Fakeout

I suppose this could have been written a decade ago.

Previous posts have explored the idea of the futility of discovering music in a society that lacked omnipresent web access and hyperactive culture. Trying to catch the name of a band or song on the radio or MTV was hard enough. Deciding to waste the money on an album (or even a CD single) was even more frustrating. As I've previously written about my internet endeavors, I spent a fair amount of time in college searching for long-forgotten songs and things tucked in the farthest corners of my mind. One such song, 'Pure Morning' by Placebo, was a fantastic find. It could just as easily be a modern release, to boot.

'Pure Morning' was released in 1998. Originally a B-side from a more popular single, Placebo found themselves too enamored with the song to relegate it to the reject pile. It was not only included on the album but became one of the band's most popular singles to date, along with their earlier effort, 'Nancy Boy'. They've enjoyed enduring success in their native UK and abroad, but this track was the start of their slow descent from the top - the band peaked in the late 90s, essentially. This is not a bad thing - they're still doing just fine and selling millions of albums. It just takes a little longer with our fractured media landscape. Regardless, they endure and continue to have successful tours and releases. 

So why the big fuss? I guess I just dig the song. I feel like it could have been just as popular today as it was when it was released. Were one to slip the song into a playlist on, say, AltNation on satellite radio the audience would most likely not skip a beat. Maybe that's what makes the strange track so appealing in the long run. It's a great song but perhaps it was ahead of its time. Brian Molko's voice is peculiar but memorable, both indicative of the indulgent 90s music scene and our modern quirky-for-quirk's sake hipster ideals. The bass and guitar are spacey and fuzzed out in an obtuse but catchy sound that would fit either decade. The drums bang and wallop in this wide open loop that feels like it both belongs in the era of The Verve's 'Bittersweet Symphony' and would fit on any spotlight collection in the iTunes store. The only thing out of place about the song is the video, solely for the long, slow shots of police men interrupting a suicide attempt by Molko as he steps off a ledge. It's to calm and measured for our ADD minds. Bleak and strange, absolutely. Just too calm to fit in now.

Take a listen and see if I'm nuts. Even if you disagree with my assertion that 'Pure Morning' still feels modern you'll rediscover a great, overlooked song from the end of the last decade. It was a hard time to find music in the Midwestern town I called home - forgive me for indulging my nostalgiac embrace. 

Warm Feelings

Sometimes these posts are just as much about taking something back from the ether as they are about spreading love.

Allow me to clarify. 

So many of these posts are about things that have been swept under the rug by our collective hyperactivity and perpetual distraction. The world is so full of amazing things that it's easy to forget that we should appreciate what's there rather than denouncing emergent media or hailing the next big thing as 'BEST EVAR'. I get it. Hyperbole is what runs the internet. If it's not an opinion that polarizes, it's lost in the din. Life doesn't work that way, however. Sometimes we're lukewarm to things, or just not moved to passionate reaction. A nuanced life in this world we've created is a rare thing. I like to think, though, that minds change. People grow and reflect. I can embrace that which used to put me off. 

For example - when I was younger I hated fall with a passion that matched any miscreant on Xbox Live. I hated the days growing shorter, the cold, the inevitable winter that followed. I also hated the things I associated with it, retroactively. Albums I had listened to the previous fall were tainted. Things I had said or done were looked upon with regret or disdain, simply because of the intangible feeling associated with this time of year. At some point the tide in my head shifted. Maybe it was getting older and mellowing out just a bit. Maybe I started to understand to a greater extent my insignificant place in the universe. Maybe it was realizing someone loved me and wanted to spend the rest of their life with me as much as I did with them. That takes away a lot of your distemper, I've found. So when fall approaches now, I find myself picking through the mental detritus of my life, overturning stone and marveling at the things underneath, like ephemeral silverfish. I enjoy poking through my own neglected memories, things I hadn't thought about in years.

There was an album by Bush that I so strongly associated with this time of year (and admittedly, my own poor mental state at the time) that I simply refused to listen to it. There was something about it that was like biting on tinfoil when I heard the opening track. So strongly did I associate The Science of Things with these darkening days that I convinced myself that it was the music that was bad and not my listening experience or frame of reference. Through self indulgent curiosity I've found I had fooled myself. While it's not the greatest record EVAR (per common online parlance) there are some interesting and worthwhile moments to come back to. 

In particular, the opening track (and second single) 'Warm Machine' is beautiful in its crashing waves of sound. The discordant riff that dominates the song pulls so strongly at my heart and causes such a physical reaction in my chest that I can see now why I put it away for so long. There is such a melancholic, saudade-summoning essence to the ambiance that I must not have been able to handle the tones as a younger person. My own depression and unhappiness at the time tied in too closely with the feelings stirred up by the change in season and hearing this song as the sun set on an overcast, Midwestern skyline. Hearing it now makes me remember with vivid clarity just where I was and who I was with every time I heard it. The intensity of my rejection of the song is somehow proportional to my emergent appreciation for it a decade later. 

Funny how that works. Sometimes you're not in the right place or time or frame of mind to get something. A lot of art blew right past me as a young man, much as some things do now. I'm sure when another decade has passed I'll kick myself for not enjoying something simple and obvious like tomato soup. But you know what? My better half has already started me down the soup loving path. That's how life works. You learn to love the world, one piece at a time.

Dive In

So the weekend has once again come and gone.


I spent the majority of my time this weekend getting things done and crossing things off my mental check list. Some of it, like packing boxes and loading them in my truck, were very literal tasks that were relieving to have accomplished. Others, like seeing my family and adorable nephew, were more ephemeral and personally rewarding. No matter how it's counted, I feel great having come out the far side of the weekend with nothing written and tons accomplished. A novel (that was started just before NanoWrimo last year) is still spinning its wheels. A couple of short stories I'm cultivating are in the fermentation process at the moment - I have the bones, I'm just growing the connective tissue. In the meantime, I'm moving and looking forward to the adventure and change of scenery. As I pack up my current life with my better half I like to reminisce and reflect, marveling at elapsed time and forgotten events. When I do that I like to listen to music that adds to the contemplative mood. So I turn to Tycho.

Tycho is an electronic musician from the San Fran area in CA. Biologically known as Scott Hansen, Tycho is an artist whose music brings out the best in my mind, a sort of remembrance that stems from stirring up old dirt and letting it breath the air. It's the kind of music you put on to stimulate the mind but then forget you turned on. An hour into an album you realize you've been subconsciously jamming while going about your business, never pausing to reflect on why you feel so good about what you're doing. 

I wrote in yesterday's post about a song I only tend to listen to in the fall - Dive by Tycho is an album I hope to return to many times throughout my life, especially on these cold, fading days of fall. There's something so magical and intangible that he's captured in the music he creates. It's like nothing else I've heard. It has these elements of pulsing electronic beats coupled with melodic bells and chimes that make your heart ache. He causes tension in your chest from drawing out long phrases and resolving them with clever structural choice and serene production. In short, it's an album that stirs something all too rarely touched in your heart, only to leave you wanting to hear more. 

The days are getting shorter and we're always trying to pack more into them. I know that I can put on an album like Dive when I'm puttering around my condo, checking things off my list. Even if I don't get everything accomplished that I had hoped to, at least I can stretch that piece of my mind that needs the air when I put on Tycho's latest album. It's beautiful stuff - do yourself a favor and lighten your load. Listen in and loosen up.

Fall Apart

No bones about it.


Fall is here and making way for that dreaded sequential terror. The W word. It's lurking just around the bend. The days are shorter. The nights are longer. More often than not the sky is overcast and we have to pull up our collars around our collective scarves to keep the ever-growing chill out of our coats. Not all hope is lost, though. There are the small, subtle things to aid us in our journey, to give us lift in our daily endeavors. For me, one small thing is the old hit by INXS, 'Never Tear Us Apart'.

Unlike other posts I won't cite here, with this 80s hit I can cite specific reasons for personal relevance. I always associate this song with Fall. The melancholic air of the lyrics and sounds. Michael Hutchence's wailing and the pulling-at-the-heart string arrangement. They convey a cold and somber time, which is only furthered by the classic video from the late 80s, which I also saw repeated viewings of during the Fall season. In it, the band struts around in pained, pretentious manner in heavy coats as they sort of perform the song. No elaborate set up, despite the decadent decade - no, in an interesting twist on convention, INXS just wandered around Prague in the cold season, performing the song in a somber setting. I love it.

The song itself is great, a real hidden gem of a pop tune from an otherwise genre busting, funky New Wave band. I love that they made this weird, morose song that stands out among their canon. It's this stealth reminder of finding beauty in the heartache of the seasons passing and fading. Every year I find myself listening to this song more in Fall than in any other time. It's surprisingly lush and gorgeous despite its cold, isolated sense of heartbreak and romance. Hutchence sells it well with his plain yet theatrical voice. The dramatic pauses are wonderful as they unleash in the understated guitar licks and pounding drums. I have to confess this might be the only time that I will go on record as staunchly in favor of the saxophone contribution. There is no way this song would be the same at all with any other instrument playing that solo.

Give in to the season. Feel it surround you, the crisp air and the leaves beneath your feet. It gets cool, yeah, but it's not a bad thing. Just try it on and see if it fits. Putting INXS on your headphones as you tromp through the fading light of Fall is the perfect addition to the season. Let it wash over you and see if I'm right. No bones about it, we're in the thick of it. Might as well make the most of it while we can. 

Deeper and Deeper

Evening, cats.


It's Friday and I've spent the day moving heavy boxes. My back and arms ache. I've had more than my share of a bottle of red (Red Truck - not a cab or merlot or zin, just red) like an adult jukebox. I can't push myself to work on a longer, more involved piece I've been putting off, as of late. Instead, I thought I'd share with you the joy that is Adele remixed as part of a Childish Gambino track.


I knew of Adele prior to this, of course. 'Chasing Pavements' had been all over the scene and the soulful young lady had made a name for herself with her old-school voice and intense inflection. I'd been crazy impressed with Childish Gambino from his album Culdesac, his phenomenal mix tapes and his work in comedy. So when he took her ascendant single 'Rolling In The Deep' and cut it up, I was a little confused. I forgot about her career and focused on his...with good reason, I'd argue.

Adele is a voice whose reputation goes far and wide among the popular culture these days. She has such clout from her talent that I felt genuinely sad when I heard that she had to cancel her recent tour and undergo major surgery on her vocal cords/throat. She's the opposite of a flash-in-the-pan - she's an artist who you really get an intense interaction from. Similar reactions stem from Childish Gambino - he's a musician who can't be confined to one simple thing. He's  not just a rapper, or DJ, or singer or comedian, or actor. The guy is insanely talented at whatever he throws himself into. I'd already been blown away by his musical endeavors. So these two forces colliding made something even more amazing.

As great as Adele's version of 'Deep' is, the Childish Gambino remix is more vibrant, more vital. It's a song that brings out different feelings and emotions from it's different dynamics than the original, as if that's not as obvious enough of a statement. Instead of a churning acoustic and plodding backing band we have Gambino setting Adele's unmistakable voice against sparse yet infectious hand claps, getting your mind into the rhythm right off the bat. He wraps her voice around a series of breaks and percussive tones that evoke DIY aesthetics like banging on pipes and sampling overheard sounds. He warps he voice using pitch-shifters and snippets of samples, rearranging the song into a more distilled, aggressive version of itself. When a break appears midway through, Gambino drops in for a verse to offer a response filled with vitriol and defiance. His rapping is a genius example of breaking convention and offering a novel back-and-forth for a kiss-off pop song. It's fantastic stuff.

Don't get me wrong - Adele made an amazing song with 'Rolling In The Deep'. I just find the Childish Gambino version, which I actually heard before the original version, to be a more defining take on the tune. Hers is canon, his is gospel. Hers is the standard, his is the ripper. He tells a story and builds on the world she created. Listen to them both and let me know what you think. 

No Worries

Hey, gang.


What's good? You feeling good? Hope so. It's weird for me to be able to write about whatever I want and not have a structured sense of goals or obligations to strive for. No grand theme or design, no overarching concept to fit in to. How about instead of a massive existential crisis I just spill the beans on a great single that you might have missed? Sound good? Gravy, let's do it.


Peter Bjorn & John, abbreviated as PB&J, are an indie rock outfit from Sweden who have been cranking out tunes for the last decade. Of all their weird and wonderful music, my favorite track of theirs is the funky little ditty 'Nothing To Worry About'. Featuring kids chanting the titular chorus, a stomping beat and some catchy tones, it's a song that gets under your skin and stays there, whether you're aware of it or not. It originally came out in 2009, as a single from their album Living Thing. I picked up a little while later, but kept hearing it even after it made its way out of my regular rotation. It's just one of those tracks you can't shake due to its infectious nature. It has these synth chords buried in its beat.

There's something so delightfully strange and gorgeous about this song I can't quite put my finger on - maybe it stems from the relentless beat of the drums in the background. Maybe it's that barely-out-of-tune chord that keeps humming. Maybe it's just the hook, the kids singing "Doing this thing, this type of thing, put a lil' money in this type of thing' that gets me. Something about it is just infectious enough that after months away from it, I hear a snippet of it in a promo for Sunny or have it come on during a shuffled playlist and I think "Oh man, I have to bump this." I don't know. It's just fun and weird.

The video accompanying the song is just as delightfully strange. Showcasing the Japanese rockabilly subculture, the clip has nothing to do with the song, yet the vibe somehow fits the sound. These guys throwing themselves with such gusto into a completely arbitrary fashion and culture scene, I guess I can relate. Isn't that all fashion and culture on a certain level? It just takes something as mismatched as this to bring it to light, I suppose.

Me, I love this song. I'd highly suggest you throw down the necessary dollar and pick it up. It's just fun enough, off kilter enough, to get you through to the weekend. Sometimes you need an out-of-left-field mood lifter. I think this bit of Swedish indie rock could help you out. Have a listen, see what's up.

Mega Buster

If there's an upside to my cover coverage coming to an end, it's that I get to share more random, amazing things with you.

Take, for example, Dr. Wylie's recent amazing (and free!) EP, titled Wiggle. Packed full of robotic jams and off kilter beats, the EP shows what the DJ and producer hailing from Minneapolis is capable of when coming into his own. The collected tunes on file are a series of beats and songs that create a cohesive vibe, an artist who is really expressing a strong sense of identity with his sound. After getting familiarized with his sound through local artist Toussaint Morrison and his evermore impressive releases, I was pleasantly surprised to see that Dr. Wylie is compellingly capable of holding his own when stepping into the musical spotlight.

Wiggle is an EP whose roots are firmly planted in the world of electronics and videogames. The moniker alone should be enough of an indicator about his sensibilities. Dr. Wylie is the name of the antagonist roboticist extraordinaire in the seminal Mega Man series for the last 20-odd years. Both as an homage and namesake, our Wylie does the mad scientist proud with his electronic, robo-tinged sounds and samples. The opening tracks, 'GFGDGT' and 'Robot Love', show the artificial elements blending with natural melodies, creating a fresh hybrid sound. 'Favrit Flayvah' has enough twisted organic elements to allow the electronic samples to get loose and jazzy, aided by a just-barely-in-step piano and drum beat. 'Fear Is...' demonstrates the vibrancy and danger Wylie can harness in his equipment, full of low-slung buzzes and throbbing synths. 'Doris & The Machine' is full of snapping, head-whipping blasts of funk and fury. It sounds like breaking machines and malfunctioning droids. I love putting it on and watching the world around me lock into a rhythmic pocket. Built around a sample from Dr. Mario, 'Chill' is a fun, nostalgic banger that throws your ears out of whack. I love Wylie's rendition of folk staple 'Little Boxes' - here's hoping he gets his shot at opening an episode of Weeds.   

I love this EP - it feels, at its best moments, like party music from the not-too-distant future, or maybe a cocktail party hosted by Dr. Light. It's like our own, Minneapolis-bred version of Gorillaz, and I mean that in the most complimentary sense. Dr. Wylie creates these dense little audio worlds by himself, and in doing so establishes an undeniably unique presence in the scene. Keep an eye on him - he's only going to get crazier and build bigger, more dangerous sounds. 

Old Wounds

By all logic, this should not have worked.


I read about this cover before I ever heard about it. Just reading the words in the order they were presented forced my mind to wrap itself around a pairing so incongruous and unlikely that I had no idea how it would sound. Turned out I was making a mountain out of a mole hill - it sounded fantastic and natural. While yesterday's cover coverage was about improving on a flawed song, today's subject is about simply making the song yours. In this case, Trent Reznor ceded his old, wounded ballad 'Hurt' to the dying Johnny Cash, after the Man In Black made his mark on the harrowing song.

I still struggle to listen to Cash singing this song without being reduced to tears. His inflection, his weariness and resignation in the face of the world are so heartbreaking and beautiful that I can hardly stand to hear it. The video for the song only makes it harder, seeing the legend past his prime, a fading specter of the once-vibrant force that gave the middle finger to the world in his younger days. At its most affecting and personal moments, it's a stark reminder that all good things must come to an end, that we all go eventually. At its most serene its a song that reminds us that we take our lives for granted, that people are seeing their own lives fade before their eyes every day while we complain about spotty Wifi or bad traffic. 

Hard to beleive I get this grandiose and self-indulgent emotional roller-coaster from a Nine Inch Nails song. I always enjoyed Reznor's iteration of the final track on The Downward Spiral, though more so from the quiet and contemplative nature of the song in light of the more combative and unsettling sounds surrounding it. As a conceptual coda I loved 'Hurt', although I understood it to be a step outside of his wheelhouse at the time. It was haunting and beautiful, if bleak and overly dramatic. 

When Cash covered the song for his album American IV, the last of his series of standards and covers before his passing, the world of pop music (and music in general) sat up and took notice. This was something rare, something worth paying attention to. What could have been 'a gimmick' (as Reznor worried) became something astounding. Cash transformed the song into something larger than the original artist could have hoped; he added layers and layers of life, the years and experiences of Cash painting the song in new light. What had previously been a denoumount to a dark concept album became an achingly gorgeous letter to a world that was slipping out of Cash's grip.

I can't even make it through the song now, as I write this. It's too much. It's nice to know such significant moments like this can happen in my life, but at times it seems like to much to deal with, as though moments of such personal and human relevance are so rare as to be jarring. Listen, please, if you can. It's every bit as wonderful as it's told to be, and more.

Life Lesson

Sometimes the cover is the superior version.


I racked my brain trying to figure out which cover I could use to illustrate this example. I sorted through the usual business, looked at acoustic versions and covers by the Smashing Pumpkins and 80s new wave acts and modern dance tracks on the radio (that are just terrible). Then it dawned on me. Well, to be honest, it came on my headphones on the bus ride home. A song so infectious and sublime that I can't help but kind of bob and sway along when it comes on, even in public. For a white dude in Minnesota (in November, nonetheless) that's saying something. 

'Lust for Life' as performed by Childish Gambino is awesome, plain and simple. It's got all the things I need to love a song these days. It has some fuzzy synth opening it up. It has the multi-talented Gambino singing an infectious and sun-shiny melody about simple pleasures, like wanting a pizza and a bottle of wine. A heavy, swinging beat kicks in to propel the song along, making my dance instinctively. Gambino throws down a verse filled with equal parts wit and swagger, then cuts the whole thing off after just two minutes and forty seconds. A pop song that hits all the right marks and knows when to pull the plug, basically. I adore it, for the parts and the whole. Too bad the original is nowhere near as good.

Pitchfork would have a bird for the defiance (or maybe I'd get higher marks for dumping on their own reviews) but I just don't enjoy the original version of 'Lust for Life' by California indie/hipster/awkwardBeachBoyripoff band Girls. It just embraces all the intentionally self-aware, pretentious quirks that a wider culture pigeon holes as...pretentious, self aware and flawed. It's hard to pin down the specifics of why I find their song so grating, but I think it has to do with the intentionally shoddy production. The vocals are so intentionally sloppy and insincere that it makes me feel like the boys behind Girls can't enjoy life without making it from a safe distance. The musicianship is flawed in its sub-par delivery, substituting aloofness for talent. 

If there's one thing I can't stand in life, it's mocking insincerity standing in the way of enjoying your existence. There is a distinct difference between these hipster pretensions and genuine humor or camp. Where Girls are self-aware to a hyper degree, Gambino approaches the track with a sincerity and polish that shows his talent and appreciation for his own craft. He takes what he does seriously and doesn't want to squander any opportunity. Girls don't seem to want people to like them. Yeah, I'm obviously projecting my own insecurities here, but I'm aware of it and stand by my assertions. Life's too short for insincerity. Put on the Childish Gambino version and have a blast. It's clearly more fun.

Games Galore

Covers, man.


They're everywhere, for better or worse. You find them in the most unexpected places. When I was in college, my best friend (not the one I married, the dude one) turned me on to the Finnish metal band HIM. Being enamored with all things mischievous and vibrant at the time, I was hooked. The dynamic overtures of the heavy, romantic music fit right into the pocket my mind had waiting for it. Ville Valo and his band of tattooed dilettantes were making exactly the kind of over the top music I wanted to back the time I spent sulking at a bar in the local party house. It wasn't my most shining, social time, but at least the two of us had control over the tunes when a house party would break out on a frigid February night. We exposed a lot of our peers, en masse, to the glories of the overly dramatic love metal.

 Imagine my surprise, then, when something cut through the clamor and din of a typical collegiate bacchanalia. I was well into my desired beverage of choice for the evening when I cocked my ear to catch the tune over the noise of 20-somethings trying to hook up. I knew this song. Not from HIM, but from somewhere else. It was their perfectly suited version of Chris Isaak's 'Wicked Game'. I distinctly recall breaking into peals of laughter at the dawning insight into the soundtrack, assuredly looking quite insane to anyone observing from an objective standpoint. One minute - deeply engaged in a drinking contest. The next - howling to myself in the corner, asking Sam to turn up the music. I must have looked like I had suffered a stroke. Par for the course at the basement bar in college.

Chris Isaak had created a strange thing in his song 'Wicked Game'. It was on heavy rotation for awhile on VH1 when I was younger. I remember him rolling around on a beach with a model, all filmed in black and white. The song was a sultry, sexy number that was completely beyond my understanding of the world at the time. I remember thinking it must make sense when I grew older. Turns out it would. His crooning number, softly strummed and played with passion, was aiming for something beyond my audience. HIM would see to all that.

The Finnish metal band, hot on the word of mouth from prankster Bam Margera, was quickly making a name for themselves in America. Their album Razorblade Romance, released in 1999 (or 2000, depending on legalities) was a phenomenal example of intentionally overly-dramatic Gothic metal with romantic tinges. To a drinker and a writer with a soft spot for hard music, I was hooked. Their cover of 'Wicked Game' was a natural fit. They hit the same core structures of the song while adding their own little touches or personality to it, in a way making it their own. I honestly think of it in terms of HIM as much as I would Chris Isaak. They put weight and menace behind what was otherwise an ethereal and intangible song. Isaak was distant yet close, HIM were heavy yet aloof. 

These differing versions of Wicked Game show just how both artists versions of the song can hold equal validity in my eyes. They both have their own legitimate versions, each strong and independent of the other despite the linked essence in the center. Give a listen and see which one makes more sense to you.

Rock Over

No preamble here, kids.


It's cover week. I should have recognized the signs when I was writing yesterday, but I was too focused on getting to bed. I wasn't just seeking a lullaby, I was looking for the comfort of music you recognize, but packaged in a new and novel manner. That's what I love about some of the more inspired covers I hear - it's one thing to do a paint-by-numbers deal and just trace around the pre-established lines. It's something else entirely to reinvent a song, to take what has been created and re-interpret it in a way that twists and contorts it into something new. I think it can take just as much originality as writing the song in the first place.

Take, for example, 'Rock On' by David Essex. That is, in and of itself, a great glam song from the 70s. It's a weird, slinky little thing that weasels a bass line into a core component of the song. It was the definition of heavy. The off-kilter rhythm and the iconic melody are recognizable and grabbing, even today. You hear the song and know immediately that it's great if a bit distant. One of those songs that comes on the radio at random and you wonder why it hasn't sneaked into more of your playlists like it did into your subconscious. 

When I was in high school I caught the Smashing Pumpkins on their last major tour before the end of their first epoch. They were on the tour supporting Machina, which was divisive to say the least. They put on a memorable show at the Northrop Auditorium, I'm pretty sure, but the fact that they were playing a smaller venue than the stadiums they used to pack certainly conveys all you need to know about where their fans had gone. Anyway, during their set full of hits and new tracks came a song I couldn't quite place, but knew it sounded familiar. When James Iha's guitar began screaming the melody to the David Essex rocker, I had an 'aha!' moment. The Pumpkins had taken the song and turned it into an even heavier, angstier arena anthem. Basically they turned it into a Pumpkins song. Corgan's angry buzz of a voice, when added to the already phenomenal mix of Iha, bassist Melissa Auf der Mauer's excellent support and the astounding drums of Jimmy Chamberlain, was a knock out. Take a listen here.


This is a cover that always springs to mind when I think of what makes a good reinterpretation. If you hadn't known it wasn't theirs, you would just as easily assume it was a live standard they did that hadn't been put on record. I'm gonna dig up some of my other favorite covers in the coming week. Let me know if you've got a good example - I'd love to hear it.

Hey, Yeah...

Time for a lullaby, kids.


I'm spent. I had a busy, productive day at the office, followed by dinner out at my favorite restaurant (hi Fuji Ya!) and spent some time packing boxes. We're moving out of our first place together, into a bigger and better home. We're both excited, but are already feeling the pressure of condensing four years of life plus the recent wedding into boxes and a U-haul. It's fun, but draining. Exhilarating, but exhausting. Sleep is a blissful thing, but last night was only the restless kind that comes with unshakable concerns of the waking life. Sometimes you need a good lullaby to put you out. I love Obadiah Parker's cover of 'Hey Ya' by Outkast. Always does the trick.

For some, it might not be the most desired praise, to label a song as something to put you to sleep. In this case, I'd strongly disagree. The soothing, soulful singer-songwriter type, Parker (not his real name) made a name for himself online a few years back with this serene version of the frenetic dance track. He took what was already a phenomenal club song possessing an vintage flair for passion and dance-ability and flipped it inside out. Turns out the bones of Oukast's pop smash from the turn of the millennium is a great song from the core, not just studio finesse. Parker's version is just him and his guitar, softly strumming and singing the lyrics, which in this light become much more bittersweet and soul-baring. It's an amazing effect to see. 

On a night you feel stressed, worn out or simply can't sleep, songs like these are a blessing. It's sweet and soothing, a beautiful rendition of a song that works as a dichotomous work. I love the original for its uncontrollable energy. I love this version for the warm towel it wraps around my mind. I think sometimes I can actually feel my pulse and blood pressure drop when I listen to it. Tell you what - you go download this song. I have to turn in for the night. No way can I keep my eyes open any longer. Drifting off.

Mega Effect

Might as well get right back to it.


Fall days like this always stand out in my mind. Not unlike the bright and vibrant days of spring, there are certain qualities to the days of fall that are distinct and lasting. They stay with you in strange ways. When the days get shorter and colder, I'm always reminded of the fall I spent listening to Punk In Drublic by NOFX.


Not to date myself, let's just say it was more than a year after the album came out (1994) that I was introduced to it. Up until that point, my understanding of punk music was limited pretty much to Green Day and little else. I know. I was ultra hardcore. So I went to visit some family out West on the coast of Washington (a place I adore and would love to live someday) when my infinitely cooler and more more culturally aware cousin introduced me to a few things. One was the then-ascendant ska and reggae resurgence. The other was Punk In Drublic. It was not only completely fresh and alive in my radio-reared ears, it was coming recommended by the authority on cool. So I took his word seriously and picked up the seminal NOFX album (along with a few other recommendations I'll write about later) and listened to it nonstop for that entire fall. Over the years it's become a staple in my upbeat, sing along in the car collection of albums.

It's no surprise this album has been such an enduring success. Despite NOFX's defiant stance on corporate distribution or structure, the album has sold over a million copies worldwide. That's insane for an independent punk album, especially given the musical landscape of 1994. We had no iTunes or mp3s or bit torrent back then. All there was, was word of mouth, live shows, radio and MTV. This California crew of miscreants crafted some audaciously catchy songs with funny and intelligent lyrics to compliment them. On top of that, they stayed fresh through the whole album. No two songs are carbon copies of another, which is a difficult feat for any band but particularly in the punk genre.

'Linoleum' is fantastic, both as a song and an opener. It's full of huge melodies and harmony, with a great riff and heartfelt lyrics on the nature of materialism. I love strumming it on an acoustic guitar - it actually works surprisingly well as a stripped down tune, a sign of great songwriting. 'Leave It Alone' shares the same sense of poppy qualities paired with dingy punk aesthetic. 'Dig' has a wonderfully unexpected break in the middle for some ska-tinged guitars and trumpet. An amusing take on racial assumptions, 'Don't Call Me White' still has some of the same bite in today's climate as it did 16 years ago. My cousin was a huge fan (and won me over with) the epic and shimmering absurdity of 'Perfect Government'. This song, despite the tongue in cheek guitar heroics, has incredible hooks and some simple, yet ever the more timely lyrics. Give it a listen. 'Dying Degree' is as ear-catching as it is frenetic. In a surprise move, the closer 'Scavenger Type' is a poignant and moving little tale of a homeless man at his end.

Man. Great album. The trick of it, the real staying power of it, seems to stem from the real beauty and strength of writing hidden underneath the grime of speed-ball punk ethos. Dust this one of and see how the punk genre can really shine when given a chance. This album is proof that it's more than the reductive assumptions of 'three chords and an attitude'. Punk In Drublic is still phenomenal.