Imelda May – Love Tatoo
Katie Melua’s “The Closest Thing to Crazy”, and some of my son’s music. He’s a heavy-metal composer, lyricist, vocalist and front-man for his own band.
Genius runs in our family – father to son.
I’m getting 2-3-4 posts when I intend only one – what am I doing wrong?
Thom Yorke said about Street Spirit: “Our fans are braver than I to let that song penetrate them, or maybe they don’t realise what they’re listening to. They don’t realise that Street Spirit is about staring the fucking devil right in the eyes, and knowing, no matter what the hell you do, he’ll get the last laugh. And it’s real, and true. The devil really will get the last laugh in all cases without exception, and if I let myself think about that too long, I’d crack.”
Ratatat – Seventeen Years
Unbelievably sad right now. RIP you wild thang.
Girls – Ghostmouth
Cat Stevens – Another Saturday Night
September Gurls, Big Star
When I’m not listening to Katie Melua (to the extent you care) I listen to Amy Winehouse or Dido (“White Flag”) and (still) Gwen Stefanie’s incredible “Don’t Speak.”
I like canaries,notably British canaries. They are saving popular music, now that rock is a very dead horse (with the exception of Nightwish, of course.)
Beyond that, I listen to Bach’s solo works for harpsichord, notably the English Suites.
I’ll be celebrating Bach’s 350th birthday tomorrow (21 March).
Gang Gang Dance- retina riddim 30 minutes of madness :)
“Fodderstompf” — An Appreciation
John Lydon has been so oft-labeled that his true identity has become murky, known only by fans who’ve explored the length and breadth of the music he’s created over the years. For those gravitating toward the shallow end, he is best remembered by a single rip-roaring “punk” manifesto: Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols, and his former “public image,” “Johnny Rotten.” But as Lydon, a true anti-intellectual’s anti-intellectual, grew more and more alienated by the punk rawk being made like so much cheap liquor, being pigeonholed into a category, he sought to distance himself further from that establishment.
The result was Public image Limited (or PiL), a band bent on the excavation and study of music -what is it? strip it down, see what spills out- and their 1978 debut, “First Issue.” Lydon was no philistine, as naysayers often label him, and he had a vast melting pot of influences. He was inspired, for one, by the Augustus Pablos and Dr. Alimantados, the dub pioneers whose earth-rattling bass loops were often appropriated by punk/reggae crossover groups (ska). He was no less inspired by the fringe musicians, avant-garde artists like Captain Beefheart and groups like Can forming only the tip of the iceberg.
All these influences can be seen, used piecemeal, in both his debut album and later works (from the excellent “Metal Box” to his superb solo effort, “Psycho’s Path”). But the Lydon twist is always apparent, the bit of piss and vinegar that makes his work stand out.
In “Fodderstompf,” the last cut from “First Issue,” Lydon, in essence, discourses inimitably (aided, he admits, by booze) on the 70’s music scene, from the soulless Donna Summer tripe to, yes, even the good — the “post punk” that PiL is often tagged as.
First, he exhorts us to “Be bland.” That was, of course, the state of stagnation that mainstream music was in at the time. “Be really, really, y’know nothing a void, zilch, zero, nought, nothing, vacuum,” he continues, complemented by a disco beat and some -actually- really nice synths. Lydon and bandmate Wobble then launch into a Monty Python pepperpot-esque routine, again mimicking Summer — “We only wanted to be loved” ad nauseum.
The other thing “Fodderstompf” is about is full disclosure — only a minute or so in, Lydon reveals the song’s face-value purpose: “We only wanted to finish the album with the minimum amount of effort, which we are now doing very suc-cess-fully.” Not only do I personally see that as hilarious, it’s a needed bit of demystification of the sanctified Recording Industry. Not long after, or perhaps coinciding with, PiL’s debut effort, a whole host of post-punk groups — good ones, at that — charged the “music industry” gate, in the process cutting a lot of bullshit out of the music produced at that time.
Speaking of which: Lydon has said that he likes Joy Division and their many contemporaries, but in “Fodderstompf,” he briefly castigates them. A better word, though is “cautions” them. Towards the end of the rather lengthy track, after we’ve heard Lydon and Wobble banter about getting a cigarette, their mutual dislike of punk rockers and their spitting, and their glibly teasing the studio engineers, we hear: “I will show our frustration at society by picking up that fire extinguisher over there and spraying it at the mic.”
The percussive element the extinguisher adds, while adding to the general hilarity, belies the point — and Lydon’s words are a loose warning to his contemporaries — don’t make post-punk into a recipe, the formulaic mess that befell much of punk.
From the wealth of music we’ve inherited from that 1978-1984 span identified as “post punk,” evidently that point was not lost on Lydon’s peers. His “Fodderstompf,” is just a warm-up lap for one helluva good race.
Shape of a heart-Jackson Browne
Teengirl Fantasy- Now that’s what I call vol.2
I saw these guys open up for a band called Telepathe who totally sucked and left really early. Teengirl however destroyed me and without hesistance I bought 2 handmade band t-shirts at the makeshift merch. table :D
I hope they reach wider audiences…
jel – your mother
Seeing Hands Dengue Fever
THE BIRD AND THE BEE “KISS ON MY LIST”
Artist: Of Montreal Song: Wraith Pined to the Mist Album: The Sunlandic Twins
this song is incredible. can’t wait for the new album
Hey, Nick B.: Nice paean to Fodderstompf and PiL! That’s a great album. One of my all time favorites.
Ego Maniac Kid by Blonde Redhead
w/ Chris Marker playing in the background :)
Life sucks ass, but music like this helps…
Blonde Redhead. Love them. Back in the early nineties I saw them on a bill with Bailter Space at a club on west 14th street which was a converted meat butchering company. Those were the fucking days, I tell you. Now that stretch of 14th is taken up by Stella McCartney, Alexander McQueen (RIP), exclusive clubs and lofts for hedge fund hampsters. Oh, well, you can’t dip your toe in the same river twice, isn’t that what the wise Chinese say?
The Hollies – Bus Stop (1966)