Over the weekend, Swiss Adam at Bagging Area , featured the excellent Wedding Present single Brassneck in a post. Just so happens that Brassneck was backed with a cover of Pavement's Box Elder. This somehow came up in the comment section...today he featured both the Wedding Present cover and a live version by Pavement.
Those of you who have followed the discussion will know that Singing Bear joined the rest of you miscreants in being banned...not because he doesn't like Pavement but, because he said he didn't "get" Pavement...obviously casting aspersions on your devoted author's efforts at getting the point across. Or did he? Maybe I haven't talked enough about Pavement. Maybe he was unfairly dealt with...maybe we haven't had enough Pavement on these pages...obviously we need more Pavement.
Bear...your ban has been officially rescinded but, we've still got a tight grip on the hammer...so, watch your step.
One thing we need to quickly get out of the way...and C brought this up the last time Pavement graced this site...and it's cryptically referenced at Bagging Area...in the States, Pavement is not the sidewalk. It is black top, asphalt...it's where you break your face open when learning to ride a bike. When Thurston Moore first picked up a copy of Slay Tracks he thought they must be an Industrial Band...."or something more nefarious." It has a very hard connotation here.
Anyway, before moving on let's have a few more covers...
I don't know who these shirtless idiots are...but man they got it. Kentucky Cocktail appears on early live sets and Pavemet's first Peel Session*. The riff is just balls out...in more earnest hands it might have been a hit on classic radio but...Ha. I love this cover...never more than a demo, these kids take the song and just destroy it. He mumbles most of the lines...even seeming to look up for help at one point...perfect. When they come to the break and he yells F**CK! and it crashes right back into the riff...brilliant...like a 5 year old with a flamethrower.
Cage the Elephant. Watch the rhythm guitarist and drummer...the song has nearly driven them out of their minds. Again...this is a b side. False Scorpion backed Rattled By the Rush from Wowee Zowee. They kill it...obliterate it. Awwwwesome indeed.
I don't know who these ladies are but, after a little investigating it saddens me to report that they are no longer a going concern...Good Story have split but, they got this one off before calling it quits...mason jar in hand. Zurich is Stained from Slanted and Enchanted.
Julie gets another appearance just because...and because it'll make it easier for me to pull it up on my phone.
How about a sing a long...get your lighters out. Built to Spill cover the sublime Here.
Even Dough Martsch can't keep from smiling...a couple of times.
Watch this space for more Pavement.
*Peel's love of Pavement owes a lot to that initial introduction by the Wedding Present.
Showing posts with label 80's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 80's. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Twinkle, Twinkle...Blah, Blah, Blah...EE. TEE. CEE.
Many of you have expressed your anxiousness to hear what else happened in Birmingham...and it makes me happy to know that y'all read. We will get to it, but first...
Every year around this time, for reasons known only to him, God abandons us and the atmosphere takes on a strange quality. I don't know how to describe it really...it's sharp and penetrating...kinda like when you reach for something in the ice box. The sky goes dirty grey. It goes on forever...like a month. Turrible.
This week was particularly bad. It got down to 14 degrees (-10c)...low enough to freeze water in pipes and blow the pressure valve on your hot water heater. I can't express how much I hate winter...hate the cold...hate coats, jackets, jumpers, sweat shirts...how I despise it busting in on my room in the garage.
Fortunately the previous owners left a big box of tiles under the heater...there were these fabulous high pitched accents to the crashing thud of dry wall.
So, that was fun.
Obviously it was very upsetting for The Boy and Herschel-Walker.
Speaking of upsetting...and I'm loath to even bring it up, but none of your Christmas presents to me have shown up. I know they're coming...I'm not brining this up to shame anybody. It's just I know y'all are anxious to hear what I think. Please know that I'm already appreciative but, I'm a little ashamed to say, it was with increasing anxiety that I've rushed to the mailbox every day the last few weeks...only to be disappointed. I know they're coming...I'm not complaining...my silence has not meant a lack of appreciation...they just haven't shown up yet.
While I'm complaining...that crap in France. It wasn't actually a distraction from blogging but, I'm so sick of these dickheads.
I've only gotten a glimpse of this nonsense once. It was at Speaker's Corner in Hyde Park. There was an American evangelist and a black fella that I think was British. As far as I can recall, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Yeah...somebody was going to hell but I don't remember it being anti-Muslim or anything. Just the usual turn-so-you-don't-burn stuff.
Whatever it was...was too much for the swarthy fella next to me. I could see him gritting his teeth and sorta swaying...like pacing from the waste up...until he couldn't take it anymore...
"What do you expect from an American and nigger!"
There was some verbal rustling at that...no intelligible boos or shut ups...but that was the audible gist. This poor American girl next to me, when he said nigger, she caught a case of the vapors. I thought she was gonna pass out.
Then he was completely incensed. He started that pacing thing again and then snapped. He lunged for the black dude...burst right through the crowd in a rage but the crowd was having non of it. He was literally thrown back on to a walkway and escorted out of the park by a few biguns.
He just couldn't tolerate hearing what he didn't want to hear. Dick.
Throw you lighters up for D.
Alright...back to our regularly scheduled reading and writing then.
this.
There stands Jackson like a Stonewall
Every year around this time, for reasons known only to him, God abandons us and the atmosphere takes on a strange quality. I don't know how to describe it really...it's sharp and penetrating...kinda like when you reach for something in the ice box. The sky goes dirty grey. It goes on forever...like a month. Turrible.
This week was particularly bad. It got down to 14 degrees (-10c)...low enough to freeze water in pipes and blow the pressure valve on your hot water heater. I can't express how much I hate winter...hate the cold...hate coats, jackets, jumpers, sweat shirts...how I despise it busting in on my room in the garage.
Fortunately the previous owners left a big box of tiles under the heater...there were these fabulous high pitched accents to the crashing thud of dry wall.
So, that was fun.
Obviously it was very upsetting for The Boy and Herschel-Walker.
Speaking of upsetting...and I'm loath to even bring it up, but none of your Christmas presents to me have shown up. I know they're coming...I'm not brining this up to shame anybody. It's just I know y'all are anxious to hear what I think. Please know that I'm already appreciative but, I'm a little ashamed to say, it was with increasing anxiety that I've rushed to the mailbox every day the last few weeks...only to be disappointed. I know they're coming...I'm not complaining...my silence has not meant a lack of appreciation...they just haven't shown up yet.
While I'm complaining...that crap in France. It wasn't actually a distraction from blogging but, I'm so sick of these dickheads.
I've only gotten a glimpse of this nonsense once. It was at Speaker's Corner in Hyde Park. There was an American evangelist and a black fella that I think was British. As far as I can recall, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Yeah...somebody was going to hell but I don't remember it being anti-Muslim or anything. Just the usual turn-so-you-don't-burn stuff.
Whatever it was...was too much for the swarthy fella next to me. I could see him gritting his teeth and sorta swaying...like pacing from the waste up...until he couldn't take it anymore...
"What do you expect from an American and nigger!"
There was some verbal rustling at that...no intelligible boos or shut ups...but that was the audible gist. This poor American girl next to me, when he said nigger, she caught a case of the vapors. I thought she was gonna pass out.
Then he was completely incensed. He started that pacing thing again and then snapped. He lunged for the black dude...burst right through the crowd in a rage but the crowd was having non of it. He was literally thrown back on to a walkway and escorted out of the park by a few biguns.
He just couldn't tolerate hearing what he didn't want to hear. Dick.
...
The final distraction came this weekend when me and the Big Man got in to a discussion about the punk rock...which led to me spending two days downloading Minutemen songs instead of writing.Throw you lighters up for D.
Alright...back to our regularly scheduled reading and writing then.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
The Greyist Thoughts
I've been trying to get my act together this week...and have been failing. So, you get more of my paintings and videos. Luuuucky.
What those albums could have been without the record company pestering them for more strings. You might need more cowbell but you never need more strings. De Feitas is almost completely washed out of the mix by 8,000 chellos...listen to this s***. The bit between him and Sergeant is a rocket ship.
This one's done I reckon.
This one I'm still workin' out...and taking great pleasure doing it. It's a portrait.
Again the contrast...
The lyrics are always silly...which is fine with me...the trench coat is not. Take that damn thing off. You're inside man.
What those albums could have been without the record company pestering them for more strings. You might need more cowbell but you never need more strings. De Feitas is almost completely washed out of the mix by 8,000 chellos...listen to this s***. The bit between him and Sergeant is a rocket ship.
This one's done I reckon.
Again the contrast...
The lyrics are always silly...which is fine with me...the trench coat is not. Take that damn thing off. You're inside man.
Monday, October 13, 2014
NHS Glasses. Do What?
There seems to be a consensus, among our readers, on the U2...that they're vile. These clowns, I'm guessing, are a more complicated proposition. Before we pick up this tar-baby I'd like to explain how it happened that I've posted a picture of The Smiths on this blog.
It's the fault of Swiss Adam at bagging area . Last week he had a series of posts featuring The Clash...the last one coming on Friday.* I spend most Friday's confined to my office with little to do. I watch a lot of videos and documentaries on Youtube. So, a week ago, after reading a post on Rock the Casbah...I found myself searching for Clash documentaries.
I have issues with The Clash that sometimes spoil a listen...these, I believe, are probably mine alone but, I am fascinated by their story and the disintegration of the band. It still boggles my mind that Mick Jones was told to get out. Splits happen but in what dimension is it a good idea to fire Mick Jones? I still don't understand exactly what happened...and then there's Strummer in the Medicine Show video...like what, months later?
Anyway, there are bands, like the Clash, whose story is as interesting to me as their music. I went through documentaries on early Who...then Quadraphenia and the Mod revival in the 70's.. a little bit about The Jam. One on Mods, Rockers and Beatniks in 60's England. On the sidebar...the Smiths kept popping up. I don't know how I feel about The Smiths as a band...I can't decide, but their story, the phenomenon, and the convoluted bits about their break up I knew made them perfect for that day's viewing...then the next and the next.
The more I heard the more confused I became.
Everybody kept talking about how they were unique for presenting themselves as average Northern, working class kids...so, your average Mancunian swags around with a fragrant bouquet in his britches?**
Of course, everything has it's context
A lot of this is hindsight from the late 80's early 90's. I was 9 in 1982 and only bought one Smiths record while they were still together...a 12" single for Panic. (A song that still tickles me). By 1986 I was practically living in a record store and I know how they were thought of generally. Not only were they grouped in with The Cure...but also with New Order.
So, it made me laugh every time they would talk about The Smiths as a guitar band or when Marr would go on a tangent about New Order. Looking back it's easier to see just how different they were but, at the time, to half of the underground, indie, whatever, record buying public they were just another Depeche Mode.
I don't know how bands like the Smiths viewed their success in the States but, in that world, the college radio world or whatever, they were like superstars. They had catchy songs, videos, and they were used to presenting themselves to wider audiences. MTV did the rest...which actually lagged behind the life of the band.***
There was a level of resentment from certain quarters toward all these "English" bands. On More Fun in the New World, X complains with I Must Not Think Bad Thoughts...
"The facts we hate
You'll never hear us
I hear the radio is finally gonna play new music
You know, the British invasion
But what about The Minutemen, Fleasheaters, DOA, Big Boys and The Black Flag?
Will the last American band to get played on the radio please bring the flag?
Please bring the flag!
Glitter-disco-synthesizer night school"
The obnoxious kid from Salt Lake City Punk (set in 1985)...gives a very foul-mouthed taste.
The funniest and most childish outburst came from The Dead Milkmen...You'll Dance to Anything. If Marr was aware of the song I'm sure he was horrified to have The Smiths grouped in with Book of Love and the Communards. Ha. Yeah in comparison to Human League The Smiths were a back to basics guitar band...but, it didn't really translate and nobody confused them with Husker Du or Sonic Youth.
We still bought the records though. The Cure, The Smiths and Echo and The Bunnymen...Joy Dvsion via New Order were in the collection of every teenage record collector. We didn't share the older kids resentment. Most of us came up on New Wave. Duran Duran is the reason I started going to real record stores as a little kid. It was almost inevitable that the next round of American bands would be steeped in British post-punk or indie-pop. You could see it coming with the Pixies. Nirvana pimped the Vaselines and Raincoats...Pavement were obsessed with TV Personalities, Swell Maps and of course The Fall.
Still, Morrissey was a special case. Try for a moment, to imagine that he isn't in the music papers, that all you know of him is on the records. The public spats, the punch lines, the self references and...none of it translates. There was little nuance and humor for an audience so far out of the loop. He just seemed like a self-obsessed, melodramatic, bore (which I suppose he is everywhere to some extent). As far as I know, in the States, Marr is still held in the highest regard while Morrissey has no presence to speak of except among a small obsessive following. I was completely taken aback to hear that his most obsessed fans in Britain were male...that point kept coming up. I liked the Smiths alright and I knew other fellas that liked them but, the obsessives were always girls.
Anyway with some distance and reams of context...a lot the songs seem more clever and even funny. I still can't listen to the songs that are driven by Morrissey meandering through a maudlin melody...or the songs where the band fades to background music but, I have developed a new appreciation for songs I hadn't thought about in years.
"the grease in the hair
of a speedway operator
is all a tremulous heart requires"
That's pretty good...I can't deny it.
That's also enough of this rambling mess.
__________________________
P.S. It was the sweet Southern husk of Mary Huff's voice that also made this post possible...she broke the noise lock that morning on the way to work...when this one slipped past the censors.
Not entirely inappropriate...if only Morrissey had actually been a girl. They may have been the perfect band.
* It's actually the week before last now.
**As a Southerner...Morrissey is obviously Truman Capote (don't be fooled by the exotic surname...he was born a Persons). Not in any way typical but, still a legitimate Southern character. If you're wondering Mark E Smith is Mary Flannery O'Conner.
*** See Perks of Being a Wallflower for an example of how The Smiths were still a living entity in the minds of U.S. high schoolers as late as the early 90's.
Monday, June 9, 2014
Sunday, May 25, 2014
You Know Who You Are.
Jimi Hendrix heard this...sold his guitar and became a real estate agent. Chuck Berry, Little Richard and James Brown huddled together into a fetal position. Only Screamin Jay Hawkins stood...stood and was steam rolled.
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