Calin with Fantastic Plastic Machine : Samba de Minha Namoradinha

Fantastic Plastic Machine is the stage name for Tomoyuki Tanaka, a Japanese musician and DJ, who put together a series of critically acclaimed albums in the late 90's and early 2000's. He is one of the progenitors of the Shibuya-kei movement, which is sort of an electronic take on easy listening.

I believe Calin is the singer, but I could find nothing about her.

The tune kicks off with a scat on a jumpy little melody. It sounds very circular, but it's very groovy, and it reappears a few times throughout the song, which is good, because it's fun. There follows an organ-based jam over a samba beat percolating under some pretty, poppy Japanese lyrics. It's a light, fun little record, and is great to play in the car on a sunny day with your windows rolled down.

In the background you can hear a guy popping in with a quick, familiar-sounding 'mahna mahna'. That's a nod to a tune called 'Samba Mah Nà' from Piero Umiliani's soundtrack to Svezia, Inferno e Paradiso, which is itself a variation on Piero's classic, "Mah Nà Mah Nà". In case you were wondering.

This particular song comes from a compilation Shibuya-kei music, the awkwardly named Sushi 3003 from 1996.  It's full of other groovy, electropop gems and is a solid buy if you like this sort of thing.

[You can listen to Calin with Fantastic Plastic Machine's "Samba de Minha Namoradinha" by navigating to the post "Song063" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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D'Angelo : Untitled (How Does It Feel)

This song made a small dent in the pop charts in 2000. I can't remember if I ever even heard it on the radio though, as the version I have clocks in at a hefty seven minutes plus. Maybe I heard it on MTV, cuz I think he had that video where he's naked from the waist up, and his pants are very, very low. He might have even had to shave. If you know what I mean.

But, regardless of Michael's predilections for public exhibitionism, it doesn't change the fact that this is the best Prince song Prince never recorded. It's a slow burn of a soul song, dripping with raw emotion, a little funk and plain old sex. The vocals are sublime, expertly building pent-up desire into pure screaming animal lust. The lyrics start off simple, like a love song, but verge into Prince-style nastiness by the end of the song.

Another interesting item of note is the dead-stop right at the climax of the song. Maybe they realized it just couldn't get any better and they didn't want to spoil the built-up tension by offering any sort of denouement, or maybe it's meant to be symbolic of ... something.
In any case, it's a superb song, worthy of any late night make out session. I'd throw it in right after Barry White and right before "Between the Sheets" by the Isleys or maybe even "When Doves Cry". Yeah...

You can find D'Angelo's "Untitled (How Does It Feel)" on his 2000 release, Voodoo.

[You can listen to D'Angelo's "Untitled (How Does It Feel)" by navigating to the post "Song062" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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Los Campesinos! : Don't Tell Me to Do the Math(s)

I'm trying to decide if 2008 was a really great year for music, or if I was just paying more attention.  It's hard to say.  Regardless, here's another great band with a great release in 2008.

Los Campesinos! is a band from Wales that I think the hip kids would call 'indie'.  They remind of a more pop-oriented Mae Shi.  I know that doesn't mean much to you, as you've probably never heard of the Mae Shi (although if you'd been paying attention since January, you'd have read a little about them).  What I mean by this is, they're very noisy and have an overdriven sound, much like the Mae Shi, but they have a strong pop sensibility and aren't as interested as much in deconstructing the pop sound as celebrating it.

"Don't Tell Me to Do the Math(s)" is a joyous, rambunctious pop song with a great hook, driving guitars, a little violin, and goofy, overly literary lyrics that still manage to sound endearing rather than pretentious.  It's got a nice sense of dynamics and flow and is quite danceable, if you're a little adventurous.  Also, it doesn't rhyme, though I don't think you'd notice right away.

This song comes from their first official release, 2008's Hold On Now, Youngster....  The rest of the album is just as good, verging into more progressive and/or singer-songwriter territory, but staying true to their ensemble sound.

[You can listen to Los Campesinos! "Don't Tell Me to Do the Math(s)" by navigating to the post "Song061" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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Sparks : Here in Heaven

Sparks is a bizarre band, influenced by both Gilbert and Sullivan style operetta and the glam rock of Gary Glitter and Cheap Trick. The music is varied, expressive and soaring, while remaining firmly grounded in the rock oeuvre, and their wordplay is second-to-none, clever and ironic, with a terrific sense of rhythm.

"Here in Heaven" is a bombastic rocker with a sense of humor.  The song takes the form of a letter, or perhaps a monologue, from a jilted Romeo up in heaven to his Juliet, wondering what happened to her and why she's still down on Earth.  In the first verse, he describes heaven somewhat like one would describe a car dealership waiting room, where "there are lots of things to do" and "it's really very clean".  In the second, he straight up questions Juliet's intentions, wondering if she's had second thoughts and if he's "that sucker in the sky".  It's a great premise, and the lyrical execution is wry perfection, with the band providing the crunching power chords and heavy drums doing their best to anchor brother Russell's trademark soaring falsetto.

"Here in Heaven" is from Sparks' 1974 release, Kimono My House, which is 10 tracks (12 if you get the bonus tracks) of musical brilliance.  My old roommate played this record for me once, and I totally didn't get it.  Then, like pretty much everything else he played for me and I passed on, I later grew to love it.

[You can listen to Sparks' "Here in Heaven" by navigating to the post "Song060" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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Ben Folds Five : Mess

Back in 2000, I had been married for a few years, had four kids, was working for a stupid-ass contractor at an insurance company, and I just couldn't get it. The stress was high, my job sucked, my marriage was rocky and I was going through a bit of an early mid-life crisis. Worse, from the outside, it looked like everything was going right. It really wasn't that bad. Nobody died, no floods, fires or earthquakes. But it still felt crappy, and that brought extra confusion, guilt and stress. The stress of being stressed and depressed when you really have so much to be happy about.

I'm much better now. I understand my goals, I know who I am and know my direction. My marriage is fantastic, my kids are great, and I'm at a place where I'm truly comfortable with myself. You really can't ask for much more.

But back then, I felt like a bit of a mess.

There aren't many artists who really grab my heart strings. A lot of people expound the lyrical virtues of Springsteen and Dylan, but for me, the guy who grasps the middle-class white boy angst I was growing old with, the guy who ever came the closest to 'speaking to me' through music, was Ben Folds. Some how, he managed to grasp nail the turmoil I was going through at the time. There are a handful of songs of his, both with the "Five" and solo, that just open my heart and let the tears of joy and pain flow out.

I know that's pretty emo or whatever, but that's how it is.  What can you do?

"Mess" is a fantastic song, ostensibly about taking stock and accepting the mistakes you've made. But it's really about the hopelessness and futility of wallowing in your 'mess'. A mess is a point of view, a state of mind. Where you see a mess, I might see an opportunity, something that needs a little work.  But in the song the protagonist is not fixing the mess he's created.  He's not even considering that there might be something to fix.  He's decided somewhere along the way that it's a lost cause, and he's just learned to live with it.  Or so he pretends.  And that's just terrible.

I think the reason this song hit me so hard was that I felt like my mess was hopeless as well, that it was the inevitable result of the decisions I'd made and things that were out of my control.  I felt trapped in the mess I had made, and I used to turn it up and cry and cry on the way home from work.
 
Like I said, emo.  I'm much better now and while it doesn't strike me so close to home any longer, it's still a great song.

The song itself has a quiet urgency, mimicking the inescapable progress of time and fate that the singer is caught up in.  And Ben's calmly plaintive vocals carry just the right amount of despair and resignation, without being sappy or overbearing. You can hear the weariness in his voice especially clearly when it breaks while singing the lone word "again".

I've always thought "Mess" would be a great bluegrass song. They sing that sweet close harmony in the chorus and all that busy piano work could easily be picked up by banjo. And that "Ruby, Don't Take Your Love to Town" shuffle beat could drop into a country two-step. It'd be great. Seriously.  Somebody do that.

You can find "Mess" on Ben Folds Five's 1999 release, The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner. There's a funny story about Reinhold Messner, but I'll let you read it on Wikipedia rather than retelling it here. The album is great, probably the best of the bunch from those guys, and I love them all.

[You can listen to Ben Folds Five's "Mess" by navigating to the post "Song059" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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Melvins : A History of Bad Men

I love the Melvins. They are one of my favorite bands, and, unlike many of my other favorite bands, they've managed to both stay together and release good quality material consistently for over twenty years.


While their older stuff is classic, the stuff from their newest phase, starting with 2002's Hostile Ambient Takeover on Ipecac, is just as awesome. Somewhere along the way, (2006, if Wikipedia is to be believed) they lost yet another bass player, but this time they drafted an entire band to replace him, pulling in the power sludge duo Big Business. This gave them the bass player they needed, but also gave them an extra drummer, for super-heaviness.

Having two drummers is awesome. If you've never seen a band with two drummers (I saw the Boredoms with two drummers once), you're missing out. There's this naturally occurring choreography between them that occurs automatically (since they're playing the same rhythms) that is just amazing to watch. Plus, the Melvins' second drummer is left-handed, so Dale and he can pull off a mirror image thing as well. They've even melded part of their kits. So sweet!

There are several great songs off this album, but I chose "A History of Bad Men" for a couple of reasons. First, they do speed-punk quite nicely, but I wanted something that showcased the slow churning heaviness that the Melvins are known for. Second, you can really hear the two drummers on the track. Third, you can really hear the Big Business influence, which is funny in a way, considering you can really hear the Melvins influence in Big Business. But the vocals, while clearly following the Melvins grunge lineage, draw from BB's soaring, metal-based style.

As usual, I can't make heads or tails of what Buzzo is singing. In an interview with him once, I asked him whether the lyrics they printed for "Hooch" in the Houdini booklet were a joke, and he said, no, they were the actual lyrics. He doesn't really write lyrics, per se, he just writes sounds. I think this has changed a little, as you can actually hear him say "I got a head start running away" and "Not dead, just sleeping" in the song. But it's still anyone's guess as to what he's talking about.

You can hear "A History of Bad Men" on the Melvins' 2006 release, their first with the Big Business boys, A Senile Animal. The album is excellent (as is their most recent, Nude with Boots) and straddles the full range of the band, completely delivering exactly what you expect from them, yet somehow continuing to progress their sound. Excellent.

[You can listen to the Melvins' "A History of Bad Men" by navigating to the post "Song058" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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Lassigue Bendthaus : Superbad (Soul Substitute)

Lassigue Bendthaus is one of the many many nom de plume's for Uwe Schmidt (also know as Atom Heart and Señor Coconut), a German musician who dabbles primarily in electronic music. In the mid-90's he developed his own software that performs "vocal simulation based on vocal resynthesis generated from original vocal raw material". So, what I take from that is, the software samples his vocals, chops them up, then reconstructs them, which introduces all sorts of interesting digital artifacts. It's along the lines of "glitch" music, where the digital edges and errors of electronics and samples, rather than being fixed or smoothed over, are embraced and used as the very source material for the piece. The vocals are chopped into tiny phonemes which are repeated and stretched providing a very robotic sound.

"Super Bad" is an early James Brown original, and as such is an extremely analog piece of hard funk. One of the cool things about Uwe's version is that, even though the song is completely reliant on digital technology, constructed completely in the realm of the electronic, from the programmed drums to the android vocals to the synthesized horns, he's managed to keep the organic funk of the original. Even with all the bleeps and bloops, it rocks, and though it doesn't have the sheer sweat-soaked fury of the original, it could easily wind up a dance floor.

The album, Pop Artificielle, consists of ten covers of a wide variety of musicians, from Donovan to Prince to ABC (which I almost posted instead), all done in this very digital vein. It's an excellent album and a fun listen.

[You can listen to Lassigue Bendthaus' "Superbad (Soul Substitute)" by navigating to the post "Song057" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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Funk Factory : Rien Ne Va Plus

I was first introduced to the Funk Factory via the Beastie Boys' "Car Thief" (from their 1989 opus Paul's Boutique) which was built almost entirely on top of samples from this jazz-funk masterpiece.

"Rien Ne Va Plus" is a slow burn of a funk song, scored with delicious analog synths, bass, chicken scratch guitar and rock drums.  The synthesizers bubble and flutter throughout the song, wrapping it in deep 70's shag, very P-Funk in it's sound.  The song is super-funky, nearly polyrhythmic, in that there are often multiple bass lines running at once.  The ensemble vocals draw a lot from the psychedelic soul bands, like Rotary Connection and the vocal lines are very jazzy, slightly angular, with almost progressive melodies.  But the real clincher is the excellent extended scat sections.  The first, sampled almost in its entirety by the Beasties, is performed by a heavily modified, almost vocodered voice and the second nearly verges on ecstatic screaming.

At first I thought "Rien ne va plus" was just some French thrown in for, you know, pretentious continental flair.  And, I guess it is, but it does have meaning within the song.  "Rien ne va plus" is what they say at a French (or more likely Moroccan) roulette table for "no more bets" (it literally translates as, I think, "Nothing goes anymore.").  The song is all about riding the lucky roulette wheel of love.  Or something.  It all ties together. Trust me.

"Rien Ne Va Plus" can be found on Funk Factory's 1975 self-titled sizzler.  It can also be found on the very nice four disc What It Is! Rhino funk sampler, which is pretty good.

[You can listen to Funk Factory's "Rien Ne Va Plus" by navigating to the post "Song056" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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Paul Simon : Night Game

Let's end the week on a quieter note. "Night Game" is an ethereal song from Paul Simon, a ghost tale of sorts, about a pitcher who dies in the middle of a ball game. Or maybe it's about war. I think there's an allegory in there somewhere, since the body count goes from two to three, but I can't exactly figure out what it is. So, like any good poetry, apply where needed.

It's a beautiful song, frail, with a quietly lilting melody that plays threes against twos for some nice syncopation. It's instrumented primarily with Paul's wonderful voice, nearly whispering, and accented by acoustic guitar, jazz bass and a nice harmonica solo by the great Toots Thielemans.

There's not much else to say about the song except that I can't figure out why there's not more buzz about it on the Interwebs, because I do really like it. It comes from Paul's 1975 release, Still Crazy After All These Years, which has some fantastic songs on it, including his biggest solo hit ever, "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover". By the way, they recently remaster Paul's back catalog, so if you're out shopping, make sure you pick up the remastered version.

[You can listen to Paul Simon's "Night Game" by navigating to the post "Song055" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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Hot Chip : Out At the Pictures

There's not much to say about Hot Chip that hasn't been written by someone else. They are clearly indie music media darlings, stars of the "genre", along with the likes of MGMT, Animal Collective, Bon Iver or Bright Eyes (none of which I particularly like, oddly enough). That being said, I'll just say they are an eclectic, primarily electronic, rock band. "Out At the Pictures", from their 2008 album Made in the Dark, is a pretty typical offering.

The whole thing starts with a long but cool synth intro that builds in speed and is clearly live (or extremely well faked), as you can hear the audience screaming in the background. This intro is welded to the front of a speedy little dance rock number, chock full of buzzing, overdriven synths and aggressive, rocking, but still danceable drums. The lyrics are pretty simple, concentrating more on the sound of the words as an instrument rather than deep meanings, to the point where they repeat the word "whether" sixteen times in a row in the chorus. Yeah, I know that sounds like it might be annoying, but it's used to good effect. I like that the song has all the trappings of a techno number, but the band has used them to create a real rocker instead.

The rest of Made in the Dark is mostly more of the same, which is why it's so good. There is the occasional acoustic ballad and even some songs that might fall along the 'soft rock' side of the spectrum. Still, they know their strengths and play to them well. It's a very good album.

[You can listen to Hot Chip's "Out At the Pictures" by navigating to the post "Song054" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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Rodrigo y Gabriela : Diablo Rojo

I really like Rodrigo y Gabriela.  First of all, I really dig acoustic guitar, especially in twos and threes.  I like the fact that they are taking the acoustic guitar and are expanding its capabilities, bringing both their native Mexican and metal influences to their duo. They strum and thump with the energy of a metal band, but groove and sway with latin soul.  I like them because in interviews they seem to be honest folk who really really just love to play music and want to share that love with the world.  That is awesome.

Rodrigo Sánchez and Gabriela Quintero met in a thrash band in Mexico City and decided to make their fame and fortune by ... moving to Ireland.  On one of their live discs, Gabriela tells this fantastic story about their move, the unforeseen complete frigidness of Ireland in the winter, their inability to speak nearly any English when they moved, and trying to convince their landlord to show them how to get their fireplace working.  The way she tells it, down to mimicking her own accent when she first got there, is absolutely touching.

"Diablo Rojo" (which my rudimentary Spanish translates as "Red Devil") is a very upbeat latin-rhythmed rocker.  It starts with furious drumming on the guitar body, along with some severely muted strumming.  This develops into a finger-picked version of the theme, which opens into a nicely strummed version.  The rest of the song consists of variations on the theme, plus a mid-song percussive breakdown.  In all, a fun tune and a great listen.

"Diablo Rojo" is from their self-titled 2006 LP, Rodrigo y Gabriela.  It also contains their cover of Metallica's Orion, which is superb and is what first turned me on to them.  It also houses their cover of Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven, which is also excellent and is not cheesy at all, despite the over-saturation of the original.  Great album, just bought mine with my Christmas money.  Go get one.

Hey, I just realized it's St. Patty's Day and this album has a vague Irish connection.  Yay me for staying topical!  Almost!

[You can listen to Rodrigo y Gabriela's "Diablo Rojo" by navigating to the post "Song053" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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Lindsay Mac : Use Me

Lindsay Mac is a cellist with a bit of a unique streak.  She wants to be a singer-songwriter and has taken to playing her cello standing up, strapped like a guitar over her shoulder, so she can sing more easily.  That uniqueness comes across in spades in this cover of Bill Withers' classic tune "Use Me".  This is no dainty string quartet.  This is a full-on cello-fueled piece of electrified funk.  Normally, takes on this song turn me off because the original is just so... so... so damn awesome.  "Use Me" is a song that expertly combines both joy and despair, hope and hopelessness, and just plain raw lust, into a simmering cauldron of deep funk.  Lindsay does not forget this.

She manages to keep the power of the slow funk while updating the song with a bit of electronic studio play and, of course, cello.  She's got a real drummer driving the back beat behind her while she tears up the bass lines on her favorite instrument.  That's all accentuated with a little bit of scratching and of course she sings.  It's a little bare, but I think that's it.  There are couple of flourishes here and there, but I think those are primarily overdubbed, electronically-processed cello.

She also does really great trick where somehow her own vocals are scratched.  I'm not sure if she recorded them to vinyl first or if it's a studio trick, but it's damn cool.  Especially effective is the start of the second verse, where she hollers 'My brother!' and the DJ totally breaks it down.  It's ass-kicking-ness of the first power.  It got me thinking that it would be a completely awesome move if, in her live shows, she only played the cello part and really did let a DJ play her vocals off a record.  Even cooler if she somehow managed to switch back and forth between live and recorded vocals.

Anyway, the song is an amazing version of an amazing song.  Extremely well done, and it really does what a cover should do, which is to give you a familiar touchstone while still presenting everything an artist has to offer.  It makes me want to buy the album, which, by the way, is called Small Revolution.

[You can listen to Lindsay Mac's "Use Me" by navigating to the post "Song052" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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John C. Reilly : Starman

Strangely enough, the music for the movie Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story is pretty top notch. John C. Reilly can really sing and the writers did a great job of parodying a variety of musical styles and clichés throughout the film.

This tune is a fine example, skewering both the disco movement and the of washed up and B-list musicians and actors who hopped the disco gravy train.  You've got a tremendous variety of square going on here. You've got the past-the-prime musician trying to be hip.  You've got him delivering a peculiarly smarmy loungey disco song (I especially love the stilted way he sings "let the children boo-gie"). Then you've got the song choice itself. "Starman" was relatively minor hit for David Bowie from 1972's The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, a slightly wacky, tripped out number about a cool rock 'n' roll alien communicating with the children over the radio. It's chock full of hipster language, like "hazy cosmic jive", "far out" and "blow our minds", plus clear drug innuendo.  It's a bizarre choice, and the whole thing is laughably weird, in a reality TV kind of way.

And John really nails it. It's an exact recreation of a whole slew of records that came out in the late 70's. Plus, it's a damn good cover of a great song. The disco vibe is perfect, with the traditional funk bass and chicken scratch guitar. John's delivery is just stellar.  His vocal is solid, but he keeps it decidedly unfunky over the funk. It's a fun tune.

You can find John's performance of "Starman" on the soundtrack for Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story.

[You can listen to John C. Reilly's "Starman" by navigating to the post "Song051" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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M.I.A. - Bird Flu

I'm not a real big MIA fan. If you've heard of her, it was because she was everybody's golden child in 2007, and you may have heard her biggest 'hit', "Paper Planes". It's a good song, even if it does borrow the whole chorus from Wreckx-n-Effect's "Shake Your Rump". She has a lot of great musical ideas and a defiantly different way of thinking about and constructing songs, but I thought she lacked a little in her execution and that she was definitely over-hyped. Still, some of her songs were pretty good; "Paper Planes" for one.

"Bird Flu" is a high energy rap song that follows the blueprint of your typical 'club rap' (think Soulja Boy or Lil Jon). It's a real pounder, with a massive downbeat on the one, and an almost techno-like emphasis on the remaining three beats. The difference is, while the other producers are using classic 808-style drums, MIA is creating songs from whole cloth using chicken sounds, drum cadences, traditional central Asian percussion and kids shouting in what I can only assume is her native Tamil. She weaves these decidedly non-musical threads together into a thumping musical work that could easily hold its own on the dance floor (though it'd be kind of odd).

There are a few other things I really like about the instrumentation (besides the chickens, that is). First, during the chorus there's this descending bass tone. Imagine the sound effect for a falling bomb, but instead of a high-pitched whistle it's a very low electric tone. That's what it sounds like. It's very subtle, but it's very cool. I like that a lot. Second, near the end she samples some sort of chanting, and I really dig both the chant and the way she uses it. I wish it was used more throughout the song. And finally, I really like the way she uses the kids shouting as a breakdown. They are pretty well synced to the beat during the verse and chorus, but at the breakdown, she lets the sample run unfettered and it ends up sounding hyper-syncopated, almost an off-beat triplet against the beat, somewhere in the gray area between offbeat and on-beat. It's nice.

The song is, like most rap songs, pretty much about how much of a bad-ass she is, but from a totally different type of "hood". She doesn't shoot AK-47's, she makes bombs. She's not flying gang colors, but she burnt her ID papers, even though the cops are coming around to check them. She chews chicken feet and watches "Lost" on cable. (Okay, so that's not so bad-ass, but it is funny.) And went she gets pregnant, she's "gonna pop me out some leaders". That's awesome.

You can find "Bird Flu" on MIA's second release, 2007's Kala. I really should give it another listen. Maybe I knee-jerked against the hype.

[You can listen to M.I.A.'s "Bird Flu" by navigating to the post "Song050" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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The B-52's : 52 Girls

I'm not a huge fan of The B-52's, but some of their stuff is pretty good. You've almost certainly heard "Love Shack", which despite it's over-saturation is still a good song, and I'm assuming you've heard "Rock Lobster" at least once. "52 Girls" comes from the same eponymous debut album as "Rock Lobster" and has that same stripped down dance rock feel.

The song itself is relatively simple, with just your basic guitar/drum/bass combo jamming on a very danceable groove that barely changes across the entire song, even from verse to chorus. The two female vocalists, Kate and Cindy (Fred is nowhere to be found, which could be a good or bad thing depending on your point of view), sing the lyrics together in a nice close harmony throughout the song.

What really makes the song so arresting is the vocal phrasing. The lyrics are stretched and condensed over the constant beat, like verbal rubber bands. For instance, in the chorus, 'name' is sung three times in succession, and each time it gains an extra syllable. 'Tina and Louise' are crammed together almost into a single syllable, whereas 'Madge' gets four and 'Reba' stretches over nearly eight bars. It's an odd but very effective technique, resulting in a very prog, almost jazz-like feel.

Then, there's the lyrics themselves. Who are all these people? Why on Earth do I need to 'name them today'? The only clue I can find is they mention Kate and Cindy, so perhaps these are just names of women they know. Also, the names seem to trend from old-fashioned to modern as the song progresses, so maybe the song is a shout out to their relatives. Or maybe it's just a list of names. In any case, there aren't 52 of them, but don't let that stop you from enjoying it.

As previously mentioned, you can find "52 Girls" on the B-52's 1979 self-titled album, which also houses "Rock Lobster", both of which are great songs. The album itself is considered a true classic, though for the most part, I'm ambivalent.

[You can listen to the B-52's "52 Girls" by navigating to the post "Song049" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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Scott Walker : Jackie

God love Jacques Brel, because he really needs it. Every song is drenched in that bitter Gallic sense of cynicism and bile, shot through with the gaudy spangle of the Moulin Rouge. But it's so good. In "Jackie", as he fantasizes about the splendor that would accompany his meteoric rise to the top of the charts as a famous rock star, he writes about getting drunk, owning a bordello, smoking opium, queers, virgins and singing to the ladies in heaven with a giant flowing beard; you know, all that rock star stuff. Ironically, he had a couple of hits here in the states with "Ne me quitte pas" and "Seasons in the Sun", though I have no idea if he ever bought the whorehouse.

Scott Walker was a big hit in the UK, first with the Walker Brothers, then as a solo artist. The brothers had a minor hit here in the states with a Bacharach tune, but other than that, they never disturbed the charts. "Jackie" hit #20 in the UK, which I assume means it got a lot of airplay, which considering the lyrical content, I find amazing. Also, it's no mystery as to why it never got played over here. Scott loved Jacques Brel, and sang three of his songs on each of his first three solo LPs.

Anyway, this piece is a pretty typical Walker/Brel workout. The tune kicks in right away with the strings, horns and other orchestral trappings, as well as a martial beat that runs constantly throughout. Scott dives right in with his beautiful deep baritone, singing with the perfect mixture of glory and scorn, fluffed up with just a touch of reverb. The song drives forward relentlessly, with the orchestra pounding away and Scott just singing his heart out.

I love this song. I want to start a band just so I could cover this song. I like it so much, I'd be willing to sing it at a karaoke joint. (Note: Not really.) The orchestration is superb, the lyrics are astounding, and Scott's delivery is just top notch.

You can find this tune on Scott Walker's 1968 release, Scott 2. Oddly enough, it doesn't look like there are any compilations out there.

[You can listen to Scott Walker's "Jackie" by navigating to the post "Song048" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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The Rugbys : You, I

I didn't know much about the Rugbys before I started this post, but it turns out they were a modestly successful rock act in the US, even cracking the top 40 with "You, I". I originally heard the tune from a posting last summer on the ever-amazing Iron Leg blog. Before that, I'd never heard it, which is a shame, because it's a solid song. It just goes to show you that there is a ton of music out there that may have been somewhat popular, but just never makes it into rotation for some reason.

"You, I" is a semi-psychedelic blues rocker, very much in the vein of Jimi Hendrix or Deep Purple. The guitar is hard, the rhythm section is tough and capable, and the singing is pretty basic. They do throw in a nice Cream-like vocal harmony bit right in the middle, during the guitar solo, but the song is simple. It's just meant to be catchy and rock, which it does well.

The lyrics are ... stupid, mainly consisting of rhymes for 'you', although the group didn't even put much effort into that, at one point even rhyming it with 'magic mood'. I mean, seriously: 'goo', 'zoo', 'few', 'pew', 'cashew', 'ague', 'grue'. It's not that hard, boys.

You can find "You, I" on their 1969 release, Hot Cargo, which is available for download from Amazon as an mp3 album. It's also available as an import CD and on a 2-for-1 with a band called Lazarus.

[You can listen to The Rugbys' "You, I" by navigating to the post "Song047" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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April March : Voo Doo Doll

April March is actually Elinor Blake, who divides her time between attempting pop stardom and animation. As an animator, she's worked on Ren & Stimpy, Pee-Wee's Playhouse and even did the title sequence for Madonna's Who's That Girl.

As a pop star, well, her most recent showing was a tune of hers from 1999 that appeared in Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof. Soooo, she's still got some work to do.

Her style is primarily influenced by 60's French pop yé-yé singers, like France Gall, Françoise Hardy, Jane Birkin & Claudine Longet, and she's been known to cover a Serge Gainsbourg song or two.

"Voo Doo Doll" is off her first EP, which I've been looking for pretty much since it came out in 1993. One day last year, eBay phoned me up and said, "Pal, we finally found it. Come get it, ASAP!" So I did, and I think this might be the last "long-lost" CD in my pantheon. Oh, wait, no, I still need Queens of the Stone Age's first LP. Anyhow...

"Voo Doo Doll" is about a voodoo doll the singer uses to punish her man, "to hurt you when with her". Somehow he manages to give him earaches, corns, chapped lips and all sorts of miscellaneous maladies. Musically, the song is relatively straightforward, a nice upbeat 4/4 with a small band plus organ and background singers, although it's slightly weirded due to the verses being 12 bars instead of the standard 16. So it's just a little wonky, which helps underscore the vague craziness of the protagonist.

The EP is great. It consists of five songs, all heavily influenced by the aforementioned 60's pop vibe, but also very much by the quirky stylings of Vic Mizzy (think: The Addams Family theme).  The song "Kooky" is almost a dead rip-off. Also, she's wearing ice skates on the cover.  A fantastic listen, but good luck finding it. I can't even find it on Amazon at this point.

[You can listen to April March's "Voo Doo Doll" by navigating to the post "Song046" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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Nicolas Collins : Strange Heaven

Nicolas Collins is an electronic music composer who deals primarily with sampled and re-sampled sound and homemade electronics. He experimented for a while with a setup he called "trombone-propelled electronics" where he uses the slide of the trombone as an analog controller for on-the-fly digital sampling. It's pretty cool, really, to a geek like me.

His album Sound without Picture is a selection of spoken word pieces he's collected, each of which has to do with a sense, or the lack thereof: sight, blindness, touch, smell, sound, deafness, taste. These are read over different electronic backdrops that he creates. In one piece he uses a broken CD player playing a string quartet which creates the backdrop for a live trumpeter, all of which creates a backdrop for the reading. On a different track, he has a real string quartet recreate the effect of the broken CD player, along with the trumpet and the reading. Very sweet. So much so that this was almost the track I picked for you.

But instead, I'm going with a different track. For one, the track was, on the surface, very similar to "Mom's" which we debuted a few days ago. (I think the interplay of the broken robotic digital repetition and the live analog is cool enough to warrant a new post, but that will have to be some other day.)

For another, the track I chose uses the aforementioned tricky trombone to manipulate the sound of the spoken parts which is then used as the bed for the actual spoken word. The voice is stretched and warped, digitally processed almost beyond recognition, but there's a ghostly hint of the source that wafts through and really underscores the intangible dreaminess of the pitch black world of the blind and the purposeful daydream of memory, both of which are subjects for the spoken part of the piece.

The composition has plenty of space around the vocals where there is just that ethereal sound and the source material he reads is really touching. On top of which, he has a great speaking voice, solid without being overtly dramatic. It's really a great composition all around.

"Strange Heaven" can be found on Nicolas Collins' 1999 release, Sound Without Picture. It's a fantastic CD. Highly recommended.

And once again, the piece is 13 minutes long, so I downsampled it. I couldn't go to mono though, as stereo is an important part of the piece, so it still ended up being 13mb. Sorry.

[You can listen to Nicolas Collins' "Strange Heaven" by navigating to the post "Song045" and clicking or right-clicking on the title or the link.]

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