Showing posts with label The Motels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Motels. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

June 11, 2008 Eaworm


Conversing about the subtext of sixties pop songs with the Siniawsky's - as one does on a Friday evening - has me bending an ear in an attempt to see what I may have been missing. "Johnny Get Angry" was finally asked "Johnny Are You Queer" but I already knew the answer to that and I'm pretty sure I know the real story of "Jimmy Kiss and Run". And it's good to know that I'm not the only one who has suspected a down low theme to "I Think We're Alone Now".

The Crystal's "He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)" has been discussed in detail for it's underlying theme of masochism but I've always thought the real story there was about insecurity, no matter how aware Spector was of the innuendo. Grizzly Bear's cover on their "Friend EP", however, throws any ambiguity aside like an empty condom wrapper with just one brief pause between "it felt like a" and "kiss"; just long enough to make it clear that he treasures the memory and the gratification that the moment provided.

It may not be my thing but it still sounds sexy as hell and not one bit gratuitous which is more than can be said for previous covers by Hole and The Motels. Go ahead, try it.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

March 13, 2008 Earworm




Three cheers for Vh1 Classic! It provides the ultimate reminders and the chance to change perspective without the rose colored glass of nostalgia. Case in point: The Motels.

The Motels were never as cool nor as clever as they thought they were. Between the break-ups and reformations, they sold out spectacularly by grabbing on to producer Val Garay who was hot off the Kim Carnes' "Bette Davis Eyes" and its parent LP, "Mistaken Identity" which, oddly enough, was far more interesting and holds up a lot better than anything he did with The Motels.

"Only The Lonely" was the big hit and rightly so, but "Take The L" is the better of the big booming ballads from the "All Four One" album. Petulant and bitchy, much like how I imagine Martha Davis to be, it's a keeper.