After many years of musical obsession completely removed from a record player, my pile of vinyl now grows incrementally, aided by the quality LP sellers of New York City. Baubles from the treasure chest will be posted here whenever it seems appropriate...

It's a bit obvious to remark that without a record player one can't investigate vinyl-only record labels. The racks of Other Music's east wall had intrigued me for quite a while, though, and no single release more than the strikingly packaged compilation pictured above, a 2006 effort from tireless excavators of my beloved Euro synth sounds from the early 80s, Minimal Wave. Complicating the format fetishism is the fact that all of the LPs songs come from mainly forgotten cassette releases. Funny now to think of blocky little cassettes as a thrilling glimpse into the future when viewed from 1983. While the entire record (and the label's entire back catalog, really) is worth some in-depth investigation, for my abridged purposes I have to go with the unstoppable pop song.

Linear Movement - "the Game"

"The Game" by Belgian band Linear Movement is much much catchier than you'd think given its intense obscurity and the barriers thrown up in front of its discovery. It's billed in the Lost Tapes liner notes as being taken from an "unreleased album." The band would only produce a single proper release in its meager two-year existence, and its difficult to imagine this being topped. Band mastermind Peter Bonne had recently left the equally obscure, and majorly obtuse, synths-trumental band Autumn to cozy up with a "rhythm box" and some appealing female vocals courtesy of a lady named Lieve van Steerteghem. The sound is akin to the Human League keeping the experimental flavor of their underrated "Dignity of Human Labour" instrumentals intact as they morphed into new-wave floor fillers (and had also negotiated their contracts to mandate that all vocals should be recorded in a cave of some sort). There are plenty of legitimate reasons beyond, you know, the lack of an actual release, that this song wasn't a smash on the pop charts. There are far fewer obstacles to it becoming a hit at your next house party,

Previously: the Raincoats, live @ the BBC

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

the Pains of Being Pure at Heart - "Kurt Cobain's Cardigan"

"I'll take 'Things that would make me indescribably sad if I saw them in a Hard Rock Cafe in Tucson' for a thousand Alex." The fey New York City sounds of the Pains of Being Pure at Heart's latest single don't seem to have much of a concrete connection to the famous fuzzy in Courtney Love's footlocker. If we want to try extra hard to make a connection though, the occasionally strident beat and subtly noise-speckled guitar does bear a bit of resemblance to Cobain's Scottish favorites, the Vaselines. The vocals aren't as giddy or as odd as that, but Kip and Peggy (indie pop vocalists should always be referred to in the familiar don't you know?) have an adorably defeated quality to them. It's as if they've prematurely cracked the secrets of Kurt's Leonard Cohen afterworld, and are already sighing eternally. Perpetually, at the very least.

the Capstan Shafts - "(I Dream About You Because) You Have Such Low Standards"

If posts were to be drafted every time lo-fi workhorse Dean Wells hatched some new material, we'd have a new weekly feature. The extremely prolific Vermont home-recorder's 8th release since 2007 (you read that right) is a 12-track EP cryptically called Miles Per Famine. The EP designation is excusable given the writer's extreme brevity. There's only a minute and eight seconds of diminished expectations here. Even Wells' daydreams are contingent on a girl with poor self esteem it seems. But as always, the charm in his broken hearted sing-alongs come from his melodic interpretation of sharp words that carry more lascivious intent they they initially appear to. "If I take your hand, and then some..." he yells, as the camera pans to the roaring fire.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 12:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I've only owned a record player recently, despite a lifetime of musical obsession. It turns out New York City is a really good place to find vinyl. I'm as shocked as you.

I'll be posting unearthed treasures here occasionally...when the mood strikes...

From the 1994 John Peel Session that was later commercially released as Extended Play, comes this version of the lead track from the British band's 1981 LP Odyshape. They were rubbing slumped shoulders with the alt rock elite then, after Kurt Cobain had leveraged for the re-release of their records and sacrificed Incesticide's liner notes to be evangelical on their behalf. Accordingly, the kit for the BBC set is manned by Sonic Youth's Steve Shelley. This "Shouting Out Loud" is just as urgent, mysterious, and pretty as the one committed to tape 13 years earlier. In the band's handful of true classics, there is a balance of chaos, craft, and charm that is very hard to achieve. Whenever a new song is winningly ramshackle, I find myself tempted to cite the Raincoats as a forebear of its appeal. The tightrope their best songs walked might be to thin for anyone to truly follow though.

the Raincoats - "Shouting Out Loud" (John Peel Show 1994)

Interesting note from Wikipedia, regarding the band's original drummer and former Slits member "Palmolive" (aka Paloma Romero):

"After leaving the Raincoats Romero looked at changing her life around and spent the next six months exploring India. During this time she met and married her husband Dave McLardy. In 1979 Romero gave birth to her first child, Sandy, after moving back to Spain. Soon the family would move back to England. After moving back to England and feeling unhappy with life in general, she became a born-again Christian.

She currently lives with her husband and three children in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. As of 1995, she and her husband led a cover band called Hi-Fi, rewriting key lyrics to reflect their Christian beliefs. Included in their repertoire is The Slits' song "FM," with the chorus' lyrics changed to "Jesus is the answer / Why don't you let him in?"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Ladytron - "Ghosts"

With only limited exposure to the new Ladytron album Velocefiro, it seems that the Liverpudlians are still painting from their usual neon black palette. But "Ghosts" feels a bit different, straining in schizophrenic directions. It starts with an unexpected tough guy swagger but is then upended by maybe the sweetest, most playful vocal Helen Marnie has ever committed to wax. Usually she's H-242 the robot girl, but even singing of guilty ghosts and solo drinking sessions her nimble melody line is almost, dare I say, flirtatious? The knobs twiddle all over any ideas of a bouncy spring pop hit soon enough, but I'm still surprised to find the word "breezy" where "windscarred" used to be.

Of Montreal - "Feminine Effects"

Not much has changed in the months between the Fall '07 radio session where this candlelit ballad debuted and this studio-recorded final cut. The differences can be measured in slightly abbreviated sighs and finally perfected minor chords. But why would Kevin Barnes mess with such a crystalline torch song? It sounds like the perfect hypothetical first act curtain closer in an improbably moving sixties musical. What its inclusion on a new Green Owl Records' compilation means for its penciled-in place on this year's Skeletal Lamping I cannot say.

(via Fluxblog)

Titus Andronicus - "No Future"

The release date for Titus Andronicus' debut LP The Airing of Grievances is still sadly on the run. But I have managed to cut down another of its children to stuff and display on the blog mantle. As opposed to the instantly rambunctious songs readers of this site have come to know, half of the spic "No Future" is dusty build-up (you have to wait for the building dust-up). You can hear the primal scream of (not-so) old favorite "Upon Viewing Bruegel's Landscape..." warming up in its disappointed embers.

Vivian Girls - "Tell the World"

A May release that is, as of now, far too un-noted is the self-titled debut from Brooklyn trio Vivian Girls. The Henry Darger inspired ladies have a wobbly and infectious energy that recalls wobbly and infectious groups of yore like the Raincoats or Tallulah Gosh. If my lo-fi blind spot endears me to the warm fuzz around the track's edges, the converging voices form harmonies big enough for all. They sing of refusing to keep a good feeling to one's self, which should be enough to spurn you into slipping this into a MuxTape at least.

Monotract - "Cafu y Kaka"

Alright, "old" is only a relative term is this case, but the 2007 release that birthed this monstrosity didn't exactly scorch the blog rolls of the fickle indie nation. Monotract are a blazing herky-jerky noise band; the kind the Lower East Side used to make in the days when it looked like the West Bank. "Cafu y Kaka" blasts of noise aren't entirely perpetual, but there's never more than a second or two for caught breath. I imagine electroshock therapy involves a bit of residual buzzing between doses as well.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 07:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Light posting from me for the past week or so, as a long drawn out computer struggle appears to be finally nearing an end. The normal rate of provided delights from my keyboard will resume shortly, but as a harbinger to this flurry of greatness I point you in the direction of Crystal Stilts covering a lesser loved track from the Velvet Underground songbook, currently streaming at their MySpace page. It's the version they opened their terrific Neon Lights gig with. The one whose title I totally flaked on in my blur of memory for the night but will be accurately ingrained in my remembrance now, forever more.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Ladytron, one of the very few artists to be lumped in with the maligned electroclash scene and emerge successfully from it, returned this week by dropping off the first track from their upcoming Velocifero to little rapturous notice. Their previous album The Witching Hour was also an undervalued gem of modern synth music. Now that a follow-up is starting to become tangible, anticipation is creeping skywards.

Ladytron - "Black Cat"

"Black Cat" is not the undeniable neon injection that "Destroy Everything You Touch" was, not at all. It's more of a continually black and occasionally amazing Eastern European brush off. When Stereolab fluttered off into French the lilt of the language gave their singing a romantic fluidity beyond their lyrics' revolutionary bent. The effect of the sung Bulgarian here may be exactly the opposite, lending the whiff of (sexy) oppression to whatever it is that's being sung. The retro futurist backdrop has some great Blade Runner synths and old fashioned twinkling bells in its favor, as well as thundering drum breaks that sound recorded in an abandoned hangar. So right up my street, as usual.

Previously:

- Ladytron, Live @ the Irving Plaza
- Best Albums of 2005
- Numerology: ...going on Seventeen

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 08:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Bon Iver’s story is one loaded with ingredients for myth making manipulation. It starts with a cabin in the woods of rural Wisconsin and ends with an album influenced by ghosts from within that were granted release with the help of severe isolation prodding a creative catharsis. In 2007, Bon Iver (real name Justin Vernon) spent four months in a cabin recording For Emma, Forever Ago. All it takes is one spin of this record to recognize the harsh, unforgiving climate needed to create such heartbreaking music.

Bon Iver - "Skinny Love"

When the passion in Bon Iver’s voice increases intensity, it breaks through the gentle folksy veneer and reminds of an emotionally overwhelmed version of [TV On the Radio’s] Tunde Adebimpe’s jarring inflection. Otherwise buttery smooth, the dynamic transitions from soft to loud change with such dramatic effect you’d swear a chorus of doppelgangers is lurking in the overdubbed shadows.

The tragic truth behind the words of this gorgeous song lays bare a path blemished by rotten loves poisoning the hopeful airs of springing futures with a memory cloud of past failures. In other words, any promise of new love will ultimately get ensnared by the lingering issues of loves preceding. A point most telling in the painted imagery of romantic bondage from the following lyrics:

“I'll be holding all the tickets/ And you'll be owning all the fines”
-- -- --

Bon Iver is currently on tour with the artist behind my 19th favorite album of 2007 -- Phosphorescent. Dates after the jump

//Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago - buy
//Bon Iver - Myspace
//Bon Iver @ Jagjaguwar

Continue reading "MS Pick - Bon Iver" »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 10:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

If any of our current readers were on board way back in our gawky fledgling days of 2006, they'll know that we were then in the grips of a collective death crush on UK new wave band the Long Blondes. With every new track or morsel of news we came running, bits of hyperbole falling from the toppling stacks we carried. So intense was the infatuation that it almost seems silly now. It's like remembering that summer as a kid when all you could think of was race cars or something. Their debut album Someone To Drive You Home is still plenty sharp, and those early singles thrill when they come up on shuffle, but the all-consuming element of our former coverage has inevitably gone. For that reason, hitting play on the band's new album "Couples" made me feel rather apprehensive. How could such a brief, blazing flame be rekindled? Well for the most part it can't. The record does have its moments though and the best is its first. If nothing else, "Well, that's the one with "Century" on it," can be an enduring legacy of recommendation.

the Long Blondes - "Century"

The song and album start with a ominous sustained synth note that sounds not unlike a spaceship descending through cloud cover. Soon Kate Jackson is singing, "catch me when I'm falling/ century." From the beginning it's clear that this will not be a linear narrative like the band's usual soured romances. When the beat kicks in, it's somehow not as kinetic as you're expecting. The background music plays like a snippet of a fast club track, but looped and replayed on a slower speed than originally intended. "Everything I touch, lightning trails of human lust," she says. Jackson usually plays the victim of circumstance, but she's never sounded so adrift. This impression is intensified because she's singing in an airy disco-diva register that's an inch or two beyond her natural range. Throughout "Couples" she uses this device, often to distraction. In this context, with the music ineffably warped and her words removed from the limits of character study, the disorientation from a regular comfort zone fits the song's mood. Something is definitely amiss here.

If there's thematic worth to be gleaned from the word soup, it's the very feeling of disconnect that we'd already begun to internalize through passive listening. "Traffic stops abandoned/ out of sync, out of fashion." It seems that the fingers of our vintage clad fashion plates have slipped off the pulse, to their great dismay. In the song's world that qualifies as some kind of dangerous shift that would provoke panicked pedestrians to flee their vehicles. It's soon apparent that it's the world gone mad, and not our mod heroes. "Sharp lines in gloss/ a new world war/ untimeless beauty/ all the rage, all the rage." We're presented with a realm of fleeting pleasures, a style battlefield where ephemeral whims trump lasting quality. The Blondes seem to be holding up a certain nostalgic ideal that they don't see reflected in the world outside. "Nothing is sacred/ can can dance to the golden age," is Kate's doomed verbal cue before the song suddenly whiplashes the listener into the hedonistic present they've impressionistically described. It's at the 3 minute mark that renowned dance producer Erol Alkan makes his presence felt.

At it's most overtly nostalgic point, the song erupts into spastic day-glo dance music. Alkan has smuggled a techno beat or two into b-sides he's produced for the band previously (see: "Five Ways to End It"), but never has a Long Blondes' song featured an electronic segment so vital and dominant. From the previous lyrical puzzles, it would seem that this sort of amped up Hot Chip breakdown is the lamented perversion of the band's freeze dried Britpop world view. The cerebral content of the band's lyrics don't usually allow their protagonists to get this lost in a specific moment. This is a watershed moment in their catalog, the onset of a brave new world. In the face of such futurism, Kate can barely keep up. She shouts increasingly choppy phrases into the void. "White! Black! Grey Light! Spacecraft!" No time for withering wit in the pulsing swirl. The mournful synth melody from the song's first part returns, though the now-pounding beats underneath threaten to trample it entirely. It's like we're hearing sentimentality failing to stand up to the relentlessness of the present. The warped loop comes back for a second as well, but it's clearer now, snapped clear of its previous speed trap. It too is quickly overwhelmed by aggressively accelerating synth bubbles.

Calm comes with Kate's regally drawn out recitation of the song's title. The song began by viewing the "century" before it as alien and bewildering, but now there's an understanding of sorts it seems. Going forward is still a menacing prospect (as mashed synth stabs forcefully assert) but Kate's voice and it's multi-tracked echoes seem more in control. Then all of the accumulated elements are simultaneously vacuumed from the mix. The last thing we hear is the low sound of an idling motor. Perhaps a sly suggestion that we're not quite ready for the progress we've just glimpsed? As the record immediately regresses back to the Long Blondes' tastefully retro style of old, it seems they weren't entirely prepared for modernity's neon embrace either.

Previously:

- On "Manchasm"
- On "Plus Ones"
- On "Bushels"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

With my current Times New Viking infatuation soaring to ear-threatening levels, I've been willfully subjecting myself to unhealthy levels of fuzz. We currently live in a paradoxical time where cheap software makes producing a fairly polished sounding recording exceedingly easy and good old 4-track recordings are also much easier to distribute to the world outside your basement. It's now just a question of aesthetics and intent. My tastes are bi-polar. Either give me meticulous DFA perfectionism or sublimely undercooked enthusiasm. From the latter column, here's a quick rundown of what's sounding good in the relatively recent world of willfully obscure pop.

Home Blitz - "Stupid Street"

In this inspired single Home Blitz's Daniel DiMaggio captures the seemingly instantaneous glee of golden amateur savants like Jonathan Richman or Dan Treacy. The song's premise is that Home Blitz the band is playing on the New Jersey street across from the house where the song was presumably recorded. The realities of chilly fall air and the negative impact of gloves on guitar playing are comically addressed. There's still room amid the stream-of-consciousness for premeditated sinister couplets like "Hey girl, I'm gonna cut your spine/ down a straight and narrow line." If you don't find the "screw it, let's just record a song" vibe charming, perhaps you should just click away now.

Munch Munch - "Wet Nightmare"

This UK band attracted the ear of the reputable German label Tomlab by sounding like a glorious fucking mess. "Wet Nightmare" is a b-side to a recent single and it sounds about as focused as I've heard them manage, which is actually not all that focused. It starts with epileptic beats and music box twinkles and then introduces a synth tone that sounds vaguely like a pan flute. A minute in to the song, it starts stabbing away at one maniac note while drum fills begin raining down from angry skies. Then it just turns totally awesome for thirty or forty more seconds.

No Paws (No Lions) - "I've Always Been Content"

No Paws (No Lions) are a Riverside, CA band that may have already broken up. The last word I'd gotten (via MySpace bulletin) was that they were already slapping down the creative differences card after maybe a half-dozen promising no frills keyboard songs. It's hard to even know what to say about such an immediately snuffed flame, but the off-kilter singing and adorably rich tones here suggest that any form they might have eventually morphed into would have just left me nostalgic for a minute and thirty second-long pop songs like this. Below is You Tubed proof that they were a fully functioning band for a split-second at least:

No Paws (No Lions) - "Kobe Bryant Jersey (No. 8)"
(live @ KSPR, Pomona College Radio)

Torn Curtains - "Paranoia Strikes Again"

To see that level of obscurity and raise it to an untrumpable level I give you Torn Curtains, the alias of one Byron Tennant with whom I went to high school. Hints of bias should be immediately squashed by a listen to the inspired, Lynchian small town America gone wrong lyrics. When the dread reaches a fevered climax around the 2:45 mark, projecting a sinister motive to "a crowd that gathers all around you," I have to doff a cap of appreciation every time. We also went to school with Jon "Napolean Dynamite" Heder. I rightly consider this the (certainly less lucrative but) more artistically worthy alumni achievement.

Tyvek - "Mary Ellen Claims"

It seems that you almost need to come from Michigan to summon up this kind of frustrated garage angst. Songs about nighttime Satan visits just shouldn't be recorded with any more polish than this. Or anything less than manic pogo energy, for that matter.

caUSE co-MOTION! - "Who's Gonna Care?"

This track, from a new caUSE-co-MOTION! 7" EP sounds an awful lot like all the Brooklyn band's other singles. But if you're shopping for subtly harmonic stop-start nerdery that vaguely reminds you of early Feelies records, they're pretty much monopolizing that niche at the moment. These guys make college kids dance so spastically that you may be better off listening in the comfort of your own home.

the Invisible Hand - "Don't Sleep With Whores"

As I was putting this post together I received an e-mail from one Adam Smith, a compatriot of our recently beloved Neon Lights artist Titus Andronicus. Three cheers for kismet! If your name is Adam Smith, the market pretty much demands that you call your band the Invisible Hand. The double-tracked vocal melody, pleasantly waltzing guitar lines, sloppy countrified Meat Puppets breakdowns, and continual crunch should find a few willing consumers as well. "Client 9" cultural moment, I give you your anthem in waiting.

Sic Alps - "Strawberry Guillotine"

This instantly sold-out 7" a-side from late last year is the only on this list to approach the squealing in-the-red abrasiveness of the aforementioned TNV. But instead of a lovably sweet center, the San Francisco band gives us a throbbing slab of early Sonic Youth menace. There is plenty room in the heart and hard drive for both approaches.

the Capstan Shafts - "61 Sideburns"

And then there's Dean Wells, the home recording prodigy who calls himself the Capstan Shafts. It's not hyperbole at all to refer to him as the second coming of the early Guided by Voices' work ethic and creamy yet fucked with aesthetic. Dean's songs are a smidge less surreal, briefer in composition length, and somehow even more prolifically produced than Bob Pollard's. Such is the man's tireless output that the 2006 album I'm currently smitten with, Euridice Proudhorn, is already 8(!) releases old(!!). "61 Sideburns" is an amazingly catchy and minorly profound way to spend one minute of your life. "We lived in the last genuine time," he asserts, with a convicted wistfulness that really stays with you. It enjoys a moment in our blog sun now before becoming merely a footnote to Dylan in a Numerology column several months in the future.

Wells has only ever ventured out of his Vermont home to perform his songs live twice. Because this is the age we live in, you can watch a moment from the first (in a darkened rural church no less) below;

the Capstan Shafts - "Sleepcure Theory Advancer"
(Live @ Stannard Church, Stannard, VT, 10.06.07)

the Capstan Shafts - "Sleepcure Theory Advancer"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

There's a certain type of vulnerability that takes over when you get robbed, effecting even the toughest, most resilient people. Especially true when the crime occurs in a residence rather than, for example, a car or subway.

A smack of dejected helplessness poisons the welfare of the home environment following a break in. Feelings of defenselessness towards a sudden, invisible enemy lurking in the neighborhood. While some of us may turn towards unhealthy substances to deal with the increased anxiety that follows our living space being violated, others consider moving, or at least stepping up security for a better sleep at night. Whatever the coping measures chosen, those first nights will not result in the soundest of slumbers.

Dawn Landes - "Bodyguard"

Yet others turn around and take loss as inspiration to pen a lovely song. Raised in Louisville, Kentucky and burglarized while living in Brooklyn, anti-folk artist Dawn Landes wrote "Bodyguard" in her kitchen while waiting for the cops to arrive after discovering a break-in. Bandits made out with a keyboard, a laptop and a hard drive -- which housed a finished album, her second. While still in the immediate shock of realizing she became an unwilling crime statistic, work immediately began on new material.

"Bodyguard" gives you the feel of fresh visceral emotion that exists only fleetingly in the immediate reaction to trauma. Lyrics like "erased our signatures from things" and "they stole the subjects from your paintings/ but left the canvas on the frame" punctuate the frustrating loss of her irreplaceable music while slyly referencing the ultimately meaningless and easy replaceability of the physical devices housing the work. It's a clever disguise for deeply personal vulnerability while subconsciously cuing defense mechanisms of acceptance.

With the original music lost and gone forever Landes was forced to work from scratch on a second album. Fireproof dropped yesterday from Cooking Vinyl records.

//Dawn Landes - Fireproof - buy
//Myspace
//site

Posted by Merry Swankster at 12:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Atlas Sound - "Activation"

You really can't sleep on the Deerhunter blog for any significant period of time. This track, from the so-called Orange Ohms Glow EP, sounds much more subtly slaved over than the grand majority of the stream-of-consciousness rough drafts that Bradford Cox posts so prolifically. Its sweet strumming and double tracked self-harmonizing are also warmer than the songs on the chilly Atlas Sound LP by several degrees (a record that is still a little under a week from a proper release, I'll remind you). Perhaps that's a validation of his blog experiment right there. The artist has moved on from his earlier work, but the promotional machine is still struggling to catch up. Those who have avoided all things Cox to this point are encouraged to listen with unguarded ears.

Be Your Own Pet - "Becky"

I wrote about this one earlier this week on Prefix and despite that back-of-the head tickle of recognition, it took a chorus of "duh" comments for me to realize the similarity to Little Eva's "Locomotion." But now that I get it, I think it's even radder (to cop singer Jemina Pearl's slang poetics). This is like "Locomotion" with periodic screaming and a girl protagonist sent to jail for "teenage homicide." What's better than that? The Thurston Moore-discovered kiddy corps couldn't be any funnier here, in their depiction of perhaps the cruelest betrayal of all, BFF adultery. That bitch even made Becky a clandestine friendship bracelet! "Now everybody hates me a whole bunch/ just because I made you cry a little bit at lunch." Genius! I don't see how they can get more perfect than this. I fear for Be Your Own Pet: the College Years. Can we arrange for them to be trapped in amber?

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 08:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Mors Ontologica: DREW CLAUSEN - Guitar, Vox, CROW - Keys,Vox, TIM O'DELL - Drums, JEFF WISEMAN- Bass

I’m now convinced that in an apartment building basement somewhere in the confines of Columbus, Ohio, that there is some sort of force that has been bending the musical timeline like a piece of paper making a direct portal between 1974 and 2008. This is the only explanation that I have for a band like Mors Ontologica, a band that hits on the sound of brazen pre dawn-punk layered with moody textures, but also has the ability to create a landscape that could only have been born as a reaction to the desperate times of the present.

Several months back I interviewed Mike “Rep” Hummel, the lo-fi ear that “lovingly f*cked with" Guided By Voices’ Propeller and Times New Viking’s Dig Yourself. Recently I opened up a package with one of Mike’s more recent projects, Mors Ontoligica’s The Used Kids Sessions. Now most doctors will agree that eight hours is the recommended amount of time for sleep. However what divides their opinion is whether eight hours the recommended time to record an album. On the one side you have the argument for excessive studio sessions; on the other side you have Mike Rep.

Mors Ontologica admits to first being very hesitant about the project. But Mike Rep persisted with the feel of the first Ramones LP in the back of his mind and finally was able to convince the band to go into a whirlwind eight hour session on November 27th, 2006.

Mors Ontologica - "Bombshell"

Mors Ontologica - "Comeing Down"

Mors Ontologica - "Ghost and Shadows"

The Used Kids Sessions not only present an exuberant rush fueled by flasks and cases, but there is also a literate intensity in each verse and chord which is a sound that even the band didn’t expect to hear. When I spoke to the four members of Mors Ontologica a short while ago they still sounded shocked that the bass and drums could be heard distinctively on the album when they witnessed Mike’s use of only one shared mic on the drums and bass rig. Going into the recording session the band was thinking demo tape at best and practice session at worst, to their surprise not only did they have a demo but they had an album.

It’s a strange phenomenon when you play a contemporary band for someone and all of the sudden they are taken back to the days of Nixon resigning. Mike Rep summed it up perfectly saying, “I really like working w/ Mors O. they are the kind of band I always wanted to have in the 70's, a little Stranglers-y, a little Saints-y too I think, though they never to listened to either...”

True, Mors Ontologica know their musical past but it is my belief that they have arrived at this sound and are pushing it forward not because they are trying to do anything retro but because their sound is a direct reaction to a similar taste of dissatisfaction and anxiety prevalent in musical circles in 1974. It’s an example of a half baked theory of musical alchemy which suggests that you could take band A and mix them in a vacuum with the politics of B and the cultural sense of C and open the door and you’ve created say The Rolling Stones. If we took Beethoven and placed him in Chicago in 1970 would he end up being in Styx? If in a hundred years the government again adopts a theory of trickle down economics would bands all of the sudden start making music that sounded a tad like Thriller? This has yet to be determined, but the members of Mors Ontologica have placed the mirror on themselves and the sidewalk and have gone through struggles and angst common in 2008. Their music is a reflection of this present but is also based on the knowledge of an adjacent past.

You can catch Mors Ontologica on their first ever trip out East at:

March 1 2008 - CARABAR Columbus, OH w/ ROSEHIPS & THE LINDSAY
March 20 2008 - TRASH BAR Brooklyn, NY 8pm show!
March 22 2008 - GOODBYE BLUE MONDAYS Brooklyn, NY

// Mors Ontologica: The Used Kids Sessions and much more
// Mors Ontologica @ Myspace

Posted by Yonah Korngold at 02:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Fuck Buttons - "Okay, Let's Talk About Magic"

This track, from the Bristol, UK noise duo Fuck Buttons, is not as abrasive as some key words in this sentence might lead you to believe. At the onset it's basically just an unusually aggressive form of ambient, with radiating waves of white noise ebbing and flowing over a bed of stabbing synths. It remains at buzzing stasis for about a minute and thirty seconds before we first hear a voice. At first, it's low and muddled under the white noise, like a pirate radio signal in a language we can't identify. It soon switches to the their signature vocal mode, i.e. completely batshit screeching. But what makes this more listenable than, Wolf Eyes say, is the band's novel sonic mix. The demonic howling is held at a very low level, buried underneath the pervasive fuzz. The normal balance of things is almost completely reversed, with the screams providing background color, and the fuzz that might would normally do just that is given the starring role. It's an odd blurring of "quiet" and "loud" that resembles the efforts of Deerhunter's Cryptograms, perhaps succeeding in mingling the two within a single track to a greater degree. At this point though, all the beguiling noise is mainly amorphous. It's about texture, not structure.

It's another two minutes or so before the plot really emerges. Suddenly, a manic and industrial beat comes in. It sounds like a squad of robots, programmed to win a step competition at a small southern college. Here, we have movement at last. Taking the cue for change, the synth chords switch to a more overtly dramatic, nearly goth sounding configuration. The crackling white noise is still present, but the track's focus is increasingly on rhythm and melody. Even when the key tones begin to veer towards the apocalyptic, this is "noise music" that's not egregiously noisy.

It's hard to really put a pin in what genre this is. It's buried singing is inspired by hardcore punk and noise, but it doesn't really belong in that bin. It's post-"post-rock" and post-everything, really. If any one word could sum the sound up, you'd really have to go with hypnotic.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 03:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I'm tempted to apologize for the continuing stream of Hellenic hype but hey, this is a music blog, and any so-called "music lover" who doesn't become enraptured to the point of gratuitous repeat from time to time should be the object of intense skepticism. And after wading into the now circulating full length Hercules & Love Affair LP, I'm afraid an inoculation for disco fever will not be forthcoming.

Hercules & Love Affair - "Raise Me Up"

First, to temper expectations, I have to stipulate that this song is not the equal for the previously posted "Blind." I say that not in disappointment but as mathematical fact. That is the sort of single artists spend a whole career trying to live up to, let alone equal in a single disc. But the collaboration between producer Andrew Butler and the very strange man known as Antony provides a handful of highlights throughout the rest of the record. If the stellar non-Antony strut, "Hercules' Theme" already has a lock on its silver medal, Hercules & Love Affair's penultimate track "Raise Me Up," probably gets the bronze.

I'm not quite sure why I haven't been able to get behind Antony and the Johnsons records. I made a snarky Aaron Neville comparison last week, but that's probably more dismissive than strictly necessary. I guess I could never wrap my head around the intense vulnerability in Antony's songs as delivered in such an operatic manner. There was just a fundamental disconnect between the virtuoso performance and the lyrical unease that left me cold.

Set to Butler's beats, his quavering pipes have a much different contextual meaning. In H & LA tracks, Antony plays the part of fantasy diva--personally meek, but empowered by the democracy of the dance club. "Raise me up/ to dance on the hollow of your hand," he begs his godly beat merchant. That prayer is met with an impeccably vintage disco throb, that's punctuated by sneaky key twinkles and sublimely buttery horn blasts. And perhaps simple tempo can't be discounted as the key factor. Without a glacial pace to toy with, Antony doesn't have time for tortured ululation. Reduced by necessity to slight Bryan Ferry bleating, the strength of his vocal gift is all the more easily enjoyed.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 07:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Vampire Weekend - "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa" (MTV Spanking New Session)

Bright and cheerful are the some of the easier ways to describe Vampire Weekend, playful too. Like on this naughty and nice tale of a presumably well off young woman; whose personal eras get defined by name-checking upmarket brands before, what appears to be, the hormonal up tick of puberty hitting full on. Or, at the very least, some general horniness. It appears someone within the narrative of the New England iconography spiked the punch with Paul Simon's Graceland. Reggaeton!

Vampire Weekend - "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa"

The Afro-rhythms of the hand drums are much more pronounced on the studio version, but kudos to Chris Tomson for being able to recreate an honorable representation on a single drum for the above video.

Vampire Weekend's self titled album comes out at the end of the month on XL Recordings.

//Vampire Weekend - s/t - Preorder

Posted by Merry Swankster at 11:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

the Pains of Being Pure at Heart - "A Teenager in Love"

As being an actual teenager in love is akin to an emotional base jump with a tattered parachute, most songs about adolescent romance are goofily self-deceptive. We remember it as golden and lamentable, when it's more often forgettable and fleeting. This New Wave pop hit by New York newcomers the Pains of Being Pure at Heart projects the sort of wistful nostalgia perpetuated by pretty much every media representation of high school ever. But I guess there's a reason that CW network is still in business, and John Hughes has beach houses made of solid gold. The boring reality, filled with awkward groping and petty cruelty, isn't so much fun to watch or dance to. And this track is fun, danceable yet slightly quivering with melancholy that isn't overblown enough to trigger an automatic eye-roll. It's a lie, but a pretty one.

the Teenagers - "Sunset Beach"

The sordid Parisian pop group known as the Teenagers deal in teen fantasies as well; ones emanating from a place slightly lower than their (un-pure) hearts. The songs on their finally imminent debut, Reality Check, often sound like the feverish imaginings of fourteen year old boys warped by forbidden exposure to Penthouse Forum and Cinemax After Dark. The girls in their narratives are easily seduced, and casually degraded. It's hard not to feel a little bit queasy about a song that features a chorus refrain of "this fucking bitch deserves to die." But whether it lets them off the misogyny hook or not, there can be no doubt that all of this is meant to be tempered with a heaping dose of irony. The more Germanic than French accented narration is full of chuckle worthy digressions like the romantic sparks generated by an iPod playlist devoid of Jeff Buckley, and how one night's bliss is worth significantly less than a Fender Jazzmaster. The juvenile playboy protagonist comes across much more foolish than the object of his initial lust and eventual scorn. And musically, when separated from troublesome notions of lyrical intent and gender issues, its brooding baseline, shoegaze guitar and sweet (sounding at least) chorus are really quite addictive.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Not to be confused with 4:4 Friday evening...

the Magnetic Fields - "Zombie Boy"

The Magnetic Fields' impending album, Distortion has got its talking point right there in its title. While alot of the record is less skewed than you've been lead to believe, "Zombie Boy" is a right nasty piece of business. "Two roosters I slew/ and with all of my might/ I prayed hard for you/ In Haiti at night," starts the stellar macabre lyric sheet. Stephin Merritt is not one to let feedback take precedence over wit, after all. But if the cracked fuzz was announced and the sharp words expected, the real surprise is the ragged electric guitar solo Steve lets loose at around 2:20. Who knew he had those chops in his pocket? In the context of the horror movie piano and limping drumbeat, it's a thrilling and gory little burst.

801 - "You Really Got Me"

This 1976 live Kinks cover from Brian Eno's prog pop supergroup 801 seems fraught with internal tension. The players are so accomplished that you can almost hear them dying to break out of the troglodyte riff that the young Davies brothers had to get by with. It's too basic to allow for erupting wankery, which is a net plus in my book. And all that unreasonable teenage lust is just drained bloodless by Eno's aloof singing. This version is cerebral and itchy, as opposed to the original's unkempt sexual id. It sounds like a bunch of scientists programming robots to be horny, failing to anticipate the horrifying results.

Valet - "Kehaar"

Valet is the current project of experimental Portland musician, Honey Owens. Honey's been a collaborator to the free wheeling noise troupe Jackie-O-Motherfucker, and has now joined the touring band for Deerhunter frontman Bradford Cox's solo recording project, Atlas Sound. "Kehaar" is listed as a likely inclusion to a 2008 Valet album called Naked Acid (which is much sexier than regular acid). It's a slow, meandering piece, but one filled with gorgeous echo and surprisingly pretty double tracked vocals. I have a hard time accepting that the song is actually about the gruff seagull in Richard Adams' bunny epic Watership Down. Owen's drawn out delivery makes it tough to discern detail, but references to letting the wind carry you can be heard in support of that conclusion. A seagull just isn't regal enough for the swirling textures here though, let alone one with a comic relief Eastern European accent. I don't know what animal/nationality combo it conjures in my mind-eye...something graceful, deliberate, and mean. Maybe a North African mako shark--content from a recent buffet, but with violence never far from its focused mind.

Hercules & Love Affair - "Hercules Theme"

Man, 11 days into the New Year and already my resolution to get my recent disco addiction under control is struck dead. This time it comes from the seemingly infallible DFA label, as opposed to my normal dealer, Italians Do it Better (whose only '08 single I've heard sees them slinking into tastefully minimalist house). Brookyln DJ Andrew Butler tells the tale of his own non-de-plume, utilizing about ten different elements that start out slightly annoying and then become addictive through nagging force. The muted horn loops, the vintage cold water string shocks, those pushy diva vocals, and even the building sex groans are all eventually gold. If this jam was playing wherever the Hercules of Greek mythology went, he'd have no time to fight monsters due to the endless parade of concubines falling at his feet.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 06:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

"Rip it off and start again!" proclaim Times New Viking in "RIP Allegory," one of many fuzz bombs that make up the follow up to last years' beloved (by us) album ...Present the Paisley Reich. It's a slyly funny and semi-dickish deviation on Orange Juice's "rip it up and start again" mantra, later swiped by Simon Reynolds for his book on the post-punk scene. OJ's version implied that in order to create anything "new" you had to chuck the last generation's play book. Columbus, Ohio's finest suggest that pilfering from the right spot is enough to keep you moving.

On the grounds of selection prowess TNV is certainly a band after my own heart, favoring the horrendously recorded but exceedingly charming songwriting of the early nineties rock underground. Back in the Drag City heyday, hissing static was presumably the result of low budgets and home recording necessity. In today's low cost Pro Tools world embracing incomprehensible white noise is a concrete aesthetic choice; nostalgic at best and willfully difficult at worse, right?

So, maybe I'm a sucker or a sappy DIY romantic, but the pop and crackle makes my heart beat faster. It would all be moot if these weren't sharp and energetic songs (see the cautionary tale of Ariel Pink). The Guided by Voices style, sub two minute run times aren't hurting either. A taste from Rip it Off, ahead of its January 22nd release...

Times New Viking - "Drop-Out"

Though the immediately obvious touch point here is the boy/girl duet cacophony produced by Royal Trux, this has a real sweetness that I have trouble finding in that band's work. The brevity is a plus, the relatively unintelligible lyrics a boon. It feels like someone heard the first minute of a their new favorite song on the radio and, after scrambling to find a blank tape, were able to catch only a segment. But they still loved it so much that they taped it again and again for friends, the quality slipping each time. This sounds like the copy one of those friends made for you, which has eroded into a blur of pure convicted melody.

Again, the nostalgia present in the above scenario is palpable, but what can you do? It sounds shitty/perfect.

Times New Viking - "Another Day"

There's a track towards the end of the record called "Times New Viking vs. Yo La Tengo," but the pretense of any animosity between our kids and their former tour partners is annihilated by this sugary minute forty-seven. Beth Murphy does her best down to earth Georgia Hubley impression, but the track is too far into the red for her to gently whisper. Any doubts that TNV's tunes can't escape the din of their production are erased on this evidence.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Elastica - "All For Gloria" (John Peel Show, December 1994)

Elastica - "I Wanna Be a King of Orient Aah" (John Peel Show, December 1994)

Disaffected, angular, possibly drug addled, smart ass season's greetings from us to you.

XOXOXO,

JK for MS

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

After seeing Joly, the lovable spandexed hippy videographer and proprietor of Punk Cast, at the mighty Clean's show Friday night, I thought maybe he'd be industrious enough to transfer his footage instantaneously. No such luck. But trolling around his archived You Tube channel, I did find another resurrected cult act who also saw fit to climb into the poorly ventilated Cake Shop basement in 2007. Their cult is, uh, a bit smaller than the Clean's...

the Homosexuals "Astral Glamour"
(live @ the Cake Shop, 07.09.07)

The D.I.Y. output of late seventies UK punks the Homosexuals would probably have been reissued eventually, if Morphius Records hadn't pulled the trigger in 2004. But without that momentary blip in recognition, I wouldn't have been able to see "the band" open for a decrepit Suicide in one of my strangest ever concert nights that same year. I throw up the quotes because the Homosexuals then consisted of front man "Bruno Wizard" and a bunch of young New York dudes that had evidently been practicing his songs. They were more than competent, but Wizard himself was a trip. Railing against his obscurity, changing shirts multiple times mid song, and rocking a leather jacket with a giant, baffling airbrushed portrait of Martin Luther King, Jr. Then Suicide came on and played abrasive salsa music, which is neither here nor there. I had no idea that Bruno had ever played another New York City gig but, as the video makes obvious, he did. I suppose the reissue didn't buy 4 years of packed rooms, but they've still got a few fans. The hired guns here (billed as the Imaginary icons) don't match my recollection of the '04 show, but what do I know? The Wiz is still an archly theatrical nutbar, and I remain amused.

Here's the track as recorded in 1979, when its brash tunefulness was still the work of odd young men. Had you been hip enough to hear it then, but had somehow missed all of Wire's records until that point, you might have been convinced that these guys were completely visionary. It's still pretty excellent, all snark aside.

the Homosexuals - "Astral Glamour"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 07:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Been back in Brooklyn for the better part of a week, but only regaining my normal balance after the corrosive influence of clean air and lovingly prepared fresh foods now. So here's some stuff that's been dominating the iPod for a while, in one big blur. Good to get this new or novel material out of the way before we go all in for an orgiastic year-end blowout stuffed with crippling self-involvement. Priorities, and all that...

Nine Circles - "Twinkling Stars"

I have no real idea where the British bloggers behind the always good and newly glam, 20 Jazz Funk Greats track down these deeply out of print rarities, because I, uh, find mine over there. With no context clues to work from, I defy anyone to feel 100% certain in discerning the native land and home decade of this track from a band called Nine Circles. To ruin half of that mystery right away, it's from their self-titled 1982 album, of which I'm having trouble finding any concrete information. You can order a import re-issue if you are brave enough to laugh off an unfavorable Euro conversion, but that's really all I've got. It sounds timelessly awesome, a pessimistic vision of a future that will never arrive. With its deep and regal European ice queen vocal perfectly bound to excellent dark electro pulses that seem too well shaped to have sprung from the crude early eighties New Wave well, "Twinkling Stars" must have fallen in some kind of serious memory hole to remain this obscure for so long. Any reader information on this will be humbly appreciated.

Apache Beat - "Tropics" (CFCF remix)

When I fawned over this song's original jungle drum version back in the run-up to Apache Beat's Neon Lights appearance, it embarrassingly never occurred to me that Ilirjana's sultry post-punk vocals might be even better suited to a dance floor remake, cast in gilded neon. This is, like, wow.

Deerhunter - "Calvary Scars" (Daytrotter Session)
High Places - "New Grace"

Regular readers of the site probably just had a "Jesus, again?" reaction at those two names in tandem, but what can I say? My intense band infatuations unfairly skew towards the prolific. Coal + fire = burn. In brief: Deerhunter move into their second year of buzz by trading the stomping, wild menace of "Cryptograms" and "Wash Off" for a sustained and quiet creeping dread, epitomized by this Daytrotter Session highlight. High Places finally bring out the thudding percussion of their live show in the poppiest song they've yet released.

Die Regenbogen Jugend - "With a Name Like Yoko"

Portland's newest hitmakers/my old chums DR J are starting to flesh out the Germanic glory of the impending Mit Schlag. Shifting their focus to another Axis Power, we get a glimpse into the aristocratic childhood of Ms. Ono. I'm assuming from Karen Lynn's steely line readings that this insider info is coming from a biography of some sort? I guess I don't want to know either way, as the image of servants hiding from sight while young Yoko sips her morning tea is too good to ruin with petty fact-checking. Check their MySpace here.

Also:

Tonight at the Cake Shop I get to see the Clean! THE CLEAN, people!! It saddens me that the NYC blogosphere has not exploded in rapture...

The Clean - "Anything Could Happen"

the Clean - "Anything Could Happen"

The Clean - "Tally Ho!"

the Clean - "Tally Ho!"

...report soon.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It very rare that my interpretations of the songs I post goes beyond my own (hopefully) insightful speculations and a bit of skill as a Google ninja. I may get it right by accident or I might be wildly off-base, and really there's no way for me to know for sure. But today, I stand before you as a man with actual first-hand knowledge of what he speaks! Do not get used to it, for it will not last long.

On Tuesday, I talked to Deerhunter/Atlas Sound man Bradford Cox for about an hour at a travel writer's apartment in the East Village (yeah, I'm not sure why it was there either). The full interview, plus a video document of said conversation, will eventually show up on Prefix closer to the February release of the Atlas Sound's debut record, Let the Blind Lead Those Who Can See, But Cannot Feel. We covered alot of ground, pretty much all relating to the way Bradford works and why specific musical obsessions continue to follow him from his solo Atlas Sound songs to his more (in)famous band Deerhunter and back again. One of the things that most interested me, as a forward thinking denizen of our new media landscape, was the form and function of the Deerhunter blog. Though it gained notoriety in sort of a sensationalist tabloid manner, the site has been much more fascinating for its refusal to treat new, unreleased music as a commodity to be cunningly doled out to high impact traffic depots.

Atlas Sound - "Cobwebs"

Take for example, "Cobwebs," posted by Bradford maybe five minutes before I walked into the room. The song was recorded on Monday in a Greenpoint, Brooklyn church balcony that also serves as the practice space for the critically adored band Grizzly Bear, by their member/producer Chris Taylor. If ever a breathless Pitchfork or Stereogum lead paragraph was made ready to order, it's that one. But instead of sending it on through a PR agent, and milking the song for another few minutes of name saturation and press awareness for the forthcoming album, it goes up on the DH blog with little fanfare and nary a related e-mail blast. The singer explained that the whole purpose of the site was to capture ephemeral moments of music that aren't predestined or even well remembered after the fact. If this gives quality music the appearance of being slightly disposable, then so be it. That's sort of the point, even.

But the song itself is hardly forgettable. Despite his general reluctance to attach exalted worth to a momentary snapshot, Bradford couldn't help but be excited by the end result. He claims that he doesn't write lyrics ahead of time when conjuring songs for Atlas Sound; that the resulting words and even the chord changes of the mainly spontaneous music is a surprise in retrospect, even to him. "Cobwebs" ' lyrics seem to bear that out, as references to spiderwebs and peeling paint make it seem that he was staring at the old church's ceiling while strumming his guitar. But damned if the whole thing isn't unbearably lovely, blanketing sixties' melodic bliss with downy white noise. It almost makes you wish that he would value the songs more as pieces to be honed, rather than raw extemporaneous snapshots. Because if this was completely off the cuff, then what would it sound like after a few days of polish?

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Maybe its just me, but it seems a sort of marching band ethos seems to be all the rage of late. From mathematical stained rockers Caribou and Battles to more run of the mill White Rabbits, drum skins have had better days. Now North Carolina's Annuals are getting in on the act with this new track from the digital-only Frelen Mas EP.

Annuals - "Nah Keseyi"

Dipping in either the Swahili or gibberish inkwell, the lyrical criticism depends on the standard one holds words and expressive verbiage too. Until I hear otherwise, OCD cursed organizing types should file this one alongside the hopelandic dedicated section of made up languages.

Starting off slow and building the driving push forward "Nah Keseyi" ends up fully symphonic, much in the same way the best Be He Me tracks did. Unfortunately the road taken on this trip ends short and without fully indulging the best aspects of Annuals' whimsical fun. By the end of the ride you might end up wondering if it was worth it. Unlike what you'll feel at the end of their show at the Hi-Dive next Monday - which is totally worth both your while and $10.

** ** **
CONTEST

Next week the band swings through Merry Swankster's Rocky Mountain coverage area along with Atlanta's Manchester Orchestra. Both bands have teamed up to cover each other for a tour-only split 7 inch. We're thrilled to be giving away a copy in celebration of the Denver stopover at Hi-Dive on November 19th.

All you have to do is send an email here and guess what number I'm thinking of between 1 - 10. Closest to the prize gets the goods and possibly some other fun stuff if you can tell us a good joke when entering. No rules against going blue.

Manchester Orchestra - "Brother" (Annuals cover)

Annuals - "Where Have You Been" (Manchester Orchestra cover)

Posted by Merry Swankster at 12:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

O Level - "We Love Malcolm"

O Level preceded the sadly still semi-unsung Television Personalities as teenaged Dan Treacy's songwriting vehicle of choice. The sharp-minded among you will recognize that name from TVP's immortal "Part Time Punks," as the name of the band whose single is purchased at the Rough Trade shop by the trend-hopping Londoners of the title's derision (a nice self deprecating touch, that). "We Love Malcolm" was a response of sorts to TVP's Rough Trade Records single, the truly truly awesome, "Where's Bill Grundy Now?" That classic was penned about the pompous actual television personality who was a casuality of the Sex Pistols juvenile on camera swearing. Similarly, "We Love Malcolm" comes to the defense of the vilified svengali, Malcolm McLaren. This isn't surprising, as the TVP's were perhaps the sharpest and most empathic lyricists of the post punk blast. They had a forked tongue for pretentious scenesters, but a real feel for crafting sympathetic protagonists. Despite the title, it's not a full defense so much as a fair hearing. "You're no hero, and you're no star/ Just a scapegoat is what you are," sings running mate Ed Ball at the song's start. Dan's off-kilter, "na na na na na"s are unmistakable in a support role. An immensely likable, if fairly slight, minute and forty eight seconds.

Juniper Moon - "El Resto De Mi Vida"

Perhaps the site's Mexican border correspondant can tell me what this song is actually about, but I've always assumed it was about puppies driving toy cars made of sunshine. This is the only single I'm aware of on my iPod that was recorded by Spaniards, and it proves that Scotland has not cornered the European twee market. Released in 2002, it is timelessly tuneful with hooks sharp enough to vault over any language barrier. There's also some surprisingly muscular guitar work smuggled inside the indie-pop confection. As long as I don't find out that it's an impassioned defense of slavery or something, it'll be a perennial grin inducer.

// Juniper Moon - El Resto De Mi Vida (buy for, ouch, 50 bucks)

Gerry & the Holograms - "Gerry & the Holograms"

I'm not sure why I'm posting this 1980 single, as it's really not very good. But I