Pink Moan

November 14th, 2008 by Gnat

Here’s a fun clip from the Monkees’ Head:

Have a great weekend!

October 31st, 2008 by Gnat

So last week I decided it would be a good idea to write about some of my favorite punk rock LPs and singles on this here blog.  While many would argue punk music is better suited for the 7″ format, I’m going to start off this series of posts with a handful of punk rock albums I think are damn near, if not, perfect in all their 12″, 33 1/3 rpm, long-playing glory. I’m posting these albums in no particular order, no top 5 or 10, etc. Suffice it to say these titles are all the cream of the punky crop to my ears. I’ve decided to forego listing some of the classics like Never Mind the Bullocks… and the eponymous Clash debut in favor of including punk albums that are either: 1) specific to the time period in which I grew up, 2) personally important to me, or 3) simply kickass in my book. Here we go…

Operation Ivy - Energy
(1989)

The original vinyl release of this now-classic ska punk LP was 19 songs of tight and tinny pure punk joy. Later reissues of Energy tacked on some earlier Operation Ivy EPs and singles, but I still prefer the 19-song original. Berkeley’s OPIV (do people still call ‘em that?) couldn’t have come up with a more apt name for their debut LP. Ska-soaked rhythms are combined seamlessly with hardcore freneticness throughout the entirety of the album. Blissful musical bursts are seasoned with lyrics about punky themes like disaffection, isolation and calls for unity among the scene. Guitarist and bassist Tim Armstrong and Matt “McCall” Freeman, respectively, went on to form Rancid, but I think Energy is their shining contribution to the punk rock canon.

Energy was a very important record for me and my friends when it was released. I remember my friend Steve telling me to buy it ASAP when I bumped into him at the local record shop, Music Town, in 1990 (as far as I know Steve still sports a large tattoo of the OPIV shadow man on his bicep). This album could be heard blasting at many a party and from many a car window during my high school years. Ah, sweet youth: skater boys and ska punk. Here are a couple of standout tracks for your downloading pleasure:

Sound System
Bombshell

October 3rd, 2008 by Gnat

Now do I have your attention? Lately I can’t get the song I Need Lunch by the Dead Boys out of my head. Click here and download the mp3 (lest it be removed), listen to the tune, read the following lyrics, and bear with me:

“I-I don’t need your company
Girls like you all come for free
I-I don’t really wanna dance
Girl, I just wanna get in your pants

I-I don’t wantcha to hang around
Girl I don’t need ya to drag me down
Well I-I don’t really wanna dance
Girl, I just wanna get in your pants

Now listen girl

You try and try
You want we’re just more than friends
You cry and cry
You know i’ll prick ya’in the end
Look at me that way, bitch
Your face is gonna getta punch
I said I don’t need no cook girl
I need lunch

Now listen to me baby

I-you go find yourself a factory man
Girl-you were born with dishpan hands
Well I, baby, I don’t need romance
You know, girl, I just wanna get in your pants

I said-I need lunch

Feed me!!”

Even without Stiv Bators’ snarky, snarly intonation these lyrics on their own read as offensive. His searing delivery backed by loud guitars only serves to salt the sting. The narrator of this song hates women, or at least the woman he’s singing to and about. Hell, at the song’s apex he threatens to punch the bitch. I mean, this is hard, violent shit. In addition, this song equates a woman with a meal.

So why do I love it so much?

Believe me, gentle reader, I have spent too much time analyzing my love of I Need Lunch. Time that should have probably been spent working or studying for the GRE. But the good news is I think I figured it out: I love this song because it expresses primitive drive, without any pretense of sentimentality. I don’t have to like what Stiv Bators is saying, but I can’t ignore the rawness of his lament. It’s ugly and it’s real. And I’ll take a real hate song any day over a flaccid, fake love song. True and ugly is better than phony and pretty.

Stiv (1949-1990)

September 29th, 2008 by Gnat

Good fodder for a lazy Monday post, don’t you think? Carl Wilson is my favorite singer out of all the Beach Boys. I don’t usually like to post so much YouTube content in a relatively short period of time, but I have to share the following two clips. The first one is a cool little video (with some fun, goofy dancing by Carl) of 1971’s killer tune Long Promised Road:

This second clip is great, too. Carl belts out the blissful I Can Hear Music only to be followed by Dennis Wilson singing a Charles Manson-penned tune, Never Learn Not to Love (originally titled by Manson Cease to Exist). Oh weren’t the ’60s a hoot?!

September 23rd, 2008 by Gnat

My good friend and former bandmate, Cheree, years ago penned this lyric to one of our band’s (bees are black) songs: “The joy of advertising/Keeps us in place.” I was always especially fond of that particular line, because “advertising” and “joy” are two words you never think of combining.

Advertising, especially the concept of “branding,” fascinates me because it’s really a sort of black magick. Signs and symbols, slogans and catchphrases all meld to become more than the sum of their parts. The patented Nike swoosh, for example, is basically a magickal symbol, a sigil, infused with energy over the years to create an immediately recognizable, global brand symbol. Same goes for the McDonald’s arches. We each have our own feelings that are brought up when we encounter one of these symbols. For instance, upon first glance the Nike swoosh fondly reminds me of my grandfather’s store where he sold many a pair of Nikes, and the dusty, leathery smell of his stockroom. On the filpside, in more recent years Nike has become widely infamous for using sweatshops. Thus my feelings associated with the Nike swoosh, and consequently brand, have been tarnished.

Advertising at its best successfully links products to our positive emotions. At its worst (though some would perversely argue, best) it becomes the Swastika. (See the Wikipedia entry for the history and evolution of the Swastika, perhaps history’s most instantly recognizable symbol after the crucifix.) I like to keep up with trends in advertising, because you gotta know your enemy. That’s why this article struck me:

Products Placed: How Companies Pay Artists to Include Brands in Lyrics

I’m not surprised. I mean, in a way rock and roll has always included product placement. Hell, some argue that Ike Turner’s “Rocket 88″ was the very first rock and roll song, and that’s about an Oldsmobile engine. And, bear with me here, one could even argue that the Beach Boys actually, if inadvertently, branded the California summer mystique through their sun-soaked harmonies and lyrics invoking images of cars, girls, beaches and waves. The joy of advertising, indeed…

August 18th, 2008 by Gnat

I LOVE this story: Rolling Stones classic wakes grandfather from coma. It warms my heart on so many levels. I like the idea of this grandfather in a coma revisiting his younger consciousness upon hearing (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction and tapping into that reality in order to receive the burst of energy necessary to wake up and continue to live. The thrill and urgency of primitive rock and roll = life.

My friends and I were talking about this over dinner yesterday: what music would we like to have played to us in an attempt to bring us out of a coma if we ever were to experience the misfortune of being in such a state? My first choice was the Velvet Underground and Nico, but then I quickly nixed that option for fear the album might actually enhance the comatose state (Nico’s sultry croon beckons from the other side — come join us). I’ve settled on the punk rock (Dead Kennedy’s, Descendants, Gray Matter, Operation Ivy, Black Flag) of my teenage years and early Beatles. I think, if anything, the jangly Rickenbacker guitars, signature harmonies and pure pop magic of early Beatles’ tunes could bridge my adult and childhood selves, and nudge me sweetly back into waking life.

Music = life.

August 7th, 2008 by Gnat

We all know the hazards of record collecting: spending ridiculous amounts of cash and hours on ebay, never being able to move due to your daunting shelves of vinyl, hoarder syndrome, obsession, nostalgia, etc. But here’s proof that vinyl will do you in:

Fatboy Slim ’suffering from debilitating back pain after years of lugging heavy records’

Ha, poor Fatboy Slim. He looks totally frazzled in these pics. I can almost feel the weight of his vinyl-stuffed backpack — strap mercilessly digging into soft shoulder flesh. Say what you will about digital media, but my iPod is looking pretty attractive right now.

August 4th, 2008 by Gnat

The first thing is one of my very favorite works by Kurt Vonnegut, a short story from 1961, Harrison Bergeron. In my opinion, this mega-short work is one of the finest modern short stories. Harrison Bergeron is up there with Flannery O’Connor’s excellent Everything That Rises Must Converge, but much, much different. Although both stories are based around the theme of equality and both works comment eloquently and without cheesy sentiment on the nature of the human condition.

On a much different note, here’s a great clip by the Black Lips where they come off sounding more like the Stone Roses, with Veni Vidi Vici:

July 21st, 2008 by Gnat

I’ve still yet to catch this LA-based punk/noise/pop duo live, even though they seemingly play every weekend here when not on tour. I showed up with my friends for the Central Library free daytime No Age/Mika Miko gig a couple of months back, but sadly the library auditorium was at capacity when we arrived. The fire department was there to turn us away along with a sizable throng of well dressed post-punk and new wave kiddies who were there to take advantage of the all ages activity. I dig this band’s new album Nouns and their previous collection of singles, entitled Weirdo Rippers.

No Age have been getting lots ‘o’ hype lately and seem to have still kept their integrity and wits fairly intact. Read this cool LA Times article to learn more of their brushes with celebrity and staunch vegan ethos. Then watch the killer Eraser video:

No Age is at a DIY crossroads

July 18th, 2008 by Gnat

I grew up in suburban Houston from about ‘87-92, the years which spanned the end of junior high through my high school graduation. Ah Houston, a sprawling and lame megalopolis nested in the swamp-like climate of southeast Texas. Well, apparently Houston is still lame. Today I came across a great article summing up Houston’s lackluster music scene. I imagine this piece will bore the living hell out of you if you’re not from Houston or Texas, but I found it interesting, thorough and well-written:

Houston Has a Bad Reputation with Touring Indie Bands

Oh, and the title of this article alone should get you excited:

Why are ABBA songs so infectious? Science has answers