Check out the disco record Björk made when she was twelve.Â Supposedly it went platinum in Iceland.Â That’s believable.Â It’s not exactly Gloria Gaynor, but it gets the job done (in a Euro-hippie way).Â I’d rock it at a party.
I can’t hear you over that whistling sound.
Here’s a follow-up to my post about restaurant music: I was ordering lunch at Moe’s Southwest Grille the other day, and I noticed that a Beatles song on their ceiling radio was immediately followed by George Harrison’s “Got My Mind Set on You.” Finding this odd, I remarked upon it, which spurned my lunchmates (Robert and James Dastoli, good friends and keepers of a $100 plus Moe’s gift card) to inform me of a rumor they heard that Moe’s only plays songs by deceased musicians. Intrigued, I tried very hard to pay attention to every song that came on thereafter, which was quite difficult as the three of us got into an intense discussion about closed theme park attractions once we got our cutely-named burritos and sat down.
I managed to perk my ears up during a few conversation lulls, and I soon got the sneaking suspicion that not every artist I was hearing was dead; indeed, Wikipedia later confirmed for me that the Moe’s radio system does not follow a strict “no pulse” rule. They occasionally slip in the still-living. I knew it; I swear to the Almighty Black Jesus I heard Harry Connick, Jr. that day, and I know his ass is far from dead. I also think I heard some contemporary band covering a Doors song, which, if Moe’s was adhering to a dead-people-only format, would totally be cheating.
Stay tuned for further restaurant music discoveries right here on the “I Eat Out Too Often” channel.
Calvert DeForest died on Monday. You may remember him as Larry “Bud” Melman from “Late Night with David Letterman.” You may also remember him from this totally awesome Run-D.M.C. video. Best security guard ever. Rest in peace, you beautiful little gnome.
In lieu of anything original or entertaining, here’s me putting my iTunes on shuffle and reacting to the hilarious results!
“That Neutron Taste” by the Bleach Boys
Obnoxious punk dipshit welcomes mushroom clouds and other man-made horrors. Has a boogie-woogie flavor to it. Pales in comparison to their other “hit” I have, “Stocking Clad Nazi Death Squad Bitches.”
“Baying at the Moon” by Zacherley
You know Zacherley, right? The famous horror host? This is from his much-ballyhooed album, Spook Along with Zacherley. Here he’s crooning about werewolves. His singing voice is kind of like Howard Stern’s impression of Fred Gwyne. Yes, that good.
“Detachable Penis” by King Missile
The song my girlfriend loves to hate. Probably the last truly great stupid novelty song. That guitar soloing every few bars is destroying my synapses, I can feel it. Thank you, Cousin Kevin, for not switching the radio when this came on all those years ago.
“I Don’t Wanna Hear It” by Minor Threat
I heard a funny story recently about Minor Threat singer Ian MacKaye. Supposedly he called Danzig re: the release of Legacy of Brutality to thank him for putting it out. Danzig responded by saying something like, “Who the fuck are you? Why do you think I care?” I imagine a “how did you get this number?” was also in there somewhere. See how I just avoided talking about what Minor Threat and this song in particular means to me? Goddamn, I’m Mr. Greased Lightenin’ ovah heah.
“Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” by Mirror Image
A disco version of the Christmas classic. Is there anything more unnecessary? I don’t know, but my ass can’t stop moving when that guitar starts going, “wickachukkawickachukkawickachukka…”
“My Card Says Typhoon Killer” by Gluecifer
I have no idea what the hell the title of this song means. Maybe “typhoon killer” is Norwegian slang for bad-ass. I can see myself riding a motorcycle to this song. One of those really big ones, with the handlebars out to China. A bandana around my head would not be optional.
“Jurassic Park Theme” by John Williams
Remember when Jurassic Park was the biggest thing in the goddamn world? I was fourteen when it came out, saw it in the theater, and I don’t mind telling you those dinosaurs scared me shitless. I think JW’s theme captures the majesty of seeing Laura Dern next to some gargantuan brontosaurus. I remember hearing on the radio a few days after seeing the film the first official Jurassic Park II rumors. Of course, we wouldn’t get our Lost World until 1997. In the meantime, I listened to this music on a dubbed cassette from my friend Josh over and over and over again until I couldn’t stop crying. Not really, but I did listen to it a lot.
The Blood – False Gestures For A Devious Public: I think it’s supposed to be boot-stomping, stein-smashing bully boy oi, but it’s more in the vein of low-rent Damned (think anything Scabies or Sensible sang). Plenty of fist-pumping choruses, yes, but not enough frenzy to warrant clocking the hooligan next to you. Me teef stay in me head anothah day.
Heart Attack – The Last War: 1980 – 84: This disc offers up everything Jesse Malin’s first band ever recorded. I picked it up last weekend at that palace of agoraphobia, the Virgin Megastore. Jesse’s proclivity for pop shines through twenty-some odd tracks of thin punk din; it’s clear he was destined for something beyond the CBGBs hardcore matinee. Hard to tell if “Everybody Wants to Rock and Roll” and “KGB” are parodies or not. I guess I don’t really care (not at this age, anyway). This ain’t exactly Reagan Youth, but it’s probably worth a slot in your mighty NYHC CD tower.
Motörhead – Bomber: Was this really their follow-up to Overkill? Thank God Ace of Spade was next. I’m sorry, Lemmy, my first impression is weak. Maybe it’ll grow on me, but I don’t know if I can set aside that kind of time. I have road trips to take that demand butt-ripping, snot-drying, cock-popping, whores-at-the-gates-of-hell rock. Bomber just ain’t got enough. Pound for pound, it’s more hangin’-out-at-Wendy’s-after-midnight rock.
Leonard Nimoy – The Way I Feel: Originally released in 1968 (and downloaded from some truly obnoxious blog not even worthy of linkage). Spock turns “If I Had a Hammer” out like a thirteen year old prostitute on the Lower East Side. “Where It’s At” is the complete opposite of the Beck hit – modest, insightful, and lacking robot voices. Of course, there’s plenty of uncomfortable crap, such as the sticky opener “I’d Love Making Love to You,” but that’s par for the course and you know it. On the whole, it makes for great background pap, which is something Shatner’s oeuvre will never be able to say for itself.
Earlier today I was cruising YouTube for various “Gong Show” clips and I came across this brilliance. The band’s name is Static Cling. I get the feeling they were a joke, but if they weren’t, I demand more info on them from all you crusty old punk rockers out there.
A review of Costello Music, the debut album from the Fratellis:
This band (which is apparently not named after the villainous gang from The Goonies, or so they claim) was awarded the highly-coveted “Best New Bum Band in Britain” award by Brit music rag the NME last August, so it was only a matter of time before their ultra-hip unwashed act washed up on our shores. Honestly, Iâ€™m surprised it took this long. Compared to the Arctic Monkeys, the Fratellis are moving about as fast as Chester Copperpot.
No matter, though. These guys have got the goods; Costello Music is bursting at the seams with charismatic, high-powered pop rock, the kind teenage girls love bopping along to while driving to retail shoe outlets. I wouldnâ€™t be surprised to learn this CD was adapted from a hit Broadway musical; each song is a show-stopper unto itself. From the histrionic ho-down of â€œCreeping Up The Backstairsâ€ to the dive-bombing trumpets of â€œCuntry Boys & City Girlsâ€ to the Jolson-eque call of â€œrock a honey, rock a honey, woo woo!â€ in â€œVince the Lovable Stonerâ€ â€“ the whole album conjures up mental images of hunky young men dashing across a stage, all vying for the love of one elusive, quirky ingÃ©nue (perhaps played by Joely Fisher, assuming she can still pass for nineteen).
Of course, this could be the Fratellis’ downfall; they may be too cute for their own good. Thatâ€™s the number one killer of bands like this. Aim for the college crowd (who tend to burn out real fast on hip rock), land middle schoolers (who donâ€™t know the meaning of the word â€œoverkillâ€). How many of your friendsâ€™ kids like/used to like Jet? I rest my case. In this sense, the Frats (I sincerely hope I am the first to coin this adorable shortening of their name) had better watch out. Theyâ€™ve got a boatload of peppy songs about misadventures with girls and an iPod commercial already under their belt. How long will it before theyâ€™re opening for the sinking ship that is Oasis (the grandfathers of the post-grunge British Invasion)?
Perhaps Iâ€™m jumping the gun on these three rumpled Scotsman. Although it would be foolish to predict a long, fruitful career a la fellow iPod rockers U2, the Fratellis do seem to have enough synergy to truffle shuffle themselves over at least two more albums. If they keep up the fresh approach to songwriting and hold off on a â€œSaturday Night Liveâ€ appearance until most of America has finished downloading Costello Music, they should escape that treacherous â€œflavor of the monthâ€ tag.
Oh, and come clean about The Goonies connection, will you, boys? The elusive name origin game is soooo 1992. No oneâ€™s asking you to adopt Sloth as your mascot or take Corey Feldman out on tour with you (actually, that would probably keep him out of a lot of trouble). Just be honest and America will love you that much more.
Tony Randall and Jack Klugman singing. Just as awesome as it sounds. Check it out here.
I just caught wind of the Rap Cat controversy, re: the carry-out bags that double as ghetto fabulous street duds for your tabby. First of all, I want to say that I totally support Rap Cat. He’s completely idiotic, yes, but I think that’s the point. He’s supposed to be idiotic. It’s absurdist parody. Don’t you think if Checkers/Rally’s was serious about Rap Cat they would have, oh, I don’t know, made him look a little bit less like a goddamn puppet?
Anyway, the bags. I don’t know if the people who are complaining about this promoting animal cruelty have ever been in a room with a cat and a bag. If there is some inherent danger in this equation, cats don’t seem to give a shit – they’ll get in that bag every time (especially if it smells like greasy french fries). And they usually go head first, which seems much more dangerous than what Checkers suggests (legs first, but only after you cut out leg holes so Puss in Bag can still maneuver). If anything, Checkers/Rally’s is trying to prevent animal cruelty. They even print a warning to over-eager pet owners that reads “Caution: Not all cats will be down with wearing this bag. Do not harm or endanger any cat.”
Sounds pretty responsible to me. Checkers/Rally’s knows that cats like bags. They’re just making it slightly safer and more fun for their owners. Look, it may not be a perfect idea, but you have to admit it’s better than Colonel Sanders’ Rooster Torture & Preperation Kit.
P.S. I have no idea why Checkers isn’t pluralized and Rally’s is. I also have no idea why they don’t just pick one name for the entire country.
Well, it looks like the long-awaited Germs movie What We Do Is Secret will finally be hitting screens this July. Tracking the rise and fall of L.A.’s most storied punk band, the film stars Shane West as self-destructive singer Darby Crash, Rick Gonzalez as irrepressible guitarist Pat Smear, Noah Segan as spacey drummer Don Bolles, and Bijou Phillips as something-something bassist Lorna Doom (don’t know much about her personality – sorry, Lorna). The trailer can be viewed here.
If you ask me, that three minutes and twenty-eight seconds really dances the line between stupid and incredibly stupid. The whole concept of a Germs movie seems kind of faulty. They were a fantastic band and Darby Crash was an interesting guy, but why are we getting this before an Iggy Pop biopic? Is it because Darby was gay/bisexual? Are they looking for a Brokeback Punkers type of thing here? The title kind of suggests that (as do parts of the trailer). Maybe I’m just biased against punk rock drama movies. Can’t think of a single good one. Always painfully overdone and painful to watch.
On the other hand, that line about the taco cracked me up. Maybe What We Do Is Secret won’t be a big fat pile of ghost crap. I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt until July.
EDIT #1: It just dawned on me why we haven’t seen an Iggy biopic – he isn’t dead yet. Unbelievable, considering the life he’s lead.
EDIT #2: Apparently there is an Iggy biopic on the horizon. Thanks for pointing that out, nap.