Got a Habit

It's a dodgy game, declaring your goals toward self-improvement on a night designed for hedonisitc pursuits and letting go of sense. Make any resolutions achievable, but not too easy. You don't want to be patting yourself on the back come February then have nothing to work on for the remaining 10 months.


[courtesy of Demins]

Happy New Year sweethearts. Take it easy on yourself.

A Splotch, A Blotch

The 1958 horror/sci-fi movie The Blob gets tossed into the pile of it's kitsch/camp peers too often. It's a surprisingly funny and self-aware film that still delivers the cheap thrills of a good drive-in distraction.

The Blob probably isn't the first movie of the era to have adults doubting teens who deliver stories of wild goings-on. But it executes the trick well, and in doing so, must have endeared a fair portion of its target demographic by saying: "Yes, new social class, you teenagers, you. We believe you. We think you have something to say."

Perhaps that's giving the filmmakers too much credit. But it's hard not to think that way when Steve McQueen, in one of his first big screen roles, does such a sly impression of James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause -- the ultimate in teen validation cinema. 

In Rebel it was the need to be understood -- that the violence the teens were engaging in was a cry for attention, a cry for help. With Blob, it's the need to be believed -- for the adults to accept that two teens saw a protoplasmic monster crawl out of a meteorite and eat a hobo.

And if all else fails, watch The Blob for the nifty opening credits music -- a beach-blanket pop treat written by Burt Bacharach and pretty much designed to get teen feet on the dance floor.

Pimpf

8-Bit Operators: Tribute to Depeche Mode: Enjoy the Science
Various Artists
(8-Bit Operators)

Note: Since editor-at-large S.L. Kreighton was actually alive when Depeche Mode put out its first single, and he has a grasp of what "chiptune" music is, we made him listen to this new tribute collection. Then when he fell asleep, we took his notes and published them here, exactly as written.

1. "But Not Tonight" - Bacalao
Drives home the significant charm of Dave Gahan's voice. Instrumental bed is fine, and the treated "ooohs" are pretty.

2. "Enjoy the Silence" - Herbert Weixelbaum
Oh Herbert! This doesn't have the immediate-joy of his 8-bit "Tansmusik" from the Kraftwerk tribute.

3. "Boys Say Go" - GOTO80
Dunno this one

4. "Policy of Truth" - Matt Nida feat. Lisa Schumann
Instrumentally, much of this sounds as if it could be an early DM composition. Good choice for vocalist, as Lisa Schumann's gender gives the words a different spin.

5. "Strange Love" - ComputHer
THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. ComputeHer's reading of "Strangelove" recalls the future-fear of battered VHS horror films with plots involving a computer becoming obsessed with a human and going all Lifetime bad-boyfriend on any meatspace occupier foolish enough to get in the way.

6. "Martyr" - gwEm
Eh.

7. "Clean" - Laker feat. ONTBG
Really does something different with the tune and adds something (possibly) not done by DM: a guest verse from rapper ONTBG.

8. ffwd
[The song is "Photographic (Megamix)" - 8-Bit Operators -- ed.]

9. "New Life" - Patokai
Just a sped-up cover of a song that's already locked in the era in which it was created.

10. "(Set Me Free) Remotivate Me" - Aonami
I don't recall this song. The Web tells me it was a b-side to "Master and Servant." Huh.

11. "Never Let Me Down Again" - crashfaster
Why does the Vocoder (well, Vocoder-like) voice process suit chip-tunes so well? Because it removes the last human element. Hands down the best song DM ever wrote. Not a bad cover.

12. "Dreaming Of Me " - gameboymusicclub
Topic exhaustion sets in.

13. Somebody - Naomi Sample
I'm pretty sure I cried myself to sleep listening to this song at least once when I was 15.

14. "I Just Can’t Get Enough" - Yerzmeyey
Oh, we probably can. Yerzmeyey's treatment is fine. But after Nouvelle Vague, covering this should have stopped.

15. "Behind The Wheel" - Inverse Phase
Pretty, but I'm going to open the door and do the Adam-12 roll. Enough.


Reference materials: Remember when you found that old cassette of the first Depeche Mode album and the keyboards sound like toys now? And it's kind of cool, still, but maybe a little annoying when you're not in the mood? Yup.

Lionel Catches a New Wave

We feel like we should hold one of those old Tonight Show cards up that says "more to come" in a hand-painted font, with maybe a laughing monkey sitting at a desk.

Oh well. Where ever you may be reading this, we hope you have headphones, a good half-hour to spare, and a heart.

Lionel Hampton's out-of-print 1963 LP Bossa Nova Jazz was probably a trend-hopping maneuver designed to sell records and keep Hamp & Co. in cigarettes and scotch. That's okay, because with results like this, the vibraphonist and his studio band can keep 'em coming.

There's great woodwind work throughout -- allegedly that's Gerry Mulligan on the baritone sax. And the flute in "Una Nota Sol" ("One Note Samba") would lift the spirits of a Victorian ghost with consumption. The buoyant notes of Hampton's vibes spill across the songs, a sound once described by TMI board of trustees member, The Amazing Mrs. Kendall, as the musical equivalent of "ice cubes tumbling into a glass."

Refreshing!


[courtesy of Paul Atreides]

From the Dept. of Make-Good

Errors in our editorial department are frequent and egregious. However, when last night's Walpurgis Night post was held up by a sleeping copy editor, thus forcing us to publish on May 1 ... well that's the kind of nonsense we just can't abide.

So we duct-taped that editor to his chair, pried his eyes open and dosed him with three Red Bulls and a pot of drip coffee. And then we put this on repeat:


[courtesy of zozomusic69]

It's probably hugely inappropriate and possibly a little racist. But we don't speak enough French to be offended by Henri Salvador's novelty hit.

Free Music: Interpretations & Trip-hop by Any Other Name

Let’s start this three-part offering of links to free music with the double-scoop ATCO: A Tribute from Xiomara, a musician from San Francisco.

Radical re-workings of rap are a dicey game, often producing novelty (which isn’t automatically bad) but usually cringe-inducing. But once in a while, the right performer picks the right material and does something genuinely interesting with a style of pop music not necessarily suited to cover treatment.

Xiomara spritzes Outkast’s “So Fresh, So Clean” with a nearly a capella first verse to show off her Depression-era blues voice that, appropriately rides into a sort of gypsy-jazz breakdown at the end. The flipside puts a daydream drift across “Electric Relaxation” by A Tribe Called Quest. It’s a watery, soft and positively sensual reading of ATCQ’s already drowsy tune. The original is a request, Xiomara’s reading is pure promise keeping.

Get it, spin it, dig it.

***

Electric Wizard’s legend is mostly true. The English doom metal act has conjured a certain strain of creepy, occult-shaded metal sludge so filthy that listening to them can still feel transgressive. But turn off the amps and most classic metal, and a fair amount of doom, can sound like folk-blues that trades in murder-ballad imagery.

So what happens when a talented fan scrubs the druggy fuzz from Electric Wizard’s music? Acoustic Wizard answers that with some of the scariest campfire jams you’ll ever hear. The first two volumes, each with three tracks, are called Please Don’t Sue Me, which seems unlikely as we imagine the members of Electric Wizard would be all over this. It’s an act of pure love, with wonderfully gloomy results.

***

Electronic music site Earmilk calls Goldbloc’s Black Gold EP “one of the best slept on acts of our time." The term “slept on” seems to have lost its potency in this era of music consumption. After all, there’s so much new music that even dedicated genre fans are going to miss out on something. It’s just too hard to keep up. That said, Goldbloc really is a fantastic duo from Boston.

As our headline says, the four songs comprising Black Gold are trip-hop. Whether Goldbloc calls it that doesn’t matter. Don’t go in expecting the languorous, end-of-the century angst of Portishead, nor the jazz-lite chillout sound that made coffee houses seem cool in the late ‘90s. Seriously deep bass rolls with midnight menace beneath slightly glitchy treatment of vocals that recall the post-coital rasp of Elin Kastlander from jj. This is where soul music should be today.

You can download the EP for free by liking them on Facebook. We got a download error message, but that’s just Facebook being willfully difficult. You should be able to see the Dropbox link where you can grab the compressed zip file. Roll up.

Everybody Loves a Doris

Please accept The Typing Monkey's apologies for the long absence. Shit got real over the past few weeks and nobody at the offices felt like lifting the pencil or finding a piece of paper unbesmirched by memory and loss.

Let's get back to publishing with a belated birthday wish of health and happiness to Doris Day, who turned 90 on April 3.

It's easy to dismiss Day as a peroxided, harmless cutie whose sole purpose was to be irritated and flummoxed by Rock Hudson only to come around and fall in love in the third act of the many meringue-light romantic comedies the two made together during the 1960s.

That's fine, but we've always preferred the rom-coms with James Garner as her foil/paramour, as Garner's gravelly nature played better off of Day's sugary charms. Her outing with David Niven ain't bad either.

Better still is to remember that Day is the secret key to the success of Alfred Hitchcock's 1956 remake of his own The Man Who Knew Too Much. James Stewart does great work in the film, but it's Day's determined, crafty mom who finds a way out of the international intrigue mess they're in. It's a shame she didn't get more roles of this nature, as Day holds her own in a way many probably don't expect.

Her delivery of the song "Que Sera Sera" is not only a great plot device in Too Much, but just straight-up great selling of a song that uses Day's velvety delivery to great effect, given that the lyrics are actually quite clear-headed when put up against many other romantic tunes of the day.

And with that we arrive at Day's other great gift: The woman could sing. She's on par with other lauded Big Band vocalists (Kay Starr, et al.) and her creamy vibrato stands proud alongside Dinah Shore (another singer who rarely gets her due.)

Day could deliver the sad and heartbroken as well as the dreamy lovestruck material. And The Typing Monkey says if you want a real snapshot of what Day could do, look no further than "Everybody Loves a Lover."

It's not a showcase for her vocal abilities the way "Dream a Little Dream" or "When I Fall In Love" are. Instead it's a testament to Day's ability to inhabit the material. Where she's both mother and child -- and all realist -- in "Que Sera Sera" Day plays the wholly self-aware woman who is both confident and stupidly in love in "Everybody Loves a Lover."

It's an almost Bugs Bunny-like performance culminating in Day's round-style duet with herself. She found a guy she loves who loves her back and has no qualms floating by the rest of us, flaunting her luck and (subversively) the hint of the skills she employed to snag her man.


[courtesy of VinylNostalgia]

But I Do

Here's a Valentine for you, sweethearts:


Olive Oyl sings He Needs Me from Blue Heron on Vimeo.

Witch Fight!

Anybody with their compass pointed in the right direction knows that Feb 2, 2014 was Imbolc. Yes, it was also Groundhog Day and the day the Seattle Seahawks won the Super Bowl.

While most of us were either tuning into the game, or doing anything else, spring -- real spring, not that Gregorian calendar impostor due in March -- quietly stepped onto the season cycle and began pedaling.

And we get it: It's ugly cold out across North America and throughout the Northern hemisphere nobody's about to step outside in tank top and sandals to sip iced tea and feel the sun's heat.

But do go out when you can and have a look around. Trees and bushes are budding. Bulb flowers are rocketing through the soil, arms of defiant green reaching for daylight that grows longer each evening.

We don't report this in a desperate grab for anything to stave off winter gray. We share this old world information because if you relax and let it in, the feeling of spring is there. Nature is waking up.

Here are two versions of a song written and made famous by Scotsman Donovan. The test of good songcraft is how well a composition holds up to different interpretations. The original has the nip of autumn about it that, when combined with the chorus, recalls October.

But Lou Rawls and his band find the Hammond B3 funk under the pile of leaves and loosen the tune up, adding considerable warmth:

[courtesy of marmalade166]

While Super Session takes it further still, opening the song up into a lengthy California stoner jam that skews closer to simmering blues and jazz while still landing, like Rawls, on the secret funk rhythm that has always been the backbone of the song:

[courtesy of jaquenuno]

Neither of these has anything to do with the Imbolc, but we dig 'em and used this post as an excuse to share. Happy spring to you.

NSFW

As a reward for all the reading we've made you do, here's a video that's rather filthy, but in a very funny way. It's probably best viewed in a non-work environment. Unless you work somewhere that doesn't mind cartoons that suggest trashy European softcore cinema from decades past.


Michel Homm from simon landrein on Vimeo.


You dirty monkey! You watched the whole thing, didn't you? Good. Now read this oral history of the creation of Sir Mix-a-Lot's "Baby Got Back" video and write a three-page report tonight as homework. Discuss the themes of the piece, alternate perspectives on feminine beauty, and the idea that rhythm has replaced melody in popular song.


[An artful wiggle to the NSFW site This Isn't Happiness and Vulture.]

In Defense of: Questionable Christmas Songs: Part III

For some reason, Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" is reviled by many, even those who otherwise like Sir Paul and that Beatles group he was part of. We've never understood the hate.

If we were to level any criticism at "Wonderful ..." it would be that it's a two-minute idea stretched out to a more radio friendly four minutes. So it repeats itself for the back half, but that's a complaint easily leveled at many pop standards that get much more love.

Surely the Cute One tossed off this charming, inoffensive ditty while plinking around with his fancy new synthesizer. [It was a Prophet 5 -- ed.] Even his futzing around is radio-worthy. Is the distaste born of anger and frustration?

Musically, it's has that kind of "hey, did I mention I can play the piano?" feel -- with McCartney as the cool, maybe tipsy, uncle who has traveled the globe but set down tonight at your parents house to say hi and tell stories that you may or may not believe and dang it he's so much fun.

The lyrics are inconsequential to say the least, and that's for the best. No nonsense about trees, holly or presents, just a "hey, we're here, let's drink and sing." Aside from the chorus, it could easily be a summoning to the local for a pint and a few jokes.
And this is where the real defense comes in. It's nearly impossible to talk about Paul McCartney without talking about John Lennon. And what did Lennon give us for Christmas? "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)."

There's nothing wrong with Lennon's solemn, introspective tune. Arguably, he's more in line with the tone of classic English Christmas music. And yes, Lennon and Yoko Ono wrote and recorded the song in 1971, when Vietnam was still in full swing and the collective hangover from the '60s was just setting in, while McCartney recorded "Wonderful ..." in 1979 on the cusp of the go-go '80s.

But these two songs best illustrate the differences between McCartney and Lennon. The former is pure happiness and love, to the point of tooth-ache sweetness. The latter is a somber inventory that puts all the work on the listener: "What have you done?" "War is over, if you want it." John, if we wanted a lecture we'd go to church.

Need more proof? Watch the official video released for "Happy Xmas" and then try to swallow another mug of nog. It's the Christmas song equivalent of reminding everyone at the table about how poorly cranberry bog workers are treated.

It's not that Lennon's song is bad, it's just a bummer. And any sensible person has plenty of winter weltschmerz stocked up by the time Santa comes sliding down the drainpipe. Baby Jesus, that's why we all just want to drink and sing:


[courtesy of Holiday Favorites]

If we have not convinced you, nothing will. But we dare you to listen -- really listen -- to "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" and then tell us how much you dislike "Wonderful Christmastime." Or, if all else fails, you can just listen to this.

In Defense of: Questionable Christmas Songs: Part II

Or next defense is a little shakier, but stay with us for the teen dreamboat of the hairy 1970s, Bobby Sherman.

His “Love’s What You Get for Christmas” was a b-side from the dawn of the decade and the rare attempt at writing a new Christmas song that actually succeeded.

Okay, succeeding may be a little strong, but our reasoning is twofold:

1. "Love's What You Get ..." doesn’t really sound like Christmas music. It’s a peppy pop number that leans on the sherbet-hued horns inspired by the previous decade’s pop masters, Burt Bacharach and Herb Alpert. If there’s a jingle bell anywhere in this recording, we can’t hear it. It even recalls the work of Jack Jones.

2. The message seems to be “Love is the best gift of all.” While that’s something every Christmas television special has crammed down our throats for decades, it’s not a bad message.

However, the more cynical listener might think of this tune as sung by a lunkhead boyfriend who was too stoned to remember that Christmas morning has arrived, and upon realizing he has nothing to give to his lady, feeds her this bullshit line about how you can’t gift wrap love. Ugh, yes, but also genius. It’s like a rehearsal for “Dick in a Box.”

No matter. Punch play on this one and the world of snow, holly and chestnut roasting gives way to a faded Polaroid of sunny California where there’s a dessert table featuring Jell-O with fruit cocktail suspended in it.


[courtesy of Tom Smith]

Lord have mercy, perhaps before the big day arrives we'll manage to post another "In Defense of Questionable Christmas Songs." And if you are somehow incapable of scrolling down, here's the previous entry.

In Defense of: Questionable Christmas Songs

Christmas music destroys all in its path. It sounds the distant thrum of an approaching toy army sometimes as early as Labor Day. By Halloween the jingling of bells and the faint whiff of canned snow makes the jack-o’-lantern’s mouth shrink with fear. Thanksgiving falls like a tissue-paper turkey into the green and red combine of CHRISTMAS! – the machine with engines parum-pah-pum-pumming and blades chopping: We! Wish! You! We! Wish! You!

We’re talking about “CHRISTMAS!” as opposed to “Christmas” just in case that wasn’t clear. The former is like mega-church Jesus (JESUS!), the latter is bible verse Jesus. The music of all-caps Christmas can even be identical, melodically and lyrically, to the music of actual Christmas. But the saccharine joyishness of CHRISTMAS! music clobbers the ears if we are not careful to find ways to tune it out.

One easy way to drown the terrible carols is to find the holiday songs that don’t offend. Or better yet, those that actually (gasp) please the ears. But we’re not here to pit the noble, mostly unsullied beauty of say, Vince Guaraldi’s seasonal arrangements against the sentimental hogwash of some pop star cashing in with another pointless rendition of “The Christmas Song.”

No, gentle reader, we offer to you a gift of debate, of justification. We come to defend the oddball splashes in the syrupy ocean of Christmas music, hoping to vindicate them in your mind and bring them to your attention again.

So gaze into the not-too-distant past and look upon these works with a new sense of wonder. Should they anger you rather than please, know that if you hunt us down and kill us, our medic alert bracelet is also a silent alarm that will wake the Krampus we keep locked in the custodian’s closet.

The first track on Barbra Streisand’s 1967 LP, A Christmas Album is the elementary-school music program classic “Jingle Bells.” Yes, Barbra Streisand is Jewish. But, to paraphrase Marvin Hamlisch, she’s Jewish, not stupid. So she joined the ranks of many non-Christians who’ve recorded Christmas tunes and chuckled all the way to the bank come January.

Streisand blusters through James Pierpont’s winter song (note there is no mention of any winter holiday in the lyrics) as if it were “Salt Peanuts” and the band had a little too much coffee. That’s probably the precise reason some listeners despise this version. Streisand also includes one of the lesser known verses of “Jingle Bells.” The arrangement plays with our expectations of the tune and fills its lungs with brisk December air. Nice one, Babs:


[courtesy of krisk, no relation to TMI’s janitor and sometime contributor]

Stay tuned for another entry or two in our mercifully brief series “In Defense of: Questionable Christmas Songs”

Parkland Spawned a Monster

Aw yiss!




Shameless? Yes. Proud? Damn straight. Even some upstart music blog is pretending like they knew about this.

French-Goth-Surf-Pop

The French band La Femme has a decidedly surf- and noir-influenced sound, with just the right shades of psychedelia, ye-ye, and first-generation goth (Banshees, Bauhaus, Specimen).

And lucky for us, they made a long-form video for their song "Hypsoline." A long form video. That's so ... Duran Duran.

The film creeps around as if a loose adaptation of an M.R. James or J. Sheridan Le Fanu story, finally wrapping around to a nightmare party that we'd still happily attend. (French girls!)

It's lightly spooky and a great exercise in matching song to visuals. Here, drink this ...

O is for October

O is also for "oh."

As in: "Mom, do you think the United States will crumble under the weight of its own stupidity?"
"Oh, probably."

Things are getting scary. Also, Halloween will soon be upon us and as our regular reader knows, that means the arrival of this, our 6th annual Typing Monkey Halloween Frenzy.

We'll do our best during the next four weeks to show you cool pictures, videos, links to good reads and other fun stuff. ("Uh, how is different from what you normally do?") Because it will all be Halloween themed stuff, that's how. Geez!

Get yourself a cup of something, grab a donut, and enjoy this mash-up from Go Home Productions, still the best mash-up DJ around. He made a video for this one, and it's gone from his YouTube channel, but some enterprising young person called kliz9 posted it again.


Hurry! You'll miss your bus!

Send Me a Postcard

The unofficial end to summer approaches, a time reserved for listening to Nat King Cole on AM radio, eating fruit you picked right off that tree in the alley near the end of the block, and wondering how quickly your tan will fade.

Here's a music video that constructs a fantasy "wish you were here" greeting from a vacation to a magazine advertisement in the mid 1970s. Good job, Royksopp.

Strange Romantic Airs

Back in 2003, the Detroit-based baroque-pop band Pas/Cal released an EP called The Handbag Memoirs.

Contained within that six-song goldmine is a tune that still feels like the first bike ride of summer break, when the shackles of education have been loosed and you feel truly free to spend the few precious weeks ahead of you having as much fun as possible before September creeps back and adulthood lurches ever closer.

If you've not heard "The Bronzed Beach Boys of Summer (C'mon Let's Go)" you can remedy that now. And if you enjoy it, Pas/Cal offers it free to download:



Pas/Cal is no more, but their excellent music lives on via Bandcamp. If you like what you hear, listen, purchase and enjoy.

Let's Get Weird

Black Heel Marks' debut long player Feel Free will be available for purchase on June 25. In the meantime, stream the whole thing here.

We'll be right back after these messages.

Here she is now, the High Priestess of Soul:





Bonus drinking advice: Since the late 1990s, ordering a "Nina Simone" with breakfast in the TMI cafeteria means you get a small glass of red wine (usually cabernet franc or pinot noir) and a cup of strong black coffee. It's a real treat, and yes, we said breakfast.