Free Download of "People Got A Lotta Nerve"

Here's the new song by Neko Case, for your downloading pleasure:

http://www.anti.com/media/download/708 (MP3)

It's from her new album "Middle Cyclone".

While I haven't heard the new record, I can definitely vouch for her last one, "Fox Confessor Brings the Flood". It's a great record.

In case you'd like to know more about Neko, check out today's NY Times Magazine.

Rascals Rule!

Only a cultural event of seismic proportions could cause me to depart from my usual meanderings on music. I’m referring, of course, to “The Little Rascals-The Complete Collection”. No, not the Young Rascals. I’ll get to them some other time. “The Little Rascals”, also known as “Our Gang”.

I’m occasionally tempted to go back and relive certain things from my childhood, like comics and TV shows. The results have been mixed. On one hand, reading the earliest reissued Spiderman comics has been a joy because I never read them all to begin with. It was a blast filling in the story gaps and bringing back some of the original pleasures.

Not so with some trips down TV memory lane via DVD. I rented “The Time Tunnel”, which you may remember was on ABC on Friday nights. It was a precursor to “Quantum Leap”, with the time traveler having the extraordinarily bad luck of ending up on the deck of the Titanic (I guess it beats landing half a mile to the left of it, though.), the fall of Jericho, Pearl Harbor, etc. The effects back then were cheesy and the sets minimal to the point of non existent. I got to the third episode and gave up.

“The Man From U.N.C.L.E.”, alas, was even worse - so much so that I’m even thinking of passing on my old fave “Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea” and “I Dream of Jeannie” (although a Barbara Eden screen-saver isn’t a bad idea.)

Ah, but the eight disc “The Little Rascals - Complete Collection” has been a joy nearly from start to finish.

Only in Rascal-land, can you give a kid (with a history of run-ins with the law, no less) a box of matches, tell him to go burn some paper, and everything turns out all right anyway.

Only in Rascal-land can a little boy in all innocence complain about getting kissed and hugged in bed by his sleeping older brother (who is hot for teacher), and suggest that he just sleep with the teacher instead.

Discs one and two cover the Jackie/Wheezer/Chubby/Mary/Farina Era. In it, Farina transforms from complete stereotype to veritable wise man. Chubby is surprisingly tough, even if often dressed like a girl. Wheezer evolves from cute baby to annoying younger brother to jaywalker and finally to black marketeer. Jackie is the supposed ringleader, but it’s Mary who is tough, tough, tough.

Meanwhile, Officer Murphy does for Irish cops what Stepin Fetchit does for African Americans.

And then there’s the Miss Crabtree trilogy. First, there’s her intro as the replacement for the supposedly irreplaceable Miss McGillicutty, then her getting surrealistic answers to history questions (Q: Who was the Hunchback of Notre Dame? A: Lon Chaney), and finally when Jackie and Chubby try proposing to her.

But there was also time for social justice, as the rascals save Grandma from losing her store and her house.

The relationships change, with Mary being Jack’s love interest (and kicking his ass), and then his sister (not much better).

Now you may not like the overall film quality, but where else can you get a Boston cream pie (in the face) with your Shakespeare?

Disk three introduces some new characters, like Brisbane - a real hard case, and pretty boy Dickey Moore. Wheezer’s still hanging in there. And then there’s Dorothy, the annoying little sister who repeats everything you say (am I being redundant?), who morphs into one tough chick, kicking ass here, sticking up for Stymie there. More crazy answers - and a donkey - for Ms. Crabtree. Even dog Petey has some close calls. A train ride from hell (or heaven, if you’re a kid), Stymie as the inventor of chiropractic, two of the ugliest babies ever and the dawn of the Spanky era. And mush.

On disc four, we learn that even five-year-old chicks go for the guy with the nice fire truck. We also learn more about Spanky’s complex relationship with monkeys, the evils of Limburgher cheese (although anyone familiar with Abbott and Costello or the Three Stooges would already know this) and the downside of hooky.

On disc five, Spanky is the unchallenged ruler of the group, even though he’s at least a foot shorter than everyone else. (Even Wheezer never rose to such heights.) He and Scott comprise a duo whose dialog seems lifted from Waiting for Godot.

Who knew that (eating) lemons was good for your freckles (which were crucial for telling the good kids from the bad kids, moustaches not yet being an option)? Let alone that two people who liked to eat them would be sitting next to each other? In front of the kid trying to play the trumpet? (Oh yeah? You try it!)

And horseradish. How else would I have ever learned about horseradish?

By the way, at this point in time, Buckwheat appears to be a girl.

There’s also more Shakespearean influence, this time in the sophisticated dialog:

Rascal 1: Oh yeah?

Rascal 2: Yeah!

And what’s that on the horizon? Why, it looks like a planet with a radio tower on it. No, it’s, it’s… Alfalfa, or as I call him “Crazy Eyes”. It takes a while before he becomes citified, but before he is, he pioneers a new use for lard while the world waits for Brylcreem to be invented.

Disc six is more or less the Alfalfa show. He breaks into song at the drop of a hat, and believe me, there are a lot of them dropping. He always starts off in a high register and goes up from there. If he ever did the “Star Spangled Banner”, my beer bottle would shatter.

But there’s more: In walks Darla, who rocks everybody’s world. She, Alfalfa and Spanky will form what to my mind at the time was an ideal threesome. To be with Darla, us guys were even willing to be Alfalfa, and we’d have settled for being Spanky.

And don’t forget Porky. Otherwise he’ll eat your lunch. Literally.

With his hair now released from confinement, Buckwheat is now officially a guy.

And look out! Here comes Butch!

On disc seven, neighborhood bully Butch casts a shadow over the proceedings comparable to that of the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz. It is because of him that I took an immediate dislike to David Johanssen.

Sexual politicals are now in full swing as the He Man Woman Haters club tries to get off the ground a couple of times, with at best mixed results.

Porky is revealed as the true originator of “Otay!” He and Buckwheat together create their own unique language, whose single grammatical law is to drop as many consonants as possible.

And I couldn’t quite notice that there’s quite the bit of cross-dressing.

Disc eight contains some very early silent episodes that are cute, but a little slow for me. It also has a lot of commentary that I can take or leave. So you could safely skip it.

As the series progressed, and the film quality improves, the episodes become shorter and less anarchic. The adults become more and more in charge of the situation. The plot lines start repeating with only slight variations. And the rascals themselves go from very poor city kids to almost middle class suburbanites.

Some other things I learned:

1. It’s really not a good idea to have the kids hang out in a train yard

2. Place the burglar alarm more than a foot off the ground

3. Try to keep the mothballs out of the soup

4. Children (and by extension, chimpanzees) don’t necessarily make the best caddies.

If you’ve never seen the Rascals I can’t guarantee that you’ll love watching them now, but if you’ve seen them before and want to relive them, you’re in for a treat. And if you think you’re above it all, I challenge you to use the word "isthmus" in a sentence.

So marvel at the fashion sense, be appalled at the poverty, appreciate the integrated cast, but be shocked at the casual racism, even in this well meaning setting. But above all have a good laugh.

When you watch these discs, I guarantee you’ll say “Isthmus be my luck day!”

You Say Noise Like It’s a Bad Thing

“If you throw a garbage can down a stoop, and it sounds good, it’s music.”

Some original BS from jaybee.

And not the plastic ones, either - those old aluminum ones. And, in case you’re wondering, no, I didn’t invent the term Heavy Metal.

It was a long time ago, so I forget exactly how the conversation got to this point, but there I was discussing music (even then!) with a friend. He was an older gentleman – you know, in his forties - and a playwright. Believe it or not, he disagreed with me.

I guess someone who worked hard to craft every line of a play would think a similar effort would have to be involved in the creation of music. After all, how could something so random - so blatantly non-musical as a garbage can - even potentially have the same emotional impact via music as the most finely wrought prose? But I say you gotta focus on the result, not the process, and ignore the utter unfairness of it all.

And it’s just a theory after all. I don’t actually have any garbage-cans-thrown-down-the-stoop records (although I don’t doubt they exist) but I do have quite a few that come close. Check out the “drums” on Elvis Costello’s “Watching the Detectives”. The story goes that they used a garbage can. Perfect!

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Now playing: Elvis Costello - Watching the Detectives
via FoxyTunes

There used to be no greater insult you could hurl at a musician than to say that what they played was “noise”. This created an issue for those of us who liked any music created since 1963, and some would say 1956.

The logic went something like this:
1. Music is nice.
2. Noise is not nice.
3. Ergo, calling music noise is not a compliment.

This put many of us on the defensive. Our logic went something like this:
1. I like pop music.
2. Noise is bad.
3. Hence, the music I like is not noise.

I can see why we would feel this way, but it ignored certain things, like the tons of experimental music that came out even before this time. For the sake of argument, I’ll stick to pop music.

“You Really Got Me” by the Kinks was powered by a guitar connected to a damaged amplifier. When Dave Davies played the song with said damaged amp, he liked how it sounded. The song became a hit. Apparently lots of people liked it. ----------------Now playing: The Kinks - You really Got Me
via FoxyTunes

Then there’s the feedback that starts “I Feel Fine” by the Beatles. The Who. The Grateful Dead. The Velvet Underground. Jimi Freaking Hendrix (who, when I’d compare him to Eric Clapton back then, I’d criticize him for playing…guess what? Noise! )

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Now playing: The Beatles - Intro: I Feel Fine
via FoxyTunes

Now, you may think that the argument above still applies, that somehow, once the music becomes enjoyable, it ceases to be noise. But I say that sometimes music is noise, and/or vice versa.

My argument goes like this:
1. I like it.
2. It’s got noise.
3. Hmmm…..noise! Good!

Q.E.D.


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Now playing: My Bloody Valentine - I Only Said

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Now playing: My Bloody Valentine - Blown a Wish
via FoxyTunes

Whatever Works For You, George

I disagree with Debbie.

Mad, glad, sad... It's all good to me.

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Now playing: Blondie - Just Go Away
via FoxyTunes

My 2008

The title of this Year End Roundup is more of a plea than a statement. My son’s and my wife’s 2008 music keeps intruding on mine. In 2007, it was Queen, Aerosmith and the Killers. This year, it’s Avenged Sevenfold and the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

So let them write their own entry. Here’s my year in music:

Loves:

None yet. It’s a shame that no music has indelibly stamped my year. But there was enough joy in real life to keep me going, so I’ll not complain. Besides, it’s when the going gets tough that the un-tough (me) go for their music. That’s when I’ll need it.

Highlights:

Nuggets: This four CD set Father’s Day present is the American version of the 1960’s British Invasion (okay, maybe a little later). Well, talk about your fun! There are not many “great songs” here, but there are a ton of “great records”. I still couldn’t tell you the names of 75% of them because not all of them have names like “Louie, Louie” and “Woolly Bully”, but most of them are in the same vein. Not for the pretentious.

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Now playing: The Turtles - Outside Chance
via FoxyTunes

Revelations:

Well, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, thanks to my son. He played their Greatest Hits for us and I was surprised how pretty it was. My original impression of them had been all energy and rhythm, but no melody or songs. I recommend this record or By the Way as a way of bonding with your annoying (not you, Mike) teenager.

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Now playing: Red Hot Chili Peppers - Venice Queen
via FoxyTunes

Likes:

The New Pornographers “Mass Romantic”: Neko Case’s striking “Fox Confessor Brings the Flood” led me to her other band, where she shows off her voice in a more chaotic pop setting. It can get to be too much, like a friend who’s had too much coffee, but when you’re in the mood – or had a few yourself - it’s quite a ride.

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Now playing: The New Pornographers - Mass Romantic
via FoxyTunes

The Flaming Lips “The Soft Bulletin”: This one’s got a lot of good tunes, but I still prefer the more spare, gentle Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. But quite enjoyable.

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Now playing: The Flaming Lips - What Is the Light?
via FoxyTunes

Modest Mouse’s “Good News for People Who Like Bad News”: Or as I like to think of it, Bad News for People Who Like Easy Listening. With titles like “The Good Times are Killing Me” you’ve got to love this guy’s attitude. He sings how he feels and he doesn’t feel too great. But the guitars ease the pain, and his gentle side takes a bit of the edge off. They remind me of early Talking Heads, only from the Midwest. What?

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Now playing: Modest Mouse - The World at Large
via FoxyTunes

Finds:

Django Rheinhardt’s “Djangology” – This little $6.99 miracle effortlessly brings to you back to a time you never actually went through, except maybe by way of the soundtrack to the Little Rascals. But then that band didn’t have anyone playing an awesome guitar, violin or piano.

Discos Matador – Intended Play 2007, which was a free sampler from Matador records. My wife found this in my bag when I got home from the record store. I didn’t see the lady at the counter put it in. I was too worried about her reaction to what I bought. (As usual, she was totally unimpressed. Those sixty year old Russian women are awesome cool.) The ten or so bands, the high point among them Lavendar Diamond, range from good to excellent, and I’ll be looking forward to their other work.

Disappointments:

LCD Soundsystem’s “The Sound of Silver”: This 2007 “punk disco” Pazz and Jop winner is not a bad album, but I just don’t go to dance clubs, where I suspect it sounds fabulous.

My Morning Jacket’s “Z”: Strange as it may sound at this point, I don’t like this guy’s voice. It undermines some of his tunes, which aren’t bad, but rarely striking.

Challenges/Homework:

Burial’s “Untrue”: Well, I’ve listened to this 2007 electronica Metacritic winner about 20 times and still don’t think I hear it yet. It’s not bad – I’m just a little dense sometimes.

Steinski’s “What Does it All Mean?”: This is like a hip hop version of Nuggets. Steinski samples music and all sorts of other sounds and puts it all together for your dancing pleasure. Fortunately for me, I can sit and enjoy it anyway.

History:

Led Zeppelin-Long Story

Jimi Hendrix’s “Band of Gypsys”. We get to hear Jimi live, and find out that, hey, he really can play guitar, in case you forgot.

Christmas Gifts. Or Give Me Just a Little More Time!:

I like to experiment during the dark winter months. It’s a bad idea, but it’s me. This year’s no different.

Charlie Parker’s The Legendary Dial Masters: Quintessential jazz.

Music in My Head: Afropop

Ocean of Remembranc: Sufi music for meditation.

Le Tigre: Smart Ass Feminist Punk rock.

Wussy’s “Funeral Dress”: Right out of the box, the male/female vocals and electric guitar win me over. I think this one’s going to be a keeper.

So there you have it. You can now rest easy knowing how my 2008 was musically. Oh yeah, how about yours?

WTFITS, or When “Bad” CDs Happen to Good People

Congratulations. You just bought a CD.

You figured Let me see what all the fuss is about. I’m a groovy guy, I can still dig what the young folks dig, right? So you put on your bell bottoms and earth shoes and head down to the record store. You ask where the albums are because all you see are CDs. They tell you that unless you’re a DJ (somehow they know you aren’t) the album you want is only available in CD format (or you could download it, but let’s not even go there). You call your kids, who assure you that there is a CD player in the house so it’s safe to buy some.

Now you could let this little bump in the road throw you - you could chicken out and just look for an album you’re already familiar with (I can just see you boring your kids with You see this is the part where you’re supposed to turn it over, etc.) but that would defeat the whole purpose of this trip. You’re a cool guy! You can handle the new stuff! So what if the wife looks at you funny? You’ve learned to ignore that by now, haven’t you?

So you buy something. It’s one of those new fangled records you read about in your local newspaper. And although it’s a family paper, the reviewer is trying to be hip, and overcompensates by excessively praising a band with more cache than actual talent.

So, like the diet book that makes it all the way from the book store to your home, but never quite to the top of your reading list, let alone in the form of food on your dinner table, the CD just sits there. The one major difference between the CD and the diet book is that you’ve probably listened to the CD once. Hey, how hard is it to cut open the cellophane (very, actually) and slap it onto the CD player (after the kids have shown you how, that is)? I mean, it’s not like the lyrics are a lecture on the dangers of trans fatty acids or something. So you get that far at least.

But when you put it on, you…just…don’t …get it. In other words, your reaction is WTFITS? (English translation: “My, but isn’t this different?…”) Don’t panic.

There are very few CDs that fit any mood, and I’ll go further to say that, with rare exception, those that do should be considered wall paper, not music. So don’t let it throw you that you maybe didn’t like it right away. Wait until you’re in the mood. How’s that for a switch?

I went into some detail in an early post about how to deal with new music, but that was meant for those CDs that puzzle you. Now I’m talking about the stuff that you’re embarrassed to play around other human beings (as opposed to what you should be embarrassed to play around others), or is at the very least, totally inappropriate for the matter at hand. (Irish music and sex, for instance - “Celtic Moods”, not withstanding.) I didn’t develop a sense of this myself until a friend pointed out that the Brian Eno record I had on– early, baroque Brian Eno, not the later spacey Brian Eno – wasn’t exactly conducive to hitchhiking to the beach. Whatever you think of Eno, he certainly isn’t your “let’s get this party started” kind of guy. OK, now I know.

During an otherwise stellar record store run (Neil Young, Graham Parker, Bryan Ferry, come to think of it, this was when I picked up Eno….) I got “Second Edition” by Public Image Ltd. PIL was Johnny (Rotten) Lydon’s band after the Sex Pistols. I played it a few times and felt like I had crash-landed on a hostile planet. So I put it away for several months. One dark gloomy fall day I felt like trying it again, and it totally floored me. It remains one of my favorite albums, and comes in handy when I want to chase unwelcome guests away.

Okay, now I know what some of you are thinking. Music, like sex, is meant to be enjoyed, usually with others. Listening to it shouldn’t feel like homework. Can’t I just put it on and enjoy? I can’t argue with that, but I also can’t help thinking that if I just stuck with the artists that I knew I liked, I would quickly get into a rut, and eventually hit a dead end, listlessly buying their latest record, and concluding that, while not great, it was certainly better than their last one. It’s like when a farmer plants the same crop year after year. It deadens the soil, and things stop growing. He knows he has to plant something new every couple of years to replenish the soil.

Well, that’s where my agricultural expertise ends. My point is that I’m always on the lookout for something different. I’ll admit that there are some records that manage to walk that fine line of sounding both vitally new and yet familiar. But let’s leave that to people like Neil Young and John Prine.

There’s a point in your life when you realize that your record collection has to mean something. (Jesus Christ, I can’t believe that I just wrote that. Let it stand. You’ll think I’m kidding.) I recently read somewhere that reading fiction is an act of self definition. I think it’s even more true when it comes to record buying. If all your record library contains are the most popular records, then what purpose did it serve? You could have saved yourself a lot of money and just turned on the radio.

So a little WTF is good for you. If you’re up for it, besides PIL, I can definitely recommend these:

Soul Coughing: Ruby Vroom (Remember, not at dinner time!)

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Now playing: Soul Coughing - Blue Eyed Devil
via FoxyTunes

X: Wild Gift One of the great punk albums.

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Now playing: X - I'm Coming Over
via FoxyTunes

Brian Eno: Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy) But please, not right before the beach.

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Now playing: Brian Eno - Burning Airlines Give You So Much More
via FoxyTunes

They each caused some dismay upon first listen, but eventually wormed their way onto my favorites. And aren’t good friends like that?

...And I Feel Fine!

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Now playing: R.E.M. - End of the World as We Know It
via FoxyTunes