Songs of the week 03/01/2024
Feeling extra experimental this week. Might try acupuncture or mayhaps jazzetry.
THE BOTTOM 2 | Glorb A little over a year ago, I made a statement declaring myself staunchly against AI art—one I’d like to formally retract after finding myself on the wrong side of history. I’m too young to be complaining about lumbar support, pronouns, and no-good punks—I want to be on the front lines of the revolution, and I won’t be left in the dust with the rest of those recalcitrant organic artists. I’ve seen the wonders AI has provided, and seen what more is to come—at least, if Glorb is at the wheel.
By some lost misunderstanding, I spent years of my childhood thinking I wasn’t allowed to watch Spongebob, so I think this is what I just assumed the show was like—why else would it be banned? Clearly, none of the rest of you snowflakes have mentally prepared for this the way I did—relax, liberals, it’s called dark humor. If hearing Spongebob say “sippin’ hella lean, smokin’ hydro” doesn’t immediately send you into cardiac arrest, you’ve still got a long road ahead of you. The hits just keep on coming—rhyming “glock emoji” with “guacamole?” Autotune Squidward rapping “I’m a stone-faced killer like my house is?” And then the Bikini Bottom crew brings it home with this touching number:
[Mr. Swags] You know the crab like money
[SpongeOpp] Know the sponge like fun
[The Notorious P.A.T.] Know the star keeps shining
[Squidwock] Know the squid likes guns[Sandy Thee Squirrel]
What we all got in common
When the shit's said and done
Is a dead fuckin' roach
And a city that we run
…at which point my brain insists that Metro Boomin’s “Annihilate” segues in, which just means Glorb belongs amongst the rap pantheon. Insane, dawg.
Pairs Well With: “Annihilate” (Metro Boomin & Swae Lee, Lil Wayne, Offset), “Gout” (Joeyy), “KICKED IN THE CAJONES” (Yankee Escape System)
BIKE RIDE TO THE MOON | The Dukes of the Stratosphear I’m still working through that XTC jag from November, so forgive me for talking about them so frequently—this bike ride hasn’t stopped just yet.
If XTC was Andy Partridge’s Beatles, than Dukes of the Stratosphear was his Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band—mismatched marching regalia and all. From his sound to his stylings, it’s no secret that Partridge strove for the bowl-cut superstardom of Ray Davies or Brian Wilson—a tragic aspiration that, despite his pioneering and pervasive influence in indie music and britpop, was never met with deserved commercial success. If XTC still isn’t 60s enough for you, though, Partridge and fellow bandmates Colin Moulding, Dave Gregory, and Ian Gregory have just the side project for your bizarre and frankly snobbish taste—presenting: The Dukes of the Stratosphear. Without first seeing their immaculate outfits, I don’t think there’s a better introduction to this group than “Bike Ride to the Moon,” a parody of psychedelia so heartfelt that it became some of the genre’s best. Specifically, this song is a pastiche of Barrett-era Pink Floyd, straight from the Partridge’s mouth:
“If you look from the left hand side of our hand-painted VW Camper you'll notice we've entered the garish ghetto of Dukes demos. Kicking off with that Barrettesque pantomime of punctured pan-galactic pedal pushing ‘Bike Ride To The Moon’. Recorded in the tiny front box room that a now lanky teenage Harry barely fits into. Of course then he was just a twinkle in his dad's Balzac.”
After that, I’m feeling a little better about my conciseness and a little worse about my vocabulary, but it’s far and away a net positive in favor of “Bike Ride”—a song I find impossible to dislike, even if I’m not sure I’d call it Barrettesque. Though it doesn’t have the unscrewed, askew ickness Barrett brought alongside his brilliance, this song is about as psychedelic British as it gets, with retro instrumentation, thick accents, and wacky harmonies. Of course, that’s not to say it’s on-kilter—though it’s kinetic and kaleidoscopic to a bubblegum degree, I just love that “on a bike ride to the moon” ends on what sounds to my untrained ears to be a minor chord (or at least a diminished one), closing the climbing vocals with a satisfyingly unsatisfying sound—a sonic question mark on “moon.” Similarly misaligned are the strange, impish asides after most stanzas, like “(silly Alfred)” or my favorite: “And might be a positive boon / To protect you from the man in the moon (Who happens to be me, look out!)”
As is plain to see, the lyrics are almost wackier than the composition. “Bike Ride to the Moon” is about exactly what you’d think it’s about, with no “Lucy in the Sky” coyness to speak of. Given XTC’s literary wit (and their proclivity for portmanteaus—that’s Stratosphear, by the way, not Stratosphere), it’s hard to tell what’s free-associative and what’s a deep-cut reference. While their Wallace-and-Gromitesque errand to bring cheese home for Auntie Jane or their warnings of the man in the moon are both well-known lunar myths, I couldn’t for the life of me find what “magic moon dust that’ll stop the rain” might have been referring to. Of course, it’s not unprecedented for cerebral bands to purposefully unshackle themselves from meaning—it’s a pretty pretentious example, but after their incisive, conceptual lyricism on the landmark OK Computer, Radiohead decided their brains were too big and randomized the lyrics of their next album, Kid A, pulling amputated stanzas out of a hat to construct free-form songs. As a side project, The Dukes of the Stratosphear placed themselves under similar restrictions , but most of them appear to have been musical, not lyrical. Whatever the case, they’ve perfectly replicated the wackier side of Syd Barrett’s writing—I’m sure the similarities to “Bike” aren’t a coincidence (though I’d say that one’s not nearly as… accessible…). Both are essential additions to any Bicycle Day playlists—gotta start preparing soon.
“Bike Ride to the Moon” was originally released on The Dukes’ first outing, 25 O’Clock, but I included the cover of Psurroundabout Ride because of the color scheme (and also because I did not do my research until after I’d made this graphic). Aside from this compilation album, 25 O’Clock was one of only two albums from the Dukes—according to Partridge, they died in a “horrible sherbet accident” shortly after recording. Behind the scenes, several concepts for Dukes reunions were all shot down by record labels, despite 25 O’Clock outselling both contemporary XTC albums, The Big Express and Skylarking. All this to say, I’m certain there’s more Dukes out there in the Stratosphear—we could hear from them again any day now once they get that flat fixed. Any day.
Pairs Well With: “Someone Like Me” (Julian Cope) [Reviewed o3/01/2023], “My White Bicycle” (Tomorrow), “Bike” (Pink Floyd)
BRUSH BRUSH BRUSH | Of Montreal If we’re talking shows I was allowed to watch as a kid, but didn’t appreciate… look, Yo Gabba Gabba!, I’m sorry, I didn’t know what we had until it was too late. I was seven years old when Yo Gabba Gabba! first aired—way too old for baby shows. Would I linger in the room if my sister was watching it? Of course—to fuel my seething hatred, why else? Cute, silly critters doing adorable sing-alongs? Don’t make me puke. In this formative time, I was just feeling out the pulse of coolness, so of course I dismissed this show extra hard until I saw my parents showing clips to their friends—who were cool people. Clips of cute, silly critters doing adorable sing-alongs… with Biz Markie, Jack Black, Patton Oswalt, Elijah Wood, Jason Bateman, Questlove, Mark Mothersbaugh, Cornelius, Mos Def, My Chemical Romance, The Shins, Band of Horses, Devo, Dr. Dog, The Flaming Lips, and oh my god, the list goes on? I know the relative calmness of Jack’s Big Music Show probably puts it slightly higher to my refined, toddler taste, but seriously, I’m not sure why that show landed and Yo Gabba Gabba! didn’t, even if I was a little outside that demographic range.
Being no stranger to solid kids’ music (though it’s obscure enough that I have to choose between linking an anime girl and some stranger’s birthday footage, sorry), it’s no wonder that Of Montreal rocked on this show. Of Montreal is one of those many, many bands I’m shocked we haven’t covered in the past two years, although they were technically the springboard for Max Todd Dot Com regular (Max! Todd! Dot! Com! Re! Gu! Lar!) Kishi Bashi, which really shows in their sound. Compared to Of Montreal’s weirder fare, the title “Brush Brush Brush” doesn’t suggest much, but I can assure you it hasn’t lost so much as a drop of their usual whimsy. Much like Blitzen Trapper’s fantastic “New Shoes,” “Brush Brush Brush” is a kids song that doesn’t condescend—it’s performed with the same off-kilter vocals and indie-pop synth as any of their adult songs. Maybe it’s just the lack of squeaky, preschool-teacher delivery, but Kevin Barnes’s soft-sung advice to brush twice a day comes off like a trusting reminder some adults could bear to hear. Also like “New Shoes,” unfortunately, this song is criminally short, at just barely longer than a minute and a half—a replay or two is necessary for adult consumption. In principle, I agree that respectfully talking to kids means shortening, not dumbing down, but I don’t think anyone would complain about an extra thirty seconds of this delightful, musical rainbow. I’d even say it’s neglectful to not include a verse about flossing, or dental insurance. It’s good to start ‘em early.
Pairs Well With: “Wraith Pinned to the Mist and Other Games” (Of Montreal) “The Ghost Inside” (Broken Bells), “Bright Whites” (Kishi Bashi)
I QUIT | The Smile It’s been a good month since Radiohead spinoff The Smile released their sophomore album, Wall of Eyes, and I’m trying so hard to like it as much as everyone else does. That sounds harsh, but I earnestly mean it. There’s nothing going against Wall of Eyes: prior album A Light For Attracting Attention was a hit with Radiohead fans everywhere, the title harkens back to the “wall of ice” phrase teased by Radiohead since 2009’s “These Are My Twisted Words,” the album art is almost as awesome as Kid A’s iconic cover, and the live performance of “Read the Room” they teased when I saw them in 2022 was probably the highlight of an already insane show. Back in June, I reviewed the first single, “Bending Hectic,” and I felt pretty middling about it, but my hopes were still high—just because I didn’t yet connect with the emotions at play didn’t mean they wouldn’t unlock with patience. I’ve now come away with four full listens to Wall of Eyes, and “Bending Hectic” is my favorite song of the bunch—you can read into that how you will. While I’m still warming up to Wall of Eyes, here’s what I can say for it: for all of the incredible experimentation happening here, it’s an album that I still find emotionally inscrutable—if you’re going to get weird with it, at least give me somewhere to grasp. While A Light For Attracting Attention wasn’t always easy listening, it had a number of memorable anchors—sticky hooks that I can still hum along to, strange as they may be—which gave the album a sense of punctuation. Rather than refining that punctuation, Wall of Eyes seems to have dispersed in the opposite direction—or, maybe, every direction—as the whole thing sounds atmospheric and gaseous to me, with even heavy hitters like “Read the Room” still sounding a bit weightless. Ironically, “Bending Hectic,” to me, heaves the clearest anchor in its awe-striking, explosive orchestration… eight minutes into the album’s penultimate song. Say what you want, but you have to really trust your audience to follow so far through (thick) air, and without a hint of unearned condescension, I really admire that. Still, you can see why I’ve come away feeling like a fake fan. This sort of weirdness is normally right up my alley, and while I do like Wall of Eyes (some songs I even really like), it just hasn’t resonated with me the way Thom & co. usually do. He also hasn’t called me back in a while… feeling bitter.
It’s almost fitting, then, that my second-favorite song of the bunch (though “Teleharmonic” and “Wall of Eyes” are rapidly gaining) was “I Quit,” the one song critics seem to feel is a low point. Lyrically, it’s nowhere near some of the scathing political commentary on prior songs, but the second I heard this song’s string-scratching pulse, I was hooked. I really do mean string-scratching, to me—I’m no guitarist, but as someone who learned violin during the peak of my childhood fidgeting years, I’m almost certain that tap-tap / scritch-scritch sound is from a pick scratched back and forth along a small section of a string’s ridges. What could come too close to nails-on-a-chalkboard actually sounds ethereal here; I often imagine an insignificant satellite pulsing ripples of data through space. It’s a fantastic sound, but one I’ll admit couldn’t sustain a whole song—luckily, that’s when Wall of Eyes returns to its motif of quivering, high strings, which for once blossom into a major key halfway through this song. It’s not a saccharine sound—counterintuitively, that would be oxymoronic with The Smile—but rather a rolling, serene wave.
Like I said, I do like Wall of Eyes, so don’t let this discourage you from listening if you haven’t already checked it out—just don’t expect the punchiness of “You Will Never Work in Television Again” or even the crisp ominousness that makes “The Same” [Reviewed 01/04/2023] a spooky masterpiece. As for me, I’m sure I’ll find some emotion to cling to here, especially if The Smile returns to the states (I hope I didn’t scare them off).
Pairs Well With: “15 Step” (Radiohead), “Special Cases” (Massive Attack), “Nature Boy” (David Bowie & Massive Attack covering Nat King Cole) [Reviewed 09/01/2023]
A DAY IN THE LIFE | The Beatles All that Sgt. Pepper foreshadowing paid off, right? It shouldn’t be a surprise that I’m a big, basic Beatles fan, but I’d forgive most people for not knowing because the Beatles have never appeared on this blog in the first place. In my defense… who hasn’t already talked about the Beatles? I know I haven’t shied away from covering household classics in the past, but there’s household classics, and then there’s the Beatles—totally different class. Even with a less radio-friendly piece like “A Day in the Life,” which is just as revolutionary as the rest of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (the album that arguably invented what we think of as an album today), it’s like… what can I add to the discussion? I mean… we can for sure review some cool facts… why don’t we do something like that?
“I heard the news today / oh, boy” is still beautifully tragic and humorously relevant, and I love how it changes tone with McCartney’s more upbeat verse.
Every story in said news is based on a contemporaneous Daily Mail article, although the details were fictionalized as part of a focus on free-form writing. Sidebar, but isn’t that just… what creative nonfiction is? These guys really do know how to walk the line between being mystics and being up their own ass.
Everyone loves to dunk on Ringo, but goddamnit, he actually nails it on this one. Much as I’d like to learn drums, there’s no timeline where I’m a good percussionist—I can’t even rub my belly and pat my head at the same time, let alone even notice when drums are good. Naturally, it took me a while to even pick up on what was going on to scaffold “A Day in the Life” with a tempo, but needless to say, Mr. Starr is holding the hold band together here.
The last ten seconds or so of this piece are so out-of-pocket that they feel anachronistic—a fifteen kilohertz whistle meant to be heard only by dogs (and you could say I’ve got that dawg in me because ouch) followed by this “Brutus”-esque babbling from Lennon saying “been so high” and McCartney responding “never could be any other way.” It’s the bread and butter of silly, sloppy indie bands today and the Beastie Boys before them, but for four guys who wore two-piece suits and matching mop haircuts at the beginning of the decade, this irreverence or vulnerability is, to me, quietly revolutionary. Well, hard to call that fifteen kilohertz “quiet.” I’m not sure how many lory accidents The Beatles are responsible for by putting “A Day in the Life” on the radio, but I’m certain it’s not zero.
Apparently, it must not have been obvious how many drugs the fab four were on at this point, because despite the overt, repeated proclamation of “I’d love to turn you on”—a direct Timothy Leary reference—producer George Martin only claims to have “suspected” that the lyric “found my way upstairs and had a smoke” implied that Lennon and McCartney were smoking weed.
I love to dunk on George Martin, but goddamnit, he actually really nailed it with the orchestral glissando that tears through this piece in two separate places. As abrasive as it is even with today’s ears, nothing so avant-garde had ever interrupted a pop vinyl, and when the might of a forty-piece orchestra comes crashing in with an atonal, improvisational crescendo that Lennon described as “a tremendous build-up, from nothing up to something absolutely like the end of the world,” you really feel it.
I suppose that’s where my meager contribution comes to light—though all of this trivia is readily available across the internet, what no easter eggs could have prepared me for was the monstrous emotion of this song. Between this and “Bending Hectic,” it’s pretty clear that something in me resonates with cacophony, though it’s bound not to land with most. That’s a perfectly acceptable evolutionary response to this particular roar like a tornado tearing the Sydney Opera House to pieces, but I suppose that’s why it hits me so hard. I’m not sure any of the Beatles could have predicted just how bad The Daily Mail and its colleagues could be corrupted by the 24-hour news cycle, a self-sustaining ouroboros of accelerating panic, but the sound they’ve created perfectly encapsulates the global awareness of our generation: incessant, sourceless fight-or-flight. It’s why I find most covers of this song fundamentally fail to elicit the same, raw emotion from me—while Lennon and McCartney’s words are certainly powerful, I’m not sure any rendition without the stampeding hooves of armageddon at its heels just doesn’t do “A Day in the Life” justice.
(No offense, though, Robyn Hitchcock. This has been on the queue since October, since before I saw your cover, which was great, I promise, I’m sorry!! Love you, man. Please come back to Denver. Your cover was great. Please Robyn.)
Pairs Well With: “What Are We Gonna Do Now?” (Indigo De Souza) [Reviewed 02/23/2024] “Bending Hectic” (The Smile) [Reviewed 07/24/2023], “Fire Temple” (Bobby Krlic)
SWAMP THING #60 (COVER) | John Totleben I have yet to find a place fit for the backbreaking tome of ramblings I could vomit on a whim about Alan Moore’s Swamp Thing, so I’m letting off a little steam here in the interim. Without getting into spoilers for perhaps my favorite comic book of all time, this cover, from an issue entitled “Loving the Alien,” is perhaps one of my favorite single stories in a tour-de-force comprised of mostly single stories, and that’s in no small part thanks to the nuts guest artist, John Totleben. Totleben’s landscapes in this issue—primarily depicting the organs of a vast, biomechanical plant-vessel floating through dead space—are tasked with evoking something truly alien, and like Wayne Barlowe last week, they get the job done with flying colors. Even when coalescing with the consciousness of Swamp Thing—a monster, perhaps, but a familiar one—the greebled guts of this planet-ammonite-hybrid-thing resist holding his form, resulting in this prickly, Giegeresque abstraction warped just past recognition. Though this scabby color scheme and twisted anatomy might suggest a horror story, certified anarchist wizard Alan Moore instead writes a fascinating story about intercultural exchange—not just contact with a foreign intelligence, but about the intimacy and confusion of sex and death. Another Tuesday for him, really.