A daily dose of vinyl from my personal record collection (and CDs and online albums). A little history, a couple jokes, and some personal anectdotes about the stuff i'm actually slapping on the turntable every night.
There's a chicken Surfing in the sky, He'd like to come and meet us, But he's still a little shy... I will always eventually shamelessly plug my friend Steven Stark, and his latest melodic-electronic project is Fuchsia Chicken's debut album A Surfin' Bird. It lies somewhere on the spectrum between Yacht Rock and dentist office adjacent Vaporwave, and I couldn't be happier. For one thing, I'd rather follow an intergalactic surfing chicken than some of the leaders we have down here on terra firma. For another, it's nice to hear something not very serious for a change. I know, I know, it's still musically serious, the chord changes and orchestration will twist your brain into a deliciously salty pretzel, and the concept reminds me of a cross between Ziggy Stardust and Bluebird from Nektar's Remember The Future, but it's easy on the central processing unit without being over the top ridiculous like The Electric Cow Goes Moooooog! Give it a try,...
There comes a time in every man's life when you have to ask yourself "is Meat Puppets really that good?" Not the band in its entirety, but their self-titled debut. Women can ask it too, but it's not compulsory. Yes. It sounds like it was written and performed by puppets made of meat. I'm coincidentally reading Jason Pargin's John Dies At The End, and this is exactly what the opening scene with the meat monster in the basement freezer sounds like in my brain. Saying they can't play their instruments is not at all true. Maybe you're not "supposed" to play them that way, but it's definitely on purpose and well rehearsed. And yet, Meat Puppets makes Butthole Surfers sound cold and calculated and constructed by committee after several rounds of test screenings. Meat Puppets sounds like everyone in the studio was too scared to politely ask them to leave. It's true, I like Meat Puppets II better, but I don't think i can argue that's...
I like to joke about Bottle's Taxonomy of Music, but i'll just let you search through the posts at albumsforeternity.blogspot.com (it's real easy, just use the magnifying glass/search bar). The important thing for tonight's review is that track-2 cool-downs are terrible. You know who knows better? My penpals, the Vests, as doubleVee. I have never met Barb and Allen, but they are both a part of the fabric of my existence through no actual fault of their own. Allen, of course, fronted one of my favorite bands in the universe, Starlight Mints. Apologies in advance for how long it will take to get to the actual album, but i figured story time is much more interesting than whatever convolutedly creative way i come up with to say "it's freakin' awesome." My friend Stephen Hughes had an extra ticket to see Flaming Lips at whatever they called that building to the northeast of the minor league ballpark in Bricktown (Coca-Cola Colosseum, or who cares), and he...
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