After 40+ years, this still might be the strangest cover version I’ve ever heard of anything. The re-worked lyrics, where I can understand them, are hilarious. I know only two things about the Residents: they were from San Francisco, and they had a guitarist called Snakefinger. Perhaps former Bay area Bastards can add something. According to the comments, the animation is by Ivan Maximov, a Russian. I don’t know anything about him either. As far as I know, the song and animation are unrelated, but they make a perfect match. Beyond that, words fail me on this one.
Maria Alyokhina (above left), a member of Pussy Riot, has managed to escape Russia. She posed as a food carrier to get into Belarus, and then an Icelandic performance artist convinced a European country to issue her a travel document, which got her safely into Lithuania.
Great recap of the entire cloak-and-dagger operation here. After multiple instances of being jailed for proclaiming Russia’s suckitude over the past decade, she got out. The picture of relative incompetence of the authorities that she paints matches the extensive coverage on Renfield’s website.
“I don’t think Russia has a right to exist anymore,” she said. “Even before, there were questions about how it is united, by what values it is united, and where it is going. But now I don’t think that is a question anymore.”
The Icelandic performance artist was not Bjork, but being Icelandic, he is of course related to Bjork.
I found a first pressing at Shangri-La and forgot how great this album is! The lineup for this release is Jack (Oblivian) Yarber, Scott Bomar, Subteen John Bonds, and John Whittemore. Released on Sympathy for the Record Industry in the year of our Lord 2000.
This is a playlist. CRANK IT UP!
An uplifting tune to get you over the midweek hump.
This stupid, irresistibly catchy song by a band with a very uncatchy name is a perfect example of the kind of vacuous, boneheaded bubblegum pop that dominated AM radio in the late 60’s/early 70’s. It’s a song I never would have admitted liking back then. The band looks about as interesting as their name, so the video required plenty of gyrating dancing girls to maintain any visual interest. At first I thought that explained the singer’s goofy grin. Clearly he was expecting a cut from casting couch proceeds. But closer inspection reveals that the dancing girls were spliced in from elsewhere. Oh well, I guess one-hit wonders only cash in so far.
Here are the Replacements assassinating it:
Miley Cyrus & The Social Distancers perform “Sweet Jane” unplugged on Miley Cyrus Backyard Sessions.
Holy sheep shit, she’s got some pipes.
So I was listening to the latest episode of the My Favorite Album podcast yesterday. David Cross was the guest, and instead of choosing his actual favorite album (Quadrophenia), he chose something obscure that he listened to a lot, lamenting that it had been out of print for years and wasn’t even available to stream.
Nothing piques my lizard brain’s interest like scarcity, so when podcast host Jeremy Dylan mentioned that someone had been nice enough to upload it to YouTube, I dove into that dumpster with glee. And found it.
Live Totem Pole is an odd EP. It’s live, for one thing. But the really odd part is that five of the seven songs are covers, including those by Blue Öyster Cult, Public Enemy, Butthole Surfers, Superchunk, and Wire. BUT HOLY SHIT, IT WORKS. And the way it was recorded makes you feel like you’re in the room.
I downloaded the audio from the YouTube videos and packed it up like an album. Right click the cover up top if you’re so inclined …
I listened to fIREHOSE in college, especially fROMOHIO and Flyin’ the Flannel. Anybody unfamiliar with these guys should check out their fascinating origin story on Wiki-wiki-wikipedia.
Check out my friend and fellow Memphibian Robby Grant (second from right) rocking out on NPR’s Tiny Desk Concerts with motherfucking Pat Sansone.
Feast your ears, bastards! Rachael Price from Lake Street Dive and songwriter Vilray V. Vilray (no surname) perform new tunes written to sound like those from the 30s and 40s. I’m reminded of a line from A Clockwork Orange, which I am currently re-reading for the first time since college …
Oh bliss! Bliss and heaven! Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh. It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now. As I slooshied, I knew such lovely pictures!
And here’s the NPR podcast from whence I discovered them …
But hardly anybody cops to it.