February 27, 2008 Earworm

In 1996, Chris Holmes (not the one from WASP) released an album under the moniker of Yum Yum. A string and buzz-laden affair, it was promised to be the second coming of Brian Wilson with a side order of Bacharach. The actual result was more like the softer side of The Jesus and Mary Chain in a Dream Academy sauce. One lovely track, "Apiary", hit college radio long enough to push an estimated ten thousand copies off the racks and then quickly disappeared.

"Apiary" took "Just Like Honey" all the way back to the hive and some of us couldn't help but appreciate the song and the guy's cajones. Was it a little in-joke, an ironic commentary on pop music, or homage.

Six months later, an article appeared in Harper's that attempted to answer the question. Written by a friend of Holmes', it attempted to spin the failure of the Yum Yum album into a tale of irony by declaring Holmes' record as a joke played on everybody but him - that his claims of appreciation for the genres he appropriated for his album weren't genuine. The whole sordid story seemed like a case of sour grapes but who could be sure and who really cared beyond the folks at Atlantic Records who had poured much energy and money into promoting his record. No one, as it turned out. Even this "scandalous revelation" failed to push more units out the door or into the used cd stores where they've apparently lingered for twelve years since I found two copies this past weekend, a discovery that made me pull out my seldom played copy.

A quick google finds Mr. Holmes on MySpace, touting his next album and, in his pictures, looking just like the sort of asshole who would try a "double irony" move to boost his royalty return. His new music, however, sounds an awful lot like the "fake" music he made for the Yum Yum album. Perhaps he'll write a song called "Vineyard" for his next single. Until then, we can enjoy the lovely love-buzz of "Apiary", remixed for maximum promotional airplay.

February 26, 2008 Earworm

Speaking of Chris Isaak, his appeal - other than sex - can be summed up with his lyrics to "This Love Will Last": "If I had to tell you now the way I feel about you, I'd say nothing. 'Cause when I try to tell you how I feel you know I only end up cryin'."

He's always in need of a hug, a "buck up, buddy" slug on the arm, and these actions are usually accompanied by thoughts like, "Hmmm, would now be a bad time to touch him in a special way". Anyone who has the pleasure of seeing him perform live or his appearances on tv know that he possesses a devastating wit but when he's singing, he's so achingly vulnerable that you can't help but melt a little. That's he so uniquely beautiful only heightens the senses and then the music provides the money shot.

At one time in my life a drunken room mate and I meticulously stapled a stack of flats from Chris' second album on one wall of our shared room - she chose Charlie Sexton for her side - and we would go to sleep to the sound of Chris crooning in our ear, providing fodder for the sweetest of dreams that we would share in the morning. We weren't all that surprised to learn that "This Love Will Last" was the usual soundtrack and that both of us always ended up on top.

February 25, 2008 Earworm

Did any one else feel like the latter part of the Academy Awards broadcast was sponsored by Alison Krauss and Robert Plant? As the show wound down, I spent so much time wondering how much money was spent licensing the track that I forgot who the sponsor actually was.

So much has been made of Screamin' Robert's miraculous transition to country crooner that you have to wonder if anyone remembers the many ballads in the Led Zep catalogue, and his Honeydrippers projects. But the music on Raising Sand is only country if Chris Isaak is country. In fact, today's earworm, Mel Tillis' "Stick With Me Baby", would sound right at home on Chris' "San Francisco Days" album.

There's a lot of quiet co-conspirator cooing and confirmation against a world that says they'll never last. And it's lovely. But country, it's not.

February 22, 2008 Earworm

Songs about infidelity should not sound as upbeat as George Harrison's "What Is Life" and the one being screwed over should not sound as happy as he does on this fuzz filled acquiescence. Sure, taking the high road is supposed to be liberating but this is ridiculous. Especially when Eric Clapton gets to play guitar on the damn thing.

1971 must have been a very exciting year for Patti Boyd as "What Is Life" was followed a month later by "Layla" and rock gods were singing her praises to us, mere mortals invited to worship but not yet sure to whom we were praying.

Have a great weekend.

February 21, 2008 Earworm

With its flagelette intro, it is easy to imagine that The Bluebells' "H.O.L.L.A.N.D" is an ode to their native Scotland because it instantly transports you to fields of green as the hills begin to hum. But it's tacked onto the flipside of "I'm Falling" - a record so beautiful that I could kiss it - so it's all about the truer side of romance, hence the title: H(ope) O(ur) L(ove) L(asts) A(nd) N(ever) D(ies).

Gorgeous.

Keep the Valentine's spirit going and go kiss somebody.

"H.O.L.L.A.N.D" is available on "The Singles Collection" and if you have already purchased it with a different cover, Bluebell Ken McCluskey himself warns that this latest incarnation is not re-mastered

February 20, 2008 Earworm

"There You Go" and "Most Girls" were two great records that could have been made by any girl if they, too, were produced by Babyface. Pink recognized this fact and was determined that she would be the star of her second album, not the producer. Taking more control in the songwriting and production she stepped out of the LaFace shadow - with much resistance from that production team/label - and created a distinct personality that was as vibrant as the no longer necessary fuschia hair color she had once worn in an attempt to stand out.

For once, individuality paid off in the weird world of popular music and the album and accompanying singles sold buckets full and the press that had previously derided her began to sing her praises for daring not to be Britney/Jessica/Christina/Beyonce/Avril/etc and for stretching the boundaries of what girls in pop could be in the new millennium.

Embolden by her success, she pushed up the edge for the follow-up album, "Try This", bringing in Tim "Rancid" Armstrong as co-writer along with the returning Linda Perry, and recording one of the horniest duets ever recorded with Peaches. The result, "Oh My God", guaranteed a parental warning sticker and probably made Tipper Gore look back fondly on any lesbian experimentation she may have had in college.

"Oh My God" may be explicit but it's never gratuitous. Filthy in its frankness yet not pornographic - not to my ears, at least - it's like stumbling upon a bedroom window while stepping into an alley for a quick whiz. You know you shouldn't be a part of this experience but everyone is having so much fun and... well, you have to pee anyway.

Okay, maybe it is pornographic. But you can dance to it and how often can you say that about "that"

"Try This" only sold a million and the label guys said, "We told you so", and probably began constructing an imaginary video for "Oh My God".

And that is why Pink is my favorite young(er) pop star.

Try This

February 19, 2008 Earworm

Today seems designed for interference: my computer is being spiteful, my printer is spewing gibberish, the cell phone won't shut up, etc. Thankfully, the song I've got running through my head is "Can't Trust The Waves" by Kitchens of Distinction, the sadly under-appreciated foot soldiers of the shoegazing movement.

The Kitchens fought plenty of their own battles: the outcry over "Margaret's Injection", a fun little fantasy on the outcome of Thatcher that makes Morrissey's "Margaret On The Guillotine" sound like an invitation to lunch; the homophobia of the indie sector toward lead singer/lyricist Patrick Wilson, who was matter of fact about "it" without any coy winks, discussions of tea, or sloganeering; label interference.

Ultimately, it would be the latter that would bring an end to the band and, sadly, their name is seldom mentioned when discussing the era they helped to define even though they managed to get more US airplay than any of the bands that are usually touted as the definition of shoegaze.

So, if the day continues with this technologically challenged theme, I'll keep singing, "I can't trust the waves to float me, I can't trust the moon that shines on you. But when I'm with you, I am the ocean. And when I'm with you, I've come home.", until I make it safely back to my bed.

"Can't Trust The Waves" can be found on the recently re-issued "Death of Cool" and there's a nifty little compilation as well: "Capsule: The best of KOD 1988-1996"