The Clean - "Beatnik"

Went sorta off-the-grid for a few days there, and came back to the main information vein to see that we are, in fact, still talking about M.J. I mean, he was ingrained in my pop culture formation as everyone else's and I can't help seeing pictures of him as a kid and feeling sad for what was coming down the pike for him, but at the same time, I haven't been able to throw myself into the nostalgia cycle. It's like Papa Smurf died or something. Someone from a t-shirt I had as a kid.

So, just for a sec here, is a clip from a legendary band that still exists, and I listen to a lot more. I had never seen this until today, though now's as good a time as any.

the Clean - "Beatnik"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 06:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

For those of us of a certain age Michael Jackson has been a constant presence. As children we knew him as a solo artists while our slightly older peers remembered the incredibly talented little boy outshining his older brothers in the Jackson Five. Some of us may have even watched the cartoon based on the Jackson family. Later we followed Michael's meteoric successes as a solo artist through the 80s and early 90s, with the nascent cultural force of MTV as principle conduit. From the moonwalk, to the glove, to Bubbles the chimp to the videos of sobbing and fainting masses at his concerts around the globe, Michael Jackson was if nothing else, an indelible personality for the world. Even the spoofs he inspired are seminal moments. Back when Eddie Murphy was funny (there was a time, kids) he riffed hilariously on Jackson's effete eccentricities. Parodies from Weird Al's "Eat It" to the less remembered (but funnier) skit from the button-pushing In Living Color, are stuff of legend.

But as I've said privately many times, and on this site a few times, whatever indiscretions, odd behavior, and strangeness behind Michael Jackson's enigmatic status, it was his music that got people interested at all. To this day his music continues to be the easy way for a DJ to guarantee a dance floor draw. That will never change. Today's Retrohump is in memoriam to the legendary work he leaves behind.

Continue reading "Retrohump: Michael Jackson R.I.P." »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 02:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

Weezer - "The Good Life"

It's sad when a formerly adored band sinks by putting out progressively sub-par material. The worst scenario possible in such cases is when the new offerings are so bad they invite questioning on the songs you initially liked. Weezer is such a band. Ever since Weezer "returned" to the scene, marked in chronology as after Pinkerton and before the Green album, they've steadily found themselves failing into the despair of irrelevancy.

Being that relevancy of any type needs, by definition, a comparative entity to matter, I'll further validate the claim. Those if us that grew up on the first two records are pretty lost with the band. Somewhere between "Hash Pipe" and a serious (as in not-initially for parody) song about Beverly Hills you knew things got hopeless. Marked for eternity as a go-to soundtrack choice for gallivanting in the affluent Los Angeles burb and reminding us each time of the fall from pop-rock enigma to the pop music fetishists they are today.

I recently spun Pinkerton's "The Good Life" and had a moment of clarity. Weezer was always the cheesy band they are now, and Rivers Cuomo was always the dorky, nerd obsessed with pop music. Can you blame him? We unapologetically revered a song that sang about "shakin' booty, makin' sweet love all the night" but then got taken aback with something titled "Pork and Beans". I love Pinkerton and Weezer's debut album. But I wonder how much of it is tied in adolescent formative history. Now I wonder, does Weezer suck?

Posted by Merry Swankster at 02:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Howard Devoto - "The Rainy Season"
(single from Jerky Versions of the Dream, 1981)

Klein sent me this gem ages ago, labeling it a prime 80s college moping soundtrack (or something to that effect, it could have been "sulking"). I took to it pretty quickly, but lately, it's wormed its way into enough well-worn playlists to warrant a quick You Tube search. Sure it's got some keyboard tones that seem to still be too 80s-toxic to even exhume in a nostalgic manner--specifically no one's been ballsy enough to try to incorporate that pan-flute sounding fucker. But outside of that, it's much subtler and lovelorn than Devoto ever let himself be during his stints with the Buzzcocks or Magazine. Really, it's not too far from the synth-driven mainstream pop his old pal Pete Shelley was putting out around then, which makes it kind of strange that they couldn't shelve their whole "creative differences" foofaw long before a 00s 'cocks reunion. "I am on fire, and it's the rainy season..." he spits at an unnamed lost love, making you suspect that he'd rather burn freely for a while than be extinguished. Try moping around to it yourself, see how you like it.

The located video, is one of those early-form trainwrecks where every image is either 100% on the nose ("It says fire there so you should light a match!") or totally wacky/obtuse ("When those lazer noises kick in, it'll make perfect sense to show a mallard craning his neck!"). It's worth snickering past visions of his beloved in mom-pants to get to a truly cringe-worthy flying jumpkick around 2:30, however.

Howard Devoto - "The Rainy Season"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 06:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Nancy Sinatra - "Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)"
(unknown television special, mid to late 60s)

As good as the booking on SNL and especially Letterman has been lately, I still mourn a bit for a time I never knew, when music was a marquee draw for mass-media consumption (I mean original music, by recording artists, by the way, not talent shows to sell Cokes). A great proportion of the clips we've posted over several years in this Wednesday feature have been from the variety show heyday. Sure, you gotta a lot of terrible stuff too, of the, "You guys are called the Turtles, and we brought out some cardboard Turtles variety," but it also occasionally made for dramatic staging and memorable performances. Nancy Sinatra could have stood gamely in front of an orchestra for this performance, but the lighting, her solitude, and some competent camera work really wrings more emotion out of an already emotionally saturated track. I think she's doing it live, too? The phrasing seems somehow a little subtler? Anyway, I can't think of a single outlet for something like this in modern broadcast TV, which is a shame. (Maybe the Grammys, but it would likely feature a cameo by T-Pain or something equally noxious.)

Nancy Sinatra - "Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)"

Dalida - "Bang Bang"

Hey, while we're at it, care to see the song outsourced to a more statuesque Italian blond, sung in her native tongue, featuring weird nostalgic Fellini memory flashbacks laid over the top of it? I mean, why not, right?

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

Julee Cruise - "The World Spins"
(on Twin Peaks, 1990)

I've got Twin Peaks on the brain for reasons I'd prefer to keep mysterious, though to be honest, it's always buried just below the surface of my subconscious. Like scores of people my age, Twin Peaks creeped me the eff out as the pop cultural sensation du jour of my pre-teen days. Really, I'd have to say it gave me sort of unreasonable expectations for the levels of extreme strange, goofy, intense, or pretty the American populace at large were willing to accept. TV from that point on sort of ingested the lessons of Lynch's success/failure, and more complete artistic statements have come in the medium since. But I'm not sure anything has ever been allowed to be this odd, for such a wide audience. The execs smartened up, for better or worse (worse).

The haunting score of Angelo Badalamenti was one of the show's secret weapons. The most memorable synthesis of score and image was the eerie and iconic Northwest pastoral of the glacially paced opening credits, but for our purposes, that doesn't quite work. The runner up is perhaps this in-show performance of the Lynch/Badalamenti composition "The World Spins" by fragile-voiced singer Julee Cruise. Contained in the second-season episode Lonely Souls, this song might actually be the exact moment in which the show began to decline from early heights. It was this episode after all, that answered the burning question, "Who Killed Laura Palmer?" The show never really came up with a compelling follow-up query. The sadness of Cruise's voice keys the room in on a metaphysical level that another young soul had passed violently on. Sure, it doesn't make a ton of literal, narrative sense, but as a moment of television, and more specifically music on television we don't see things this affecting very often these days.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 08:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Sonic Youth - "100% " Live on Letterman - 1992

Are you alright? Are you alright? This was 17 years ago folks.

Posted by Merry Swankster at 12:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Sonny & Cher - "Baby Don't Go" (medley)
(live @ Hollywood Palace, 1965)

My preoccupation with this song will be given context shortly by the belated, though impending Q1 podcast. Not too much insight can be given to the high-camp that Sonny and Cher provide, but man, Sonny should have begged even harder for her continued presence. What an ogre he was! He looks like a medieval squire with era-accurate hygiene dropped into the middle of 60s pop culture. The song's great though, at least until it swings into one of those "classic" medleys that have been thankfully pretty much purged from pop-culture (Baz Luhrman movies aside). Also: Milton Berle.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Cars - "Just What I Needed" Live @ Live Aid 1985

The Merry Swankster household just recently purchased The Cars song-pack for Rock Band. Sometimes blogging inspiration isn't a far reach.

Cars - "Let's Go" Live 1982

Posted by Merry Swankster at 09:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Like a lot of things in our lives these days, Retrohump has not been as consistent as it once was. Even the rock of Merry Swankster is not immune to flustering flight in these confusing times. In the 3+ years since debut we've missed no more than 5 editions of the weekly, past-revering, video spotlight feature. In spite of that I find a hard time reconciling that we've run out of pilfered material to run. And in spite of me trying to pin personal laziness on the state of the economy (even I wasn't going to let me get away with that), here's Joy Division's video for a song you may have heard. That you have seen it doesn't matter. Fuck it right? Its probably been a while.

Joy Division - "Love Will Tear Us Apart"

Posted by Merry Swankster at 10:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Smith - "Baby, it's You"
(1969, TV show unknown)

With such a pretty face and such a huge voice, it would seem to take a stunning lack of imagination for Gayle McCormack and her band Smith to avoid continued success. I think that's a pretty fair assesment. Their only big hit is a Shirelles cover, and their only other song of any note was them tackling the Band. Cover bands tend to slip away from the history books, as they should. I picked up a tattered copy of their record, A Band Called Smith after falling for her smoky rendition on a Tarantino soundtrack, and believe me, it sucks righteously (especially so when her straight-from-central casting studio musician bandmates take the mic). But there's just something about this version of a well-known song. Even the Beatles couldn't get their version into the Top 5, like Smith did, after all. The arrangement, with it's spooky organ notes and fat bass plunks, is superior to the original girl-group pop. And yeah, Gayle really kills it on the vocal.

Smith - "Baby, it's You"

Also, can I just say that I vicariously miss these old-timey variety show sets that used to be standard issue for TV performances. At the beginning it looks like they are sitting in one of those weird paper mache tree set-ups that used to be mysteriously present in mall JC Penneys (though the dude's sitting position in tight trousers would be completely inappropriate facing the Junior Miss section). Also, I laughed out loud when the camera angle changed and we see the bassist, chillin' on a stagecoach, for some reason. That's where I want Dave Sitek to sit next time TVOTR gets on late night...

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Husker Du somehow managed to be less commercially successful than fellow-1979-formed-post-punk-Minnesotans, the Repalcements. Perhaps it was that fiendish name, with the type setter's nightmare double-macron and the obscure Danish children's game origin. (To be fair, save Hamlet, just about everything out of Denmark is obscure.)

Fortunately for us, the catalog of YouTube Du is ample, and particularly vibrant is the collection of international concert footage. For example, there's this rather professional staging of "Celebrated Summer", from Finland's 1987 Provinssirock festival. Off of the relatively low-key New Day Rising (1985), "Summer" brings back the salty acoustic guitar that worked brilliantly on the previous year's "Never Talking to You Again".

Husker Du - "Celebrated Summer"

Continue reading "Retrohump: Do You Remember?" »

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

The Troggs - "With a Girl Like You"

Here is the original version of 'With a Girl LIke You" by the Troggs. The Troggs are not the most well known of the British Invasion bands, but their hit "Wild Thing" is, among other things, forever cemented with Charlie Sheen's Ricky Vaughn character in the 1989 film, Major League.

TV On the Radio's production wiz Dave Sitek turned in a slightly haunted, slowed down cover version for the Dark Was the Night effort. Sitek traded the Troggs dah dah dums for a hearty helping of bold brass that replaces the cheery 60s feel for a detached, metallic makeover. The end result is much more lovelorn than the lyrics could possibly suggest and yet it still works very nicely.

Posted by Merry Swankster at 06:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Meat Puppets - "Lake of Fire"
(Live @ the Mason Jar, Pheonix, AZ, 02.14.85)

While I'm sure it's no Austin, a quick browsing of upcoming shows in Phoenix, AZ doesn't look so barren (Ariel Pink, Black Lips, and Bonnie Prince Billy on the first page, even). In this video taken roughly a quarter century ago this week (ouch, sorry 80s dudes), things don't look quite so robust, even for a local band of some acclaim. Of course, a decade later this song would be "pop-charts and MTV" famous thanks to Kurt Cobain's guilty impulse to shine a light on the acts whose timing didn't break quite as perfectly as his own band's did. Perhaps Pheonix is for lovers, and only a sparse collection of ratty celibates could free themselves for a Valentine's Day show?

It's easy to see here why Cobain loved them. The Kirkwood brothers seem sort of uncomfortable in their own skin, nervously bad-postured, but still dorkily dedicated to rocking out. Cris, especially, looks keen to use his bangs as a curtain, shielding him from the tiny audience's gaze.

Meat Puppets - "Lake of Fire"

Related Unembeddable Bonuses:

- This whole concert is on YouTube, perhaps in slightly worse shape than the morsel above. Follow these links for parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, & 7.

- The bigger embedding shame is my inability to directly post this bit of home-recorded practice footage of the band in their garage lab, just absolutely slaying the guitar parts of "Plateau" and "New Gods" circa 1983. Hard to beat the added comfort level of your own house, I suppose.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

John Cale - "Heartbreak Hotel"
(Live on Musical Express, 1981)

Sure, there's a bit of pain in Elvis' voice when he drawls about his exile in the Heartbreak Hotel. But, like most of his early teen-frenzy inciting hits, it just seems like one extended eyelash bat. "Oh, baby, she hurt me so bad, I don't know if I can ever really feel again. Oh, if only some girl could change my mind." That sort of thing. He certainly doesn't sound like he could die. Enter ex-Velvets viola terrorist John Cale, who made the King's signature part of his live repertoire throughout the 70s. (I've got a pretty swell version in the digitzing queue, and now I guess I'll have to bump it to avoid being a horrendous cocktease.)

John Cale, pre-emptively mocking 00s fashion in tight black + mesh hat, sunglasses, and a bow tie, sounds plenty distraught about his current state. In the hands of his band, the song becomes much darker and emotional fraught, as if Presley' lyricists were really just a few minutes away from slashing a wrist or two. Of course, this bleak take might be a bit of a conceptual joke as well, a let's put the angst back in Elvis sort of thing. Cale's herky jerky dancing, and exaggerated pain swoons support that reading.

And pardon the cartoon wolfiness for a second, but who is the tomato on the keyboards? That kind of hot pants action would not go unlingered upon in today's world. Testiment to the power of robot dancing in 1981 that's she's so ignored, I guess.

Unembeddable, Unrelated Bonus:

Live footage of A-#1 1970s Switzerland girl-punk import, Kleenex (later LiLiPUT) that's much more satisfying than the only other clip I've ever been able to track down. The embedding's been disabled, which makes baby John Peel cry. MP3 below...

Kleenex - "Nice"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 03:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Comsat Angels - "Independence Day"

A few years back, upon discovery of this little lost post-punk classic, I scoured the internet in search of footage that would either confirm its makers as dark and serious lads, or completely undermine their moodiness with early 80s goofiness. The video above has a bit of both. There's some terrible, Wayne's World "Camera one. Camera two" jump cuts., and some uber serious stock footage of missiles launching and such. I also like the heavy symbolism of Stephen Fellows, crippled by the world's problems, in a room lined with newspapers. "The wall says there's nuclear buildup! I will watch this television until the problem is resolved." Still, a good song...

Comsat Angels - "Independence Day"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Fad Gadget (w/ Einsturzende Neubauten) - "Collapsing New People"
(1983, Program Unknown)

Several weeks back, I posted a track from early Mute Records' stalwart Fad Gadget (aka Frank Tovey, R.I.P.), an act whose existence was only made known to me quite recently. Apparently though, he was in high enough demand in his day that someone let him on TV in 1983. (Germans? In cases like this it's usually Germans) He took the opportunity to tar and feather himself, as was his wont. The single in question, "Collapsing New Buildings," is a play on the name of industrial legends Einsturzende Neubauten or, in our own native tongue, "collapsing new buildings." Elevating the homage, members of that band of terrorists are here, dressed as passive factory workers playing instruments (and things) while taking Frank's dirty-handed abuse. The song is pretty awesomely catchy actually, against all preconceptions. While playing the shell of a burnt out car is pretty close to EN's normal steez, the lady playing the Perrier bottles is the real star. Before she gets totally molested by ol' tarry, her bottle strikes are precise, melodic, and rhythmic, all. Anyway, take a moment with the above clip, especially if you're non-plussed by the bearded gentility of the 00s indie universe. This is odd and off-putting in all the best ways.

I don't have an mp3 of the above song, sadly, but another track from Fad Gadget that's not too shabby...

Fad Gadget - "Love Parasite"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As long as this Wednesday feature has existed, I've been looking for vintage footage of one of my all time favorite bands, the Television Personalities. Embracing the punk DIY spirit, in large part to mock all the other punks flailing around them, the TVPs wrote some excellent pop songs about being a relatively normal smart ass in late 70s London. The search continues, but I did locate the majority of a documentary, that from its subtitles, appears to hail from Swedish TV. Sadly, it appears to be focused mainly on the rough years main songwriter Dan Treacy has faced in his post-pop savant years, including a stint in prison (on a boat), and bouts with heroin and anything else he could find. It doesn't quite vibe with the kid who wrote those sharp, hilarious songs. For fans, though, it's tough not to be interested in "whatever happened to..."

Part 3 beneath the fold, part 4 seems to have gone missing, so I suppose you're denied the slightly redeeming end point in which Dan keeps the TVP flame lit by writing, recording, and touring to this day...

Continue reading "Retrohump: I Know Where Dan Treacy Lives..." »

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 03:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Yesterday brought sad news from Ann Arbor that ridiculously influential guitarist and founding Stooges member Ron Asheton has died, aged 60. As much as Iggy's self-destructive sneer, Ron's primative and sexually charged riff cobbling paved the way for glam, punk, and everything that followed in their conjoined wakes. As all You Tube clips of the Stooges are magnetically drawn to Iggy's freakouts to the utter exclusion of all other band members anyway, we'll pay tribute by posting Pop's own tribute to his formative band mates, "Dum Dum Boys" from the immortal post-Stooges record, The Idiot.

Iggy Pop - "Dum Dum Boys"
(live in San Francisco, early 80s)

Iggy Pop - "Dum Dum Boys"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 12:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

[Kraftwerk's custom built vocoder]

Kanye's latest release has taken over much of my music focus as of late and not just from a listening perspective. Forget the ridiculous notions of people questioning whether rappers should sing because not only is that impossibly boring it's kind of offensive to rappers. Especially when there are plenty of pop artists who clearly cannot sing and yet continue enjoying success. Due to either blissful ignorance or complete disregard of its disposable nature, not nearly the same amounts of scrutiny is directed at questionable singers (American Idol notwithstanding). Which just proves that giving a pass is much smarter than getting into heady discussions on shit that really doesn't matter.

Criticizing the lengths that talent deprived "singers" go to hide imperfections is valid and all but about as beneficial as pointing out water is wet or that Britney Spears is one manic episode away from wrecking what has been a remarkable turnaround into relative normality. Its a given, so how come Kanye gets such grief? (My personal take is this is all related to similar reasons like why Santogold gets labeled as R&B and not something more accurate. Norms, expectations, and excuses (because that's what they are) can be distilled with phrases like " this is how we've always done it!" In other words total bullshit.)

Even the biggest auto-tune detractors can find appealing usage of the technology on 808s and Heartbreak. I know because I count myself as one. It's an interesting record though not an amazing one. Enjoyable at times, frustrating and puzzling at others but without question an engaging and completely unexpected for a Kanye West album. Fans used to the educational themed trio of titles preceding 808s can call it a curveball all they want. History will be the final judge.

My intentions for deliberating Kanye's vocal crutch is not to reengage that argument (re: boring), but to provide an on ramp for a Retrohump branded shout out to auto-tune's robotic sounding ancestor - the vocoder. Pioneering popular use in electronic music was none other than Robert Moog and, electronic music composer, Wendy Carlos who worked jointly to create one of the first vocoders.

Kraftwerk - "The Robots"

Though Kraftwerk's "Autobahn" is cited as the first rock song to include a vocoder, "The Robots" might be the first song to include a vocoder and animatronic puppets. Advantage "The Robots".

Posted by Merry Swankster at 01:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

the Shop Assistants - "Safety Net"
(From the French TV program Decibles, date unkown, likely 1985 or 1986)

As I mentioned briefly a bit ago, I've been rolling the Shop Assistants' reissued Will Anything Happen around my palette for a bit, coming up with appropriately pretentious adjectives to describe its bouquet. It's impetuous and echo-y, so far. Also, victims of identity theft by hip young Brooklyn bands in the past six months. One surprising aspect of the release is its failure to find room for the band's second single, "Safety Net," whose equal I've yet to find among the tracklist provided. If your re-issuing it anyway, why not be comprehensive, right? Luckily, YouTube is not so stingy (and I had it lying around anyway).

You can kind of see in this clip why the Shop Assistants had the reputation around Scotland as the Jesus & Mary Chain's kid sister band. By that I mean, the comparison is apt (they've got the sound down, but are still too goofy to glower), but clarity is the victim of some atrocious camera work on the behalf of a French program called Decibles. At times it literally looks like they tied a camera to a rope and gave it a hearty swing, before leaving for a baguette and a smoke. What glimpses you do get of the band are fairly charming, with coy glances exchanged, and big hair obviously slaved over. The stand up drum thwacking is currently being redeployed by Frankie Rose in the Crystal Stilts, and everything else was parceled off to her old band mates the Vivian Girls. I've yet to hear anything approaching "Safety Net"'s simple, bloody, nagging guitar riff though. So below, beauties, below...

the Shop Assistants - "Safety Net"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 07:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Yesterday morning was a Roxy Music morning around the apartment, not so odd a development considering they're one of the pillars of my specific taste-sphere, and just stone-cold legends, objectively. The Roxy-ness of the day was cemented when my Bought-early copy of Matador's Brighten the Corners reissue showed up, and the bonus live LP had "Remake/Remodel" listed among its tracklist. After uttering a quick "no fucking way" and slapping it down on the turntable, my utterance was confirmed, as those Pavement boys couldn't resist a posthumous bit of dickery, and the track was actually BTC's "Type Slowly." Then it sort of morphed into a Pavement afternoon, but we'll stick to the original script.

Getting mad at the lack of scope in a Rolling Stone list is like getting mad at the sun for rising, and yet, and yet...the absence of Bryan Ferry on the recent 100 Greatest Singers of All Time still raised my hackles (that's a synonym for middle fingers, right?). I guess the outbreaks of goatman vibrato puts people off, despite gained degree of difficulty points? I mean, I love the Velvets and all, but I would swap Lou Reed out for Ferry in a millisecond. More range, more oddity, and capable of much more subtle beauty and lung wattage than Lou ever was. Roxy seem likes forgotten titans to me sometimes, and it makes me unreasonably sad.

Roxy Music - "Mother of Pearl"
(Live in Germany, 1974)

Surely, if the list were slightly amended to say Top 100 Frontmen of All Time, and compiled by people who actually like music, there'd be no way to leave Ferry off. Look at him up there, leading a scruffy bunch of glam mercenaries, impeccably tuxedoed. Can you think of a current bandleader, or hell, even one from the similar time period, who could pull that off without it seeming unbearable? With Ferry it just seems a natural extension of his class and elocution (though clearly its all part of the act). Once the song gets past its initial rock riffing, and into the smooth brilliance it carries to conclusion, Ferry is a marvel to watch. Check his movements around the three minute mark. As the camera zooms in, he's singing, "Now I've seen that something, just out of reach-glowing-very holy grail." But beyond just singing it with feeling, and perfectly yearning tone, he's actually reaching towards the studio's shining lights, transfixed. The camera man has nothing to do but follow the staging suggested by his stage presence, and suddenly a typical bit of TV studio camera work becomes a dramatic touch, forwarding the song's narrative. It's level of thoughtfulness and execution beyond the performances you typically see. High praise in rock performance often goes to precise but rote choreography or wild, impulsive abandon; this is more refined, more elegant than either.

Roxy Music - "Mother of Pearl"

*Note: I had hoped to get this up yesterday, to satisfy the required "hump" day concept, but my internet went down, and the cosmos cared little for my plight....

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

What's the statute of limitation on Retrohump? I know we had a Leonard Cohen post last March, when "the original Montreal hipster" was (finally) inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Who cares? I'm sure he's much prouder to be in the Canadian Music Hall of Fame, of which he has been a member since 1991.

Since we're on the subject, it's worth filing away for future Retrohump posts that the CMHoF will have one hell of an induction run sometime around 2025, more than making up for the lean years of today that have seen Bryan Adams and Triumph garner invites.

There are a number of unfunny music jokes where Bryan Adams is the unwilling punchline. My favorite comes from the pages of Spin, circa 1999. The non-specified issue contained a flow chart to help answer the question, "What rock and roll star are you?" Answering "no" to the first question, "Do you rock?", apparently meant that you were... alright, you get it.

Cohen is likewise in the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame (as are Paul Anka and Suzie McNeil, the latter best known south of the border for her work on INXS: Rockstar). Cohen is also a Companion of the Order of Canada, the highest honor bestowed upon only the finest civilian classes of Canuck and Nordique. Margaret Atwood is one. As is nearly every ex-politician in Canadian history (this is a mathematically inaccurate claim). Not Wayne Gretzky, though. Really? What's a guy got to do?

Back to Cohen. The last time Retrohump focused on arguably the coolest Polish Jew ever, the post's author turned a blind eye to this writer's personal favorite Cohen track, even though it's the centerpiece of Songs of Leonard Cohen. "So Long, Marianne" is the song that, in my imagined, alternate life, I use to romantically serenade a potential ex-girlfriend. Time to right that wrong (at least the song-posting aspect of it).

Leonard Cohen - "So Long, Marianne" (from something that looks like "3sat Pop Rock Special")

Continue reading "Retrohump: Still Sighing" »

Posted by Randall Monty at 06:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

In pondering the riddle of Dazzle Ships initial flop and subsequent obscurity yesterday, I failed to factor in what these dudes actually looked like. It's all becoming clearer...

OMD - "Genetic Engineering"

By early MTV standards this video for single "Genetic Engineering" isn't so bad, I guess. It's a bit too literal (hey, he just said "little children," and here they are!), a bit too serious (we are making deals with nefarious agents of a shadow authority!), but it still falls well short of rife for parody bullshit like Tears for Fears. The main drawback is that is makes zero sense. Plot outline: McCluskey and Humphries are textbook writers with a serious transaction to make regarding, uh, genetics. Upstairs from their office, there is a couple of married 10 year olds, possibly the ones from the Love is... comicstrip, but clothed. As the boys slip out, these pint sized goons see their opportunity to wreck the place. OMD gets their filthy grant money from a couple of M16 types, but they are easily intimidated, and when those kids so much as rip a single textbook, they immediately cave in to their thuggery and cough up the dough. Also, those kids are secretly double agents, working for, let's say, the KGB.

OMD - "Genetic Engineering"
(Live on The Tube, 1983)

As much as I don't think this is the right word to use, this is likely the band at their "coolest." The prominent reel-to-reel player, the stand up gong, the extraneous band member rocking the typewriter, it's all wonderfully weird. And you have to give credit to ol' Andy McCluskey for passionately singing out from his diaphragm in the midst of a brainy music concrete-inspired single. Aloof reserve would have been the obvious choice, and it would have made for a much less memorable track. But in the end, he looks like an extra homely mash up of Luke Wilson and Rick Santorum, and that sure doesn't help.

Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark - "Genetic Engineering"

OMD - "Telegraph"

OMD - "Telegraph"
(Live in Sheffield, 1985)

I truly love "Telegraph," the album's second, more insistent single. You know, I even think that in its low-rent hyper 80s way the official video is kind of cool. The flag squad waving Saville's interior record sleeve, the light-up megaphones, I'm ready to buy in. But in viewing both it and the live clip below it for the first time, all I can say is: For the love of God McCluskey, YOU STOP THAT DANCING RIGHT NOW!!! If you were the brainy 80s hipster Dazzle Ships was intended for, how badly would you want to write the guy off on dance moves alone? After reading one misguided review in a hip mag, you wouldn't cross the street to kick him in the back. David Byrne went for a hyper-stiff avant-nerd approximation in his video dancing. This friends, is honest, unfiltered, natural dorkery. Recurring sitcom joke, meet your maker.

Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark - "Telegraph"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 03:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

2Pac - "Changes"

Posted by Merry Swankster at 11:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

If you have ever asked a musician to describe the Philly Sound you probably can recognize the confused look/ mouth agape struggle of someone trying to put into words something that is only clear to them between the ears. I never fully understood what was so hard to grasp, after all if you ask someone to talk about Chicago Blues they will immediately bring up an amplified sound with deep bass. If you asked to describe the sound of New Orleans you are thinking brass bands or Dixieland. So what is it about the Philly Sound that is too hard to put into words?

Perhaps one of the reasons the Philly Sound is so hard to describe is because it can sound down right ridiculous in words. For example Wikipedia describes the sound as a style of soul music with the faint sounds of a glockenspiel. If all that it took to make the Philly Sound was to lower the decibel level of James Brown and bring in weird German instruments then to create a perfect Philly record all you would have to do is mate The Simpsons characters Üter Zörker and Disco Stu and package it in plastic.

The truth might be that the Philly Sound is much more of a feel then a tangible musical quality. Sure you can describe a style of sound that utilizes funk riffs with a much smoother well produced texture, however, I would have to argue that there are more things then traditional “Glockenspiel Soul” that fall into the character of The Philly Sound. After-all somehow the Philly musical tradition has gone from John Coltrane to Hall & Oates and all the way to DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince.

If we are talking about The Philly Sound then we have to first take a look at The O’Jays. The group’s album Back Stabbers in 1972 defined the genre of Philly Soul and crowned Philadelphia International Records as kings of the sound. As we can see in “Love Train,” which went from being No. 1 to being the refrain in a Coors Light commercial, the first thing you have to do when making a song in The Philly Sound tradition is have all members of the group do smooth hand movements but be sure not to coordinate them together in any fashion.

The O'Jays- "Love Train"

Temple University has the honor of creating the bricks and mortar that allowed for Daryl Hall to meet John Oates. Though John Coltrane once practiced his scales at 1511 N. 33rd St., it is the creators of “Maneater” that hold the title for being one of the most successful acts ever to come out of The City of Brotherly Love (which is quite a coincidence since I’m convinced that John Oates will take a tire iron to Daryl Hall as soon as he renders his blonde locks useless).

Hall & Oates- "Private Eyes"

For some reason the duo of DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince seem to make a lot more sense after having watched 15 Hall & Oates videos. The song “I Think I Could Beat Mike Tyson” is a story of hope, persistence in the grasp of failure, and relentless claims of greatness, all themes that could be used to describe Philly in the first place.

DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince - "I Think I Could Beat Mike Tyson"

I know that I could spend many more hours delving into the deep historical pockets of The Philly Sound but unfortunately I have a 3 ½ inning baseball game to watch so I leave you with the soulful styling of the 1976 Phillies.

*Bonus- "Phillies Fever" -1976

Posted by Yonah Korngold at 03:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This morning, I had one of those moments that I can only attribute to gentrified urban areas, full of very old walls, housing relatively new inhabitants. Bleeding through the ceiling were the unmistakably taunting lurches of the Fall's "Eat Y'self Fitter." In college, notes heard through osmosis were often a source of alienation. But here, in Williamsburg they are mostly culturally affirming, maybe a bit too much so. Because that is a track that almost demands cult confinement--15 pounds of crazy in a 5 pound sack. Or 15 minutes of crazy in a 7 minute song, as it were. As a rallying point for heart-warming connection, it just seems surreal.

the Fall - "Eat Y'self Fitter"

I scoured You Tube for Mark E. Smith's grim visage barking his immortal lines, "What's a computer? Eat yourself fitter!" As his initial question suggests, there were no easy to download digital hand cams at the time of its recording, and no live footage could be found. But, I flipped through the Fall pages anyway, and the clips below are what I snatched.

the Fall - "Totally Wired"
(live in New York, 1981)

The boys are super tight, poorly lit, and more than a little sassy in this early 80s performance. Perhaps it's the dimness but Mark looks almost collegiate, as opposed to actively decaying. The music moves along at a sustained pummel. While I certainly have no doubt that our singer is, in fact, totally wired, he's also pretty sarcastic, which is a nice mix.

the Fall - "Totally Wired"

the Fall - "I Am Damo Suzuki"
(live @ the Hacienda, Manchester, UK, 10.09.1985)

OK, so let's get reeeeaal dark for a sec. This tribute to Can's feral child singer aims toward that band's thicker psych moments. "I Am Damo Suzuki!" Mark squeals, without actually attempting imitation. They seem like kindred spirits, though disheveled in separate ways, and probably similarly unpleasant to share an elevator alone with.

the Fall - "I Am Damo Suzuki"

the Fall - "Victoria"
(Kinks cover)

Having never actually made through the Fall catalog to The Frenz Experiment, I was unaware that the band had ever covered a favorite Kinks' song of mine. Surprisingly, Smith's throbbing bile duct doesn't leak too much into the Davies' sly lyric sheet. The video is completely ridiculous. Victorian activities such as opera watchin' and fancy cake eatin' are begrudgingly attended to by a costumed Mark (his dental hygiene is era accurate!). But the real action comes in a thrilling soccer break down sequence, featuring ball fakes the likes of which you've never seen!

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It's a bit late now, so in slipping this Retro under the Wednesday wire, I'm keeping it short and simple. Below, please enjoy a couple of supplemental clips from artists whose work was covered by current artists these past few months, and included in the podcast on the page below, coincidentally both from 1980. Yes, I do realize that Deerhunter and El Guincho were covered as well, but they can hardy be considered retro now, can they? Submitted--just this once--without much comment.

Young Marble Giants - "N.I.T.A"
(live on Something Else, BBC, 1980)

Throbbing Gristle - "Something Came Over Me"
(live at the Oundle School, UK, 1980)

Where the images of Swedish schoolchildren came from is anyone's guess...

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

[Mike Piazza & Tom Seaver closing the joint down]

Sunday was the last day of service for Shea Stadium, the Mets home for 44 years. It hosted its last baseball game ever which ended with a loss by the home team that not only ended the career of the Mets only ballpark, but also the Mets' playoff desires. On the very last game of the season for a second year in a row. This sudden halt to Shea's primary purpose forced me to suddenly face the fate of demolition in an unexpected way. Forcing me into heavy reflection mode towards the big blue hulk of dated stadium architecture in Flushing, Queens.

As with most days this September, it began hopeful amidst the see-sawing drama that seems to always define the Mets, possibly never more so than this season. Just one day after a masterful and career defining pitching performance by squad ace Johan Santana the team fell flat offensively and the bullpen was about as useful as a guitar in my talentless hands. Sigh. Oh those Mets.

The Mets ability to fall on their face while the glorious possibilities of post season baseball is within sight would be way funnier (though it probably is outside of New York) if it wasn't for all the heart wrenching and awful, just awful losses that I watched over and over again this season. I should mention that this was always voluntarily and never under duress, though the more I think about it the more I feel like I was totally held hostage to my allegiance. Sports are funny like that. Complete irrational exuberance and deep psychological connections to millionaires playing a child's game. If you are not a sports person it can be difficult to understand, because really there isn't any resemblance of logic or sense to be found in passion so strong that it ruins your nights. Now all us Met fans have to look forward to is months of second guessing and a long winter preparing for next season. Once the anger and disappointment subsides fans will unanimously agree that next year will definitely be the year. Hope springs eternal until that first 2009 pitch is thrown (hopefully a first pitch strike).

Rant aside I'm not here to abuse this web soapbox with pity party indulgences and then reach for a thin connection to music for a cheap post to satiate my grief. Instead I wrote this to shine a bright ballpark spotlight on the very real musical history that took place inside the hallowed, albeit battered (like my spirit) walls of Shea Stadium.

Beatles @ Shea Stadium

The video is dotted with dry, laconic verbal notes from terribly edited press junket sound-bites of the fab four. "It was great", "just amazing", "it just knocks you out, it makes you feel so good inside", "fantastic". "Shea was great because it was organized well". Adorable. Just like (most) of my Shea memories.

Speaking of posterity, here's a list of things I learned watching this clip.

1. Be comfortable with the eventuality of being completely wrong when forecasting. Radio personality Murray the K warmed up the crowd with words he might want to take back. "Welcome to what will be probably the biggest concert ever in the history of pop music."

2. Incessant high decibel screaming was an annoying byproduct of early rock and roll concerts. Foreshadowing moshing, camera phones, and your pick of the litter from the general asshole behavior that can go down when humans convene together and disregard normal standards of personal space.

3. There is something sad about the reality of not being able to say the Beatles played "here" while catching a Mets game next year. Just as sad as any other great Mets memory that will soon to be deprived of its real live, geographical actuality. Quite the existential crisis for adherents to historical accuracy, especially during the mythicized tales we envision telling our kids. Shea Stadium is no more. Unlike the rejuvenating powers of the winter baseball "season", there will not be another huge, touchstone show from a history altering rock band like the Beatles. Or maybe not, as we learned with #1.

It should be noted the Beatles weren't the only musical act to entertain the masses at Shea Stadium. As recently as last July Billy Joel performed (click to see a mesmerizing video of Joel's stage rig from the perspective of a remote controlled airplane). Over the years bands not called the Beatles also passed through ol' Shea: Jethro Tull (1976), The Who, with the Clash opening(!) (1982), Simon and Garfunkel (1983), The Police (1983), the Rolling Stones (six night run in 1989), Elton John & Eric Clapton (1992), and Bruce Springsteen (2003).

-- -- --

Next year the Mets, along with their history of finding fantastic ways to destroy championship aspirations, jerking fans around before failing completely, and their remarkable abilities to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, will move across the way to a new, shiny, beautiful, state of the art and by all accounts dazzling new stadium called Citi Field. Maybe Shea's burial can mark a new beginning of triumphs for these humbled Mets. Something that might can someday serve as a spark for good things. Something that just might delay the consistent crushing of my heart. Fuck.

Billy Joel & Paul McCartney - "Let It Be" - Live at Shea Stadium 7.18.08

Damn you Paul and your poignant words!

Posted by Merry Swankster at 05:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

When your favorite band is nearly a decade defunct, there are only so many chances to really bask in your fandom. Sure, there's the inevitable reunion, but what until then! You can only scour YouTube for new (old) clips every so often. The records themselves provide familiarity, comfort, pleasure, etc., but they can never really surprise, now can they? Which is why, every two years or so, Matador Records does us sad, nostalgic Pavement enthusiasts of the world the great service of making our old love new again with their comprehensive reissues of the band's five studio albums. Yesterday, another track listing was announced, this time for the expanded Brighten the Corners: Nicene Creedence Ed. of the band's sly 1997 record. And there was much rejoicing.

An odd quirk of that tracklist is the seeming creep of material surrounding the band's fifth and final LP Terror Twilight into the BTC goodie bag. "Spit on a Stranger" b-sides "Harness Your Hopes" and "Roll With the Wind" oddly pop up, and the first disc ends and the second disc begins with versions of Twilight's fulcrum, "the Hexx" under it's original title "...And Then" (and then also as just "Then" in order to be contrary). As a live set staple from the Corners era, at least it's chronologically consistent.

As "And Then," the song excises "The Hexx"'s atmospheric opening riff on the unique physiology of the Capistrano Swallow, as well as it's agile football references ("the secondary stumbles 'cause the cadence of the count has lead them astray..."), skipping straight to the point where Malkmus spies you in a parking lot. The nagging guitar lead maintains and bulks up fearsomely, and the lyrics digress from there to track the the majestic non-sequitur in its natural habitat (substituting the tale of a diplomat's daughter over the eventual recorded versions cold dissing of architecture students). Luckily for you and I, a commenter on Matt Perpetua's Fluxtumblr posted a swell live bootleg of the altered beast in the comments to a post on the reissue. I've re-posted below for ease...

Pavement - "And Then" (live in Germany, 1997)

Pavement - "The Hex" (aka "...And Then")
(I dunno)

The closest thing YouTube currently has to offer by way of video documentation is the above clip, which seems to be excerpted and altered to fit the general "And Then" configuration. The goofy font they throw up in the beginning makes me think it might be from the episode they did of HBO's short-lived alt concert show Reverb but I thought that was recorded during the Terror Twilight tour, when the song had come to resemble its eventual album shape.

The Slow Century clip below shows the song as I remember it played live during my one and only attended Portland concert, a day which I've retroactively declared one of the Halcyon Days of My Youth.

Pavement - "the Hexx"
(live in Seattle, 1999, from the Slow Century DVD)

Of course, this is still none too shabby...

Pavement - "The Hexx"

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

Magazine - "Permafrost"
(Live in Berlin, 1980, West German Television)

I hadn't thought about this song, the frigid finale to Magazine's positively sub-zero 1979 sophomore album Secondhand Daylight, in a couple of years until I recently picked up a live record in which it was prominently featured. In truth, it's actually kind of a hard song to forget about. While his Buzzcocks' mate Pete Shelley ditched that quintessential punk singles band to record some swell robo-pop (as recently detailed in this space) Howard Devoto got real grim. His second band's debut Real Life stands high atop the list of way-too-serious post-punk classics. Its critical reception apparently convinced Magazine that songs like "Shot By Both Sides" were a little too light and fluffy. Secondhand Daylight's synthetic dread is spread equally throughout its 43 minutes, but not even a toe tapper like "Rhythm of Cruelty" can match "Permafrost" for abject alienated misanthropy. Let's just take a gander at the sweet nothings of Devoto's chorus:

"As the day stops dead/ at the place where we're lost/ I will drug you and fuck you/ on the permafrost"

You've got to give him points for directness, if not tact. But in spite of containing perhaps the most ill-advised speed dating line of all time, "Permafrost," has a kind of strutting menace and retro-futurist instrumental prowess (I was going to saw "charm" but that's clearly not an apt descriptor). Above, the band tackles the song in an appropriately dark German concert hall, taped for the always mind-boggling Rockpalast program. In the clip, a very sweaty Devoto resembles some sort of alien fish creature, who's just been let out of his protective tank. It's a distinctive look.

Magazine - "Permafrost"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Kinks - "Autumn Almanac"

Labor day came and went, I'm another year closer to 30, days are noticeably shorter, and summer is all but over. Step aside so the Kinks and their quintessential British quips can take over.

Kinks - "Autumn Almanac"

Posted by Merry Swankster at 01:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Madonna - "Burnin' Up"

"Unlike the others I'd do anything, I'm not the same, I have no shame"

The pop music of the moment when I became aware of pop music, as an active, shaping, cultural force, was all loud guitars and jaded deadpan. I like that still, as it was the crucible in which my sensibility was forged. As a result, my younger years were spent in denial of Madonna, as the insincere predecessor to my beloved sarcastic truth and light. But now, with the great and fleeting alt revolution behind us, I have to say that I've spun Madonna's self-titled debut far more lately than, say, Siamese Dream. "Burnin' Up" is one of the record's classic singles, though the video's iconography is quite up to her later memorable best. It would however, be amazing as in a shot by shot remake for a song from the Hercules & Love Affair album.

Of course, ragged grunge types who were then far hipper than my middle school self dug her from the start...

But I'm always sort of torn about whether Sonic Youth's 1988 larf side project Ciccone Youth was was designed to exalt Madge as sort of a 80s pop-art icon, or if they were really just taking the piss out of the chart toppers of their day. Maybe those aren't mutually exclusive. Mike Watt's demo of "Burnin' Up" isn't quite convicted enough to do either, despite an occasion flirtation with an Elvis snarl.

Ciccone Youth - "Burnin' Up"

It's certainly not as deconstructive or lightly mocking as Kim Gordon's Robert Palmer take...

Kids these days have embraced Madonna without much ironic distance.

Starfucker - "Burnin' Up" (stream)

A questionably named Portland band digs into the song here, finding complicated synth patterns to co-exist within the original's sleek frame. Watt's demo sounds unfinished, like the end result of a dare barely pulled off. This version is the work of musicians who respect the pop hit, and not just in a shits and giggles, dress-up sort of a way. How it both embellishes on and dials down the original might actually be some sort of minor miracle.

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

I'm a bit too consumed at the moment to switch gears into serious anthropology mode, so you'll forgive me for diverting Retro this week back towards Friday's Neon Lights show...

Bands are often celebrated for drawing on disparate influences. And sure, every now and again you get a true omnivorous savant like M.I.A. who digests the zeitgeist as a whole and molds it into a cohesive aesthetic, but more often than not, it just turns into a muddled mess. Like I distrust people who claim they like "everything," bands who don't know what they're aiming for a are a recipe for disaster. So it does the heart proud to peruse the svelte "influences" list on the Pains of Being Pure at Heart's MySpace page. Indie-pop rapture in, indie-pop rapture out. A sampling...

Teenage Fanclub - "Everything Flows"
(after a short interview for SNUB TV, 1990)

the Pastels - "Crawl Babies"

Black Tambourine - "Throw Aggi Off the Bridge"

the Ramones - "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend"
(live in Paris, 1980)

and of course...

Nirvana - "Lake of Fire"
(do I need to tell you?)

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

Sadly, there was no You Tube footage for this indie-pop Rosetta Stone...

My Bloody Valentine - "Paint a Rainbow"

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

Pete Shelley - "Homosapien"

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

With Neon Lights approaching and indie-pop on the brain, I've been interrogating an unnecessarily tall stack of compilation discs for hidden secrets. I vaguely remember seeing Mary Lou Lord bounce around MTV in its brief and glorious alternative phase, but damned if can remember a single popular song that she had. Wikipedia paints her as something of a scandalous figure, a Boston subway busker who either happened upon, or designed her way to (depending on which version you believe), an entanglement with Kurt and Courtney. It was a mysterious association that culminated in a harrowing topless chase between Mary Lou and Court down Sunset Strip in 1994. Using her substance abuse radar, she then became heavily associated with Portland's Elliott Smith, as a frequent touring and writing partner. With the company she kept (or fled topless from) its no surprise that Mary Lou's formidable debut single was a gorgeous smack-serenade. I probably hadn't heard the song in a year or two before digging it out this week, to discover that it's still quite stunning. I certainly never heard it circa 1993, the year Kill Rock Stars put it out as a 7".

Mary Lou Lord - "Some Jingle Jangle Morning (When I'm Straight)"

Its name is the only similarity to Lee Hazlewood & Nancy Sinatra's classic. Sonically, it sounds close to a template for what Annie Hardy was going for a few years back with her band Giant Drag; big guitars and an easy melody mumbling in from a small and modest female vocal. This gets extra points for a lovely chiming intro with the delicacy of the early Magnetic Fields' records that were also of this time.

Below, from a barely yet fondly remembered HBO series Reverb (Pavement did one!), is Lord's band tackling the single, which was rerecorded for the album she released that year, Got No Shadow. I'm not sure if it's the slightly altered arrangement or just the years that mellowed out this performance, but it does miss a bit of the original's sly sadness. And it's HBO, Mary Lou, you could have said "fucked up."

Mary Lou Lord - "Some Jingle Jangle Morning (When I'm Straight)"
(Live @ Fez, New York City, 1998, from HBO's Reverb)

The Mary Lou Lord that more neatly aligns to my very fuzzy Alternative Nation remembrance than it does to Wikipedia's strumpet, is the pleasant blonde who sits down here to an interview with gravel-voiced bowling ball Matt Pinfield. Pending Pitchfork's move to IFC, this sort of substantive conversation about a musicians work and career is a very rare find on American cable.

Mary Lou Lord interviewed by Matt Pinfield, 1997 120 Minutes

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 12:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

OH 90s, we shall never outrun you. But we will try.

LA Style - James Brown is Dead

The song that prognosticated James Brown's eventual death, shocking everyone who had their money on him being an ageless vampire. It seems surprising that hard house beats actually enjoyed some radio time in nineties surburbia, but people are always fans of lyrics they can remember.

Continue reading "Retrohump - the Godfather of Soul is no more" »

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 02:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

[Photo cred]

Indulgences

In college I spent an interminable amount of my waking hours at the same off-campus bar. Qualifications are in order, so let me assure anyone who invested in my education that a significant slice of that time involved my employment as DJ to the thirsty masses. The bar was Faegan's pub in Syracuse, NY, a homey Irish joint with all the obligatory woodwork and Guinness posters required of such establishments. Faegan’s was a distinguished upperclassmen gathering locale, purveying seemingly endless choices of draft brews to the more discerning patrons who grew tired of Milwaukee’s Best and the general awfulness of some of the other more boisterous pickup markets on the Marshall St. bar strip. Other watering holes packed the crowds with more dancy, louder music and better drink specials, but as fun as they were for the still wet behind the ears set, their novelty could easily wear after a few of years.

Those expecting this to dovetail into a tale of Faegan's becoming some cutting edge indie joint for unsuspecting college crowds is about to be disappointed. In fact I doubt a single night passed without the playlist including Billy Joel and Sinatra numbers, Bob Dylan's "Hurricane" (great song btw), and "Mack the Knife" closing out the night, and usually all three would be a sure bet. It was an unspoken mandate amongst staff for these songs to be played, and any Syracuse alum can reminisce on the multi-sensory feeling of "Mack the Knife" creeping unassumingly from the speakers as bright house lights signaled the beginning of the pizza-stained late night rounds of college nightlife.

Still, I reject the need for justification solely via assignment. These classics were, and will likely always be, reliable and beloved songs by vast swaths of the population. Everyone knows the words and everyone loves to sing-a-long with glasses clattering and the fever pitch of inebriated celebration masking any sliver of reservation that might prohibit the normally subdued. Not concerned about getting caught in such dopey moments, like rocking out without a care to Gloria Gaynor at a wedding.

Now that I am removed by more than a handful of years from the terribly enviable college existence, enough that supplemental memories have begun bleeding into each other in a sort of storied reflection, I feel better able to look back without coming off completely and totally lame in my wistfulness.

What about that you ask? Well, the music wasn’t all dominated by crooners and piano men. From high above the crowd in a tight quartered spot that was not quite a crawl space, not quite an attic, lays the Faegan's DJ booth. From my perch I overlooked swelling crowds with the hope that as long as heads nodded to the beat my job was being done. Needless to say I had a blast during my reign. The work was easy, the perks were great and as long as Toto was played I knew a drink was being sent my way from the unhealthy obsession the bartenders had with “Africa”. More often than not my fun involved minor to major hits of 90s alternative radio. For today, a video sample of what you might have heard if you happened to step foot into Faegan’s anytime between 1998 – 2001.

Spacehog - "In the Meantime"

Kula Shaker - "Hush"

Written by Joe South, made famous by Deep Purple

Oh yes, there is more.

Continue reading "Retrohump: Sounds of Faegan's 1998-2001" »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 01:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Contrary to the frequent posts that (hopefully) suggest otherwise, I'm occasionally quite dense and incurious. I'm sure I must have skimmed past the sampled source of the hook in M.I.A.'s "Sunshowers" dozens of times during the buzz around Arular's release, but it only even registered to me that it was a sample when I heard it playing from inside a row house during Boyz in the Hood. Even then I didn't put in any sort of search for the original version, content to let Diplo's beats lay claim to a definitive usage. So, when Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band belatedly entered my headspace within the last week in the midst of the production compilation Going Places: the August Darnell Years, it felt unnecessarily revelatory. I certainly wasn't aware that M.I.A.'s beguiling hook was actually a workproduct of ZE Records' genius in residence Kid Creole. The combination of the strange childish hook and singer Cory Daye's smooth smoky verses has entranced brainy hip-hop artists well before Maya, having been previously sampled by De La Soul, Tribe Called Quest, Doug E. Fresh, and Ghostface Killah. So if you've been willfully ignorant as I was for so long, here's the goods...

Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band - "Sunshower"

Some homemade slideshows aside, there's no footage of the much admired cult classic available. But it's worth your time to check another hit from the band's 1976 self-titled debut...

Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band - "Cherchez Le Femme"
(1976 music video)

This fuzzy (and perhaps subtly sped up) VHS transfer oddly captures the band out of time feel "Dr. Buzzard" 's ensemble was aiming for. They were a late 70s disco/R & B group dressed up in 40s swing band drag. Baby-faced Darnell tickles the baby grand, his everpresent Kid Creole zoot suit making more sense here than it would when he would go on to form the Coconuts. His sidekick Coati Mundi is stationed on xylophone. Cory Daye's old-phonograph vocals are a perfect match to her Rosie the Riveter hair and housedress. The retro spell is complicated slightly by 70s specific references to the early girl trouble of the band's manager Tommy Mottola, later known as the CEO of Sony Music, Micheal Jackson's "devil," and the man who brought us Hall & Oates.

Most of you probably just recognize the song's hook from Ghostface Killah's Supreme Clientele reworking, "Cherchez La Ghost," recorded long after said Mr. Mottola had put his romantic worries behind him and bagged Mariah Carey. Personally I think Ghost's aggressive delivery stomps on the grace of the original's easy melody, but I become less of a hip hop fan every second I spend away from the 90s, so maybe I'm not the one to ask. Direct comparison facilitated after the jump...

Continue reading "Retrohump: Picking Dr. Buzzard Clean" »

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Michael Jackson - "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'" - Bad Tour, 1987

Making this a quick one tonight as life's many distractions are keeping me away from leisure blogging. The nerve right? Anyway, thought about this song since the Girl Talk show and figured a follow up to MJ wouldn't be completely out of left field. I've said this for years to friends, or anyone who listened: No matter what crazy bat-shit stuff Michael Jackson did, does, or will do, his earlier material cannot be touched. Proven by the consistent dance floor reactions every single night, somewhere in the world. Be it a wedding, quinceañera, or hottest nightclub in Dubai, Vegas and London.

Posted by Merry Swankster at 10:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

the Ronettes - "Be My Baby"
(Shindig!, 1965)

I'm definitely not here to trash Ronnie Spector. It would take some kind of simpleton to deny her music's lasting impact and appeal. But I left Sunday's free concert feeling a bit muddled. My unease had nothing to do with the performance really. She's assembled an exceptional backing ensemble whose worship of her original material was obvious. No wanking guitar solos here, thanks. And it's a supreme understatement to say that Ronnie is still in fine voice. In fact her youthful demeanor and love of performance is little changed from the 40 + year old vintage clip above. But despite my admiration for a very well executed show, I'm left to wonder what use it had outside of nostalgia? This quandary was mostly aimed at the smattering of doo-wap numbers by interchangeable 50s artists called things like "the Schoolboys" or "the Romantics" and possessing cut and paste lyrics about neutered teenage romance. Watching these songs ably performed still left me with the impression that I might have had watching a 40s swing band or even a Medieval lute player--that I was watching a form of music that had slipped from modernity.

Sure, the roots of innocent doo-wap eventually morphed into the modern pop and R&B styles of today, but no one is actually doing much of anything to drag the actual form forward. Really, even her much more influential girl group styles are usually unimaginatively quoted (see: the 4 million songs after "Just Like Honey" that still swipe that "Be My Baby" drum kick) or treated as winking kitsch by clever bands (see: early Long Blondes and every Pipettes song ever). With any luck, Bradford Cox is at home right now, recording the tragic gay goth doo wap record that will completely revolutionize the genre, but for now, there's no evolving conversation with the style's legacy. It has to be considered momentarily dead.

Here a Ronettes song that's still got a bit of pep to it...

the Ronettes - "Baby, I Love You"

Ronnie Spector - "You Can't Put Your Arms Around a Memory"
(McCarren Pool, 07.06.08)

The least freeze dried segment of the concert was (fittingly) the performance of Johnny Thunders' "You Can't Put Your Arms Around a Memory" as arranged for her by Joey Ramone in 1999. Of course, rearranging a 70s punk track isn't inherently vital, but for once it let Ronnie articulate feelings she may have had after her 21st birthday. Maybe it was her regally mature presence, forced to relive teenage simplicity that created the disconnect for me in the first place. Her reading of the sublimely jaded opening lines, "it doesn't pay to try, all the smart girls know why..." seemed the show's most honest.

Johnny Thunders - "You Can't Put Your Arms Around a Memory"
(French TV, date unknown)

Spector could never have been as big a mess as the original New York Doll, no matter the effort expended. The song is a disappointed classic, but the lip-sync above looks eerily like a Martin Short sketch from his SNL stint. Ronnie's looking twelve miles better now than this dude ever did, for whatever that's worth...

Johnny Thunders - "You Can't Put Your Arms Around a Memory"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The free tickets for the ultra-patriotic Sonic Youth/Feelies 4th of July show at Battery Park, long thought distributed to the city's well-prepared art-rock denizens via RSVP, have apparently sprouted a few extra sets. Early risers can now slam a shot of espresso and camp out the morning of, to clamor for entry. Here's a handy map. A quick refresher on why you should...

the Feelies - "Crazy Rhythms"
(CBGB's New York, 1979)

Though David Byrne is probably the alpha-nerd of the 70s punk scene, he was never as hopeless looking as New Jersey's the Feelies. The cover of their 1980 debut pre-emptively out Weezered Weezer for its plainclothes awkwardness. It's lead track is a barnburner entitled "The Boy With the Perpetual Nervousness." Deliberately ripped shirts and studied sneers were not their bag. But, despite the tuck-ins to khaki pants, there's a manic energy to the clip above that is infectious, rather than affected. Too many bands today herk and jerk around in a studied, tentative manner (looking at you Yeasayer, Cold War Kids) that seems like an afterthought to the music rather than an organic outgrowth of it.

It's also nice to see that the constant "oh the declining state of city concerts" hand wringing is slightly overstated. Check out the arms crossed hipsters (oh, pardon me, punks) in the CBGBs crowd as the Feelies torch three feet from their faces. Half of them are sitting down--on the floor, at CBGBs! (Gross.)

the Feelies - "Crazy Rhythms"

As a bonus, here's my favorite track from that exalted debut. The band's urgent jangle-jams had the momentum to carry them towards the 6 or 7 minute mark, but I think cramming all that tension into a 3 minute box was the more exciting option. The "love" here starts rocky, and ends worse. In fact its tough to find an ounce of romance in here at all. Maybe Glenn Mercer got into a fight with his mom? That would have been his "Original Love," yeah? Or maybe I'm just reinforcing some ugly nerd stereotypes...

the Feelies - "Original Love"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 09:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Hey, so I woke up this morning to discover that the Idolator contest, that I entered on a whim and basically forgot about, netted me two tickets to go see Devo, the Tom Tom Club, and Dan Deacon tomorrow at Brooklyn's McCarren Pool. So...awesome!

Under these fortuitous circumstances it seems kind of inappropriate to do anything for today's Retro other than offering the respective legends' greatest hits. As the Byrne-less Talking Heads of Tom Tom Club always seemed like more of a conceptual goof than living, breathing band to me (an impression that is hopefully altered tomorrow), I opted for the iconic cartoon representation. As Devo were a conceptual goof AS a living, breathing band, we go with some grainy but amazing French concert footage from back in '78. I hope that the boys can still muster that ever accumulating speed and fire of olden times, but I'm not sure anyone is on board for the classic shorts at this late date...

Tom Tom Club - "Genius of Love"
(1981 Animated video by Rocky Morton and Annabel Jankel)

Devo - "Gut Feeling/Slap Your Mammy"
(live in France, 1978)

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Apros pos.

For certain, MerrySwankster.com is a decidedly music-oriented website, yet we are not without our sporting allegiances. In fact, this is perhaps the one forum where Mets and Phillies fans interact with one another without spilling beer and mustard on themselves. Perhaps most surprisingly, Jeff Klingman is the most diehard Portland Trailblazers fan you’ll ever meet. For that matter, he’s maybe the only Blazers fan you’ll ever meet. Most of this stems from the Rip City days of his youth, just as my Boston Celtics fandom was cultivated during my formative youth. While I was (am?) much too young to remember much of anything pre the 1986 title, I’ve heard more than my fair share of stories and seen enough videos to keep me dedicated even through the worst moments of the twenty or so years that followed.

Arguably the highlight of those lean years was Celtics’ TV color man (and eight time NBA Champion) Tom Heinsohn’s, shall we say, less than objective perspective. Tommy’s favorite player during the ‘90s was career role-player Walter McCarty, whom Heinsohn would serenade with shouts of “I LOVE WALTAH!” whenever the captivating Number 0 would grab a loose defensive rebound or unexpectedly nail an ill-advised three-pointer. But don’t think for a minute that Walter was some was ever the unreciprocal lover.

Just as Walter McCarty was a multi-dimensional baller, he is now a multifaceted slow-jammer. He’s capable of velvety smooth, like on “Moment For Love”, the title track of his 2003 solo debut, and he can do the Al Green-inspired sex-jam, such as “Freaky Wit Me”. In both cases, you’ll notice that McCarty employs the same reckless abandon for grammar that he usually reserves for the playbook.

Walter McCarty - "Moment For Love"

Walter McCarty - "Freaky Wit Me"

But back to our Retro focus. The ‘80s weren’t just the glory days of Celtics basketball in my lifetime; it was also the high water mark for music in Boston, which played an integral role in developing what was once known as "college rock" and would later become known as “alternative rock”.

Continue reading "Retrohump: Boston" »

Posted by Randall Monty at 01:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Of all the records in my collection, old and new, the one getting the most consistent play these days might be Sparks' lean six song masterpiece No. 1 in Heaven (1979). I've been fairly evangelical on this site about my love for the neo-disco flooding in from the Italians Do it Better and DFA labels, but trust me when I say that this is stronger stuff still. "Giorgio Moroder just did twelve lines of coke and he needs the song to be tighter!" strong. Of course, this won't come as a surprise to long time readers of the site, as Prof. Klein did grant the unstoppable title track the great honor of launching Numerology. But with my own obsession currently in full swing, it seemed time to consult the web for footage of the always visually.....uh....compelling Ron and Russell Mael in their prime.

Sparks - "The No. 1 Song in Heaven"

This video's version of heaven is basically just a cloud with two extra Ronalds. As that means he can play all of the crazy synth parts at once and provide three times as many deeply disturbing glances straight into the camera, I commend the vision. On the other hand, the last thing I want to see after I "die crossing the street" is three synth Hitlers staring me down.

Sparks - "No. 1 Song in Heaven"

The creep factor for "Young Girls," a stand out from the band's second Moroder produced album Terminal Jive was already pretty high. I mean, the lyric sheet goes like this:

I like their arms I like their legs I like their lips Their widening hips Their radios They live at home They don't have cars I have a home I have a car They like that, they like that

Young girls haven't seen the whole night
And they hold you, though it might not be tight
And they will kiss you, though it might not be right
Because they're young girls

Clearly, it doesn't need any help being skeevy, but YouTube just couldn't leave well enough alone...

Sparks - "Young Girls"
(fan video)

This is perhaps the only thing creepier than seeing the dudes perform it themselves would have been.

Sparks - "Young Girls"

After the jump some more odds and ends, including the Maels' rad cameo from the now dearly departed Gilmore Girls and a two song performance from the 1977 disaster film Rollercoaster, in which we learn A: that diffusing a bomb is a lot tougher to concentrate on when Ronald is smashing a piano stool in the distance and B: that the loathsome Helen Hunt was once sort of cute...

Continue reading "Retrohump Night: Sparks Heaven" »

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 09:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Tomorrow marks the 25th anniversary of the legendary U2 show at Red Rocks in Colorado. The concert took place during a rough patch of Colorado's predictably unpredictable weather. Unbelievable to think about this now, but Red Rocks was only at about half capacity. Red Rocks' one of a kind location was chosen for the concert film for obvious reasons, and the results for both band and venue were dramatic. Under the Blood Red Sky served as U2's re-introduction to the world by opening a window into this still relatively obscure (at the time) electrifying act. It also provided a huge showcase for the unique geological jackpot that comes with winning Mother Nature's lottery, with the world learning about this amazing natural amphitheater perched like a stone delta at the base of the Rocky Mountains.

Thing is, the show almost didn't happen:

The weather bordered on sleet and rain all day — hardly idyllic conditions for a video shoot that included countless cameras and three giant torches sitting atop the rocks.The promoters were in California until the afternoon of the show, and when they flew into a blustery Stapleton Airport, they called the mountain amphitheater's backstage to see where the show had been moved.

But the band wasn't about to move the concert.

"I asked them why they didn't call me, and the people said, 'The band wouldn't let us, because they knew you'd want to move the show,' " retired promoter Barry Fey remembered.

"Then Paul McGuinness, their manager, got on the phone, and then Bono got on the phone, and then Chuck (Morris) and I headed home to change out of our sunny California gear into something much heavier before heading up to Red Rocks."

-- -- --

The day progressed, and the weather worsened. Morris and Fey arrived, and Bono called a Denver radio station, telling his fans that the Red Rocks show would go on — but there would also be another indoor show the following night at the CU Field House in Boulder for those who didn't want to brave the elements. (Denver Post)

Here are some choice clips harvested from Youtube. For much more, check out the U2 live at Red Rocks 25 years later blog who has been counting down to the June 5 anniversary with special U2 at Red Rocks coverage.

U2 - "Gloria" - Live at Red Rocks

U2 - "Out of Control" - Live at Red Rocks

//Remastered version of Under the Blood Red Sky comes out 6.24. - Pre-order
//DVD version finally follows in August

Related:
-U2 show still echoes at Red Rocks
-Monolith Festival announces initial lineup
-Monolith: Day 1 | 09.14.07
-Monolith: Day 2 | 09.15.07

Posted by Merry Swankster at 10:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Weezer - Undone (The Sweater Song) - Live, 1994

*Inspired by last week's Retrohump post by Randall. Below you'll read about buying tickets at Ticketmaster outlets, attending shows at NYC venues that no longer exist, and mentions of two bands with impossible monikers in the Google era.

Weezer was my first true rock concert impression. That's if I don't count getting dragged to a Yes concert at Jones Beach with with some of my dad's younger (re: cool) coworkers. I usually don't bring it up when the question of "name the first band you saw live" comes up because I had no idea what was going on and remember very little. My only recollection was that in fact it was a rock concert, there were cool lights, and afterwards I had a newfound determination to see a show of my own choosing. That show would end up being Weezer's opening slot for Live on November 19th, 1994 at the now defunct Manhattan venue called 'the Academy'.

I remember buying tickets at the local Ticketmaster outlet for about $16 after convincing my friends to come see these bands they never heard of. Though both Weezer and Live were enjoying some sporadic radio play at the time, it was a stretch for anyone to buy into my pitch. This was before "Buddy Holly" made its big splash so I only had the mention of "The Sweater Song" for ammo. I'm sure the biggest selling point was the novelty of going to a show in the City more than anything else anyway. It was a pretty big deal seeing that we were only 15 years old. That said, my parents drove us to the show. Total. Badasses.

Current site of the (demolished?) Academy: Map.

Some Yes to tie things together...after the jump.

Continue reading "Retrohump: Formative Adolescent" »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 09:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Right now I'm drinking Coco Loto: Coconut Juice with Pineapple and boy is it disgusting.

Let's start today's retro romp with one from an "obscure punk-rock band" from Philadelphia, PA, (home of a one Y. Korngold).

Dead Milkmen - "Punk Rock Girl"

This next one comes from the 'Mats 1987 album Pleased to Meet Me, a title that spawned a million and one bad introduction jokes.

The Replacements - "Alex Chilton"

Continue reading "Retrohump: Adolescent Nonsense" »

Posted by Randall Monty at 08:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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)

This week saw the first ever CD release of Pylon's classic 1980 debut, Gyrate. It had been languishing in scattered crates and fraying sleeves for nearly three decades before the heroes at DFA Records finally freed the seminal album from its dusty vinyl prisons. To celebrate the occasion, we've located the most fitting piece of footage from the Athens band's well spent youth currently available. It's a truncated document of a concert at the Mad Hatter club in Athens, recorded on December 1st, 1983. In the years between the band's first record and this show, they had been touring incessantly in support of such legendary bands as Gang of Four, Mission of Burma, and their city mates, the B-52's. After graduating to an opening slot on U2's first American tour, the band decided to call it quits. This is the last show they played before reforming in 1989 to tour with R.E.M., whom they had profoundly inspired. As far as everyone in the room was concerned, this was the last Pylon show ever. it's hard to quantify the energy that misconception brought to the room.

The first three song slice kicks off with Gyrate's "Working is No Problem." Vanessa Briscoe's guttural screams would seem to be at odds with her carefree nature, manifested by sweet twirls across the stage. She crosses paths with various band mates, also in near constant motion. Next is the post-Gyrate single "Crazy," which was later covered by R.E.M., and suggests the sounds that Stipe and Co. would become much more famous for. The last song seems to be a medley of the single "Beep" and EP cut "Four Minutes," though any confirmation of that from some old time Pylon heads would be much appreciated. Most of the band's catalog is still stranded out of print limbo, and internet guesswork can only take me so far.

Pylon - "Working is No Problem"

Part two features 1981 single "M-Train" as well as Gyrate's classic lead track, "Volume." Both kinetic bounders receive a hero's welcome from the congregation.

Pylon - "Volume"

The final song preserved for our pleasure is called "Party Zone," which appeared years later on a db records compilation entitled Squares Blot Out the Sun. The trickle of enraptured Georgians filling the stage turns into a flood by the song's end (a similar response to Pylon's music was documented here). Even though this climactic finale wasn't the last anyone would see of Pylon, the band couldn't have asked for a warmer hometown "farewell."

Of course, you can disprove their early demise yourselves at the Mercury Lounge in Manhattan come November 7th, and the next night in Brooklyn at the Music Hall of Williamsburg. Only twelve dollars, holmes, cough up.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 01:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I'm afraid a person with more time than I have now would give you a g-r-r-r-r-eat reason why he is chosing this particular time to highlight Sleater-Kinney. If that person shows up in the next thirty minutes or so, I'll give him my username and password. Otherwise, enjoy the ladies past and slightly past present, including the purported final song of their final show.

Sleater-Kinney - "You're No Rock and Roll Fun"

Continue reading "Retrohump - Let's Talk About Love" »

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 10:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

New Dylan box set is out. Yet another career-spanning retrospective itching for your (parent's) money. Columbia attempts to drum viral support by including this nifty video feature allowing your own edits to replace the famous cue cards from "Subterranean Homesick Blues" which was originally intended as the trailer for Don't Look Back before entering the public consciousness as its own work. Later it would be referred to as one of the first ever music videos. Influential at that (see examples after the jump).

Bob Dylan - "Subterranean Homesick Blues"

Fun fact: Cue cards were penned by Dylan, Donovan, Allen Ginsberg, and Bob Neuwirth. Can you do better?

Continue reading "Retrohump: Pimp your Dylan" »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 04:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Our quest to unearth the bounty of forgotten videos decaying in deep rusty vaults meets the much less publicized goal of inducing havoc with Google's search algorithms for indie rock blogs. Today I present a commentary shortened tour through a few highlights of the Merry Swankster's classic 1993 hip hop mixtape.

Wreckx-N-Effect - "Rumpshaker"

Misogyny gone wild! Inspiring M.I.A. to greatness in '07.

M.I.A. - "Paper Planes"

Positive K - "I Got a Man"

I remember someone telling my younger, and far more gullible former self that Positive K did the female parts of this song in the studio. I never found out if that was true or not, but I never stopped loving this song. One of my all time favorite rap lyrics: "So when your man don't treat you like he used to...I kick in like a turbo booster!"

Apache - "Gangsta Bitch"

Trivia time. Has there ever been a more loving ode for a gangsta's lady?

Posted by Merry Swankster at 10:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I've sung the praises of Chromatics' cover of Kate Bush's "Running Up That Hill" on multiple web-sites now, and my slight preference for the understated sex appeal of the newbie over the stridently powerful original has touched a bit of a nerve (on one site at least). Finally getting to wrap my head around Chromatics' stellar album Night Drive, which you can order from the band right now for a reduced price ahead of its appearance on shop shelves, has done nothing to overturn that preference.

In the name of fairness, as well as legitimate admiration, I give you the original's video, with Ms. Bush in all of her interpretive dancin' glory. Her videos always sum up a respectable, if irreparably time stamped, strain of the eighties aesthetic and this clip is no exception. Afterwards, you can pick your preferred version and declare it to the world.

* Write ins for Placebo's version will be considered, and then snickered at.

Kate Bush - "Running Up That Hill"

Kate Bush "Running Up That Hill"

Chromatics - "Running Up That Hill"

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

Talking Heads - "Psycho Killer"
Old Grey Whistle Test, 1978

This was the first ever piece of footage I posted as part of our nearly two year Wednesday excavation project, known as Retrohump Day. That original post's vid has since shuffled off to clip removal purgatory, so it will hurt no one to revisit the performance by one of the very best live bands of all time, Talking Heads circa 1978-79. The Stop Making Sense contingent is strong in their revisionist lobbying, declaring that film and the band represented by it as some sort of definitive version. For my money though, all the supplemental guitarists and back up dancers and many bongo aided polyrhythmic expansions tended to bury what was a sleek machine. I'm certainly not saying that Byrne's dive into African textures wasn't a valid and rewarding creative direction, just that they were previously even better.

Some samples from my personal favorite of their Brian Eno aided discs, 1978's More Songs About Buildings and Food.

Talking Heads - "Artists Only"
February 1979, New York City

This clip, from an undetermined TV broadcast in early 1979, shows the Heads at their jittery best. I'm not sure a band before them had thought to combine stiff nervousness in demeanor and vocal delivery with such unbridled funkiness. This artiste's lament is one of their wittiest.

Talking Heads - "Warning Sign"
1978, Berkeley California

This rare amateur footage of the band shows them in a relatively relaxed state. Without a real expectation of being filmed David Byrne might have toned down his chicken head bobs in the slightest. The audio was obviously cleaned up and re-added but it doesn't take too much away. Compare this college campus gig with their set from Rome two years later (available on YouTube, but unembedable, alas). Once you add a prog guitarist in King Crimson's Andrian Belew, and start tacking on the percussion, you lose the charm of four design students in a room, inexplicably locked into an unflappable rhythm.

Note: Belew is pretty awesome, anyway. Check out his guitar handling of the spacey synth part from "Stay Hungry."

Extra:

Two cuts from the record that unimpeachably proves the band's late seventies dominance, The Name of This Band is Talking Heads. I could easily claim this to be one of the best live albums ever recorded, but there's really no need to qualify it. This is one of the best albums ever recorded, period. Both of these tracks are from a December 1978 Cleveland show that was not included on the original vinyl release, but is on the re-issued CD from a few years ago.

Talking Heads - "Girls Want to be With the Girls"

Talking Heads - "Electricity (Drugs)"

Extra Extra:

While I may be belittling the love given to Stop Making Sense ever so slightly, I would never dream of supplying anything but the most effusive praise for this connected peace of what-the-fuckery. David Byrne pre-emptively out Eddie Murphies Eddie Murphy.

David Byrne interviews David Byrne
from Stop Making Sense

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 08:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

There are men and women and manchildren that like Simon and Garfunkel better than me (I can think of at least one member of this blog), but even I enjoy their whimsical, easy-going stylings. For some reason (given that I am a fan of many a troubadour), I probably enjoy the covers more than the originals. Maybe because my first introduction to the duo was Simon's "You Can Call Me Al" video. Anyways...

Bangles - Hazy Shade of Winter

This song sort of kicks some ass. This is probably as angry as you will see the Bangles.

Lemonheads - Mrs. Robinson

The video's a bit much, but the Lemonheads were okay. Still, you have to admit, they were this close to being no better than the Gin Blossoms. This version adds a bit of guitar crunch and quicker pace, but stays true, mostly, to the original.

Elvis Presley - Bridge Over Troubled Waters

Jeff: when is retro going up? I have dave's numerology a day early, and I wanna space it out
me: end of day is fine for me - so feel free with numerology
Jeff: OK,
me: you have a third Simon & Garfunkel cover, btw?
9:29 AM I was going to do Love Spit Love's cover of How Soon is Now (obvs not S&G), but no video exists
Jeff: somebody had to do "the Only Living Boy in New York"
9:30 AM me: bunch of dudes on couches, yeah
Jeff: yikes, looking now
9:33 AM how bout a high school jazz band playing "keep the customer satisfied"
9:34 AM lot of cool people have done "graceland"
closer but not s & g
9:35 AM me: that's fine.
Jeff: hmm, not old though...
me: nothing pre-the oughts?
9:36 AM Jeff: letme ponder
me: maybe I'll post a video of Garfunkel's math videos
Jeff: bam: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eagcXtT2ZG4
me: well played sir
9:38 AM Jeff: thank you, they have Aretha doing it too
but Elvis is better I'd think
9:39 AM i can't believe Elvis was serious with that jumpsuit
9:40 AM me: no one complained; he got worse and worse, i guess
9:41 AM Jeff: "nice shot, E. Blew up that whole TV from across the room. Want more marshmallows and chicken for dinner?"
9:42 AM me: mas or menos

For kicks:

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 12:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

For all of the up and comers on the bill for Saturday's inaugural After the Jump Festival, we do have a certified legend in our midst, namely Pete Kember, better known as Spectrum, better known as Sonic Boom, best known as a founding member of the psychedelic juggernaut that was Spacemen 3.

Spacemen 3 - "Revolution"

Spacemen 3 took the Velvet Underground's White Light/White Heat drone techniques to lengths unseen in their native 80's. After an embryonic stage as a sloppy garage punk combo, Sonic Boom and J Spaceman (Jason Pierce to his mum) would stumble upon their signature sound with 1987's the Perfect Prescription. The boys would extend one chord to infinity, jamming furiously for long stretches until hitting a tonal epiphany. It was not for nothing that their song and album titles often had a pharmaceutical bent (the bootleg Taking Drugs to Make Music to Take Drugs to, being an all time classic of that sub genre).

"Revolution" is from the band's 1989 swan song, Playing With Fire. Sonic Boom has said that the album "was the refining point of a lot of my theories on minimalism being maximalism." One killer riff is hammered over and over again, as our man Boom drolly espouses his rhetoric in a deadpan fashion. For such simple elements, it sounds effin' huuuuge. As with most of the band's clips, the footage is straight on, disaffected live playing, distorted with swirling light visuals that were clearly designed to be "trippy" though that word deserves a stern banning.

Spiritualized - "Anyway That You Want Me"

When differences within the band became insurmountable, J Spaceman followed his muse to a more conventional place, forming Spiritualized. The visuals in this video may be completely lifted from the Spacemen 3 playbook (which is home to maybe two plays) but the sound is gentler, more melodic, and less submerged in white noise. Though everything is prettied up as compensation, the dangerous edge provided by Sonic Boom is noticeably missed.

Spiritualized - "Ladies and Gentlemen We are Floating in Space"

Shame there was no complete footage of the band performing this, which is perhaps their enduring signature song. The beneficiary of their former tourmates' Radiohead paving the way for abysmally depressing yet sonically pleasing rock, it routinely scored the horrible pain of soul searching brats on MTV reality shows and even got a few nubs of alternative radio play. A song so nice that I'd snarkily suggest that it would quickly be snapped up for a car ad, except that I have a fuzzy remembrance that Volkswagon actually did just that.

Spectrum - "How You Satisfy Me"

Which brings us to Sonic Boom's little branch of the family tree, our After the Jump MetroMix day stage headliners, Spectrum. Here, with a swirling blue screen visual style that's surely familiar to you by now, is the band's first single from 1991. Though Pete Kember would eventually follow paths that were far more experimental and avant-garde than his former bandmate, this track is an exceedingly melodic little fuzz bomb. Sheets of white noise surround a simple, sixties inspired melody and the doggedly repetitive organ sound takes the place of the guitar as the drone agent of choice.

Spectrum - "How You Satisfy Me"

You can be personally attacked by Mr. Kember and his magic distortion pedals this Saturday at Studio B in Greenpoint, Brooklyn for a grand total of free. With like eight other bands. At a charity benefit. Basically, you're gonna look like a total jerk if you don't go.

P.S.The Music Slut's tireless Jen Kellas gently grilled Pete a bit.

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

Though the You Tubed clips we regularly feature on Wednesdays are more often an indulgence in nostalgia or an expression of disbelief that we were ever able to find such obscure vids in the first place, the cultural juggernaut of a website has other musical uses. Letting you hear elusive album material in the first place, how about?

An album I've been wildly unsuccessful in tracking down is the 1965 compilation of French language music by dreamy 60's dish Françoise Hardy, The "Yeh Yeh" Girl From Paris. It exists to be found on the pricey online import scene, but that's sort of for suckers and it ruins the thrill of the hunt, so until I see Hardy's gorgeous rain victim staring up at me from the racks, these terrific old clips will have to suffice. The record was designed to capitalize on a Life magazine spread introducing the glamorous girls from the so called Ye Ye movement in French pop to the U.S. market. It compiles the best tracks from a string of EP's that were big hits in early 60's France.

Françoise Hardy- "Tous Les Garcons et Les Filles"

Perhaps the best known and, as evidenced by the mp3 below, easiest to find tracks is the beautifully restrained "Tous Les Garcons et Les Filles" or, for the dolts, "All the Boys and Girls." In an era of outsized melodies, overbearing brass arrangements, and open throated singing, this haunting melody barely rises above a whisper. The video sees young Francoise riding an early version of one of those state fair Viking boat rides that make you feel like your stomach will soon exit via your face. There's no present evidence of motion sickness, as the only emotions registering from Ms. Hardy are ennui and perhaps mild disappointment. The prominently featured ferris wheel would seem to be the more idylic and romantic carnival ride, but shooting film on one was probably rather tricky. At least that's what the Frenchmen told these models before taking multiple reels of up-skirt footage.

Françoise Hardy - "Tous les Garcons et les Filles"

Françoise Hardy - "Le Temps Pour L'Amour"

The prominent bass line and slightly less relaxed tempo here have more of an overt rock influence than the previous song, though it's not quite as devastatingly pretty. The video makers of the era were determined to portray our girl as a fille on the go, so here we get a full clip of her rowing around while trying to look natural in her singing efforts. A weird conceipt for a love song, but the moments when they pull in close for a shot of her face against the slightly moving, sun dappled water behind her are quite fetching.

If any of our loyal followers out there are in possession of The "Yeh Yeh" Girl From Paris in its entirety, and were of the kind notion to pass it along, I would be willing to work out some kind of crazy barter system. Be warned though, I have no practical skills.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 06:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Big Daddy Kane (born Antonio Hardy) was a great MC in the '80s-early '90s. Judging from his appearance at hip-hop honors (and comparing him to contemporary would-be foes), he is a great MC today. And the fact that he's on tour, with the Roots, brings to mind a favorite joke (sourced to one Jeff O'Brien) about a Special Ed reunion tour. Using an excited inflection, one sets up the joke by saying, "Special Ed show? Man, I would pay two (pause) dollars to see that."

Yeah, I have null interest in seeing BDK live in 2007, but I have nuff interest in seeing '80s-90s BDK in 2007.

Big Daddy Kane - Smooth Operator

Kane was one of the first hip-hop stars to embody the rapper as boardroom CEO (sartorially speaking). While he didn't have an investment in Vitamin Water, his suited persona must have had a lasting impact on Jay-Z, who has seemingly impacted everyone.

Continue reading "Retrohump - Smooth operator" »

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 03:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Today we take a page (literally) from the Pet Sounds 33 1/3 book by Jim Fusilli. Fusilli argues the world shouldn't have been entirely shocked by the apparent left turn the Beach Boys took when the Brian Wilson masterpiece of Pet Sounds was released.
.

Beach Boys - "Surfer Girl"

"Brian Wilson wrote "Surfer Girl," the title track of the group's third album, all by himself. He also arranged it, sang lead and, thanks to Murry's bullying of record company executives, Brian produced it too. This was highly unusual - at the time, few recording artists earned a producer's credit on their albums - but Brian knew what he wanted and Murry knew you could make more money if you produced the music without the aid of some record company schmo or an indepenent contractor."

Beach Boys - "Lonely Sea" homemade Youtube video

""Lonely Sea," written by Brian and Gary Usher, is a melancholy ballad,.. a sweet, ghostly lead vocal by Brian and harmonies led by Mike's bass that seems to suggest the ebb and flow of the ocean. Usher's lyrical theme, which keeps the Beach Boys near the water and yet moves them to a new, more mature setting, foreshadows other Brian Wilson classics. Brian pines for a woman who is like the sea, which "never stops" and "moves along from day to day."
"That's why, my love," he sings, "you'll never stay." Given the carefree attitude of the lyrics that precede it, "Lonely Sea" is completely unexpected and alarmingly affecting."

Updated with MP3
Beach Boys - "Lonely Sea"

-- -- --

"By the way, Brian wrote "Surfer Girl" before "Lonely Sea." He said it was the first song he ever wrote and that he wrote it while driving around in his car on his way to a hot-dog stand. "When I got home that day, I finished the song, wrote the bridge, put the harmonies together and called it 'Surfer Girl,'" he said. He admitted it was inspired by "When You Wish Upon a Star.""

"When you wish upon a star" performed on a theremin

Here is Shirley Basset's take.

//33 1/3 - Pet Sounds by Jim Fusilli - buy book

Posted by Merry Swankster at 11:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In a slight retro rut, and in need of a change up pitch, I looked to some lighter fare. Not that I've completely exhausted my roster of jittery early eighties bands or nineties slacker heroes, but perhaps it is you dear viewer who has grown fatigued. So, we settle on one of the the mid nineties more appealing one hit wonders, Sweden's unthreateningly named Cardigans.

the Cardigans - "Lovefool"
(Live in London)

Hey fellow feelin' olders out there, did you know this song is 11 years old? Yikes. I'd argue however, that its popularity wasn't allowed by any sort of specifically 1996 cultural moment. This song could have been a hit any time in the last thirty years, really. Words these simple, sung by a girl that pretty, with a decent beat will always be popular. In fact, "Lovefool" almost seems to be more of our time then its actual chronological blip. Swedish pop is bigger and more widespread than ever, and "Lovefool" would slip neatly next to "Young Folks" on a mix tape or in a blog post (and probably has somewhere). The unapologetic disco guitars predict Franz, and the Blondie-aping everywhere else will never go out of style. Those who filed this track away due to ubiquity bred annoyance, it may be time to break your fast.

the Cardigans - My Favourite Game"

Though the Cardigans are still touring and recording as an active band, it was this single and video that effectively ended their brief tenure as a mainstream pop phenomenon in the U.S. As far as the isolated song goes, this was an injustice. Sure, it may not have been the sunny delight that "Lovefool" was, but it seems that only tin eared radio play list makers could have listened intently and still decided that this was no hit. And the decision makers at commercial radio in 1998 couldn't have had questionable taste, could they? So it's a mystery, that may never be solved.

I can understand how the video might have been a bit off putting to fans made solely through "Lovefool," though it's also pretty unimpeachably cool. Director Jonas Ackerlund was, at the time, pretty hot shit (this was back when the names of music video directors could still be fairly well known). He had just made heavy rotation clips for Madonna, and his "too hot for prime time" vid for Prodigy's "Smack My Bitch Up." * Jonas used his creative control to cast Ms. Persson in a less than wholesome light. With a giant shoulder tattoo and eyes bleary from multiple crying jags, the Nina of "My Favourite Game" is trouble. Hot, nihilistic trouble. She recklessly drives her convertible through desert back roads, sending more than one (admittedly pretty easily spooked) driver to an early end. This uncut version features a jarring conclusion, as a head on collision sends her lithe form careening over the top of an RV to the pavement below. She sits up, blood streaming from nostril, cool as ever, and then they ruin it all with a cartoon goof ending (grrr). So maybe vehicular manslaughter and graphic car crashes weren't the finest ways to cement a pop star in the American consciousness, but it won my heart at least.

the Cardigans - "My Favourite Game"

* The image of Kurt Loder reporting on the controversy, seriously intoning, "Smack My Bitch Up," which is one of my very fondest MTV memories, has sadly not yet found it's way to You Tube.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Guided by Voices - "Weed King"
(from the Some Drinking Implied DVD)

I hesitate to use the word "minor" in relation to this track, as it sits very high on my dusty shelf of favored GBV moments. But Propeller, its album home, is less mythically revered than either Bee Thousand or Alien Lanes, and it found no home among the 32 tracks of the stellar best of collection Human Amusements at Hourly Rates. I would argue that "classic" is assured by quality, and "minor" forced by reputation.

But what a song this is. The weed part of the equation is earned with heavy fog. You're stuck in the slow-mo cloud, time bending to make the passing seconds feel long and epic. The lyrics convey some dope addled good times as well. "If all goes well we'll laugh alot," says Bob Pollard before the baking quickness of "freedom cake" becomes of the utmost concern. It's a stoner's jam without shame, Pollard admitting that the exquisitely fried Monarch of Gones-ville is the one he's piping out for. The video is fittingly random, and perhaps necessarily unenlightening. How could it compare with the hypothetical "dreams of the Weed King" anyway? it'd have to do better than a singing ventrioquist's dummy, at a minimum.

Guided by Voices - "Weed King"

Sebadoh - "Océan"
(French TV, 1996)

I might be wrong, as I don't frequent the right chat boards, but I don't think there are many Sebadoh fans willing to claim Harmacy as an unimpeachable classic. The "minor" tag won't trigger as much knee jerk anger. But "Ocean" (or "Océan," as the French put it) will always hold a special place in my heart, as it was not only the first Sebadoh song I ever heard, but one that I actually taped from the radio. It looks so odd to read that sentence back, but it's true. There once existed, in these United States, a climate where the new track from a Sebadoh record could be a bona fide regional radio hit. Not a fuzzy college signal either, but on a big commercial station (94.7 from Portland, OR). Of course this was after the also surprising smash status of "Natural One" gave a wider audience a reason to know the name Lou Barlow. Also before the noble experiment called "alternative radio" was watered down to the point that its umbrella somehow gave shelter to Limp Bizkit and their ilk and it needed to be put to sleep, once and for all.

The song itself is catchy but not flashy, Lou twisting out relaxed guitar hooks and words of regret. It's sad but never as bitter as earlier work. He's just an earnest guy who wishes things could have worked out better. The French TV performance is, like the song, understated and likable. I'm not sure why it demands the in-studio fog machine level that it's given, but I suppose that could just be hovering Gauloise residue.

Sebadoh - "Ocean"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 05:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Exactly 85 years ago today the Hollywood Bowl opened its doors to the people settled in the idyllic Southern regions of California. Today, the unnerving city of Los Angeles dominates the region and the Hollywood Bowl remains on the VIP A-list of outdoor American venues in a city where influence and power is determined by hierarchal letter grade listings. Happy Birthday Hollywood Bowl, may our paths cross again soon.

From the Hollywood Bowl website:

In July 11, 1922, with the audience seated on simple wooden benches placed on the natural hillsides of Bolton Canyon, conductor Alfred Hertz and the Los Angeles Philharmonic inaugurated the first season of music under the stars at the Hollywood Bowl. While much has changed in the ensuing years, the tradition of presenting the world's greatest musicians and striving for musical excellence has remained a constant goal of this famed Los Angeles cultural landmark. One of the largest natural amphitheaters in the world, with a current seating capacity of just under 18,000, the Hollywood Bowl has been the summer home of the Los Angeles Philharmonic since its official opening in 1922, and, in 1991 gave its name to a resident ensemble that has filled a special niche in the musical life of Southern California, the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra. In spite of wars, depression on a national scale, financial stress, and internal dissension, the Bowl's summer music festivals have gone on, becoming as much a part of a Southern California summer as beaches and barbecues, the Dodgers and Disneyland. Thanks to the area's magnificent climate, only a handful of concerts during the Bowl's history have had to be postponed due to rain. The Bowl grounds themselves -- one of Los Angeles County's most renowned parks -- are open year-round for visitors to enjoy free of charge. (link)

After the jump: A list of notable upcoming events at the Bowl, but first a smattering of selections from the disappointingly slim YouTube archives.

Pink Floyd - "Careful with That Axe Eugene"

The original goal of our classic video feature, serving craphouse quality programming for the long running Retrohump marches on. Unwavering commitments that will hopefully continue providing the nauseating abuse of camera zoom and complete disregard for image stability. Excellent prerequisites for a camera operator to shoot a challenging nighttime fireworks display. On the flipside you might be into it if you just clambaked your buddies beater in the driveway. Remember to hurry back to this anniversary YouTube culling and do not attempt to drive impaired. Seriously.

Continue reading "Retrohump Day - Hollywood Bowl turns 85" »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 12:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

The only time I've been able to include early footage of the Cure in this column was to point out how disappointing it was, so I'm grading slightly on a curve. Not for the material, mind you. I will argue to my last breath that the Three Imaginary Boys era was the band's finest. Even without the extra pop hits that were shoehorned into the American version, Boys Don't Cry, it's gotta be the desert island Cure record. When they start aping Joy Division more directly on albums like Pornography you lose so much charm that any increased depth or texture just isn't worth the trade off. The later syrupy pop hits don't have enough edge to them to rate higher. It's an easy call.

Good concert footage from these years is still kind of scarce, though. So, you'll have to deal with a really dumb decision to edit this 1980 Boston concert in a "psychedelic" fashion.

It's as inappropriate and annoying as it sounds.

the Cure - "Fire in Cairo"
(Boston, 1980)

This clip proves the musical quality of the performance, amping up the intensity and the synth level on a mellow classic. But it's here that the lameness of the "groovy" vid manifests itself most clearly. For one, we're robbed of getting a sociological survey of what a Cure audience circa 1980 actually looked like. Did the make-up and the tear stained eyes come first, or did Rob dictate that himself? Are these shiny happy pop kids drunk on the sharp hooks, or intuitively depressive proto goths? I'd like to know.

I'd also like to know if there's a false ending right before the final minute, or if the video effects master tacked on :50 seconds of recycled footage. The fact that I'm guessing is pretty damning, visually.

the Cure - "Fire in Cairo"

the Cure - "Killing an Arab"
(Boston, 1980)

This performance destroys the flabby Paris show that was mentioned earlier as a disappointment. It's as aggressive and nervous as the subject matter demands. The acid casualty light show isn't quite as distracting in this one either.

the Cure - "Killing an Arab"

the Cure - "Three Imaginary Boys"

The title track from TIB is my very favorite song of the band's entire career, so I'm thrilled that pre-00's footage of it is finally available. But thanks to the contextless YouTube post, we have no clue what year this might be. Since Smith doesn't yet resemble Edward Scissorhands, it has to be relatively early. The size of the crowd and venue suggest that they probably have a few albums under their belt, however. Anyone out there feel qualified to offer an educated guess?

As to the footage, it's pretty unambiguously great. I could do without the mic echo probably, but when the lights go down and the goosebump epidemic that is the late guitar solo kicks in, all is most definitely well.

the Cure - "Three Imaginary Boys"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 05:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Since last week's Orange Juice clip was so lovely, I decided to stay in kilt-ville. Another member of the thriving early eighties scene that spawned the Juice, Josef K and too many others to count, were the wild Fire Engines. Though the band put out a frustrating live tracks and rarities disc called Codex Teenage Premonition not too long ago, there hasn't been a complete document of their studio output since 1992's Fond compilation went out of print. Those of us still waiting for the proper re-issue of their 1981 debut, Lubricate Your Living Room (Background Music for Action People!), are not advised to hold our breaths.

The You Tube selections for such an obscure group are about as spotty as one might expect, but there are gold flecks among the pebbles. Also, myriad videos of fire trucks racing down the street. We'll leave you to find the best of those...

Fire Engines - "Candyskin"
(fan made video)

Fire Engines were more volatile than their slightly more famous countrymen. While there were danceable beats grounding most songs, the skronking No Wave guitars place them closer to James Chance and the Contortions (James White and the Blacks if you're nasty). "Candyskin" is the exception. With up front vocals, a great guitar hook and giddy bursts of "la la la," it's the one certified pop arrow in the band's quiver.

Sadly, there's no genuine live footage of the song from its original era. The best we can muster is this clever fan-vid, by someone called suburbanbatherson who seems to do this sort of thing all the time. The clip consists of chopped and screwed old footage from what looks like either a particularly zany British soap from the seventies or a horror film from Hammer Studios. There's been a murder at the blind school! Or something. The melodramatic gnashed teeth and wooden postures are manipulated via non intrusive pauses and rewinds until our players are almost cutting a rug. A rug of pain! The tone is perfect, and the shoddy techniques and technologies that would have been available at this very early date in music video almost certainly would not have done better.

Here's the mp3...

Fire Engines - "Candyskin"

...but actually this version from a 1981 edition of the John Peel show, which has a cleaner sound and loses the soggy string section, is the better recording. One of my all time playlist staples, by the way.

Fire Engines - "Candyskin" (John Peel session, 1981)

Fire Engines - "Get Up and Use Me"

See what I mean about crummy old no budget videos? This official clip has choppy repetitions like the fan entry, and if you squint just right you can make the band out, but I don't think anyone could really call this the more entertaining or inspired vid. Not a bad song though, sitting squarely in the James Chance zone.

Fire Engines - "Get Up and Use Me"

Fire Engines - "Big Gold Dream"
(BBC2 1982)

You see more of the band in this dodgy 1982 BBC clip. Perhaps more than you want. The band decided to make one of their catchiest numbers more abrasive through sheer barechested-ness (and the black pants with white socks aren't helping). There are times when you're not sure if the video cassette transfer is warped, or if it's a cumulative snowblindness effect of studio lights bouncing off pale Scottish flesh. The boys look so gawky, that you have to wonder what's going on with the torso of their one shirted member? Why would he alone refuse? Irregular chest hair pattern? Stamos-esque freak belly button? Perhaps his pitch to keep his blouse on was that a full shirtless assault would make the shoulder pad brigade they brought in to sing back up a wee bit uncomfortable.

For the record I'm glad the ladies have tops as well. Towering hairspray levels negate eroticism, as any teen boy stumbling across an 80's copy of Playboy well knows.

Fire Engines - "Big Gold Dream"

Fire Engines - "Hungry Beat"
(Edinburgh, Scotland 2006)

A much cooler performance comes from last year, after the band was unearthed by their acolytes Franz Ferdinand. Not much more relaxed but surely more comfortable in their thankfully not displayed skin, the old gents rip through a version of oldie "Hungry Beat." With singer Davey Henderson's nasal voice given some gravity by age, the band sound akin to Tom Verlaine writing a disco song. Which is to say, awesome. If such a thing had existed in the actual Television oeuvre, you have to think that Alex Kapranos' public Marquee Moon bitching would never have come to pass.

Fire Engines - "Hungry Beat"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 03:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Scots indie pop pioneers Orange Juice have been covered twice by this column already. If this footage wasn't of one of their best songs, or if it didn't have such a head scratching backstory, or if it weren't so dang goofy, I might have been content to leave well enough alone. But here we are...

Orange Juice - "Simply Thrilled Honey"
(Dada With Juice, UK Channel 5, 1985)

This clip is taken from a 1985 Channel 5 special (from their Mirror Image concert series) and subsequent Polydor video release, called Dada With Juice. Though the title suggests madcap weirdness, it was actually a pretty straightforward concert film of the band's performing at the famous Hammersmith Palais. Occasionally, as with "Simply Thrilled Honey," an amateurish music video would accompany live footage. While seeing Edwyn Collins done up in Laverne and Shirley garb is slightly jarring and it does seem odd that food packaging employees would be so chipper, the idea to set an Orange Juice song in an orange juice factory is hardly the work of a master surrealist.

What's weirdest about this thing is that it exists at all. By 1985, Orange Juice was considered a complete failure in the eyes of Polydor. Their sublime 1982 album, You Can't Hide Your Love Forever, failed to make a dent in the charts. Its funkified successor, Rip it Up, despite its top ten Motown homage "I Can't Help Myself," wasn't much more successful. 1984's the Orange Juice , was a complete failure commercially and artistically. So much so that the label would eventually drop the band and retain the services of only their drummer, Zeke Manyika (which is never a good idea, see: Phil Collins). So why put out a costly video production for a band who they couldn't stand and didn't want? That mystery is our gain. The band wasn't quite as sharp in these late days, but this gem of a song is hard to mangle.

Of course, the soft disco Dada version can't match the windswept romance of this recording, one of the legendary Postcard label's very best...

Orange Juice - "Simply Thrilled Honey"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 04:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Feigned outraged struck the Internets again this week via Wilco’s decision to license a song to Volkswagen. As expected everyone proceeded to lose their shit. So much so that Pitchfork posted a news item on the subject with the kind of verbiage you expect from disgraced hucksters politicians, not one of America's most beloved bands. See: "Wilco Explains Volkswagen ads."

In this post-O.C. era I thought people had given up caring about bands working with corporate interests. After years of being on the defensive, the argument of financial benefits and non-radio exposure won out as a wise one for bands tossing their hat into the ring of Madison Ave. Selling out in the old school sense doesn't exist anymore. Considering payola scandals and the shitty state of radio, I’d go as far to say that having frequent airplay is the real selling out (not really, but close right?). Exceptions do exist, however; like if a band allowed itself to be adopted by say, Tom Tancredo’s presidential campaign.

The curious case of Of Montreal & Outback steakhouse vs. Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer

Outback Steakhouse commissioned Of Montreal to rework the Sunlandic Twins semi-hit, "Wraith Pinned to the Mist (And Other Games)" into a jingle for a commercial (video). It was quite ubiquitous on radios and tellys and many a blog commented on it. Of Montreal also released the best album thus far in what has been an incredible year for music. Did they bank from the commercial? Probably, but so what? Neither songwriting nor quality of future work has been affected, that much is clear. Purists aghast at the evolving trends of indifference towards rampant corporate infiltration into record collections are clinging to the somewhat misguided view that all rock and roll is committed to the punk rock ethos. One that, in a general sense (or in my opinion), has gone away forever. All one has to do is open a MySpace account to see the flood of friend requests come in from bands large and small.

One might argue that MySpace is the modern version of DIY promotion. I’d argue against that by stating MySpace is just a fancy platform for multimedia enabled interactive press releases. Band pages provide information about artists, often much more than a stand alone “official” website does, tour dates, photographs, music, videos, and the ability to insert ones self into the conversation by commenting on said pages. Fans love the ostensible direct connection, but the true reason for existence is for BAND to sell records, tickets to shows, and increase awareness of their music so they can sell more records, more tickets, and most importantly, make a living from music - something that has never been easy.

Before I risk falling too far down the wormhole of self-righteous indignation let me get on with introducing today's Retrohump. The untouchable David Bowie, pimping himself and his legacy in commercials from around the world. See Bowie spread himself globally so as to not appear omnipresent in any one region when shilling.

Related:
Retrohump day - Selling Out!

David Bowie - Vittel - Vittel Bottled water

Bowie’s disapproving looks at his various doppelgangers reminds me of Michael Keaton's film, Multiplicity. I guess that is a bad thing.

[More videos after the jump]

Continue reading "Retrohump - Bowie is the shillest" »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 03:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Usually, I try to assign these video posts a theme, even if that theme is startlingly flimsy or entirely concocted after the fact. Try as I might though, I can't seem to find much connective tissue between today's stellar entries. One is a relatively new discovery for me, one an old favorite. One is fast and serious, bordering on nervous, the other loose and romantic, drunkenly relaxed. One shows Brits in the US, the other Yanks in Europe. One professionally produced in stark black and white, the other amateurishly captured in grainy color. They both feature skinny white musicians playing variations of underground rock music, but that's hardly the basis for a snappy title, now is it?

the Monochrome Set - "Eine Symphonie des Grauens"
(Minneapolis 1979)

"Eine Symphonie des Grauens" is an accidentally stumbled upon song that I now find hard to believe has existed happily without me for nearly thirty years. I mean, if it's just been lying around for all that time, why have its praises not been shrieked towards the heavens? I promise I was listening for the shouts.

The stern visage of singer Bid in this contextless footage suggests that he had to part ways with his former bandmate Adam Ant due to an acute allergy to foolishness and foppery. A further investigation of the Monochrome Set's discography will most likely utterly discount this theory. But that's a matter for another time.

the Monochrome Set - "Eine Symphonie des Grauens"

Pavement - "Kentucky Cocktail"
(Belgium 1992)

Considering the fact that they've been my declared favorite band for well over a decade, it's a wonder I don't write about Pavement that often. I guess I'm afraid my levels of enthusiasm will make me sound foolish or something. So I'll go for understatement here when I say that this stuff is still tremendously appealing. Gary Young as the frazzled old hippy, Steve Malkmus as the dickish task master, it just all fits the oral history to a tee. When they start playing it's shockingly heavy, yet impossibly casual. And perfect, really. Not by any technical definition that you could quantify, but still. A magic trick I've studied from all angles on loop without making any progress towards unlocking.

See what I mean? I could break out into a sonnet at any moment, if I'm not careful.

Let me just end on a note about the song in question, "Kentucky Cocktail". I always regard with great respect bands who save very high quality material for special circumstances, like the late John Peel's show, for example. Though it's not quite as sublime as its Peel Session brother "Circa 1762," "Kentucky Cocktail" was clearly an album quality composition. To be willing to toss such a song away, to turn it into a footnote for the trainspotters...well that kind of supremely confident nonchalance is kind of inspiring still.

Pavement - "Kentucky Cocktail" (John Peel session)

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As I started thinking about what today's Retrohump should focus on I began taking stock on our recent obsessions regarding all things 90s. The wrapped search for Best 90s Album ended with Ok Computer taking top honors - a foreseeable and anticlimactic result that flew in the face of MS writers contrary opinions (here, here, and here). (The current knockout tournament dovetails from there with a search for the best Radiohead song and is still very much in play.)

Runner up and looking up to Ok Computer was that other shocker of 90s heavyweights. The one iconically wrapped with a naked baby fishing for a dream. Naysayers shouldn't get too worked up with the results, because a definitive resolution by Internet voting, no matter what we proclaimed, was never really the intent of the tournament. We probably gained most not from tangible results but from the honest and open discussions beget by the natural desire of publicly justifying a vote. While the elimination format was a great exercise in pseudo-democracy, at the end of the day I doubt we resolved anything. I bring this up because it is hard to argue Nirvana's cultural effect on the world transcends less than anything Radiohead has done, or in all probability, will ever do.

Stock examples of Nirvana's effect on greater culture (for the early-90s layman) include both the dethroning of Michael Jackson from the charts; and splashing a deadly wave of irrelevance on practically every 80s hair metal band. Which brings me to this edition of Retrohump.

Hmm..provide me some flashbacks to the 1980s monsters of debaucherous cheese you say? If you count yourself among the detractors questioning the need to spotlight sleaze-rockers then I must warn you the chances of a future stop on the hairspray wagon of questionably tasteful thematic glory will only increase as we get closer to the hilarity going down at Rocklahoma*. The new 80s hair metal festival serving dual roles as excellent case study for the increasingly niche-based (long tail) world we live in, and a repository for excess Schlitz inventory.

Ratt - "Round and Round"

Countering our typical penchant for the obscure with this!? Gotta keep you kids sharp by inviting perspective into the mix, or Here is a Counterpoint to Obscurer than thou.

Motley Crue - "Live Wire"

You scan a bunch of these videos and they all start looking the same. Tight multicolored leather pants, excessive hip shimmying, accessories galore, heavy makeup... In fact the whole scene is not unlike witnessing a bunch of pre-op transvestites meeting at an S&M club for an androgyny dance party celebration.

Whitesnake - "Slide It In"

Subtlety was never the forte of the 80s. Evidenced here in both title and in David Coverdale's description of Tommy Aldridge being a "thunderous octopus on drums." I might have to repurpose that last analogy someday. Wait for it.

Motley Crue - Live on Countdown Revolution - Australian TV

I take back any past comment claiming I had seen the worst television in the world. I suggest preempting the play click with some Tylenol.
-- -- --

This swath of awful could go on for hours. Until next time...Rocklahoma baby.

* - If anyone out there is going to this and is interested in writing about it for Merry Swankster.com. Please email me.

Posted by Merry Swankster at 03:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I'm revisiting the idea of revisitation. Like many things I say I'm going to do on this site and then completely forget about, I had intended to periodically go back to artists that have previously gotten the retro treatment to acknowledge the fact that the You Tube library is ever expanding. There's no way to be comprehensive, so we can at least follow up. Well, I did it once anyway.

Twice, now.

Tall Dwarfs - "All My Hollowness to You"
(New Zealand Television, 1983)

I prefer this song by New Zealand's Tall Dwarfs to the one included in my initial Kiwi rock edition, and most likely would have included it if it were available. Looking much more chubby and haggard than he would 14 years later, frontman Chris Knox coos out his then bitter world view with a lovely honey dipped Beatles-esque melody. Though it looks like he's reading the lyrics straight from a chronologically anachronistic Blackberry, he's actually rocking the very cool hand held Stylophone, invented in 1967 and popularized by its use on Bowie's "Space Oddity". What I love about these Kiwi songs is how devoted they can be to very immediate melody, while still keeping an extemporaneous feeling that never lets them feel slick. It's the perfect median.

The studio version is definitely better, mainly for the more emphatically odd hoof clopping percussion balancing the sweet tune. Here it is.

Tall Dwarfs - "All My Hollowness to You"

the Raincoats - "Don't Be Mean"

When I offered up the smidgen of Raincoats footage available, this late period gem was nowhere in site. Fans of the group's intial 70's line-up might be awfully confused if they've not acquainted with the group's 1996 comeback Looking in the Shadows. The post punk wobbliness of the ladies' initial output is gone in exchange for what could almost be described as a studio sheen, courtesy Sonic Youth's drummer Steve Shelley. The retreat from D.I.Y. doesn't eliminate the possibility of prickly charm, however. This deeply weird track suggests that singer Gina Birch might have smoked roughly three billion cigarettes in the decade between releases. Her airy, cracking innocence has hardened into gravel voiced authority. She's truly unsettling as she come unglued pleading for an ex-lover's attention. The best part though is when she ditches the low register grumbling for a genuinely pretty girl group emulation on the "If and when we're old and gre-hey-hey" portion. Then it's back to violin scrapes and general chaos. Though it bears little resemblence to the albums that earned them cult band status in the first place, it's still bizarely addictive.

The actual video doesn't lend itself to much interpretation. If you like scowling and the color yellow though, this is your lucky day.

the Raincoats - "Don't Be Mean"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 12:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Given the fact that one of my very first entries on this site was about the pre You Tube scarcity and procurement of Joy Division footage, one would think that we would'e gotten to Joy Division before, say, the Eurovision Song Contest. We did not.

Now, before the next Interpol album emerges and false comparisons start flying about, seems as good a time as any to atone with a refresher.

Joy Division - "Shadowplay"
(What's On?, Grenada TV 1979)

In Joy Division's television debut for future Factory Records boss Tony Wilson's program the band sounds great while looking bored stiff. The guys were later appalled by overlaid projection of highways and machinery that they deemed tacky. Really, the oddly spread out band members need all the visual motion they could get. Ian Curtis, even in subdued good spirit with a bit of hand movement and foot shuffling, moves like no other human being. Not awkward exactly because it seems natural, but just not normal.

Joy Division - "Transmission" & "She's Lost Control"
(Something Else, BBC2 1979)

The energy level escalates drastically with this pair of BBC2 performances later that same year. Curtis "dances" wildly with rubber arms and dull eyes. Chris Ott's 33 1/3 book about Unknown Pleasures maintains that numbers of confused pensioners phoned in to complain about the "drug crazed" man to whom they'd been unwittingly exposed. The sound could be slightly better, but still, we caaaaaan daaaaaance!

If you're wondering, that weird disembodied string of "bloody"s that pop up briefly in between the two cips is from graciously excised footage of John Cooper Clarke's "Evidently Chickentown" that were included in the original broadcast. Despite the fact that the punk spoken word-ish reading has had it's hip factor upped recently, it's still semi-annoying.

Joy Division - "New Dawn Fades"
(De Effenaar club in Eindhoven 1980, from Here are the Young Men Factory VHS 1982)

Joy Division - "Digital"
(De Effenaar club in Eindhoven 1980, from Here are the Young Men Factory VHS 1982)

These clips have been amped up in quality from the ones I saw on my Here are the Young Men bootleg thanks to the efforts of saintly You Tube poster raverill who replaced shoddy audio with the soundtrack from an audio bootleg of the same show.

With sound somewhat restored to original levels and the small on screen frame blurring the picture further into dark and bright light abstraction, this footage finally lives up to its fabled status. You get reasonable confirmation that the band's frequently mentioned gripe of producer Martin Hannett making them sound too precise and icy in the studio might have had some merit. The guitars are loose and heavy, and the rhythm still amazingly tight. The performance of "Digital" is especially bananas.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 03:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I was otherwise engaged all day, and my cohorts have their own preoccupations, so the Retro today is really the Retro tonight. But look at the timestamp. Let it never be said that Retrohump devotees were made to go without. This particular entry proves that any band, any nation, any obscurity will eventually submit to the Tube. There are too many people out there.

Solo Eno shows, Modern Lovers gigs, grainy Television Personalities footage, take note. You cannot hide from me forever. For now, Malaria!

That exclamation point is built in, but there's a chance I would have added one anyway.

Malaria! - "Your Turn to Run"

I've posted this song in varying forms twice before, but its allure is hard to overstate. In short: the blurry synth, the stuttering new wave beat, the oddly tuned guitar flourishes, those detached yet aggressive Teutonic vocals. If you're a fan of Germany, lady menace, or the years 1980 to 1982 in general, then you're sorted.

Further investigation into the Malaria! back catalog has unearthed nothing of comparable quality. Sometimes though, the completely out of nowhere stand alone song from a forgotten group is a more satisfying discovery for it's fluky nature. It's proof that artistic gold can come from anywhere. You might have to be a terminal record geek to relate.

The video is purportedly cobbled together from Super 8 leftovers from the Berlin group's earlier video 's for "Geld", and it looks it. Basically the girls (and they are all girls, right? That's what the All Music entry says, but it's uh, got some holes in it) hang around a bombed out theater prop station wagon, give their creepily be-crutched friend a lift, and end up in a fiery wreckage? Several views in and still I'm not really sure. Also, posing.

It could use some intensity to match the song's high bar, but it exists and I found it.

Malaria! - "Your Turn to Run"

Also:

Malaria! - "Geld (Money)"

As to the video who's excess spawned our beloved "Your Turn to Run" clip, well, if you look reeeeal close you can see the formation of those East German stereotypes that sort of mystified me during "Sprockets" sketches in my youth. Being in Berlin's booming early 80's art and music scene was probably a real hoot, but the levels of hyper serious pretension here could power a U-Boat.

Dear God! Obtuse art powered U-Boats! We're doomed...

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Everyone knows Coachella organizers love reunions. We've already covered the most exciting one of 2007. Along similar lines though what other graybeards will appear in Indio this weekend?

Jarvis Cocker - "Running the World" - Karaoke edition

"Smash the system" and get back into the playhouse. "I want my words flying over clouds," said the crabby curmudgeon who wanted a softer backdrop for the word 'cunt.' Done.

Continue reading "Retrohump day - Coachella Geezers" »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 11:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

David Bowie gets mentioned every other week or so on the site in some way or another, because he's David Bowie, and he's a freaking genius. Surprisingly, there's never been a full blown Bowie Retrohump. There was a casual comparative one clip wonder, a small slice of a composite, and the mocking of a truly unfortunate time capsule, but nothing comprehensive. The problem is, that comprehensive is kind of a (queen) bitch too. An artist as successful, long lasting, and media savvy as Bowie has spawned hundreds and hundreds of clips. If we're going to cover it right, we've got to go album by album, persona by persona. Not in a row or anything, but gradual like.

We're going to start with my current album infatuation, Station to Station. I had resisted buying it for ages, mainly because there are only 6 songs, and that always felt like kind of a gyp. The fact that I've bought all sorts of fewer tracked import EP's in my day did not crack this dome of logic. Now that I've corrected the my error, I've been loving it to pieces. Wedged between the commercial apex of Young Americans and the critically unimpeachable Berlin trilogy, it was one of those poor orphan records known as "transitional." But the flux works in its favor, a bizarre mix of art and accessibility that's harder to pin down then some of his better loved records. The big bag of crazy facist leanings and extreme drug paranoia that is the "Thin White Duke" persona is a bonus.

David Bowie - "Station to Station"
(from the film Christiane F., 1981)

The most pristine footage of Bowie performing the album's towering title track actually comes from a 1981 West German film, called Christiane F. The film's teen girl in trouble storyline takes a time out for extended concert footage. Ever the positive role model, Bowie belts out "It's not the side effects of the cocaine/ I'm thinking that it must be love" with particular gusto for his pill popping teen fan. That's kind of anti-drug, right?

Continue reading "Retrohump Day: Station to Station" »

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 09:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This is a special edition of Retrohump (Tuesday) celebrating Radiohead's victory in our Album Insanity tournament. Your regularly scheduled Retrohump, helmed by the estimable Jeff Klingman, will drop tomorrow.

No Surprises

Don't believe everything you read on Wikipedia, but believe this:

The single featured a simple video which consists entirely of a close-up shot of Thom Yorke's head inside a plastic bubble which slowly fills up with water until he is completely submerged. He spends 57 seconds completely submerged with his breath held before the water is released and he resumes singing. The documentary Meeting People Is Easy showed that Thom only held his breath for a fraction of the time, done by speeding up the track Thom is miming to as his face becomes totally submerged and that the footage was edited to make it look like he was under for longer. Additionally, reflected on the bubble the lyrics scroll up and lights blink on and off. Both the video and the documentary were directed by Grant Gee.

Karma Police

Director Jonathan Glazer was not happy with the end result.

BONUS

Street Spirit (from The Bends)

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 10:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Alas, a spotty wi-fi connection has pushed our Wednesday feature deep into the evening. Not that it matters, especially. If anything it is for the better, the switch from day to night further expressing the post's themes of duality.

You buy that?

Smog - "Bathysphere"
(live @ the Cooler, NYC, 10/23/95)

I posted a very recent rendition of this '95 classic on the Prefix blog a day or two ago, and it piqued my interest to check out some prime footage. While the biggest knock on Bill Callahan is probably his flat vocal delivery, I think he actually summons quite a bit of emotion from the stark and alienated lyrics. Of course, the descending "ah's" add quite a bit of color, the short gasps vaguely hinting at some kind of stabbing pain. The rest of the words are delivered in deadpan, as usual, but the imagery demands the detachment. What could be a harmless bit of childhood fancy, living under the sea, is rendered black and creepy by Bill's numb baritone. We get the sense that the boy in question's motivation is to be as far from contact as possible, not on a Cousteau adventure. This footage, of the babyfaced troubadour, sells it even further. As if he learned all he needed to about life back then, and had just been consistently disappointed ever since.

No live version I've ever heard can touch the studio work, from 1995's Wild Love. The sharp edges of the electric guitar, and the creeping strings are still spine tingling on listen number four million. Easily one of my favorite songs of all time.

Smog - "Bathysphere"

Chris Knox - "Not Given Lightly"
(Live on Australian televsion, 1997)

Kiwi rock scene titan Chris Knox, member of the Enemy, Toy Love, and the occasionally brilliant Tall Dwarfs, on the other hand, exudes warmth. It's not just the jam shorts, either. He is outgoing and self deprecating, leading off this performance of this love song from his 1989's solo album, Seizure, saying, "God, admit it you've never heard of me. Oh, that's alright," without sounding bitter in the least. That spirit informs the charm of this song, an open hearted declaration of love. There's nothing sinister about it. When about a minute in, our man breaks his guitar's string, he's forced to sing it a cappella. Compensating by offering even more emotion, more good humor. He's also forced to navigate around a really dopey host, but that's neither here nor there.

The funny thing is that, although he seems in this clip like the Kiwi answer to Jimmy Buffet or something, he's was actually the alpha punk, the Iggy Pop of early 80's New Zealand. A testament to chilling out as the years progress, I guess. A well earned sunny disposition to counter Smog's young frost.

Chris Knox - "Not Given Lightly"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 08:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

With a contagious rhythm section set against a musical philosophy that enjoyed the good parts of life, Charles Wright became one of the more dominant musical figures who helped forge a bridge from the looseness of 60's soul to the tightly wound funk of the 70's. Regarded as the middle ground between Otis Redding and James Brown, Charles Wright and the Watts 103rd Street Band fashioned about 9 top 100 singles between 1967 and 1972. Even if you were nowhere near the West Coast four decades ago you probably can recognize their sound from artists like NWA and Tribe Called Quest who sampled Charles Wright's pocketed bass-lines and bright horn arrangements in order to launch a hip-hop generation. Recently, the advertising world has locked on to the idea that Charles Wright can help them sell everything from burgers to sneakers as Wright’s “Express Yourself” continues to find new life.

Express Yourself

Charles Wright's early musical career started in Doo-Wop in the 50’s. By the 60’s he had formed an eight piece band that quickly became a club sensation. In 1967 Bill Cosby was looking for back up on his first attempt at a singing album and came looking for Charles Wright the Watts 103rd. With the Cos the band recorded Silver Throat: Bill Cosby Sings

Though it could not compare to Rudy Huxtable lip synching to Ray Charles for Grandma and Grandpa Huxtable's 49th Wedding Anniversary, the album actually landed them a hit single. They were signed by Warner Bros. in 1969 and became one of the first successful R&B artists on the label. Wright and the 103rd went on to record a dream catalogue for DJs looking for samples with hits like "The Joker," "65 Bars and a Taste of Soul," and "Keep Saying."

The Joker

65 Bars

Keep Saying

I'm not real sure what the below video proves other then begging the question on why any editor would cut straight from a picture of MLK to Charles Wright admiring a dancer's a$$...nevertheless, the song is a classic. More importantly this ill advised video serves as a great transition on why NWA's remake of the song was so remarkable for reminding the world that the song's true origin was in the tumultuous years following the Watts Riots.

"Express Yourself" sexed up/ possibly offensive version

"Express Yourself" from NWA's remake from Straight Outta Compton

This song is so good that even if they did not share the same last name false rumors would still circulate that Charles Wright was the late Eric "Eazy-E" Wright's father.

// Charles Wright and the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band buy

Posted by Yonah Korngold at 06:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Given that Monday marked our fourth goddamn year in Iraq, it only made good sense to devote this week's retrohump to folk activist Buffy Sainte-Marie.

Born on a Cree reservation in Canada's Qu'Appelle Valley, she was later orphaned, adopted by her parents' white friends, and raised in the U.S., where as a bright, young thing, she taught herself to play piano and guitar.

Fast-forward to 1962, by which time Buffy was in her early twenties, playing gigs in concert halls and folk festivals and hanging around the blooming Greenwich Village folk scene, along with Canadian cohorts Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell and Neil Young.

Her spankin' good early songs were (in the predictable American fashion) reappropriated by lesser-talented but whiter-skinned men and women, including Barbara Streisand, Sonny and Cher, Chet Atkins, Roberta Flack, Janis Joplin, Neil Diamond and, yes, the 'King' of all song-stealing, Elvis.

In 1963, while recovering from a throat infection, Buffy developed an addiction to codeine (very rockstar), an experience that she drew on to write the song "Cod'ine" (very popstar).

The very same year, the U.S. government began withdrawing our war-busted troops from 'Nam, saying, roughly, "The political situation in South Vietnam remains deeply serious. While U.S. action there has not yet significantly affected the military effort...it might do so...you know, in the future." Ah, it all sounds so vaguely familiar, eh?

The returning veterans inspired Buffy's protest song "Universal Solider," which was released on her debut album It's My Way! Although the song earned her Billboard Magazine's title of Best New Artist, it became a hit, not for her, but later for Donovan (the poor man's British Bob Dylan).

The rest of the Buffy Sainte-Marie story is an even further flop, filled with religious conversion (she became a member of the Baha'i Faith), ill-fated forres into the land of Buchla synthesizer ("People were more in love with the Pocahontas-with-a-guitar image," Buffy has explained), a five-year stint on Sesame Street, and a "Best Song" Academy Award for "Up Where We Belong," which appeared in the Debra Winger classic An Officer and a Gentleman. (Let it be known that the film's producer Don Simpson tried to cut Buffy's tune saying, "The song is no good. It isn't a hit.")

Perhaps to blame for Buffy's lack of popular success is the suggestion that she was blacklisted in the 1970s, along with other Native Americans who belonged to the Red Power Movement. "I found out ten years later, in the 1980s, that Lyndon B. Johnson had been writing letters on White House stationery praising radio stations for suppressing my music," Buffy's said.

Also in the 1970s, her records began doing the old poof-and-disappear. Although distributors claimed the LPs had been shipped, there never seemed to be any in-stock or available for her fans to purchase.

In her words, Buffy was, "put out of business in the United States." Today, she's put back in business by Merry Swankster.

Buffy Sainte-Marie - "Cindy"

Okay, so Pete Seeger is sort of hogging the spotlight here, with his baseball metaphors and gratuitous banjo close-ups. But perhaps it's just because he's artistically threatened by the bruised power of Buffy's brusque voice... Also, nothing commands attention like a woman with a massive, fucking tree branch in her mouth.

Buffy Sainte-Marie - And The Mystery of the Mouth Bow

It's official. The first band to bring back the mouth bow earns my MS Pick. (And the first band to attach a gourd to the end wins my vote for 2007 Album of the Year.)

Buffy Sainte-Marie - "Little Wheel Spin and Spin"

God, I can't decide what makes this clip so haunting. Is it because the same themes (hate, greed and senseless war) still apply? Is it because there still aren't any Native American artists on the radio dial? Or is it all due to the simple fact that we still think "Vampire Slayer" whenever someone says the name "Buffy?"

// Buffy Sainte-Marie - Official site.
// Buffy Sainte-Marie - It's My Way! - Buy.
// Buffy Sainte-Marie- Little Wheel Spin and Spin - Buy.

Posted by Koren Zailckas at 02:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (14)

Of storylines and segment producer self preservation

The NCAA tournament is, amongst many things, beloved for the organic unfolding of competition that is relatively pure compared to other major American sporting events. There are also are the storylines that hype certain matchups for the much sought after dramatic effect. The legendary coach, who despite enormous career success has never been able to seal the deal and win the six games necessary for that elusive title. The kid who overcame tremendous adversity to play college ball. A cadre of troublemakers who in the beginning of the season where close to being expelled for a bratty campus incident before turning everything around to finish up with a great season. We love these stories the most. Getting a second chance and seeing young talent not take things for granted is the new American dream.

Given that some, if not all, of these captivating tales are pushed to the public's consciousness, fulfilling television producers' innate need to create a back story so the ESPNs and CBS's of the world can have more to talk about (re: filler). Vested ratings interest notwithstanding, they seem to seep through the cynicism filters and reach the masses in a fairly sticky way. After all, water coolers everywhere need morning conversation to keep their hearts beating. Plus it gives Becky in accounting something to follow instead of trying to unravel the intricacies of the Princeton offense or stifling aspects of the 2-3 zone.

* * *

So did you hear the one with Chuck D and Sonic Youth? All you (music) bracketologists out there, do me a favor and provide some color on a potential Sonic Youth vs. Public Enemy matchup in the finals of 90s Album Insanity. Then tell me about Chuck's cameo in the "Kool Thing" video.

Public Enemy - "Fight the Power" Uncut & uncensored, directed by Spike Lee

Sonic Youth - "Kool Thing"

Posted by Merry Swankster at 12:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)