“Let’s do the world a favor, yeah, let’s all go extinct.”
Can’t argue with that! In the meantime, though, we’re all going to have to keep on keeping on and there’s no better soundtrack to that the choogling groove of Blitzen Trapper.
Eric Earley says, “This song is about American apathy and the nihilism that emerges from the bogus idea that complete personal freedom should be man’s ultimate goal, when in fact man’s ultimate goal should be ecological balance, all things follow from this. Comedy and horror combine on this track, teenagers dropping acid in a masonic temple at the end of the empire, the American consumptive death-drive laid bare as a desire for extinction.”
There’s a long history of bands paying homage to each other. The Animals made a minor cottage industry out of it with “The Story of Bo Diddley” and “Monterrey,” but it’s nice to see the kids continuing a tradition. “Do You Remember” has not-so-subtle nods to Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and explicit call-outs to “the bands in the plaza/playing at noon.” It’s important to remember the good times, and the bands that provided your own private soundtrack to those good times. The Rubinoos implore you to not forget. Not ever.
And who says you can’t make a video on the cheap? Well, probably nobody anymore now that we all have a capable video camera in our pockets, but The Rubinoos cut away all the fat to focus on the fun: A pal dancing her ass off in front of a curtain in what looks like your parents’ foyer. That’s a good time.
There was a cinder block cube of a bar on the west side of Grand Rapids called Putt Putt’s. My uncle tells me that when I was little he used to take me there and set me up on the ice machine while he played pool. He bought me Shirley Temples and taught me to make noise when the other guy was about to shoot. You can’t get mad at a little kid for wrecking your shot, right? This was the 70s, so who knows?
My other childhood story of Putt Putt’s involves my dad getting arrested there after getting into a bar fight. I’m not sure whether this is an actual memory or that the story is so vivid that my brain concocted a visualization, but I can picture myself looking through the back window of a car as my dad is hauled out of the bar in handcuffs, struggling, and the cops macing him in the face before they shoved him into a patrol car. The unfairness of getting maced while cuffed still infuriates me, forty year later.
Why was I there? Who’s car was I in? My mom’s? Did somebody call her from a payphone to come pick him up? No idea.
But since then I’ve never really hung out in pool halls. Dressy Bessy makes it look like a lot of fun though!
Putt Putt’s is still there, by the way, but it’s been overhauled. It now has windows and food and outdoor seating. It looks respectable. Their burgers get good reviews online.
But I’m never going there. I know there are ghosts.
Dressy Bessy is back with their first single off their upcoming Yep Roc album, Fast Faster Disaster. All the charm that brought this band national attention in 2005 with Electrified is present in “Tiny Lil Robots,” an ode to parenting complete with a “Little Miss Fucking Sunshine” shirt.
And I’d still rather listen to Dressy Bessy than Coldplay.
Everybody knows that he’s been obsessed with Syd Barrett but it’s weird when Robyn Hitchcock sounds like post-Barrett Pink Floyd. This could almost be an outtake from The Wall.
Losing my face, losing my friends, losing my temper
Losing my place on the map, losing my home
“I first saw Robyn Hitchcock in my hometown, Cambridge, in 1976,” director by Hugh Hales-Tooke told Rolling Stone. “He was playing with a fairly early incarnation of the Soft Boys. It seemed fitting for Cambridge to be the place for Robyn Hitchcock to emerge. He was doing something strong and unique but with a strong connection to Cambridge, the home of Syd Barrett and early Pink Floyd psychedelia.”
Part of the problem when a band like Gang of Four releases a record as life changing as 1979’s Entertainment! is that everything that follows in its wake runs a greater risk of disappointment.
Keeping that in mind, it’s not hard to balance the time and distance between a new Gang of Four record and that acknowledged classic. In the three decades since, we’ve seen the band fall out of fashion somewhat, while giving birth to a few, easily identifiable youngsters who replace communist Cliffs Notes ideals with tailored suits and Xbox deals.
Autumn Defense is the puss-pop (“70s AM gold”) side project of Wilco’s John Stirratt and Pat Sansone, and this is their fourth album. You know what you’re getting yourself into when the press release calls it “the thinking man’s easy listening.” The craziest thing about this band is that they tackle the genre without irony. It’s like a summer breeze…blowing through the jasmine in your mind…
The big news with Paul Weller‘s tenth solo album is that it finds him working with bassist Bruce Foxton on two new songs, and as any real Jam fan will admit, this is probably as close to a Jam reunion as we’ll ever see.
The story behind 2/3’s of the Jam collaboration is, unfortunately, based in tragedy: Weller recently lost his father and Foxton his wife. The good news is that loss has not only prompted Weller to rekindle with former bandmates, but to reconnect with the sounds of his past to create an audio scrapbook that has him creatively moving forwards.
“My faith has been sure inspired / I’m schooled in the textile time,” Weller declares right out of the gate, hinting at the fire under his ass as of late and the impressiveness of his wardrobe collection.
4. Treat the grubby menial/muscle aspects of the profession — driving and repairing vans, hauling gear, arguing with promoters, delivering grinning Gene-Kelly-like performances under punishing or humiliating conditions — as the province of someone else, someone less creative and fragile than yourself. […]
9. Take no time to reflect on who you are, what you do well, and how best to present this to strangers — just do whatever comes to you, which is by definition art, seeing as you are an artist and all.
If you haven’t had the chance to see Fulks in concert, you really should. He puts on one of the best shows you’ll ever see. And he’s recently released a collection of 50 MP3s for $35 or $1 each. I hadn’t heard about it until just now, but I’ll be checking it out. It seems to be an experiment in whether or not “you can sell home-recorded music independently, from a laptop, and make money.” Let’s hope he makes enough to keep recording and touring, because he’s awesome.