Can - "Mother Sky"
(live on West German television, 1970)

Last week's bit of glorious Can footage presented a compelling alternate reality in which clean cut young Japanese street busker Damo Suzuki was eventually corrupted by the evil long-haired German jazzniks that became his band mates. This clip, culled from the same reliably avant West German television network but broadcast two years earlier, shoots it all to hell. I guess Damo had just gotten a new shirt and a haircut for"Vitamin C" day, because "Mother Sky" features the monastic hermit/homeless vet look that we all know and love. He looks like the ghost in a J-horror flick. If you see black water mysteriously oozing from a bass amp, do not investigate!

As with most vintage clips of un-telegenic krautrock from the vaults, the clip is mainly enjoyable for the befuddled reaction of the teenagers gathered in its audience. It looks like they were given free tickets to Das Dancepalast!, and entered fresh-faced and excited, only to have all the joy of life beaten from them by the cruel warlords on stage. Nodding off and sitting on the ground chain-smoking can be noted in the advanced ennui cases. The best of all is the girl who sits beside the speaker lighting some sort of antique opium pipe. Only she, getting casually blitzed on national television, has the necessary detached nihilism to really belong in the bleak rhythm's midst.

Below is the full fifteen minute version of the song's studio version, which I admire greatly in parts, but have perhaps never listened to in its entirety. For the chic opium smokers among you...

Can - "Mother Sky"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 07:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This is one of the very first songs I sought out once it became clear just how great a clearinghouse for classic footage YouTube would soon become, though I'd forgotten to keep checking until a whim delivered this to me yesterday. I remember first hearing this song in my college days and being knocked out by the modernity of it. Those drums sounded like they could have come from a Bjork record, and this was from 1972! I still can't quite fathom Can sitting around their practice space, listening to White Light/White Heat and Stockhausen, somehow winding up here. For all their alien appeal and undeniable rhythmic prowess though, there are very few moments when the band really connects with me on more than a head-nodding, intellectually appreciative level. This is, of course, first among them...

Can - "Vitamin C"
(live 1972)

While the clip makes clear what sort of a frantic and inspired drummer Jaki Leibezeit could be when his inner jazz man didn't take over, most of its transfixing power comes from Damo Suzuki. The urban legend paints Damo as a crazed nomad, discovered by the German members of the band literally singing on a street corner. The clips I'd previously seen supported the myth of the long-haired, frequently shirtless feral child. Here though, Damo is a well-kempt and striking figure (wispy mustache aside). The song as performed in this live snippet has its edges rounded by a groove that's more organic than the dystopian album version. But Suzuki keeps it uncomfortable, by giving his nonsensical warnings a convicted sense of dire consequence. While later videos I investigated seem to degrade into free-from wonkery, whatever peculiar magic Damo possessed had not been dulled by by the scourge of fleeing vitamins as of 1972.

Can - "Vitamin C"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The first time I heard Mana, on one of my first nights in the Rio Grande Valley, I was, yes, in a bar*. And like most other RGV transplants, my first thought upon hearing them was: “When the hell did Sting learn Spanish?” In person, every single member of the band seemingly aspires to be a hybrid of Bono and that “rockstar” guy from the Forgetting Sarah Marshall commercials, yet Mana manages to be not half as bad as this paragraph probably insinuates they should be.

Mana – “Clavado en un Bar”

Continue reading "Retrohump: Once Upon a Time Near Mexico" »

Posted by Randall Monty at 12:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Yo La Tengo - "Tom Courtenay"
(live @ Waterfront Records, Sydney Australia, 1998)

I think the main reason "Tom Courtenay" is my favorite of all Yo La Tengo songs is the uncomfortably familiar fan boy longing in Ira Kaplan's nasal voice. I don't think it's too presumptuous to guess that many readers in our blog's hypothetical demographic might also relate to a song about wasting hours pining after glamorous images of women whose charm zeniths are frozen on celluloid filmed in decades past. This clip, which is horrifyingly now a decade old itself, takes away that bond of identification. Georgia Hubley's unassuming lilt conjures a much sweeter image of a starstruck girl living her life in magazines. The stripped down arrangement reduces some of the original's masculine guitar wank as well. It's a lovely rendition, but you can't compete with nostalgic projection now, can you?

Yo La Tengo - "Tom Courtenay"

Stanley Moon - "Love Me" / Drimble Wedge & the Vegetations - "Bedazzled"
(from the original 1967 version of Bedazzled)

Another man who spent too much time thinking about Eleanor Bron was Stanley Moon, Dudley Moore's character in the 1967 film Bedazzled. Those of you unfortunate souls who stumbled across the 2000 Brendan Fraser remake know that the basic storyline is of a man attempting to win the object of his affections by navigating through 7 ill-fated wishes given to him by the devil in exchange for his immortal soul. In this amazing clip, Stanley has wished himself a pop-star to woo Bron's era-appropriate hysterical teenage fan. The music, written by the versatile Moore himself, is a drolly hilarious distillation of the fickle affections of young girls in any time period. Stanley's needy Tom Jones croon "Love Me" is no match for the aloofness of Peter Cook's exquisitely named devil-in-diguise Drimble Wedge. Clueless young turks reading this take note: "I'm not available" is more intriguing than "love me" every time.

What's more interesting to me is how cool the Vegetations sound outside the bounds of the movie's joke. The disaffected deadpan spoken word reminds me immediately of Kraftwerk, the alternation between frozen call and psychedelic lady response conjures a Lee Hazlewood duet, and the dripping irony could have come from the in-cheek tongues of early 90's slackers. You'll notice that the best line ("you fill me with inertia") was brazenly stolen by the Long Blondes. An mp3 below for the fellow impressed.

Dudley Moore & Peter Cook - "Bedazzled"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 12:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Neu! - "Hero"
(live, 1974)

R.I.P. Klaus Dinger 1942-2008, founding member of Kraftwerk and Neu!, rhythmic visionary.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 03:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It was almost a year ago that I articulated a desire to gradually sift through the mountainous stacks of vintage Bowie footage on YouTube in order to comprehensively tour his every creative spasm and identity tweak. As this is the first I've mentioned it since, I'm sure you're all now deeply stunned by the depth of my master plan and the patience its taken to execute it just so. *cough*

1974's Diamond Dogs ended up being a less cohesive and interesting project than it was originally conceived to be. Following the so so covers record Pin Ups, David holed up to write a musical based on the facist fable 1984. Halfway through, the George Orwell estate put the kabosh on letting letting Ol' Blue Eye androgynize the classic novel for the stage. So rather than scrap the work he'd done entirely, he threw it together with a single or two and some really vague "future gone wrong" work of his own design, releasing the resulting mish-mash as an incoherent record. It's an album without a concrete identity or unifying sound, that's really more of a place holder for greater things to come.

Perhaps it would be more distinctly remembered if its original artwork was allowed to stand. Bowie's stretched out man-hound is disconcerting enough. The original version literally showcasing the dog's bollocks was several brush strokes too far, though it remains a highly sought after commodity among pervy vinyl collectors to this day.

1974 Diamond Dogs TV Spot

This clip is a strange artifact from a historical moment in which money making entities known as major label record companies had commodities known as records, the profitability of which they felt enough confidence in to go ahead and launch prime time commercial advertising campaigns to support them. Not ads for luxury sedans in which the music played briefly in the background mind you, but spots advertising the music itself! In this case totally creepy propaganda that probably just weirded people out.

Despite its opening claim to the contrary, this ain't genocide, this is top shelf rock n' roll...

David Bowie - "Diamond Dogs"

Hey, remember the Beck cover of this one? Me neither.

David Bowie - "Rebel Rebel"
(promo video)

This psychedelic clip features perhaps the most lackluster persona of Bowie's career, the urban pirate Halloween Jack. According to the lyrics of the album's above posted title track, Jack is a real cool cat who lives on top of the Manhattan Chase building. Due to faulty dystopian elevator service, Jack swings from building to building looking for plunder and bedding wenches with blank faces. From the looks of this clip, his main target for pillage was the women's blouse department at Macy's. Stacked up against the well hung rock star spaceman of Ziggy Stardust or the sadistic coke fiend blue blood of the Thin White Duke era, this is some weak sauce indeed.

David Bowie - "Rebel Rebel"

The swaggering guitar line that anchors "Rebel Rebel" is not suspect at all though, especially considering that Spiders From Mars' guitar god Mick Ronson was given his walking papers shortly before the record was made. This is Bowie proving himself to be more than just an inspired theoretician. So it's strange that his axe in the video is much like the cane of a strong legged pimp--purely ornamental. If the glitterball riff still had some life, it was clear that even a slightly tweaked glam persona was losing its novelty.

David Bowie - "1984"
(Broadcast live from New York, 1974)

Exit lady pirate, enter smooth Philly soul man. Smack in the middle of a the promotion for a single mixed up record, Bowie pulls a switcheroo that would launch his 70's commercial peak Young Americans. The pivot point was the theme from Shaft-ish would be musical anthem "1984". In spite of its odd totalitarian lyrics, it was conventionally groovy enough to be covered by one Tina Turner on her smash hit record Private Dancer. The blogosphere is good for finding many things and Tina Turner album cuts are not one of them. You'll have to raid your parents record collections to confirm my limited impression that she almost pulls the damn thing off with a frazzled intensity.

What's plain to see in the above clip is that Bowie is coked to the teets. Watch him flutter and shimmy. Watch him repeatedly lick his lips and grind his teeth to nubs. Not surprisingly, he's supremely confident and wildly energetic, so it works quite well. Those who remember the 1976 Soul Train performance I featured in the previous Station to Station themed post can perhaps see rock bottom rushing up to meet our man already.

Another thing I wonder about this clip, labeled as live broadcast from New York, is how that came to be in the first place. Did they just interrupt The Carol Burnett Show in progress to bring you a live transmission from David Bowie? Was this shot for Brit audiences, slammed in the middle of a Benny Hill episode? Can anybody out there fill me in on some era specific info?*

David Bowie - "1984"

* A commenter points out that the clip is from the Dick Cavett Show, follow their links to watch a jumpy interview...

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 09:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Jeff's still filling out his bracket (The Butler/South Alabama pick is absolutely killing him.), so today you get a retro-substitute. It probably would have been nice, on the eve of the NCAA Tournament's first weekend, to put together some sort of Retrohump/basketball tie-in post. Instead, I'm going to use this opportunity to talk about some of the lesser-expected music that I've been keen to lately. With last minute duties, you invariably get narcissism.

Thanks to eMusic's Verizon-like policy towards monthly download allotments, I've managed to collect a lot of albums that had previously fallen into the category of: "I should get that someday." Some are albums that I've had before but lost or ruined (Trompe le Monde is still waiting in the queue), some are albums I'm giving fair shot to after never really favoring them before (Jesus Lizard, American Music Club), some became instant favorites (the Wrens), and some are albums I'd never thought I'd own (Hello, The Pleasure Principle!). Here are some that have lately been in heavy rotation at the MS.com southern headquarters.

Fugazi - "Break"
The song starts after about two minutes of stage banter, but then we get the opening track from 1998's End Hits. The sound quality isn't the greatest, but that seems to be par for the course for Fugazi concerts.

Jawbox - "Reel"
Another '90s D.C. area post hardcore act, albeit a lesser known one. This comes off of Jawbox's highly regarded 1994 release, For Your Own Special Sweetheart.

Continue reading "Retrohump: Filling the Back Catalog" »

Posted by Randall Monty at 09:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Lost in the shadow of the more instantly bloggable performance piece/prank/cautionary tale cooked up by Madonna and Iggy Pop was the fact that one Leonard Cohen was also inducted into the not-so-hallowed Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Cohen remains something of a cult figure, even now. Where Dylan stands as a universally known cultural high fence that seems necessary to climb, Cohen's work still feels like an undiscovered piece of scenery that everyone just happens to wander by on their own. He snuck into my consciousness in small ways; a deep baritone in the soundtrack margins of myriad films, a song covered on a new record where everything else is suspiciously much worse, or even a lyrical homage like the Nirvana line paraphrased in this post's title. But Hell, they're singing the man's songs on American Idol these days. Let's not dwell on that unpleasantness. Here are two clips of the original Montreal hipster, performing classics from 1967's immortal Songs of Leonard Cohen.

Leonard Cohen - "The Stranger Song"
(Julie Felix Show, 1967)

This clip, from something called The Julie Felix Show, depicts a somewhat awkward looking Cohen sounding effortlessly profound. An overfriendly camera man frames his singing tight, as if trying to take an album cover photo with a really long exposure camera. Leonard looks pinched and hunched over like he just had a really bad night's sleep on a hazardous sofa bed. And, legend or not, no one ever really looks that cool in a turtleneck. It's a goosebump beckoner in spite of all that.

Leonard Cohen - "The Stranger Song"

Leonard Cohen - "Suzanne"
(Isle of Wight, 1970)

This performance from three years later on the Isle of Wight is not too dear. Cohen wears a famous stained waistcoast and looks generally like a vagrant, while teenage acid casualties look on confused. But these songs always had that quality anyway, so I don't mind a little scruff. The poetic musings of a down and out prophet shouldn't come from the gleaming teeth of a well dressed man. We can only hope that when Cohen embarks on his first U.S. tour in fifteen years a few months from now, he'll show up in a similarly sloppy ensemble.

Leonard Cohen - "Suzanne"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 08:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Britney Spears - "Toxic" 2004 - Live in Korea

A subtle statement* on our nation's most troubled pop star. Fished from the ancient depths of 2004 comes this performance in Korea** of "Toxic" -- the shockingly good track that had both critics and dance fiends chomping at the bit just a few years ago.

Passage of time is a flexible point of reference for retro homage. Sometimes an allusion of old can serve as a powerful reminder for how quickly the ride on the spiral can turn downward.

Speaking of Michael Jackson, will stage parents ever learn the dark lessons of losing a childhood to stardom? She seems to be doing better lately though, so that's obviously good.

*Some of the M.S. team is down hard with colds at the moment. Yes, we're phoning it in.
**Korea making a second appearance in as many weeks on M.S.

Posted by Merry Swankster at 11:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

the Breeders - "Shocker in Gloomtown"
(Guided by Voices cover)

I've been listening a bit lately to the digitally liberated Breeders album, Mountain Battles and though not entirely knocked out, it is clearly a pretty solid record. But unavoidably, when a long time artist of some considerable nostalgic heft releases a new disc, thoughts turn quickly to greater glories. Searching through the YouTube flotsam, I came across this Guided by Voices cover that I'd somehow missed in its heyday. The GBV song came from 1993's Grand Hour EP, and the cover's conception is easily traced to the two bands' shared Dayton roots. I never really saw the Breeders as lo-fi Ohio refugees. Whether It was their Convertible riding "Cannonball" iconography, or just lingering Pixies associations, I always had California on the brain. So the imagery of this video is surprisingly appealing in theory. I'd like to think of small rainy Midwestern towns in the nineties having row after row of garages filled with kick ass bands. But in spite of that lo-fi romanticism, this version (released on the band's Head to Toe 7") doesn't quite work for me. Some Pollard songs would benefit from flexing the guitar muscle, but not this one. I'm now daydreaming about what the Deals could do with "Glad Girls" or "Back to the Lake" though.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 09:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I just watched the 1988 John Lennon documentary, Imagine: John Lennon and it got me nostalgic for an era that I didn't even live through. Not so much the hippie idealism that most children of boomers tend to latch on to (often with dreads, patchouli, copious marijuana use, Marley, etc), but more of the straight up uncynical critical thinking that drives people to question societal and governmental conventions. That's it really.

John Lennon - "Jealous Guy"

Though recorded in 1971 for Working Class Hero, the film sets the song during the so-called "Lost Weekend" era of Lennon's life, where Yoko threw John out while basically ordering him to live carefree in what was a strange type of de-facto marriage separation. Ono dispatched the couple's personal assistant with him along as a caretaker-slash-lover. What ensued was an 18 month bout of drinking, partying, and assorted excesses typically associated with La-La-Land rock star types.

John Lennon & Yoko Ono - "Give Peace a Chance" - Montreal bed-in

John Lennon was many things: an artist, a musician, a father, a husband; but possibly his greatest strength, especially during his solo years, was the ability in which he would create attention from controversy and then let the narrative of the aftermath, fallout, whatever become the story. His views drove people crazy. Mostly the one's who perceived danger from his influence on the youth with a naivety in sizing up the world as a broken system needing fixing -- its wars, religions, governments and social establishments were common targets. For a contemporary example: George Clooney speaks about Darfur, Rush Limbaugh has a conniption, right wing radio hosts and assorted television personalities fuel the echo chamber, mainstream media picks up on it and without reference to the actual cause trying to be furthered, start broadcasts with rhetorical questions like, "Do we need Hollywood to tell us what to care about?" Oh brother.

Lennon was a self-billed "Working Class Hero", a type of Robin Hood for ideas and social change. Without delving into the specifics of his various causes it's important to understand the post-Epstein days of John Lennon, and to a larger extent, the other Beatles, who were also very much colored by rebellion from the tightly controlled script of a "safe", mop-topped, boy band who just wanted to "Hold Your Hand". (Ed note - For the purposes of this framing, we must ignore the completely un-safe threats of domestic violence from songs like Rubber Soul's "Run For Your Life".) Lennon toyed with the media, so much so that they all showed up for fourteen days during a "bed-in for peace" in a Montreal hotel, most likely to see what would happen. Lennon taunted the press questions of the bed-in by mocking the fact they showed up to see raunchy bedroom activities. Perverts. They itched to report on the debaucheries of a former Beatle and his oddball Japanese artist wife, instead they provided a platform for one man's anger, frustrations and hope for peace.

If you do catch the film there is a terrific segment where John is confronted by an argumentative cartoonist attempting to debase pretty much everything John claims to stand for during the bed-in, achieving some success until his own vindictiveness towards the progressive movement gets the best of him and he comes off looking totally douchey.

Continue reading "Retrohump: John Lennon, contrarian" »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 08:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Was feeling a bit basic today, and that usually leads me to either Bowie, Roxy Music, or Pavement. So below we have two clips of the third option playing album cuts from their overshadowed little sister album, Brighten the Corners. Hearing these songs makes me feel like a crime scene psychic, given a swatch of ripped cloth and then overwhelmed by unstoppable images. Only I'm shot immediately back into my own freshman dorm room. "I see...a Trainspotting poster! And an empty pizza box...and there's...yes..laundry that needs to done!...Good God it's horrible!"

These songs are rad though, obviously. I'll present them with minimal personal nostalgia so that you can wallow in your own...

Pavement - "Transport is Arranged"
(live @ Bizarre Festival, Cologne, Germany 1997)

Oh, how they rope-a-dope! It's pretty sleepy and fantastic for the first minute-thirty, but then it's suddenly revenge of the Fender Jazzmaster!

Pavement - "Transport is Arranged"

Pavement - "Fin"
(live @ Bizarre Festival, Cologne, Germany 1997)

Two drummers were pretty unnecessary at this point, but Nastanovich had booze to pay for, I guess. And judging from the false start on this one, he probably wasn't hoarding it...

Pavement - "Fin"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 05:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

1-2-3 Retrohump punch ends on a political tone on this not very super, quite ordinary Wednesday.

JFK Campaign song

I like the collage theme. I also like how disarming the quips on religion, age, and vision can be when put to song. Especially the ones that go both ways -- "seasoned, but not so dog-gone; old enough to know, young enough to do".

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

Two of the most well known videos from the announced Bonnaroo headliners. Question - does these vids cause reminiscing over iconic videos, make you feel old or both?

Pearl Jam - "Evenflow"

Metallica - "One" 1989

Posted by Merry Swankster at 09:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

John Lennon - "The Maharishi Song / Pre-Sexy Sadie"

One of John Lennon's greatest strengths was also one of his greatest character flaws - a knack for biting sarcasm that quickly turned mean. While most of the Maharishi era is remembered by colorful clothing and even more colorful eastern arrangements, here you get the impression that John wasn't always drunk on the transcendental kool-aid.

See: Maharishi Mahesh Yogi Dies

Continue reading "Retrohump quickie: Maharishi" »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 09:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Young Marble Giants - "Credit in the Straight World"
(Live @ the Hurrah Club, New York City 1980)

Young Marble Giants - "Credit in the Straight World"

The 1980 performance immortalized on Young Marble Giants' Live at the Hurrah VHS tape is all over You Tube, and deserves a Retro with a more expansive view then I'm prepared to give at the moment. But I will focus on this sublime footage of my favorite song of theirs, "Credit in the Straight World." Aesthetically, this video fits the mysterious, minimal Welsh band perfectly, practically mimicking the under-lit cover of their cult classic Colossal Youth. From under shadow, the band glows with warm pink light. Alison Statton stands motionless, a visual parallel to her strangely detached singing. She lost a leg, she lost an eye, and neither seemed to faze her much. Guitarist Stuart Moxham paces around, channeling the nervousness of the strums that lend drama to her deadpan. It's still a beguiling mixture that no one has ever really gotten a hold of since. Including...

Hole - "Credit in the Straight World"
(Koln, Germany 1995)

Hole - "Credit in the Straight World"

This is worse in almost every way, but I find it oddly compelling anyway. Courtney was always a hot mess, and muscling this track up with grunge riffs is a bit like casting a snowflake in iron, but she still rocks pretty hard. The million dollar question is who do you think it was that stumbled across this then out of print record first; Court or Saint Kurt? Wait, you still have forty seconds left on the timer. Don't you want to think it over?

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 09:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I usually try to keep my politics out of my music blogging, but sometimes the Venn Diagram crossover is too vast to escape. As a primary season junkie, and a continually disagreeing but surprisingly continual National Review Online reader, I can't help but have come across tons of mentions of pudgy provocateur Jonah Goldberg's new book Liberal Fascism: The Secret History of the American Left, From Mussolini to the Politics of Meaning. At least half the country noticed as well, currently thrusting Mssr. Goldberg into the # 8 position on the Amazon charts and sneaking him into the top ten of the New York Times Bestseller List, as well as the guest chair of Mr. John Stewart. His big idea is that although the knee-jerk reaction of hippies and sarcastic teens alike is to throw out the term "fascist" at any right wing politician or lecturing Dad who wants to restrict their liberties, man, actual totalitarianism grew from leftist roots and continues to live on in the policies of the Democratic Party. Now, merit discussions of his argument would be rather tiresome and completely out of place on this fine pop-cultural establishment, so I'll pick my nit with the press release claim that this all constitutes "a startling new perspective on the theories and practices that define fascist politics."

As anyone with a deep record collection can tell you, it was very well a startling new perspective...when Jello Biafra posited it...in 1979.

Dead Kennedys - "California Über Alles"
(live in San Fransisco, 1979)

I was reminded at a "slightly" inebriated party this weekend what a kick-ass song "California Über Alles" is. Probably the only hardcore punk song I can claim an unabashed love for, because it's sharp and funny as Hell. Structurally it's interesting too, with the breakneck pogo speed slowing down to goose-stepping tempo as Jello delivers his hilarious vision of a Liberal Dystopia whose "suede, denim secret police" have come for "your uncool niece." "Mellow out or you will pay!"

The video above reminds me why I greatly prefer the 90's slacker jams to the 80's sweaty hardcore. There's just something unseemly about trying that hard. And oh, how I wish there were some sleeves involved! But we gotta call a classic a classic, so the mp3 is below.

Dead Kennedys - "California Über Alles"

P.S. Lest DK neophytes think that they were some kind of conservative punk anomaly along the lines of our beloved Jonathan Richman, here's a subsequent version that substitutes a different California governor for the original's Jerry Brown. "We've got a bigger problem now..."

P.P.S. This shows that JG had actually met and toured campuses with Jello Biafra in 2002. Perhaps the music on the bus sparked a certain book proposal? Hmmm...

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Although Wes Anderson soundtracks suggest that the best time for a mid-period Kinks song is when your quirky good time turns unexpectedly melancholy, my devotion to that era of the band doesn't need a specific cue. Right now, I've been particularly enamored with 1969's Arthur and more recently 1966's Face to Face. Below is the shoddy video for a swell track they slapped on to my re-issue of that album. It's been covered by former Portland sad sack Elliott Smith, but it has nowhere near the oldies radio ubiquity that their earlier, cruder songs enjoy. Love it now, so you'll know how to feel when it's used as a stand-in for emotion in a future art house dramedy.

the Kinks - "Dead End Street"

The Kinks were always the most class-conscious of the British Invasion titans, and the song has a righteous fury about being stuck under the socio-economic gun. The above video has got some serious tone issues, though. Shots of real life British dead-enders mix in with grimly comic footage of the boys as demented paul bearers moving from one run-down apartment to the next, collecting the poor departed. That'd be a little heavy handed no matter how it was played, but nothing is helped by the influx of silly wigs and 'staches that have historically proved far too tempting for British comedians from John Cleese through Andy Mellman. The near immediate slip into terminal silliness sort of torpedoes the video's chance to show the kind of empathy present in the song itself, but it is fairly amusing. If you want to get worked up about being broke and angry yourself, try the track below unaccompanied.

the Kinks - "Dead End Street"

P.S. John Edwards has got nothing to lose at this point. New theme song, perhaps?

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The influence of the Beatles is pretty remarkable. You can fill a library with the words spent on their impact on music. However, today I'm not here to add to the compendium, but rather to introduce you to the Shakers of Uruguay -- a band that for all intents and purposes was an austral American clone of the Fab Four. Brothers Hugo and Osvaldo Fattoruso wrote the music and the Liverpudlian gimmick was lifted unapologetically from the Hard Day's Night movie. I'm too young to even guess but I wonder if the fan frenzy showed on this and other Beatles films is what trained the entire world how to act like super-fans. Screaming hysteria, chasing, etc.

Surprisingly, the Shakers sang in English, imperfect at best but totally adorable in their heavily accented pronunciations. However it's the chops, form and discipline of recreating the looks and feel of their idols that is the most striking. In their own way these homegrown impersonators satisfied the rabid hunger of Beatlemania for southern South America's 60's youth.

The Shakers - "Break It All"

Romper todo! How punk rock.

Continue reading "Retrohump - The Shakers" »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 11:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

According to our friends at Wikipedia, "Boxing Day is a traditional celebration, dating back to the Middle Ages, and consisted of the practice of giving out gifts to employees, the poor, or to people in a lower social class." Here at Merry Swankster dot com, Boxing Day is an opportunity to misinterpret the name of a non-American holiday and use it as an excuse to post some videos that we've wanted to post anyway. In this case, it's a group of alt-rock videos from Canada, where at this very moment, people are celebrating Boxing Day.

Since many of our puck-pushing brethren will spend today waiting in long-ass lines at department stores, I think it's fitting that we start things off with a long-ass Canadian rock song.

Neil Young - "Down by the River"

Continue reading "Retrohump: Boxing Day" »

Posted by Randall Monty at 01:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Freda Payne - "Band of Gold"

I'm not sure when Freda Payne's only enduring hit "Band of Gold" latched itself onto my consciousness. Whether I unknowingly learned the lyrics through oldies radio saturation on the drive to elementary school or maybe wandered into the room during a particularly mind searing minute of China Beach that it happened to soundtrack, it seems to me now like I've always just loved it. I was however long confused about the song's narrative details. I mean, if this guy went to all the trouble of snatching this young girl from the shelter of her mother, why would he immediately run out on her? Why the seperate room? I mean he was definitely interested, she says right there that he tried before... oh. Well, while my young ignorance of impotence was good old fashioned naivety, I suspect the next generation, brought up in the midst of an endless parade of boner pill ads, might just be perpetually perplexed.

Freda Payne - "Band of Gold"

I've had no bolts of lightning concerning this grainy video clip. Why can't the camera man get any closer? They obviously rented a crane or something to film over the famous D.C. pool, but isn't that getting a bit ahead of yourselves when there are only a few seconds of close up in the whole thing? Is the phallic Washington Monument meant as some sort of sly joke? And where are all the people crowding these major American monuments? Has there been some sort of funky apocalypse? Are we dealing with a Children of Men style depopulation crisis brought on by the heartbreaking spread of pill resistant erectile dysfunction?

Kids Incorporated - "Band of Gold"
(from the 1986 episode, "O Lucky Me")

Much more disturbing is this clip, and the idea that any children's television producer would think this subject matter was suitable material for the bevy of child brides on display. My very fuzzy recollections of the program in question include the star power of Martika (of "Toy Soldiers" "fame"), and a me frightening opening credits sequence in which the kids are scooped up by a white light and transmogrified into the letters K-I-D-S, with that poor keytar bastard stretched out to make "Incorporated." But they were very on top of hits of the day I recall and, as facilitated by a mid-eighties Belinda Carlilse remake, "Band" counts. I guess the saving grace here is that the nuptial bed in the scope of the song remains unused. But why, oh why would you let these kids sing of pining away for the loving of the man who "took them from the shelter of" their mothers? Martika herself, in a dashing Cosby sweater and shiny Hammer pants ensemble, is the only on who could even be conceivably be referred to as a "jailbait" sex object, as opposed to "argument for castration." The second, Tina Youthers resembling singer, aka future pants pissing Black Eyed Pea and all around pop music abomination Stacy "Fergie" Ferguson, hasn't even begun to grow her lady lumps! i'm not sure if the implied impotence makes it all more or less creeptastic.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I trolled around You Tube for a bit, chasing my latest obscurities du jour, but sometimes you really just want some well worn tight pants action.

the Rolling Stones - "Miss You"

"Well worn" has at least a couple meanings in this particular case. Even back in 1978, the Rolling Stones were looking a bit rough, on a sliding scale that went from proto-craggly Mick Jagger to perpetually ghastly Ron Wood. Mick makes it clear that his primary interest in the Studio 54 set was their lovin' spoonfuls by jumping, twitching, and grinding (his teeth) more than usual. Long close-up shots of his eyes darting around in his head do not ease this impression. Keef has probably had whatever Mick's done plus twelve, yet remains completely zen. I also think the decision to film this take with live vocals does a slightly baffling disservice to one of the Stones' final finest. Some punks saw this as a bunch of irrelevant millionaires embarrassing themselves to try to stay hip. Well, lads, who sounds more dated now?

I mean, there's adapting to new trends gracefully, and there's, well...

Dee Dee Ramone (aka Dee Dee King) - "Funky Man" (excerpt)
(from the documentary, End of the Century)

"Great. I'm a Negro too." - Dee Dee Ramone

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

In New York it's a no. Texas hasn't seemed to have heard of it. But in Massachusetts and most of New England, Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant Massacree" is as ubiquitous on Thanksgiving as turkey, football and working at the shelter. "Restaurant" is a song of war protest "based on true events" that allegedly took place on Thanksgiving day, 1965. It's comparable to the narrative songs often heard on country radio in the 1960s, and true to that form, it's pretty darn funny. The song was such a hit that it spawned it's own film, which was released in 1969.

But isn't it a little out dated? Isn't it time for a new Thanksgiving song, one that can combine the nostalgia of a familial get together with the appreciative aesthetic of our nations first holiday? I think so. Retrohump is here to help.

Continue reading "Retrohump: Thanksgiving" »

Posted by Randall Monty at 09:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

August Darnell, who was better known as Kid Creole (a name he swiped from an Elvis flick), was one of the prime bees in the cross pollenating music scene of early eighties New York. If the varied and blisteringly hip output of the famed ZE Records had a common thread, it was Darnell. His 1979 mix of James White & the Blacks' single "Contort Yourself" invented dance punk as we know it, basically serving as a rough draft for the Rapture's ubiquitous "House of Jealous Lovers" nearly thirty years later. His work as a producer for decadent starlet Cristina still stands up as some of the smartest, weirdest pop music of its time. But he outstripped the popularity of both with his own group, Kid Creole and the Coconuts, who gained cult status in the US while topping the British charts with a hard to pin down style that incorporated strains of pop, disco, and the Latin salsa music that dominated August's Bronx youth. Though all of these achievements deserve a more thorough examination under the MS microscope, we're going to focus on just one song. Off the top of my head, it's the cruelest song ever written.

Kid Creole & the Coconuts - "Annie, I'm Not Your Daddy"
(Top of the Pops, 1982)

With this Top of the Pops performance on mute, you wouldn't suspect such evil intent. In between the tracking lines on this fuzzy VHS transfer, it looks like a hell of a party. Even the band's announcement features a punk rocker and a circus clown. Despite matching outfits that I can't even begin to classify and transcendent dancing that makes them hard to pin down, the trio of female singers known as the Coconuts are obviously quite foxy. August was married to one, though rumored to have bedded all three. (It's not just the zoot suit that made him a pimp.) The infectious island percussion comes courtesy of Jamaican drummer Winston Grennan, who was a certifiable legend as a session player for an unbelievable list of artists that includes; Bob Marley, Jimmy Cliff, Desmond Dekker, Marvin Gaye, Aretha Franklin, Dizzy Gillespie, Herbie Hancock, and Minnie Ripperton. He played on Paul Simon's "Mother and Child Reunion," Rolling Stones' Goat's Head Soup, as well as nearly every track on the seminal soundtrack for The Harder They Come. He was no lightweight. In the clip above, the band seems to be a man down, so I'm guessing the dude working the cowbell and shaking about is Andy Hernandez, also known as a musical force in his own right under the name Coati Mundi. But even piped in over the BBC loudspeaker, it's Grennan's educated beats that make a salsa avoider like me take some serious notice.

The 1982 performance was primarily to promote an album awesomely named Tropical Gangster, which hit number 3 on the UK chart and spawned three top ten singles. "Annie, I'm Not Your Daddy," is my favorite by a large margin. In it, August plays the part of a man denying the title girl, who's come to him seeking her true paternity. At first he feigns a simple, honest correction, saying, "I'm telling this to you straight, so you don't have to hear it in another way." We soon get a hint that he's not one to let a kid down easy. "You're momma was in search of love, but all she got was you," he chuckles. "Break it to me gently now/ Don't forget I'm just a child," beg the Coconuts, playing the moppet's part. Ignoring those big brown eyes, August twists the knife, with the gleefully evil line, "See if I was in your blood, then you wouldn't be so ugly." At this point, delighting in the child's resulting tears, the party can really get started. The Coconuts chime in again, cleverly chanting "Ono...Ono...Onomatopea," knowing that anything they'd substitute would be just that.

There may be one or two songs from this fertile era as hot as this, but I guarantee that they aren't as goddamn cold.

Kid Creole & the Coconuts - "Annie, I'm Not Your Daddy"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 09:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Jonathan Richman is the Modern Lovers. Jonathan Richman is a special human being. His zaniness confirmed way before showing up on the big screen as the Oompa Loompa-esque musical narrator in There's Something About Mary.

Jonathan Richman - "I'm a Little Dinosaur" Berkeley, 1981

Believe it or not, things did indeed happen before the Internet was around to document them. Before Franco-bloggers Blogotheque re-branded impromptu outdoor shows as 'take aways,' it was all hippies on the street causing a ruckus. In this case, staunch conservatives at Berkeley.

Jonathan Richman - "I'm a Little Dinosaur" Rough Trade VHS comp

Scottish poet, humorist, all around hyphenator, Ivor 'droopy eyes' Cutler (not Droopy) introduces Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers.

Jonathan Richman does whatever he wants

With that cartoonish face, taking the piss is easy.

-- -- --
Fun fact: The following note is posted on the Vapor Records website, Richman's current label:

(Please note that Jonathan Richman does not have any direct involvement with the Vapor Records website and does not participate in the internet on any level.)

Emphasis ours.

Posted by Merry Swankster at 12:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Guns N' Roses - Knocking on heavens door

[with working video]

Today's jaunt through the cobwebs of the Retrohump crypt allowed me to re-discover this drafted but never published post. Call it the Chinese Democracy effect, or the first ever Merry Swankster unreleased b-side.

I know this song has been covered by everyone, as has most of Bob Dylan's catalog. That doesn't stop GnR from tearing it a new one on this live version. Ever since I picked up the Live Era GnR double disk a few years back, I've always been drawn to Axl's version. I dig the whole thing. Axl's soul singer primal scream, and even the ridiculous reggae interlude. What really gets me though, is the crowd. Take a listen to the Live Era disk version and you'll see what I mean.

Guns n' Roses - "Knockin On Heaven's Door"

//Guns n' Roses - Live Era: '87 - '93 - buy

Posted by Merry Swankster at 05:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Two years ago today Merry Swankster.com officially launched.

We aren't doing anything special to mark the occasion, but since the site's birthday falls on fan-favorite Retrohump day, we figured the time was right for a re-introduction to the feature for newer readers. Envisioned as a Youtube branded window into the past where we'd "scour the depths of the Internet and present a video we think is cool. The focus will be on older acts, the pioneers, the originals, the masters. The clips will be of very poor quality."

Happy to say it and us are still going strong. So while you reflect over this momentous occasion may I suggest indulging in a few select Retrohump videos from the archives? Forgive the lazy clip show. Thanks. (Happy Halloween too).

The first Retrohump:

Jimi Hendrix - "Machine Gun"

Jimi is ripping it up badass style for about ten minutes.

Roxy Music - "In Every Dream Home a Heartache"

If the initial slow pace isn't sufficiently livened up for you by the surprisingly interesting old time-y TV editing, please, please wait for the freak out that follows the line "I blew up her body....but she blew my mind." Is Eno ripping and manipulating tape from a huge reel to reel playback machine? Kind of makes Jonny Greenwood's fiddling with a transistor radio on stage seem a little half assed, huh?

Orange Juice - "Rip it Up" (Top of the Pops, 1983)

Edwyn Collins looks alternately charmed and frazzled, lip synch or no, and the hand selected crowd is going nuts. I only wish there was more camera time given to the synchronized dancers who are just killing it.

...and looking far into the future...Coachella 2014:

Unicorns - "I Was Born a Unicorn"

Continue reading "Retrohump Retrospective: MS.com is primed for the terrible twos" »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 12:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

In a simpler time (quite literally: late summer 2001), I lived first in Edinburgh and then in Dublin to totally evade adulthood. PoMo! Without any meaningful job (and failing (sometimes flailing) at my stabs at the great Benetton novel), I often found myself reduced to languorously lapping healthy amounts of cut-rate whiskey and Spar beer (oh, yes, grocery beer) while absentmindedly watching MTV UK or cricket. Also, the two unimportant jobs I held down were at clubs or coffee shops where they were thick on the current tunes making all the chavs (English for fake thugs), tarts, and lager lugs go nuts. They're seared - SEARED - into my mind. And, now, hopefully yours.

Continue reading "Retrohump: the bomb exploded repeatedly, but never ceased" »

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 09:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)