the events of the past two weeks (not to mention a World Series win) but I can’t help but read the Eggers connection as a direct parallel to the road that the sounds of Eno and Byrne have taken. Thirty years ago they started with the rhythms and samples from distant continents and now somehow have found themselves entrenched in Gospel, not too far from Georgia and beyond.
I was all set to stop my theorizing of trying to look at the recent Byrne and Eno collaboration as a reinvention of Americana until I opened up Byrne’s tour journal which covered his stop in Philadelphia. Byrne blogs that while in Philly he, like Rocky, ran over to the Art Museum but, unlike Rocky, actually went in the building. At the Museum Byrne went to two exhibitions. The first was an exhibit of the Gee’s Bend Quilts which, as NPR puts it, are quilts “created by a group of women who live in the isolated, African-American hamlet of Gee's Bend, Ala.”
A Gee's Bend Quilt: Bars and String-Piece Columns
The second exhibition, that I had also viewed the night before, was on James Castle, a self taught artist from rural Idaho who became deaf at a very young age and communicated through drawings made from soot and spit.
James Castle: Farmscape, view from inside shed through shed doors,
The connection between these two exhibitions is that amazingly these artists with no formal training and who were working in complete isolation from the rest of the art world had hit on the same complex themes tackled by their famous contemporaries. This all led Byrne to question whether there was some sort of universal experience or as he puts it whether “well, nutty as it might sound, some part of the visual and material response to our world is innate — and like myths, a similar response might occur and recur across time and space — unconnected yet uncannily similar.”
Once in a Lifetime
(@ the Wang Center, Boston 10.31.08)
Is the search for the innate American sound what Byrne and Eno have been jabbing at in this new album? Are the explorations into Electronic Gospel an attempt to test the innate sound of the American experience? If so, then we can not call Byrne’s output on this tour as anything less then a work of performance art. On this tour he has taken a sound so deep in American roots and has made it into something new. Something familiar to the heartland but also something that is moving well beyond the constraints of time. It is something that draws on an innate sound, it is something American that looks optimistically forward and most importantly, it is something that also sounds amazing in stereo.
//Buy Everything That Happens Will Happen Today
Previously from the Byrne files:
Byrne and the Science of Nonsense
Setlist and more clips after the jump....
Life During Wartime
(@Tower Theater, Philly 11.8.08)
The Great Curve
(@ the Wang Center, Boston 10.31.08)
David Byrne
November 8, 2008
Tower Theater
Upper Darby, PA
01. Intro
02. Strange Overtones
03. I Zimbra
04. One Fine Day
05. Help Me Somebody
06. Houses In Motion
07. My Big Nurse
08. My Big Hands...Falling through the cracks
09. Heaven
10. Never Thought
11. The River
12. Crossed-Eyed and Painless
13. Life Is Long
14. Once In A Lifetime
15. Life During Wartime
16. I Feel My Stuff
Disc 2
Encores
01. Crowd
02. Take Me To The River
03. The Great Curve
04. Air
05. Burning Down The House
06. Everything That Happens
Posted by Yonah Korngold at 05:37 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Kevin Barnes to Skeletal Lamping critics: "it's an exceptional record"
John Wenzel of the Denver Post scored some choice responses from Kevin Barnes of Of Montreal regarding the mixed bag that has been critical reception to Skeletal Lamping:
Q: The new album has been getting some really polarized reviews. Do the negative ones from websites like Pitchfork ever get under your skin?A: I wasn't bummed out necessarily that they gave it a bad review. I was bummed that they gave it such a thoughtless review. My attitude about this record is that you don't have to like it or enjoy listening to it, but you have to acknowledge that it's an exceptional record. If you can't, then you're an idiot. You're just small-minded and you should feel ashamed.
Q: That's a pretty strong statement.
A: Well, I don't think it's necessarily a great record, but it's at least an interesting record. People say it's too fragmented, too schizophrenic. 'He knows how to write pop songs. Why doesn't he just do it?' I wanted to make it that way.
[Denver Post]
The rest of the (short) interview is well worth the read.
Of Montreal plays Denver's Ogden Theater on Sunday night. The infamous horse from NYC is not supposed to make it, though you'd think if any place would be conducive to farm animal talent availability it would be Colorado. Only one way to find out.
Previously:
Of Montreal - Live @ Roseland Ballroom, NYC 10.10.08
Of Montreal - Live @ Ogden Theater, Denver 11.17.07
Posted by Merry Swankster at 01:38 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
November 13, 2008
Numerology: Now We Are Six
As I mentioned previously, Prof. Klein is a bit of a stickler about getting these Numerology pieces right beyond a shadow of a doubt. Instead of chalking early attempts up to the blogging learning curve like the rest of us, he stays awake at night, shaking with regret that low hanging fruit like the number 6 was not given it's proper due. So today, in remembrance of Mitch Mitchell, the man behind the kit for Dave's greatest 6 song of all time, we continue to rewrite history. (JK)
--
Robbing people with a six-gun/I fought the law and the law won – The Bobby Fuller Four: “I Fought the Law”
Like insects (which all have six legs) the number six has infiltrated our world at every level. What with six-figure incomes, six degrees of separation, and six of one, half dozen of another, six-related phenomena could provide songwriters with a lifetime of material. Any way you slice it—with Dire Straits’ “Six Blade Knife” or the “Six Inch Golden Blade” of Nick Cave—six has powerful associations. First there are the weapons (e.g., Queens of the Stone Age’s “Six Shooter,” Tom Waits’s “16 Shells From a Thirty-Ought-Six”); then there’s death (e.g., Big Black’s “Deep Six,” No Doubt’s “Six Feet Under”); and lest we forget, the Antichrist (“Six Sixty Six” by Frank Black, “Your Sweet Six Six Six” by HIM, Dave Grohl’s “1, 2, 3, 4, 5 6-6-6!” count-off for Tenacious D’s “Rock Your Socks Off”). The six-o’clock news, which holds very little sway in these days of the 24-hour news cycle, but which once supplied Americans with the 22 minutes of condensed information they desired, spawned a profusion of songs called “Six O’Clock News” and “Six O’Clock Blues.”
All movement is accomplished in six stages/and the seventh brings return
Pink Floyd: “Chapter 24” (based on the I Ching)
The sheer abundance of six-titled songs forces us to excise a large swath just to get to the heart of the order. Quality offerings from a cornucopia of modern music styles need be ditched: rap: (Mos Def - “Six Days”) heavy metal (Alice Cooper - “Six Hours”), proto-grunge (Mudhoney - “Six Two One,”), post-punk (Pigbag – “Six of One,” Screeching Weasel – “Six A.M.,” “Six Percent,” Dead Milkmen – “Six Days”), synth pop (Human League – “Rock Me Again and Again and Again and Again and Again and Again” (Six Times), country (Hank Williams - “Six More Miles,” Charlie Pride - “Six Days on the Road”), alt-country (Lucinda Williams – “Six Blocks Away”), Irish-folk-punk (The Pogues – “Six to Go”), electronica (Aphex Twin – “Six,” Faithless – “Six,” DJ Shadow - “Six Days,” Sneaker Pimps – “Six Underground,” Future Sound of London – “A Study of Six Guitars”), prog rock (Peter Hammill – “Act Six”), stoner rock (Karma to Burn – “Six-Gun Sucker Punch,” “Six”), and assorted rock from the ‘60s (The Seeds – “Six Dreams,” Scott Walker – “Six”), ‘70s (The Sweet - “The Six Teens”) ‘80s (The Cure – “Six Different Ways”), ‘90s (Unrest - "Six Layer Cake," The Verve - “Six O’Clock,” Mansun – “Six”), and ‘00s (The Clientele – “Six of Spades,” Dashboard Confessional – “Age Six Racer,” Fujiya & Miyagi - "Rook to Queen's Pawn Six"). Whew.
DJ Shadow - "Six Days"
Fujiya & Miyagi - "Rook to Queen's Pawn Six"
Woke up one morning saw a rooster strutting by my house/six pack rings ‘round his neck/cock of the block… - Guided By Voices: “Don’t Stop Now”
The sixth sense refers to E.S.P. but it’s really a misnomer; if you consider the vestibular (balance) and kinesthetic (bodily position) senses, we humans have seven, not five. But try telling that to M. Night Shyamalan. In volleyball, a six pack is spiked ball that slams an opponent in the face. Joe Six Pack, formerly known as John Q. Public, is an average Joe who doesn’t have six pack abs. Neither do those who feast on “Six Layer Cake” by Unrest, a melodic, numerically minded strum-fest that features lines like “Sixteen fingers 8 feet high/10 7854321/654422 layer cake.” A six pack is just a delivery system for beer, but like the 40, it has transcended that status and become iconic. (Sort of like DJs, who were once seen as mere deliverers of recorded music and are now an attraction unto themselves.) Six packs have been saluted by country music star Hank Thompson in “Six Pack to Go” and Black Flag, whose scarifying “Six Pack” opens with the threat: “I’ve got a six pack/and nothing to do.” For the sake of thematic consistency, it seems apt to distill these offerings down to a six pack of pure excellence before bestowing top honors.
Unrest - "Six Layer Cake"
Black Flag - "Six Pack"
First up: Bob Dylan’s “From a Buick 6,” a screaming blues rave-up from Highway 61 Revisited that’s cut from the same cloth as “Maggie’s Farm.” This tribute to a “soulful mama” extols a woman’s charms as only Dylan can: “Well, she don’t make me nervous, she don’t talk too much /She walks like Bo Diddley and she don’t need no crutch.” Yo La Tengo tweaked Dylan’s title on “From a Motel 6,” one of the most heavy and heavenly numbers in the YLT songbook. It’s just huge sounding, with the intertwined vocals of Ira and Georgia set against a thrumming wall of guitar noise that flies so close to the My Bloody Valentine sun you can almost hear the sound of wings melting. It may be churlish, but I have to mark it down a few points for having little or nothing discernable to do with a Motel 6. True, with a sound this glorious it hardly matters, yet with a numeral as tightly contested as 6, even a hint of numerical arbitrariness has to be considered a detriment.
Bob Dylan - "From a Buick 6"
Yo La Tengo - "From a Motel 6"
The Pretty Things - "Midnight to Six Man"
The Pretty Things - "Midnight to Six Man"
“Midnight to Six Man” (1965) is a rollicking celebration of late-night hedonistic pleasure by the Pretty Things, contemporaries of the early Stones (guitarist Dick Taylor played with Mick and Keith when they were called the Rollin’ Stones), only much rougher. Like many a British Invasion band, the Pretties started out as an R&B outfit before veering into a psychedelic phase. Despite their 1970 album Parachute winning Best Album of 1970 honors in Rolling Stone magazine, the band never had a single American hit. Most stateside listeners first heard their songs when Bowie covered “Don’t Bring Me Down” and “Rosalyn” on his Pinups collection of covers. The Pretty Things were always a band’s band. Steven Tyler of Aerosmith has cited them as a key early influence; their ‘70s albums were issued on Swan Song, Led Zeppelin’s private label (their manager during that era was the notorious Peter Grant); and one of the peak Clash songs, “White Man in Hammersmith Palais,” begins with the words “Midnight to six man.”
The Lovin' Spoonful - "Six O'Clock"
The Lovin’ Spoonful are justly known for a run of great singles in the mid-60s, including “Do You Believe in Magic,” “Summer in the City,” and “Daydream.” The less familiar “Six O’Clock” is a gem from that golden era of pop craft, when cultural changes, abetted by advances in recording techniques, enabled writers to create miniature worlds in three minutes or less. “Six O’Clock” casts a spell from its evocative opening line, “There’s something special ‘bout six o’clock/in the morning when it’s still too early to knock.” The Spoonful were among the finest American bands to form in the wake of the Beatles, and the staccato keyboard line that begins the song strongly echoes the opening of “Getting Better,” enough to have made me wonder whether Paul McCartney was inspired by it. Both came out in ’67, but the Beatles song was recorded in March, three months before “Six O’Clock” hit the charts, so the theory doesn’t hold water. (And I thought I was really on to something there.) Oddly enough, the opening keyboard figure of “After Six” by Scritti Politti has a caustic texture not unlike the keyboard sound in “Six O’Clock,” but the similarities end once the galloping shuffle beat kicks in. I seriously doubt anyone will ever write a catchier ditty about rejecting Christianity. Special props to Scritti mastermind Green Gartside for standing six feet six inches tall. (I’m not making this up.)
Measuring five inches shorter than Mr. Gartside is “6’ 1”,” the lead track from Liz Phair’s crucial debut, Exile in Guyville, which transformed the potty-mouthed Oberlin grad into an object of adoration, fascination, and lust for critics and fans alike. Fifteen years later (Christ!) it’s hard to deny that Guyville is unquestionably her defining moment. Subsequent recordings were better produced and performed, but the first record has them all beat. Phair’s sly, sexually frank lyrics initially stopped listeners in their tracks, but the trick got less interesting with time. Singing “I want to be your blowjob queen” was rather audacious in 1993; ten years later, naming a song “H.W.C.” (meaning ‘hot white cum’) was just bad taste. It’s no wonder she elected to re-release her masterwork this year. Any great record needs a great beginning, and “6’1”,” a gimlet-eyed evisceration of a man who beds girls who are “shyly brave” by selling himself “as a man to save,” sets up Guyville beautifully. I could never actually hear how the record correlated musically with Exile on Main Street, but one thing’s for sure; the rock ‘n’ roll boys club was never the same afterward.
Fine offerings all, but “If 6 Was 9” by Jimi Hendrix is the ultimate 6 song. It’s a sonic tour de force, a marvel of controlled chaos and innovation by one of the giant figures in rock. In a 2008 NPR broadcast, Adrian Utley of Portishead talked about having his mind blown when he first heard the song in 1970 at the age of 13. “The sound was so vicious and brilliant,” said Utley, at the time a budding hippie who was especially taken with the line, “If all the hippies cut off all their hair/I don’t care.” At the height of flower power, these words were truly iconoclastic. From a numerological standpoint, “If six turns out to be nine, I don’t mind” is a powerful, even deep, statement based on a strictly mathematical conceit. (Compared to Z.Z. Top’s “I got the six/you got the nine” it’s Shakespeare.) Prominently featured in Easy Rider, the song summed up the countercultural spirit of rebellion far more succinctly than the film itself. It also introduced the concept of the freak flag (“I’m gonna wave my freak high”), for which we can all be truly grateful. Wave on, wave on…
Numerology is our pal Dave's ill advised quest to find the definitive song for every number from one to a hundred. The higher the digit, the lonelier the climb.
Previously: No. 1, 2-4, , 4 (redux), 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, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46 , 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, Footnotes, 57, 58
Posted by David Klein at 02:20 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Video: Stephen Malkmus and Blitzen Trapper cover the James Gang
Stephen Malkmus & Blitzen Trapper - "Funk #49" - The Pageant, St. Louis 11.1.08
"Funk #49" enjoyed a somewhat recent spotlight in Prof. David Klein's obsessive Numerology feature. Though the above video is from St. Louis, MO @ The Pageant they did the same thing in Denver last week. The Gothic Theatre encore also included a raucous rendition of "I Heard It Through the Grapevine." It sounded better in person, but here's a crappy video nonetheless (via):
Stephen Malkmus & Blitzen Trapper - "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" [partial] - Gothic Theatre, Denver 11.6.08
Posted by Merry Swankster at 12:48 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
November 12, 2008
Billy Corgan manages to beat our worst expectations
You may have already seen this. If not, prepare to be amazed by Billy Corgan basically crying from afar after someone took his ball. At New York's United Palace theater Corgan acts out intense passive aggressive warfare on a vocal, irate fan unbelievably invited up onto the stage for a proper soapbox. The video's audio let's us assume most of the crowd is not endorsing the unnamed 'show fucking sucked!'-guy's protest. Though they do seem entertained if not captivated. Judge for yourself.
As for the heckler, I'm pretty sure he's from Philly.
Part 1 11.7.08
Part 2 11.7.08
Posted by Merry Swankster at 10:51 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Retrohump: OMD! OMG!!
In pondering the riddle of Dazzle Ships initial flop and subsequent obscurity yesterday, I failed to factor in what these dudes actually looked like. It's all becoming clearer...
OMD - "Genetic Engineering"
By early MTV standards this video for single "Genetic Engineering" isn't so bad, I guess. It's a bit too literal (hey, he just said "little children," and here they are!), a bit too serious (we are making deals with nefarious agents of a shadow authority!), but it still falls well short of rife for parody bullshit like Tears for Fears. The main drawback is that is makes zero sense. Plot outline: McCluskey and Humphries are textbook writers with a serious transaction to make regarding, uh, genetics. Upstairs from their office, there is a couple of married 10 year olds, possibly the ones from the Love is... comicstrip, but clothed. As the boys slip out, these pint sized goons see their opportunity to wreck the place. OMD gets their filthy grant money from a couple of M16 types, but they are easily intimidated, and when those kids so much as rip a single textbook, they immediately cave in to their thuggery and cough up the dough. Also, those kids are secretly double agents, working for, let's say, the KGB.
OMD - "Genetic Engineering"
(Live on The Tube, 1983)
As much as I don't think this is the right word to use, this is likely the band at their "coolest." The prominent reel-to-reel player, the stand up gong, the extraneous band member rocking the typewriter, it's all wonderfully weird. And you have to give credit to ol' Andy McCluskey for passionately singing out from his diaphragm in the midst of a brainy music concrete-inspired single. Aloof reserve would have been the obvious choice, and it would have made for a much less memorable track. But in the end, he looks like an extra homely mash up of Luke Wilson and Rick Santorum, and that sure doesn't help.
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark - "Genetic Engineering"
OMD - "Telegraph"
OMD - "Telegraph"
(Live in Sheffield, 1985)
I truly love "Telegraph," the album's second, more insistent single. You know, I even think that in its low-rent hyper 80s way the official video is kind of cool. The flag squad waving Saville's interior record sleeve, the light-up megaphones, I'm ready to buy in. But in viewing both it and the live clip below it for the first time, all I can say is: For the love of God McCluskey, YOU STOP THAT DANCING RIGHT NOW!!! If you were the brainy 80s hipster Dazzle Ships was intended for, how badly would you want to write the guy off on dance moves alone? After reading one misguided review in a hip mag, you wouldn't cross the street to kick him in the back. David Byrne went for a hyper-stiff avant-nerd approximation in his video dancing. This friends, is honest, unfiltered, natural dorkery. Recurring sitcom joke, meet your maker.
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark - "Telegraph"
Posted by Jeff Klingman at 03:40 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack