The Not-Pop Jukebox

I was discussing with KonwayEast of WaterCoolerThe the strength of Meatloaf as a stage name the other day, inasmuch as a Twitter exchange can be called a discussion. He opined that it was so obvious as to be ironic that a lumpy white boy would take the name of the ultimate suburban meal stereotype. I made derisive noises and opined that Mr. Loaf was more likely to have been eating dinner when someone asked him under what name he’d like to be billed and he simply chose what first came to mind.

My dismissive attitude toward Meatloaf’s ability to think deeply is rooted, I admit, in a complete disregard for his musical efforts. I find the man’s catalog derivative and predictable in the extreme and his sweaty efforts at being sexy repulse me. I may possibly have referred to him as White Bread more than once. But perhaps that is unfair of me, having formed this opinion at keg parties surrounded by frisky college boys who thought the lyrics somehow seductive. Well, that and his voice makes me cringe.

In the interest of objective reporting, I subjected myself…err, listened to some lesser-known Meatloaf tracks. I’m sorry, my darlings, but I just can’t see the appeal. Meatloaf does nothing that hasn’t been done, better in my opinion, by people with far cooler pseudonyms. His involvement with The Rocky Horror Picture Show does not exonerate him for decades’ worth of “rock” pap filled with cliches. I've thrown in Midnight at the Lost and Found as not-awful and Nocturnal Pleasures as the sort of thing I'd respect him for doing, if he wrote more like it.

It seems to me that everyone knows Minnie the Moocher, whether they know the name or not. Cab Calloway performed what, for me, was the definitive version in the Blues Brothers movie, that film that warped my fragile little mind (an obsessive Carrie Fischer with a rocket launcher at the height of Star Wars mania, anyone?) and turned me on to blues standards.

But that was by far not the only version of Minnie the Moocher recorded, even by Cab Calloway. For this lovely, fall into autumn sort of day, let’s take a listen to some mooching, including some updated versions that are less swing-inspired than one might like and a lovely version that includes Dr. House himself, Hugh Laurie. You'll also find a version from Danny Kaye, whom I adore, that includes some French goofiness and fantastic giggling and yodeling from the master.

I considered making this a gold-digger version of You Pick the Winner but that seemed too easy. Instead, let’s just enjoy the song itself and let the other tunes about ladies (and gents) who pay their rent in various unsavory ways for another day.

Unless, of course, you have a recommendation, in which case I do wish you’d add it to the comments (except for Roxanne. We all know about her little foibles and Sting’s wish to have her for his own. And she’s now stuck in my head, thank you very much.)

I’m not much of a shoe-gazer, when it comes to music. Every once in a while, though, an ethereal construct of musical layers will catch my ear and I’ll find myself staring uselessly at something and just listening to it. As a rule, that doesn’t last an entire seven-minute indulgence of a song because so much “shoe-gaze” is repetitive in the extreme. More exciting or interesting music would distract you from your contemplation, after all.

Naturally, I’m writing this to point out an exception to the rule. Champion’s L6 (The Blooded) meanders around for 6:48 and keeps adding layers, changing patterns, and generally switching it up enough to keep me zoned out the whole time. Songs like Alive Again and So Big make me want to jump around and dance but L6 proves that Champion doesn’t need vocals or five other guitarists to make a great song.

And so I give you what is likely to be the only song I’ll ever post with the label shoe-gaze. I can’t help it; I’m just so surprised that seven minutes of bathing in sound can be so entrancing. I hope you like it at least half as much.

Today we have a double-download, down and dirty, mashup-a-mashup contest built around the Beastie Boys and No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn. First up: DJ Schmolli with Shut Up Brooklyn Sandman, in which the Beastie Boys are joined by The Ting Tings and Metallica. I know, you can't imagine anything better than such a genre-bending combination. But wait! You haven't considered DJ Lobsterdust's Brooklyn Rocks in which he's replaced The Ting Tings with Joan Jett and dropped Metallica altogether.

For me, this one is too close to call. You can download Shutup Brooklyn Sandman and Brooklyn Rocks for yourself, for free, from their respective sites and let me know what you think. That is, after all, what You Pick the Winner is all about.

I was writing the other day about the first five videos shown on MTV. For those of you who don't know, the very first song was Video Killed the Radio Star. And there I was practically the next day listening to The Limousines telling me how Internet Killed the Video Star. Who will end this senseless cycle of violence, I ask you?!

Okay, so maybe the songs don't literally mean "kill". But while The Limousines are a little pop-flavored for my taste overall this particular song was right up my alley with its lyrics. It bemoans the fact that kids today (these kids today, I tell you) think they've seen and heard it all and that their processed Velveeta music makes the most of it. Sure, there's some great stuff coming out of unexpected places in this hyper-connected world. But there's also still the same steaming piles of tripe just cheesy enough to trick youngsters into thinking its fresh and new.

If you're sympathetic to this view, that "that drum machine ain't got no soul", then have a listen to Internet Killed the Video Star. If you're not, you're clearly on the wrong blog. I love it when you visit anyway, though.