May 02, 2008 Earworm

It's been fifty days since the last Madonna earworm and, being a 'mo, I am contractually obligated to translate her age in years to days and not allow more than that time to pass without a mention. Complicated, huh?

So, it's a good thing that I woke up with "4 Minutes" in my head along with the panic stricken barking of dogs. Slipping into my birkenstockian slippers I rushed to follow twelve feet down the stairs and gracefully slipped mid-way, landing once on my head and then again on my ass, as three Irish Terriers looked back to laugh. Regaining my footing - and making a mental note to get new morning footwear - I rushed to the back door to release the beasts who then noisily cleared the back yard of the band of squirrels who were plotting something evil against our fortress or, perhaps, to take over the world. All without even a second of help from Madonna, Justin, or Timbaland.

I'm still undecided about Madonna's latest album, "Hard Candy". I don't really care that she's broken her pattern of unearthing new truffle talent to help her create her latest (ahem) artistic statement, choosing instead to go with the latest pop saviour (Justin) and a producer of the minute who, by now, surely must be on the edge of his sell by date (Timbaland), because a girl's gotta do what she's gotta do when she's pushing pop songs to the kids whilst filling out the AARP membership forms.

No, the problem I have with "Hard Candy" is that it doesn't fill me up. There's very little to be found under the colorful coating, its on the beat posturing allowing Madonna to skip any emotional content. Sure, she's provided us some wince and groan inducing lyrics in her time - "Don't Stop", anyone - but she's usually more on than off when she's not trying to pound us over the head with a deep thought - "In This Life", anyone?

Maybe I'm just becoming an old fuck but I still expect to hear something to shout about, even when I'm dancing, and considering that I've gotten to this age with Madge, I expect her to deliver. So far, "Hard Candy" says nothing to me. Not that it matters, because it's on target to be her seventh #1 album in the US - moving her one spot closer to tying with Streisand, and "4 Minutes" is her 37th top ten single - making her the girl with the most of those. So, for now, the kiddies are on board and she can still dance with Justin without anyone saying, "Awwwww, how sweet". For now.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock

May 01, 2008 Earworm

"Hey! You got ecstasy in my acid!"
"No, you got acid in my ecstasy!"

Or, you've got the MGMT album, "Oracular Spectacular". You can kinda imagine what you're in for when you see Flaming Lips producer, David Fridmann on the jacket but what if you mix it up with some crystal blue persuasion that the kids are starting to change, starting to come together as is promised on "The Youth"?
"This is a call to arms, to live and love and sleep together.
We could flood the streets with love or light or heat - whatever"

Pretty groovy idea, right? But that whatever concerns me. What if somebody brings sweet cherry wine? Whatever, indeed.

But maybe whatever is just fine. Hey, if it gets them to put down the X-box controls, I'm all for it.

April 30, 2008 Earworm

As a month of madness comes to a close I think of how it started and am shocked by just how little time has passed because this month seems to have lasted forever. I think about what's not been said, what seems to be pointless to mention, and how little anyone knows about those who surround them. Some relationships seem based upon full disclosure but we all keep our secrets. That may not be bad when the getting is good but...
So, Josh Ritter's "Naked As A Window" is todays pick because I hear it as a warning to not be distracted by what appears to be the full monty because there's always a beneath beneath. And also because I'm in love with the lyric, "I'm just a hallway for ceilings and walls, bathed in emptiness all the way through".

Thank god it's Wednesday.

In the scrap heap of pop music should have beens lays "Baby, That's Me" by The Cake, the revered anti-success story of the combination of baroque psychedelic girl group pop. The usual story of mismanagement, wrong men, label politics, and more than a little drugs, apply to Eleanor Barooshian, Jeanette Jacobs, and Barbara Morillo but few stories result in a record as beautiful as their version of this Jackie DeShannon/Jack Nitzsche composition.

As recorded by Leslie Gore, "Baby, That's Me" is petulant at best. The Cake, however, deliver a performance that borders on disturbing in it's distance; as though the girls are delivering a psychotic Mystery Science Theater commentary on their own lives. Harold Battiste adds his special swamp voodoo to the arrangement, muddying the waters even more, and Cher pops in for uncredited background vocals.

Like so many good things, the general public missed the point and the record flopped. Fortunately for me, it showed up on a "gray area" Japanese import at the end of the eighties, giving me the opportunity to meet one of my most favorite records and now, the good folk at Rev-Ola have re-issued the entire, brief, Cake catalogue and even threw in the original mono single mix of "Baby, That's Me" so that those strings can be heard in all their morbid glory.

April 28, 2008 Earworm

Is criticizing Obama racist? Is praising Hillary condescending misogyny? Is Miley Cyrus now a cheap slattern? Will House solve his MOST DIFFICULT CASE EVER?

Yes, 'tis the season for spin and I thought that I had become numb to it all. But I found myself rolling my eyes constantly this morning as I watched Howard Dean trying to spin by refusing to comment on anything. Then I realized that I may be watching the genesis of the next spin mutation. The alpha spin? A spin so strong that it is causes dizziness?

Cool!

And that is why I have been unable to get Eddie Hodges' "Seein'Is Believin'" out of my head. The scuzzy guitar (perhaps Billy Strange) and what surely must be the sound of Darlene Love wailing in the background are icing on the cake, as is Eddie's post pubescent over the top delivery. Give it a spin and remember, the moment that you are told that there's no spin is the moment that you're being put through the wringer.

To Read: Misfortune - Wesley Stace

To Watch: The History Boys

Not A Boy Band

*Note to the Spazbot: No matter how many times you click on it, you can not watch the movie here. You'll have to buy a copy!