The Not-Pop Jukebox

I’ve been hanging out in the “way back machine” lately. As I meander the back waters of my music collection I keep bumping into songs that make me think of others. For example, when I listen to Rump Shaker, the Wreckx-N-Effect hit of 1993, my brain immediately hops to the Suburban Legends’ song Blingity-Bling (from their album, “Rump Shaker”). The song Rump Shaker certainly received enough air play in the California suburb in which I lived that summer.

So let us listen to the two back-to-back (no pun int…well, okay, a little pun intended). I’ve got a digital cookie right here for the one who can identify the song referenced in Rump Shakin’, by the way. It has frosting and sprinkles (the imaginary cookie, silly, not the song). I suppose this is less a round of You Pick the Winner than another of those odd connections my brain makes but do let me know which song you like better.

I’d never really been a fan of Sparks’ This Town Ain’t Big Enough (For the Both of Us) from this mashup but, as an enormous fan of the Peter Gunn theme song, I didn’t care when I saw that it had been included. I had to have it. This mash, as they so often are, is more than the sum of its parts.

In this case that means that it was a great remix of a not-so-hot song (though there are an awful lot of Sparks fans out there who would disagree vehemently) into something I love. You can pick this one up from Mashuptown for free, as the "official" DJ Le Clown site redirects to his MySpace account. While you’re there you can peruse his other selections like Sweet Lobster or Bumble Star Galactica.

Sometimes you need a reminder that all of those bad things that happen to you are fleeting, that if you just pick yourself up and move on they can't keep you down. And who better to remind you of that in his own inimitable way than Danny Elfman with Oingo Boingo? Here's a song about all of the horrible things that happen to a man but still he says, "Darkness can never last too long if you laugh in its face."

It Only Makes Me Laugh is a big sing-along song for me when I having a tough day. Five minutes in the car with the volume cranked up never fails to put things in perspective. (Well, four minutes and few seconds but who's counting?) Have a listen and let me know if you agree with my interpretation.

What a lovely, New Wave sort of techno kind of song for a Saturday: When I Kiss You (I Hear Charlie Parker Playing). For those of you unfamiliar with Sparks, you've got four decades' worth of back catalog to learn. They've been cutting the edge since the very early 70s, often in ways that influence a lot of mainstream acts without drawing a lot of attention to the band. They've evolved not as so many truly-creative musicians have, into the lowest common denominator, but along the pathways they choose.

Just wait until I get their latest EP on Grooveshark and you can hear what they released this year. In fact, if I can get the songs lined up I'll do something from early in their career and something brand new so that you can see how far they've come while staying recognizably their weird and wacky selves. Until then, enjoy When I Kiss You (I Hear Charlie Parker Playing). And follow it up with When Smokey Sings. It seems like such a rational progression.

I don't have a lot to say about Mina do Condominio except that it's lovely and most certainly not pop. But I would love for you to enjoy it, too, and to let me know if you're familiar with Pierre Aderne. This is yet another gift from Putamayo but apparently he played SXSW in 2008 for the lucky folks who get to go to such things.

Here is yet another artist who lets someone write a glowing bio for his official web site that only talks about his most recent project. That's super and sounds like something that's right up my alley but sheesh, give me an actual bio on the about page, people! Apparently Pierre Aderne was born in France but grew up in Brazil and apparently had quite a lot of success with a band called Habeas Corpus before going solo. I guess you know what I'll be hunting down this weekend! In the meantime, let me know what you think. Thanks!

I maintained for a time a monthly recommendation list elsewhere but gave it up when Clearspring bit the dust and I could no longer include playlists there that actually played. It did that at the same time I was starting The Not-Pop Jukebox and I posted so much great stuff but I didn't duplicate most of the earliest recommendations here. Foolish, foolish me.

And so I'm meandering about finding which I did connect and which I skipped. Much to my surprise I completely neglected Pale Young Gentlemen here and never fixed that. I still love these folks from Madison, Wisconsin, hotbed of indie music that that town is. The vocals are just so fraught--without being emo--and the music so interesting that I can't resist them. Fraulein from their self-titled first album really shows both of these things so I thought I'd share that one with you all first. I promise more from Pale Young Gentlemen soon.

UPDATE: I lied. I posted the ever-so-delicious Saturday Night ages ago but without the song because, well, it was ages ago. I'll fix that soon.

It's been a snow day here and I've wounded myself shoveling frozen slush so I'd rather not think about the weather. Thus I've turned to Persephone's Bees and their pop-like Nice Day to help me pretend that it was, indeed, not so bad. This particular version is the "Chris Cox Radio Mix" and was, indeed, the version I heard on the radio.

Persephone's Bees is based out of Oakland, California, but Angelina Moysov grew up in Russia and the accent still clearly shows. They're a pop band, pure and simple, but under the radar enough that they still qualify as something I'd like to share with more people.

I bring you today another earworm, one that’s been plaguing me for a week. It seems any time some asks anything about circles or if something will go Billy Preston leaps into my head asking, “Will it go ‘round in circles?” Repeatedly. With horns.

But I really like the song, so I’m going to inflict it on you all. I had finally gotten it out of my head for a couple of days but we dared to venture out of the house yesterday afternoon and there it was playing on the muzac at the store. Honestly, I think Mr. Preston is haunting me (presuming he is, in fact, deceased). The kids and I got a little quality public dancing done but now it’s been circling my brain for 24 hours and I’m hoping that this will pass it on to you.

But when I went to get the original Will It Go 'Round in Circles I found a whole pile of versions from such sources as Phish, Dave Matthews, Martin Sexton, and The String Cheese Incident. Naturally you get to enjoy the whole bunch. Now you know I love you.

I find music news in the strangest places. Wired Magazine alerted me to the fact that Beck, with members of Os Mutantes and Liars, remade the INXS album "Kick" last year. And you know what that means: I ran straight to Grooveshark and listened to both.

Most of the songs were mutated but recognizable. A few, however, managed to keep the flavor of the INXS original while still doing something interesting with it. And so I present to you all the snarky Guns in the Sky and the slinky Need You Tonight as presented both by INXS and by Beck & Friends. Now I quite liked what they did with the former but, for me, the female vocals on the latter don't work. That may be because of a lingering, heroin-hero crush from the 80s. I just think the song was far sexier in the original. The new version might work pretty well in a slinky club scene for a movie, though. It's definitely more modern that the 1987 version.

So, what say you, darlings? Do you like the new takes on the old greats or do you prefer the original 80s wonders?

Every so often I line up song titles that tell a little story. In this case, I’ve got three songs that sum up the whole of religious sentiment: Too Much Heaven, Heaven Can Wait, and No Heaven. Indeed the three also work together to trace musical development from the 70s to the 2000s: a falsetto-filled symphonic love song from the Bee Gees, a more bass-heavy beauty from Michael Jackson, and a traditional song turned into an electro dance number by Champion.

So my question to you isn’t particularly clear, even in my own mind. Certainly, I’d love to know which song you like the best of the three but do you think they work together as a set? When I listened to them in that order it seemed a heavenly progression but sometimes I fear I get too entertained by my own cleverness to be objective. Do tell, my dears.

A rare night on the town yesterday has combined with an absolute orgy of rich food at work today to leave me feeling bloated and slightly nauseous. I sought, thus, to find a song that embodied my indulgence this week: too much of everything. I considered Jason Mraz's Too Much Food but ultimately Chuck Berry simply offered too much fun to pass up Too Much Monkey Business. And the exercise gave me a great idea for a round of You Pick the winner that I'll share with you tomorrow. Until then, pass the Pepto and don't turn the song up too much. I'll be taking a nap.

The other day I posted I'm Too Fat to Be a Hipster and, ever since, I've been considering "related" songs. Today, I've got the Saffire--The Uppity Blues Women re-make of R. Bruce's Too Much Butt stuck in my head so I decided it was high time I shared it with you. Mr. Bruce himself posted a comment on this video pointing out that he re-wrote the song for the ladies and loved their version. I have to agree with him. The original is a male appreciation for a woman with a big behind. The Saffire version is a woman's celebration of her own body.

As someone who "packs much back" myself, I definitely appreciate the Uppity Blues Women take on the song. Indeed, I have rather a collection of "big booty" songs (and Taj Mahal's Big-Legged Mamas Are Back in Style as bonus material). Someday maybe I'll just post the lot of them. That's my favorite exercise--some serious boogie to someone telling you you don't need it. Now that's a mood-brightener! If you've a favorite "generous behind" song please do share it with me. I'm always looking for new ones.

To get the taste of a truly heinous bluegrass cover of My Girl, complete with nasal wailing and twanging banjos, I turned my ear to some much tastier music. Happily, I settled on Watermelon Slim and the Workers. If you’re unfamiliar with this southern-fried blues group I recommend having a listen.

Drinking & Driving may seem, at first blush, like a song about that good ol’ boy pastime of swilling beer while ripping around gravel roads in your pick-up. But the lyrics tell a very different story. Mr. Slim, if you could call him such, uses drinking and driving as a metaphor for how his woman is ruining their relationship.

Because the song is unexpected, almost entirely unknown, and just a great tune I thought I’d share Drinking & Driving with you all. If you’ve got a favorite metaphor song please do share it with the group.

In case you missed the first two posts in this series, I have been digging through my music collection, starting in the 50s, in an attempt to bolster my theory that fading out tracks gained popularity in the disco era and then artists came to their senses and started actually finishing their songs rather than repeating themselves until the volume knob hit zero. We’ll pick up with the nineties.

I tried the 90s, for which I have mostly lesser-known songs. Frente’s Accidentally Kelly Street includes a little repeat and about a second of fade on the last note but it’s noticeably a last note. The Connells were Slackjawed for just shy of four minutes and the final chord stretches almost ten seconds but again it’s clearly final. Rancid’s Junkie Man ends quite abruptly with no fade whatsoever as does Killing the Fly from The Union Underground, and David Byrne stops dead in the middle of a phrase to terminate UB Jesus.

In the last ten years, we see Maximo Park end Apply Some Pressure quite sharply and The Brighton Port Authority take thirty seconds of repeat before a final screech in Should I Stay or Should I Blow. The Golden Silvers give us fifteen seconds of organ fade, though, for Magic Touch while Vampire Weekend constrain themselves to about four seconds of the same to close Giving Up the Gun. But then The Knux showed up with twelve seconds of fadeout to finish Cappuccino.

So I may not be imagining the change but it does seem to be more varied now and perhaps coming back into favor. I don’t really have the room here to visit every genre from every decade. It does seem like the fadout peaked in the late 70s and early 80s and has become a great deal less popular. But I ask you, my darling readers, to share with me your experiences. Does it seem like the fade has faded from music? Can you think of a recent song that has a thirty-second fadeout at the end and do you think it's more genre-related now?

NOTE: Grooveshark and I had a little argument about Apply Some Pressure so I'm including a video instead of adding it to the play list.

Just when I think I've heard the weirdest song They Might Be Giants ever recorded I find another album. They've been a prolific pair, producing nineteen full albums in their twenty-five years together. That ignores the dozen compilations and a few promo CDs including one on which they shared digital space with Sonic Youth. Record companies are very strange.

At any rate, I saw this one and had to hear it. I certainly wasn't expecting the sound and they lyrics gave me a good chuckle. I hope you like it and, if you're curious, it's from the 2004 album called "The Spine". I've already decided to buy it based on this song and Skullivan. Now if you'll excuse me I have a few more songs to learn.

I was listening today to the Cheap Trick cover of Don't Be Cruel and I wondered how many other versions there were floating around out there. Naturally, there's Elvis Presley but has anyone really unexpected recorded a cover?

You know what that means: I had to find out so that I could tell you all about it. Sure enough, I found covers from Devo, The Smithereens, and Debbie Harry, of all people. That last was for a tribute album for the song's writer, Otis Blackwell. The Smithereens recorded their version with Otis Blackwell, as well. Apparently The Judds, John Lennon, and Jerry Lee Lewis have also covered the song but Grooveshark didn't have the songs.

So for this "lovely", not-quite-spring day let's tell winter, "Don't Be Cruel"...several times. Maybe it will listen better than it did to that silly groundhog. And if you're having beautiful weather that doesn't include sleet and snow please don't tell me about it. It'd be cruel.

What can I say about Harem in Tuscany on this, a PG sort of blog (the occasional F-bomb notwithstanding)? In trying to keep it clean I won't compare portions of it to climactic physical acts. I'll simply point out that this song almost never fails to kick my behind right out its doldrums and get it shakin'. And for a Monday night, what could be more in demand? I'll just get back to dancing wildly about my living room and let you get on with it.

The other day I started a lengthy consideration of the history of the fadeout in commercial music. I started in the fifties because, well, a lot of what I have from the 40s is live big band and swing which generally ends a great deal differently than studio recordings. Let’s turn to the next three decades.

For the sixties I tried Manfred Mann’s Do Wah Diddy Diddy which ends abruptly after about twelve seconds of repeat and The Angels with My Boyfriend’s Back that closes after about seven seconds of fade with a little noodling just before it. The Dixie Cups only sang Iko Iko for 2:03 but the last ten seconds was fadeout. Martha & the Vandellas gave Jimmy Mack about five seconds to fade.

In the 70s I went for Boogie Nights from Heatwave, which fades for a whopping 40 seconds at the end, and The Guess Who’s Clap for the Wolfman, with a shorter fade of about five seconds but about twenty-five seconds of fade-able repeat before that. And Styx stayed true to form with about 25 seconds of fade at the end of Come Sail Away. Even The Clash got in on the act with twenty faded seconds at the end of All the Young Punks.

Then I moved to the 80s. I tried Run DMC and Aerosmith’s Walk This Way, which doesn’t fade but includes about ten seconds of basic sample loop at the end. The Pointer Sisters closed The Neutron Dance with fifteen seconds of fade after about thirty seconds repetition. The Housemartins noodled around for about twenty seconds to finish Freedom but the only actual fade is about two seconds of the last note. U2 took their own 30-second repeat (and a quick, two-second fade) at the end of New Year’s Day but Prince, after a full minute of self-indulgent wailing, ends Let’s Go Crazy with a scream and a downstroke.

And so we see a general expansion of the fadeout in the seventies and a backing off into the 80s, but not without exceptions. I’ve purposely stuck with more mainstream music for these examples. I wonder if the expansion of the fade was a record company push or if the musicians or producers heard and liked it. You can read the end of this series and see if I think this is the end of the fade. Any thoughts?

It always surprises me how little attention jazz master Manu Dibango’s 1994 album “Wakafrika” gets. I adore the thing and listen to it often. For a man credited with inventing makossa his reimagining of his own Soul Makossa seems to have gone under the radar for years. He’s got a beautiful version of Paul Simon’s Homeless on it, too, and Wimoweh with Ladysmith Black Mambazo and Biko with Peter Gabriel.

But you know my weakness for French lyrics even when, as is the case here, the title of the song comprises 80% of the words. And so today I’m sharing with you Ça Va Chouia which means…I have no freaking idea. I know if I say “Comment ça va?” I'm asking, “How are you?” and "Ça va?" is a more casual, "How's it going?" but that's about it. Apparently chouia means "a little bit" so "A little bit of how's it going?" I dunno.

The whole song sounds vaguely Middle Eastern, but you can hear a lot of other influences as well. Dibango himself hails from Cameroon originally. His family moved to France when he was 15 and he’s traveled the world for decades incorporating the sounds he finds into his own music.

To me, this is the most accessible of his albums, the one non-jazz fans and people not wild about “world music” are most likely to enjoy. It’s also filled with great work and Manu Dibango’s deep, buttery voice as well as the work of other great musicians. Plus it’s got a really great album cover. How could it go wrong?

Can I just say that there should be a band named General Sprynczynatyk or at least The Sprynczynatyks? That name just slays me. I’m a sucker for a good band name (witness The Dandy Warhols, Pomplamoose, Suburban Kids with Biblical Names, and Apostle of Hustle). I am often lured by such names and find myself lamenting the waste of a fantastic moniker on mediocre music or worse.

I couldn’t resist the arrogance of Little Caesar & the Empire, for instance, and the song Everybody Dance Now, a little proto-funk that I have heard many times over the years without knowing the performers. So I’m sharing today both the great name and the fun song from the depths of the popularity of soul. The band was obscure enough that they warrant not even a Wikipedia stub or any other song on which I can lay my hands. Do you know if they turned into Little Caesar & the Romans and then The Upfront or were those different folks entirely?

And, with thanks to the comment below, I can send you to listen to the original from The Soul City. Do have a listen and let me know which you prefer!

A fade to silence used to end what seemed like every song. Radio stations would lay the beginning of the next track right over the fade out of the last in a seamless manner that that little space between songs on a record couldn’t quite match. When we started making mix tapes we could either time it or roll back the tape enough to get the same effect. Ah, finally we could all feel like our own DJs, back when, to most of us, that meant someone playing discs on the radio rather than mixing and sampling.

These days, it seems to me like almost all songs end with, well, an ending. That means, of course, that you cannot use the crossfade feature on your mp3 software without cutting off the song. It used to be that the beginning of the repetitive fade signaled the end of the song so you expected a new one. Now songs go until they stop, and you never know if there’ll be something extra at the end (much like movie credits, these days).

But don’t jump to the conclusion that I’m going to rant about the loss of the fadeout. I don’t miss it. It seemed like a lazy way to end a song to me. To check my own perceptions, I went through a few songs from the past six decades. Here are the results of my non-scientific survey. This will actually be a three-part series because it’s so long.

I started in the 50s, with Jimmy Rogers’ Honeycomb. That song doesn’t fade out, though the last note is held for three seconds or so and could be crossfaded, I suppose. Dion and the Belmonts gave us five seconds of fade at the end of The Wanderer. Little Richard had the Heeby-Jeebies for 2:15, however, and stopped dead on a saxophone toot.

In a few days I’ll post a few more decades’ worth of random songs and how they end. Check my finding for fade in the 60s, 70s, and 80s and whether this is the end of the fade. Any one have predictions?