The Not-Pop Jukebox

Once upon a time, a guy named Eddie Cantor sang a jazzy, breezy little ditty titled Makin' Whoopee. That swingin' song became a standard and has been recorded by dozens of people, including such notables as Ella Fitzgerald, Ray Charles, Frank Sinatra, and Scatman John.

For your delight this Thursday evening, I offer a full dozen and a half versions of Makin' Whoopee, with all of those and more. I've got Louis Armstrong, Dinah Washington, Cindi Lauper with Tony Bennett, and Rod Stewart with Elton John, of all things.

Most versions of the song stay pretty playful, as the tone intended, despite the rather dire warnings of to what such whoopee can lead. Should you be contemplating some whoop-de-doo of your own, consider the eighteen versions of these warnings before you commit. Sadly, the wonderful version from Willie Nelson, Wynton Marsalis, and Norah Jones was not on Grooveshark so you'll have to either check out "Here We Go Again", their Ray Charles tribute album, for yourself or wait until I find a way to share it here.

In the meantime, enjoy this mess of Makin' Whoopee. Don't miss Shirley Bassey, while you're exploring the list! Let me know which one you like best or if I've missed your favorite completely.

From the first track on their eponymous new album, Man Anthony made me say, "Is this a new, improved Toadies?" As I previously asked you whether Greg Preston & the Great Machine with their Zoot Suit was related to The Toadies' I Come from the Water, I decided to include Oxygen Tank from Mad Anthony as a third facet to the puzzle. This song, too, invokes the imagery of coming up from the water to live on dry land.

That theme, however, is not what made me think of The Toadies when I started listening to Mad Anthony. And Oxygen Tank isn't even the best song on the album. I'll definitely post more of this hard-rocking, bass-guitar-free, post-punk-ish trio when I finally do decide the best song on the album. For now, have a listen and let me know if you think they owe a musical debt to The Toadies.

Many, many moons ago one of my first posts on The NPJ was The Bumblebee Tuna Song as re-imagined by Mephiskapheles. In part, I chose it because my family enjoys the song so much that I wanted to share it with everyone. When I started this blog I finally had a way to do that, in an admittedly limited way.

As the only thing included in that post was a cheesy anime compilation video that didn't even show you the band, I thought I'd give you a nice, clean album version. As I close in on 1,000 posts here I'm looking back to see what I did badly at the beginning and trying to give you nicer things. Take this lovely jingle, piled with horns and goofy guys singing like girls, and enjoy.

The other day I asked you to Pick the Winner between Goyte's and Elliot Smith's versions of Somebody That I Used to Know. Though the songs had the same name, which made titling to post pretty easy, I should have included in that post Bodyjar and Not the Same.

The theme runs in the same vein: "You're not the person that I believed in yesterday." And so please consider this an ancillary third entry in the race. Which do you like best: the big hit, the Elliot Smith version, or Bodyjar's Not the Same?

Let's have some full-on, third-wave ska for this over-the-hump Wednesday. I recently found myself in possession of the latest album from Cincinnati-based The Pinstripes and have been jamming to the horns and the backbeat ever since. Might Be Her Fool is the first track on "I" and well worth the prime spot. You can pick up the whole thing from Bandcamp via the player below (and their EP, as well). If you're still undecided, click over and have a listen to The Wokkabout. That ought to clinch their ska-flavored goodness for you. It certainly did for me.

For no apparent reason, Let's Hang On popped into my head this afternoon and has been chasing me around town for hours. That creepy, Frankie Valli falsetto just pipes right through all my attempts at removing it.

Thus, my darlings, I'm inflicting it on you all. It's a perfectly serviceable pop tune from the mid-60s, a pretty good indication of against what the hippies were rebelling, perhaps. Seriously, what was going on with all those high-voiced guys of the 50s and 60s? How on earth was Wayne Newton ever popular? You cannot see my shudder at that last sentence but trust me, it was there.

None of which should mislead you into believing that I dislike Let's Hang On. And for those of you who missed the long fascination with falsetto that was pop music fifty-odd years ago, this is a pretty good taste of the sock-hop era. Enjoy!

I've been a fan of Robert Randolph and the Family Band for ages but I've left you all sadly bereft of their music. Let's have a high-speed jam for this mellow Sunday, something to get your blood pumping and your feet moving. Run for Your Life fits that bill with a vengeance.

It starts at full throttle, no words to distract you from the driving beat, and Robert Randolph embroiders all around it until about 2:30, when the band lets you take a breather for about thirty seconds before they're right back at it. Run for Your Life brings two things to mind for me: dancing until you drop at an outdoor festival and a getaway scene in a movie in which likable baddies flee the cops in some glorious muscle car that you just know will come to a bad end.

Whatever my mental associations, have a listen to Run for Your Life and tell me what you think. It's an excellent example of just how much awesome people who dismiss these guys because of the lap steel guitar. Holy carp, people, the Family can play!

Do you know what you need? I do. It's a new, improved version of a Black Eyed Peas song, with music much more appropriate to the lyrics. Happily, Fissunix has taken some lovely circus music and fixed My Humps so that it's actually fun to listen to.

I picture the band in little bear suits, balancing on unicycles and dancing even more awkwardly than they normally do. Naturally, you can pick up My Zumps from the Fissunix web site. And if you just can't get enough you can try the DJ Zebra version on his "Fait son Cinema" double album. Both are free as proverbial birds but without the crapping on your windshield. I've also included both versions right here for you to enjoy.

It's a rough week for old-school music lovers! First Chuck Brown passed and now Donna Summer has left us. As a not-so-closeted disco fan, I've dimmed my mirror ball for the night in her honor.

I have also been enjoying a little Donna Summer retrospective and wanted to share with you a hit from yesteryear that you never hear these days. Get your groove on with some Bad Girls, from the heady days of sex, drugs, and no HIV. It's not only appropriately named, it has traffic whistles and has a great, pounding bass line just made for doing the hustle.

Hopefully no musicians will die tomorrow and we can get something a little more recent, though it's been a great week for funk here on The NPJ. RIP, Donna Summer.

It's sad that it took Chuck Brown's death to remind me to post some of the funkiest funk out there. It's also sad that so many awesome people have already died this year. I'm a little scared of the next six months!

As my tribute to the fantastic talent of Chuck Brown, Godfather of Go-Go or no, enjoy Jock It In a song with so much funk I'm a little worried you might not survive. Keep your clickers over the pause button, my darlings, and take a break if you feel your head might explode from the awesome.

If you've never heard of Chuck Brown, think James Brown (no relation) crossed with Tower of Power and Parliament Funkadelic. Yeah, Jock It In is that funky. RIP, Chuck Brown. Thanks for the great music!

As it's Mother's Day in the US, I thought we'd have a great song about listening to what you mother tells you. Of course, the next step is to go ahead and do something anyway, knowing your mom was right but too weak to resist the temptation.

As a wonderful bonus, Mama Told Me gives you Etta James at her very funkiest, filled with attitude and absolutely getting down. For this Mother's Day, admit that your mama knew what she was talking about when you were a kid. And then do something she always told you would result in tears. It's fun while it lasts, anyway. Then you can call your mom and tell her how right she was. Moms love that sort of thing.

Here's a Casio based bit of oddity from Battles to get your Friday night moving. Despite my personal insistence that the proper spelling is "iced cream", Ice Cream is still awesome. It goes in unexpected directions, it forces my toes to tap even when I'm grumpy, and it's generally a fun bit of music. Have a listen and have a happy night!

Six months ago I posted about The Death Set and I suggested you have a listen to Slap Slap Slap Pound Up Down Snap a wacky song with a relatively nonsensical video that involves a lot of screaming and a whole lot of energy. Today, I'm going to share that video with you because it's been stuck in my head.

I can't listen to much of The Death Set in a row but they make a great, high-octane edition to a pump-you-up playlist. The video adds a little bonus song at the end of what's less than two minutes of Slap Slap Slap Pound Up Down Snap on the album. That means it's long enough for a post and gives you bonus material to watch and think, "Hunh?" Because unless you're in on the jokes that's what you'll do.

In honor of President Obama coming out in favor of gay marriage today, I thought we'd have a terribly fun song that really has nothing to do with it. In fact the song celebrates the exact opposite of marriage. Oh, just shut up with your logic and enjoy It's Raining Men. If you're nice I'll bring you something a little more substantial tomorrow.

It's time for the ultimate elevator music, the all-pervasive Bossa Nova standard, The Girl from Ipanema. I've been holding it back, trying to resist forcing you to listen to sixteen versions of the song, but the dam had to break sometime. It just did.

And so I present to you everything from a very lobotomized Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass version to Fatboy Slim's remix of The Girl from Ipanema. (Note: I believe this last to be the future of elevator music. All sci-fi filmmakers take note!) I've got not one but two different Gilbertos, naturally with the original Portuguese lyrics as well as the English. And then there's the Antonio Carlos Jobim version with just the music he wrote and no lyrics at all.

You'll also find Stan Getz, Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, and Louis Armstrong. You'd expect each of those, so I tossed in The Peeping Toms (unexpectedly mellow), Sammy Davis Jr., and something called The Liberation Jumpsuit. Don't miss Lou Rawls while you're at it, and Amy Winehouse, as well. Stick that in your elevator and listen to it!

I'm sad to say that my recent optimism over the release of the Beastie Boys' album last year was misplaced. In case you hadn't heard, Adam Youch died today and the Hot Sauce Committee won't be releasing a Volume 3.

As a tribute, have another fantastic cut from the 2011 album they made while Mr. Youch was in remission. This time enjoy Don't Play No Game that I Can't Win, a sadly ironic title today.

For those of you needing an angry and resentful break-up song, I've got just the thing for you: Stroke 9's Little Black Backpack. Don't say I never gave you anything. Okay, you can still say it. And, I'll admit, you may remember the song from 'way back in 1999 when it was a modest hit.

Stroke 9 is a pretty solid rock band, with some good licks and enjoyable songs. But for some reason Little Black Backpack became an earworm for me. You know I love to share so here's hoping it hooks you, too. If you do, try Tap Tap Domination, a gamer anthem about yesteryear.

Here's some electronic blooping, bleeping, squidging, and other looped nonsense to make you groove in your seat this lovely mid-week day. Mexican Institute of Sound does some great things (and some less-successful ones, as well) and I still can't find Carnaval anywhere on-line that I can share with you so I thought I'd give you something a little wacky and a lot fun instead. Behold: Ok! If you like this one, give Cha Cha Cha a try.