Oh the fickle finger of fame...
Where bloggers were once extolling the virtues of the Vivian Girls, Dum Dum Girls, and Best Coast for bringing back a distinct Brill Building, 60s girl group sound filled with happy harmonies and sweeping reverb, they are now pooh-poohing the derivative nature of the bands' follow ups and followers. So, which is it? You, bloggers who keep telling me how Weezer's new (and still terrible horrible trite) output is the best thing since Pinkerton (an album all of you loathed at the time of release). You bloggers who did backflips over the stripped down Goffin-King-like redux of 2008. Do you now hate what you used to love? Love what you used to hate? You're so confusing! Up is down, down is up...
Ah fuck it. I'm not afraid to say that I still like the stuff. As far as I'm concerned, if the world of indie music were to pattern itself eternally on a history coming out of girl groups, 60s soul and R&B, and California Sunshine Psych music, and learn to do it really WELL, I'd be just as happy as any kid who accidentally found mom's stash of GHB.
But, alas, this isn't a rant, this is a celebration. This is a celebration of me catching the fever on a rainy Sunday in Amoeba Records and spending more money than I should have, on more music than I should have gotten for that price. Yeah, so the double vinyl copy of Portishead's third album that I got had one pretty good scratch on one song. But, still, it cost $1.99, so who am I turn that kind of deal down? REO Speedwagon for a buck? Yeah, sure. There'll be a time in my living room when I'm drunk and there are people over that "Keep on Loving You" will sound like a hail of sonic gold. But, better still, I found an advance CD copy of Gigi's first and only album "Maintentant" for less than $5.
I sought it out, because my girlfriend who normally refuses to sing out loud in front of me, belted out their song "Alone at the Pier" and deemed it to be one of her favorite sing-alongs on the collection of mix CDs I've foisted upon her. Well, since we were jumping up and down on the bed in our room at the Maritime Hotel in Chelsea at the time, beery and bleary after a seemingly endless wait for a room after a punishing red-eye - her inhibitions may have been shot. But she sang for me, and I wanted more.
As for the actual album, "Maintentant" is filled with sparkling gems and a rotating cast of Canadian talent that you've probably never heard of, but might hope to hear again. 15 songs of alternating girl and boy singers guarantee you'll get your money's worth. I could pick out at least 8 of them that I love, and each makes that maligned 60s throwback sound fresh and vital as though the decade was only just taking its first breath.
Here's the one that makes my lady sing along:
Monday, October 18, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
10/11/10 - The Love Language
It's been a long and busy absence from posting here on The Daily Bomb, making the blog title look like blatant false advertising to say the least. Writing, editing, photo acquisition, and promotion of a book I just wrote, made me want to punch the written word right in the gerunds. Were it possible, I would have only communicated via sign language for months to give myself a rest.
But, I just couldn't stay away forever. The persistence of The Love Language's song "Heart to Tell" made me return. I don't even remember where I first heard this song. It was just one of those things that kind of reached up behind me and put the chloroform over my mouth and said, "You will submit to my lilting beat...shhh...think about Summertime and dancing like a marionette in your living room..." And I was out like a sack of sweet potatoes.
Months later, this song has infiltrated my afternoons like you wouldn't believe. I suddenly realize that I've been singing it in my head for hours, and whenever it comes into rotation on a mix, I react like I've just snorted a line of Fun Dip. I love it like I love cotton candy at a baseball game. Like I love sneaking booze into a matinee. Like I love a brand new pair of socks.
Yes, it's THAT good. And you're welcome.
But, I just couldn't stay away forever. The persistence of The Love Language's song "Heart to Tell" made me return. I don't even remember where I first heard this song. It was just one of those things that kind of reached up behind me and put the chloroform over my mouth and said, "You will submit to my lilting beat...shhh...think about Summertime and dancing like a marionette in your living room..." And I was out like a sack of sweet potatoes.
Months later, this song has infiltrated my afternoons like you wouldn't believe. I suddenly realize that I've been singing it in my head for hours, and whenever it comes into rotation on a mix, I react like I've just snorted a line of Fun Dip. I love it like I love cotton candy at a baseball game. Like I love sneaking booze into a matinee. Like I love a brand new pair of socks.
Yes, it's THAT good. And you're welcome.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
4/15 - Gauntlet Hair
Okay, I'm gonna do something I have never done and will never do ever ever again. I am going to hand you this band via the words of Pitchfork. Normally speaking, though I'm not one of the supreme haters of that site, I'd still prefer not to namecheck it in my own blog. But in this case, frankly, there's really nothing more apt and perfect that I could really tell you about Gauntlet Hair that they didn't already. I will only add that I really really really like the song of which they write, and that while you may not be able to snag the Cults 7" that I mentioned yesterday anymore, you can keep your eyes on the very same label for Guantlet Hair's up and coming release of this song as an A side. Preorder info not yet available, but it will likely be posted soon, and will likely follow a quick dash to buy what limited copies they make available. Will one be yours? Not if I beat you to it, jive turkey.
Take it away, Pitchfork:
And the Worst Bandname of the Week award goes to... these guys! I don't know what Gauntlet Hair is, but it sounds like something people used to get diagnosed with in the 1820s when the docs were more creative. Not a big deal-- hey, you'll remember it. What matters is that "I Was Thinking..." is a delirious, fire-spewing stomper from this Denver-based avant-pop duo affiliated with Rhinoceropolis, the Denver DIY space which local heroes Pictureplane and Hollagramz call home.
The song's central figure is a hyper-rhythmic guitar that repeatedly slides up, then snaps like a rubberband into starbursts of perfect chordness. You might also enjoy the firecracker-loud handclaps, trunk-rattling bass hits, and battle-cry shoutsinging. Whoever mixed this thing is-- to steal a phrase from my Pitchfork penpal Joe Tangari-- definitely a soldier in the loudness war. But at the song's center is an unstoppable melodic heart that beats like it just ran an Alaskan winter mile in short-shorts, and all you want to do is douse that fucker in Gatorade when it breaks through the finish line."
Use the Pitchfork link to listen to the song.
Take it away, Pitchfork:
And the Worst Bandname of the Week award goes to... these guys! I don't know what Gauntlet Hair is, but it sounds like something people used to get diagnosed with in the 1820s when the docs were more creative. Not a big deal-- hey, you'll remember it. What matters is that "I Was Thinking..." is a delirious, fire-spewing stomper from this Denver-based avant-pop duo affiliated with Rhinoceropolis, the Denver DIY space which local heroes Pictureplane and Hollagramz call home.
The song's central figure is a hyper-rhythmic guitar that repeatedly slides up, then snaps like a rubberband into starbursts of perfect chordness. You might also enjoy the firecracker-loud handclaps, trunk-rattling bass hits, and battle-cry shoutsinging. Whoever mixed this thing is-- to steal a phrase from my Pitchfork penpal Joe Tangari-- definitely a soldier in the loudness war. But at the song's center is an unstoppable melodic heart that beats like it just ran an Alaskan winter mile in short-shorts, and all you want to do is douse that fucker in Gatorade when it breaks through the finish line."
Use the Pitchfork link to listen to the song.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
4/14 - Cults
Well, needless to say, it's been a while since I've bothered to update this blog. There are a few reasons for that. The pertinent one is that I really haven't heard too many bands that are curling my toes, and therefore have just simply lacked the fire to put fingers to keyboard. But over the months, I've collected a few in my pockets that I'd like to share, so I'll see if I can get them up here in the next few weeks.
I'll start off with a lovely little band called Cults. Two weeks ago, the band released a 7" through Forest Family Records, a new label collaboration by the Gorilla vs. Bear guys and Weekly Tape Deck. And in a turn of events that proves beyond argument that, if you are a collector of the vinyl, you'd better be a quick motherfucker when it comes to snatching it up. The 7" sold out faster than hashish hotcakes. Luckily, you can still download all the songs for free on Bandcamp.
The A side, "Go Outside," is proof positive that we're entering another indie rock spring. This sweet, jangly, tinkling little confection that follows in the tradition of other recent retro-inspired pop acts like Best Coast, is bound to end up on a whole lotta sing-along road trip mixtapes. I've already road tested it on a trip down to San Diego and can say with confidence that it totally deserves a slot in the playlist. The song is turning up on a lot of blog lists, so I'm hoping demand will prompt a new issue of that 7".
I'll start off with a lovely little band called Cults. Two weeks ago, the band released a 7" through Forest Family Records, a new label collaboration by the Gorilla vs. Bear guys and Weekly Tape Deck. And in a turn of events that proves beyond argument that, if you are a collector of the vinyl, you'd better be a quick motherfucker when it comes to snatching it up. The 7" sold out faster than hashish hotcakes. Luckily, you can still download all the songs for free on Bandcamp.
The A side, "Go Outside," is proof positive that we're entering another indie rock spring. This sweet, jangly, tinkling little confection that follows in the tradition of other recent retro-inspired pop acts like Best Coast, is bound to end up on a whole lotta sing-along road trip mixtapes. I've already road tested it on a trip down to San Diego and can say with confidence that it totally deserves a slot in the playlist. The song is turning up on a lot of blog lists, so I'm hoping demand will prompt a new issue of that 7".
Thursday, January 7, 2010
1/7/10 - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
Here's two things I'd like to get goddamn straight right now: I don't like hippies. And I don't like Ugly Betty. So, when you take a band that looks like a convoy straight out of Jonestown via Woodstock, and factor in the fact that I heard their most popular single when I accidentally fell asleep on the couch and woke up to the horror of Betty la Fea on my tv.
And on further research evidence, it turns out that the band was founded by Alex Ebert, late of the grating band Ima Robot, after he apparently lost his girlfriend and lost his damn mind in A.A. "Edward Sharpe" is a "messianic figure" he invented that was apparently sent to earth to save mankind, but got distracted by girls. One can only hope, considering all this grade-A hooey, that this is not his attempt at misunderstood autobiography.
But, there's a sliding scale for everything, and apparently, you can't always judge a hippie by the smell of his patchouli, a kind of creepy quasi-crazy by his rhetoric, or a good band by the crappy tv show or retarded car commercial they've been inclined to sell their song to in order to make at least one or two dimes a piece in this fucked economy. And you don't always have to like the mind to like the music. Fact is, my very thoughtful girlfriend made me a sweet little "hey, I like you!" style mix CD this Christmas, and "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros is one of the first songs on it. It makes me feel all fluttery like a 13 year old at her first dance. And, you know? The rest of their music is pretty terrific as well.
It brings to mind, for me, one part Antonioni's failed psychadelic political opus "Zabriskie Point" and another part Polyphonic Spree (minus the colossal repetition, and plus actual structured songs). The comparisons with the latter are a little inevitable, given that the group dresses like a cult and has seemingly about 6000 members playing various instruments and providing lush choral vocal backing. They also fit snugly in that vast multi-cultural cinematic sweep that bands such as Arcade Fire and Beirut are bringing to the musical table. However, ES&TMZs pitch in a handful of caked-on desert playa and blistering dry heat. They are able to wrap their arms around you and bring you in, but are just as easily able to strand you in endless space without an oasis in sight. And it's all beautiful to me.
And on further research evidence, it turns out that the band was founded by Alex Ebert, late of the grating band Ima Robot, after he apparently lost his girlfriend and lost his damn mind in A.A. "Edward Sharpe" is a "messianic figure" he invented that was apparently sent to earth to save mankind, but got distracted by girls. One can only hope, considering all this grade-A hooey, that this is not his attempt at misunderstood autobiography.
But, there's a sliding scale for everything, and apparently, you can't always judge a hippie by the smell of his patchouli, a kind of creepy quasi-crazy by his rhetoric, or a good band by the crappy tv show or retarded car commercial they've been inclined to sell their song to in order to make at least one or two dimes a piece in this fucked economy. And you don't always have to like the mind to like the music. Fact is, my very thoughtful girlfriend made me a sweet little "hey, I like you!" style mix CD this Christmas, and "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros is one of the first songs on it. It makes me feel all fluttery like a 13 year old at her first dance. And, you know? The rest of their music is pretty terrific as well.
It brings to mind, for me, one part Antonioni's failed psychadelic political opus "Zabriskie Point" and another part Polyphonic Spree (minus the colossal repetition, and plus actual structured songs). The comparisons with the latter are a little inevitable, given that the group dresses like a cult and has seemingly about 6000 members playing various instruments and providing lush choral vocal backing. They also fit snugly in that vast multi-cultural cinematic sweep that bands such as Arcade Fire and Beirut are bringing to the musical table. However, ES&TMZs pitch in a handful of caked-on desert playa and blistering dry heat. They are able to wrap their arms around you and bring you in, but are just as easily able to strand you in endless space without an oasis in sight. And it's all beautiful to me.
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