We've Solved the Mystery

De De Troit in full Cleopatra Goth Spider Queen regalia. Scan pinched from here

So, hooray for the internet! For years a fragment from a distant song had lodged annoyingly in my brain. All I could remember was the fantastic opening line of "My mommy died a social drinker and my daddy still collects guns," and that it was a killer track. Nothing else. I periodically Googled the intro to see if someone, anyone in the noosphere could help scratch my itch. No luck.

That is, none until the other day, when I chanced on a post at Good Bad Music For Bad, Bad Times, curated by the mysterious Erich. Oh, frabjous day!

Turns out the track is "Immunity" by the mighty UXA. United eXperiments of America, to give the band its full name, hailed from San Francisco in the late 1970s and put out some righteous old-skool punk. It was fronted by the formidable De De Troit, one of the original (and seemingly largely unsung) riot grrrls. UXA split up in the early 1980s as the burgeoning hardcore scene (Black Flag, Circle Jerks et al) eclipsed the "Class of 1977." But afore they went, they released one LP, Illusions of Grandeur, most of which you can find ripped from the original vinyl and posted by Erich right here.

I'm mortified that such a fabulous song had slipped my feeble mind! Methinks it's an absolute gem. From the aforementioned opening lyrics to the buzzing guitar that starts in the left speaker then migrates to the right to De De's howling to the song's sheer defiance. Almost perfect.

Right, here you go then:

UXA - Immunity (buy here, but only on vinyl. An Italian label released a CD version in 2004, but buggered if I know where to find it)

Crystals, Droids, and Noize

Japandroid photo nicked from here

Dearest Friends, by now you've probably figured out that what you get here at Pogo a Go-Go is a mix of old music, new tunes, and some sort of a wonky diary of FiL's comings & goings. While there's been plenty of old and wonky, lately I've been extremely remiss in posting new music. Bad FiL, dirty FiL, no dog treats for you today.

Anyway, now that I've duly chastized myself, let me try to redress that shortcoming somewhat. A week or so back I was noodling around the amazing Zulu Records on my lunch hour and picked up two towering slabs of Vancouver noize that I really must share with you.

First up are the deceptive Japandroids, who sometimes carelessly lose their vowels and go by the moniker JPNDRDS. I say deceptive, because upon slapping on their latest EP, Lullaby Death Jams, one gets the impression that there's an army of axe-wielders, percussionists, and shouty blokes generating this wonderful racket. But in fact it's all issuing forth from Brian King and David Prowse. They had considered getting a vocalist at one point, but couldn't face the hassle. And we're all the richer because of it.

Heavy guitar, at times almost crushing (I'm thinking early Helmet). A distillation of the finest classic rock sensibilities (yes, there are some). Strident vocals sung in screamy harmony. Stop-start shambolic arrangements that mask (HAH! more deception!!) an impressive tightness. Urgent, anthemic transcendence that makes you want to sing along at top volume while going fast ten thousand miles an hour. It's all here, and you should seize it with both fists and both ears. Two blokes, and all that sound.

Japandroids - No Allegiance To The Queen (buy here, but watch for their debut full-length album later this year)

Next we have Twin Crystals, who bored a hole through my skull when we met at the Zulu listening post. Shards of Sonic-Youthesque guitar embedded in thick, synthetic electronica and vocals that veer from shouted polemic to muffled desparation. Oh yes. I left with a disc of theirs that turned out to be a ten-track CDR packaged in a photocopied replica of their 4-track disappear/forever EP. Unable to determine the titles of the wonderful songs I was listening to, I dropped the band a query via Myspace and got a very pleasant reply along with a songlisting. Seems what I'd ended up with was a demo disc from their summer tour. They said that they have a new release out with "wayyy better" recordings, which I think is separate/birth. Hurry and get yours now - there's only 500 been pressed.

Twin Crystals - Trinity (buy separate/birth via their Myspace page, where you can also hear more of their lovely, lovely stuff)

P.S. You lucky dogs! Both bands have live dates coming up! Japandroids play Calgary on May 2 (@ Broken City), Edmonton on 3 May (@Pawn Shop), Seattle on 17 May (venue TBA), and on 25 June they're back in Calgary at the Sled Island Festival. Twin Crystals wreak aural havoc in Seattle on 27 June (@ the Ark) and back in Vancouver on 28 June (@ Pub 340).

It Always Comes Back

It was something that I hadn't done. But it just as well could have been something that I had done. Something small, but dense and caustic, lodged in my conscience for years. A chance remark had jabbed it, sparking off a fierce growth into a cancer that eclipsed the sun-filled day and absorbed levity like a black sponge.

I dosed myself with a chemotherapeutic cocktail of impeccable reason, human interaction, and gluttonous indulgence. Look, it's not really that bad, you're blowing it completely out of proportion. So, how was your holiday? Mmm, I'll have another of those lovely biscuits. All to no avail. It flowed heavily, like a stream of molten dread, through my chest and into my gut, where it coagulated, oozing malevolence and taunts. Calling me names, pointing out my shortcomings with caustic sting. I left work promptly.

At home I still could not shake it, and I was ill-tempered, snappy, and short as a result. I tried to purge it, hoping it would wither in the light of discussion, but my efforts were inarticulate, oblique, and ill-timed.

Sleep finally sent the bastard thing into remission.

Big Black - Bad Penny (buy here)
Joy Division - She's Lost Control Again (buy here)

Snap Dragon Style

Ha! You think you know DJ stylee?? See here!!

What day is it? Sunday?? Then I must be home. Hang on a sec, let me check... Yep, this seems to be my house, and those seem to be my kids. And the lovely lady pottering about the garden bears a resemblance to my Dearest Wife. But I'll examine her more closely later, just to be sure...

Dearest Readers, I've been on the road (or more accurately in the air) a fair bit last week, which means that I've not had the chance to tell you about last week's Contrast Podcast episode, which saw the contributors playing a nifty game of snap! Whotsitallabout, you ask? Well, the idea was to come up with two totally different songs with the same title. Pop along over here to download the episode directly, and over here to leave comments.

Truth be told, I've yet to listen to this installation (gasp!) owing to my peregrinations. But I'm off tomorrow on yet another work jaunt, one that includes a four-hour drive from here to here along a twisty mountain highway bereft (in spots) off cellphone coverage but full of moose, deer, bears, and falling rocks. And what better soundtrack to dodge ungulates and landslides to than the dulcet tones of the CP Nation?? Especially when this is what's on offer:

(00:00) The Roots - Sacrifice
(05:49) Anouk - Sacrifice
Eiron from A Blog of No Importance

(09:40) Snow Patrol - Velocity girl
(15:40) Primal Scream - Velocity girl
Matthew from Song by Toad

(16:57) The Smashing Pumpkins - Tonight tonight
(21:42) The Mello-Kings - Tonite tonite
James from Appetite For Distraction

(24:12) Ash - Kung fu
(27:04) The Dirtbombs - Kung fu
FiL from Pogoagogo

(32:42) The Four Tops - I can’t help myself
(35:50) Moloko - I can’t help myself
Chris from Phosphorous.net

(41:33) Bourgie Bourgie - Careless
(45:48) Cinerama - Careless
JC from The Vinyl Villain

(49:00) Edison Woods - Baby doll
(52:57) Lydia Lunch - Baby doll
ZB from So the wind won’t blow it all away

(54:28) Matthew Sweet - Evangeline
(59:26) Los Lobos - Evangeline
Brad from Brad’s Blog

(01:02:01) The Heartbreakers - Born to lose
(01:05:19) Social Distortion - Born to lose
SiD from Too Much Rock

(01:09:25) Dub Sex - Push
(01:14:05) The Cure - Push
Dirk from Sexy Loser

(01:18:27) UnAmerican - Sometimes
(01:23:04) Michael Franti and Spearhead - Sometimes
Andy from Circles of Concrete

(01:26:45) Massive Attack - Better things
(01:32:56) The Kinks - Better things
Crash from Pretending life is like a song

As this episode was prepared weeks ago, I can't for the life of me remember what other songs I considered for my submission. But I thought I'd fling you a couple more kung fu ditties, given that I spent many weekend afternoons of my New-York youth watching 70s kung fu flicks on WPIX's Fists of Fury.

Carl Douglas - Kung Fu Fighting (buy here)
Whether you practice"Classic Soul Style" or "Cheesy Ironic Hipster Style," this'll have you throwing the Shaolin moves, guaranteed. I'm more than a little bit frightening when this comes on.

Cornershop - Hong Kong Book of Kung Fu (buy here)
Ha! You guys! You're no match. For the mighty. Awesome Cornershop. New album, is expected. Sooooon. Heh!

Last week my travels took me clear across Canada to Halifax, Nova Scotia, where Old Man Luedecke cut his teeth on the banjo strings. You may recall from this post here that I became a convert to Chris and his magisterial pickin' at the 2007 Vancouver Folk Music Festival. Well, he's got a new album out and judging by the title track, Proof of Love, it's as lovely and heartfelt as the rest of his work. And he's got a band now to back him up! Joy!!

Old Man Luedecke - Proof of Love (buy here)

Next week, my aforementioned four-hour drive will take me over the curiously named Anarchist Summit. Dearest Friends, I'm not quite sure what to expect there. Bakunin, Goldman, and Chumbawamba having a chinwag on a mountain peak? If so, maybe we'll all have a boogie to this:

Discharge - State Violence, State Control (buy here)

But then again, they may pelt me with rocks and moose. Sigh.

Tales From The Double Down, Part 3 (or Adventures in the Silver State)

It's true, you know. Just ask Meeshatron!

You know how it is. You live mere blocks away from this really good friend of yours, but you never seem to find the time to hang out. Things get in the way, like work, family, holidays, or (for those that are so inclined) kids. So you bump into them at the local grocery, exchange speedy updates, enthusiastically agree to meet up "sometime," then never do.

Sigh. Ain't modern life grand?

Such was the case with our Dearest L. It had been months, possibly a geological age, since we had had a proper chinwag with her & hers. But thanks to the entwining of local gossipy grapevines, we realized that we would be overlapping in Vega$ for a day or so. Though we still had professional obligations (mine: that bankery conference; hers: learning how to bring the white light / white heat of process engineering to the world of film), we were both free of children and therefore vowed to meet up.

And where did we hang? Why, at The Double Down, of course. Going there once and twice had convinced me it was just the place to leave the madness of Vega$ behind and have a good natter. So we chilled on the ratty sofa by the stage, chatted about this 'n' that, prodded the jukebox to spit out some bitchin' fast tunes, and got all caught up.

Halfway through our soiree, I went up to the bar to get a refill. As I waited for service, a cackly, gruff voice off to my left loudly asked "Hey, who's the square??" I realized that it was addressing me. I turned to look, and saw, a few seats over, a rather squat, cubic, muscle of a man who bore a passing resemblance to Goldie. "Unbutton your top button!" he demanded. I protested that the top button (aside: of my black, rather ace, Ben Sherman longsleeved shirt) was, in fact, already undone. "Undo the next one down!!" he countered. So I did, and he cackled beery approval, flashing me the thumbs up. I accused him of wanting to see my hairy chest, and got another boozy laugh, along with a hearty pat on the shoulder as he passed me on the way to the men's room. It was all good.

"Don't mind him," said a mild voice sitting by my left elbow, "he's real famous in the Vegas punk scene." Still waiting for my beers, I struck up a conversation with the guy who had counseled me. I asked him what he did, and he replied that he was a dental technician. He then stared off into space for a bit before intoning "You don't know what meth can do to your teeth." After a few seconds he refocused, and mentioned that he also played guitar in a band, The Silver State. Apparently the other members had moved to Brooklyn, but he had remained in Vegas. I asked what they sounded like, and he once again returned to space to consider for a spell. He then tentatively said that they all really liked Radiohead, but didn't really try to sound like them. Ah, I see. He went on to say that they were good friends with Margot and the Nuclear So & So's and were supporting them on their upcoming tour. I was beginning to form some rudimentary context, and my interest was piqued.

Somewhat embarrassed, as I often am when mentioning the humble interweb endeavour you are currently visiting, I said I had a music blog of sorts. His eyes brightened and he said that their debut album was going to be released on 15 April by Young American Records, and would I be interested in hearing some of the songs. Oh, yes please, I replied! I thought we'd exchange emails and I might get an MP3 or two in the fullness of time, but instead he went out to his car and returned with a CD. It was a lovely souvenir from what truly is the Happiest Place On Earth. Many thanks, Taylor Milne!

And so, to the album, Cut and Run. Well, it's not Radiohead, at least not to my ears. And that's no bad thing, since I must admit I've never really been able to get them. But The Silver State I get. And what you get is ten hypnotic songs that proceed at their own stately pace to draw you into their tales of love and loss. Frontman Caleb Lindskoog has a lovely way with lyrical structures, while Alex Stopa on drums, Brendan Fitzpatrick on keyboard/bass, and (my old friend) Taylor Milne on gee-tarr provide the just the right pacing and fuzz to both embellish and underpin.

So, if it's not like Radiohead, then what is it like?? Sigh, you do want your comparisons, don't you? Well, here you go: Pavement, a bit of Sebadoh, maybe some Eels, and a definite undercurrent of Dinosaur Jr minus the frenzy. Gosh, this is turning into a winetasting. Enough already, have a taste of the album below, then hop along and buy it. It actually came out on 1 April, so it's available now, my Dearest Friends.

The Silver State - Vampire Practice (buy here)

Swap Meet

Two small FiLs, one large Dirk

Dearest Friends, I have been sorely delinquent in keeping you apprised of goings on in Contrast Podcast land. Now I know that I don't really need to keep you informed, since obviously you all have such exquisite taste that I'm sure you tune in each week as a matter of course. But still, I feel a sense of responsibility...

Dearest Tim, the CP Godfather, is off on holiday in New Zealand, where he's no doubt enjoying sheep pestering and kiwi stroking. But thanks to the magic of technology and his whacking big heart, he made sure we'd get our weekly fix of Contrast goodness.

So, what have I missed telling you about? Well, two weeks ago we had another fine episode of musicians introducing their own songs, which you can download here. Then last week and this week it's the Contrast Podcast CD Swap! Yes, so many CPers wanted to take part that they could not be contained in one lone podcast. By way of explanation, each participant had to lovingly compile a CD for another participant, then choose one track from the disc he/she received to submit for the episode. Pop on over here to hear part one, and over here for part two, and make sure you stop by here to see the wonderful photos the contributors supplied as icing on this scrummy cake.

I was a very lucky FiL, for I got my CD from tastemeister extraordinaire Dirk of Sexyloser. Thanks Dirk!! I say lucky, but I was also cursed, for it was extremely difficult to pick just one track from all the delicious ones on offer. In the end I went for "Girl About Town" by Helen Love. What swung me? Well, first I was taken by its compelling disco-punk franticness. Second, it namechecks Joey Ramone. Third, the title and refrain plays on the excellent "Boy About Town" by the mighty Jam. Finally, every time it played out on the car stereo Little Man would exclaim "Again!"

But of course there were other contenders:

Leyton Buzzards - Saturday Night Beneath The Plastic Palm Trees (buy here)
Anthemic pop-punk-pub-rock with a slinky ska undercurrent from East London circa 1979. Sadly it was all downhill after that, but we don't need to talk about that here.

Abbreviated Ceiling - Partyline (gosh, try eBay)
Hailing from the increasingly hardcore Washington DC punk scene, back in 1980 these lads purveyed a sparse, spiky sound that was urgent, but not as pummeling as their cohorts. The band was originally called Absolute Ceiling, but a promoter misheard the name and the mistake stuck. I had heard of AC, but had not heard anything by them until now. Thanks again, Dirk!

Die Sterne - Universal Tellerwäscher (buy here)
One of (and arguably the most successful of) the disparate group of German bands from the so-called Hamburg School (Hamburger Schule) of the late 80s - early 90s. Though varying in style --this track is a wonderfully catchy bit of noodling guitar pop-- they all sang in German (shock, horror!) and offered up arch social commentary of one sort or another. My exposure to this brand of Teutonic indie had heretofore been limited to the excellent Lassie Singers, so I was thrilled to dig a bit deeper. Thanks yet again, Dirk!!

And as an extra-special treat, here's a video of Die Sterne in action. Note frontman Frank Spilker's bohemian locks, artistically scruffy clothes, and, er, poor dentition. Watch out also for the most excellent shuffling old guy...



Next week's theme is Snap, which sees contributors offer up different songs with the same titles. It was suggested by Eiron, a marvellously curious young man with a delightfully askew world view (or Weltanschauung, as they'd say in Germany). Pay him a visit over here.

Black Death

I have Bubonic Plague. No, really, I do. Black Death itself. And I can cuddle up with it in bed.

It was a hard choice; E. Coli was pretty cute, as was Louse, Red Tide, Mange, and Athlete's Foot.

But simple Black Death stole my heart...

The Fall - Van Plague? (buy here or e-here)
Crispy Ambulance - Black Death [Life is Knife] (buy here or e-here)

P.S. And earlier today I posted something lovely over here.

Mothers and Fathers

His beach & crab, not mine

My Mother rang last week to tell me that she has sold the house. The one I grew up in.

It has been almost two years since My Father died. During that time My Mother has been debating where to live, what do do next. The decision has been a difficult one for her to make; there was so much to consider. Stay or go? If go, go where? In the end she has decided to move to the end of Long Island. To a cottage in a retirement complex near where for years we spent summers as a family. My Father loved sailing, you see.

I asked what had prompted her to make up her mind. She replied that she had wanted to move and settle while she still had her health. That her new neighbours all seemed to be the right sort of people for her. That all her needs will be catered for. That she felt a connection to the place. A raft of understandable, sensible reasons.

But it's a raft afloat in a deep and bitter sea, one inhabited by scaly grudges, chimerical misconceptions, and poisonous self-righteousness. Because you see, it's all my fault she's being forced to choose. All. My. Fault. And she spares no opportunity to remind me of this.

Sigh.

I have vivid memories of those Long Island summers. Weekends spent combing long beaches that left my heart curiously desolate. Suffocating heat. The dry whisper of wind tousling dun seagrass. The prickly thrills of approaching marooned horseshoe crabs, unsure whether they were alive or dead. The peace of exploring alone for afternoons on end in a stout rowboat. Frustrated adolescent hours spent wishing I was somewhere more hip and interesting. Guilt that I did not like sailing anywhere near as much as My Father did.

I've not been back there for fifteen years.

After the call I dreamed of My Father for the first time in nearly two years. We were in a large car, a late-model Dodge of some sort. I was driving, he sat in the passenger seat. We talked minimally as we drove through a dreamscape neighborhood not unlike the leafy, green one in which I grew up, turning left and right. Eventually I found myself on a rutted, sandy road lined with dun seagrass. I tried to drive on, but the car was too wide and the ruts to deep. I got out and pushed, with no success. Then, almost without my noticing it, My Father faded away.

I woke up sometime in the depth of the night, still able to feel the contours of the dream. Dearest Wife slept on beside me, and Ginadawg snored beneath the bedclothes. My eyes were wet; I had been crying. I wiped them dry on the duvet and turned over on my side, feeling hollow inside.

Pale Saints - Mother Might (buy e-here)
Swans - Mother/Father (buy here or e-here)
This Mortal Coil - My Father (buy here or e-here)

Suffer The Little Children

The Easter Bunny scars a child for life, Mayne Island, 24 March 2008

Don't let the title of this post scare you, Dearest Friends, we're all safe and sound. We had a lovely time on Mayne, all in all. Though there were some suffering children.

The weather was magnificently fickle; frequent bouts of lashing wind and cascading hail interspersed with lengthy stretches of gentle sunshine sufficient to allow for refreshing walks in forest and along shore. I also managed to steal an hour to myself, which I spent sitting by the water watching a seal and an otter do their respective things. To add marvel upon marvel, one morning we were visited by a splendid eagle, who sat a spell outside our window. Magic.

CocoRosie - Animals (buy here or e-here)

And the Easter Bunny showed up! First he surreptitiously secreted chocolate ova around the house on Saturday night, much to the Sunday morning joy of Darling Daughter and Little Man. Next, he made an appearance at the Easter afternoon egg hunt put on by the local Lions Club. However, disaster nearly struck when he trampled a wee toddler underpaw while leading the Easter bonnet parade. Thankfully the bairn suffered no serious physical injury, though I suspect the full mental trauma will only manifest itself in years to come.

Later on, back at the house, we set about preparing Easter dinner. As I got ready to barbecue a succulent pair of salmon fillets, Little Man managed to fall off the back of sofa (where he was NOT supposed to be). On the way to the ground, he caught the back of his head on a bookshelf, producing much screaming and Tarantino-esque rivers of blood. We feared stitches would be required, but a call-out to the nurse on duty and a swift trip to the island clinic yielded the good news that it was only a small cut, not a gaping hole. Drama over, we resumed cooking and settled in to a delicious, if delayed, meal.

Nine Inch Nails - Head Like A Hole [Alt Version] (I got it here, but I understand it's the 'Slate' mix that can be found here)

Speaking of violence involving kids, what did I discover upon switching on my PC back in town but this story. Apparently Mexican "punks" and metalheads have taken to bashing emo kids and the problem has become serious enough that riot police have had to intervene in some instances. Now I must admit that at first I found this a bit of a giggle. You know, all a bit Sharks vs Jets, or mods vs rockers down Brighton way seen through rosy, Quadrophenic glasses. But as I read further, I became more unsettled, not least because of the homophobic overtones; the emo-bashers have taken to calling their targets "los emosexuales." This isn't a giggling matter, nor is it a playground spat. This is tribalistic bigotry, folks, and we all know where that leads.

Jimmy Eat World - A Praise Chorus (buy here)
I'm not really an emo fan. I like my Fugazi, but what it all grew into really said nothing to me about my life. Well, except for this song. It came along at a time in my life when I was deeply unhappy about where I was and what I was doing. And its lyrics got me thinking about all that, which ultimately led me some years later to the happier place I am today. So this goes out to the Mexican emo-kids.

Dead Kennedys - Nazi Punks Fuck Off (buy here or e-here)
And this goes out to those so-called punks who get their kicks from kicks. Fuck off, indeed.

Napalm Death - Nazi Punks Fuck Off (buy here or e-here)
And this death metal version goes out to the bigoted metal meatheads. They can fuck right off too.

FRIDAY EDIT: You know, I was thinking about this post today and something sat not quite right in my psyche. I was uncomfortable, but knew not why. After a bit of reflection, I realized what it was: the metalheads and punks wot I told to fuck off need compassion as well. Compassion to help them realize the futility and suffering of hate. Maybe we should organize a festival ("PunxEmoMexTal"??) co-headlined by Motorhead, Fall Out Boy, and GBH?? Shit, all I really want is to give peace , love and kisses out to this whole stinking world...

Carter USM - The Only living Boy In New Cross (buy here)

I Need To Go...

Aboard the Queen of Nanaimo

Dearest Friends, I'm off for the long weekend to cavort with the family and the Easter Bunny (with whom I'm looking forward to a sesh of Cadbury's Creme Eggs and JD chasers) on my beloved Mayne Island. And with the seasonal internet not yet hooked up, I shall be utterly cut off from Cyberia.

I can't wait.

I'm hoping for four days of recharge, rejuvenation, redemption, and possibly resurrection.

After all, isn't that what Easter's all about??

Have a lovely weekend, you lovely people...

Minny Pops - Island (buy here or e-here)
The Magnetic Fields - Let's Pretend We're Bunny Rabbits (buy here or e-here)
The Beat - Sole Salvation (buy here )

That's Just Ridiculous

Gadzooks! Jumpin' Jehosaphat! And other silly exclamations!! Another Contrast Podcast episode is upon us, and this week we see how many ridiculous band names our contributors can come up with. Hint: it's quite a few, and you can hear them all by downloading the 'cast here. Herewith the tomfoolery:

(00:00) Honest Bob and the factory to dealer incentives - All of the cool girls
Tim from The face of today

(03:46) The Fire Hydrant Men featuring The Fabulous Fezettes - I’m in the pits since my racing driver baby left me
Dirk from Sexy Loser

(07:29) Splodgenessabounds - Michael Booth’s talking bum
Conrad from White Car Records

(11:14) Half Man Half Biscuit - Joy Division oven gloves
FiL from Pogoagogo

(16:18) The The - Slow emotion reply
Marcy from Lost in your inbox

(20:43) The Monsoon Bassoon - The king of evil
Chris from Phosphorous.net

(27:23) Someone still loves you Boris Yeltsin - Anne elephant
Linda from Speed of dark

(32:43) Flock of Seagulls - I ran (so far away) (die krupps remix)
ZB from So the wind won’t blow it all away

(36:45) Double Fish - Clockwork toy
Eiron from A Blog of No Importance

(40:08) Logan Whitehurst and the Junior Science Club - Prosthetic Brain
Alex from Totally True Tales from Texas

(43:54) Harry and The Potters - Cornelius Fudge is an ass
James from Appetite For Distraction

(46:13) Dogs Die in Hot Cars - Apples and oranges
SiD from Too Much Rock

(51:36) On this day we met Gambas Pil Pil - When no-one is around
JC from The Vinyl Villain

(58:49) Prince boo hoo and his little smuts - Rhinestone Cowboy
Adam

Half Man Half Biscuit was first to spring to mind when I found out about the theme, and I went with them because a) the name IS ridiculous, but b) the tunes are grand. You see, I didn't want to actually serve up a crap tune. Dearest Dirk from Sexy Loser (N.B. now added, albeit very belatedly, to the blogroll) was concerned that any band submitted this week would automatically be portrayed in a negative light, but I'm not so sure I agree with that. There are plenty of ridiculously named groups who pump out righteous music. Why, just look at what else I considered:

Joe Lean and the Jing Jang Jong - Sleazy Hughes (buy here )
I mean, how SHITE is that name? Come on, tell me. You can't? Well, let me tell you, it's as shite as shite can be. But Sleazy Hughes is a prickly pear of frantic pop pleasure, and the lads look pretty sharp. Pop over here to see what Dearest Toad had to say about then live in concert.

Kajagoogoo - Too Shy (buy here )
Er, heh, heh, guilty pleasure alert. That hair! The eightiesness oozing from every pore!! And yes, a ree-dee-cue-lus name. They're touring again, if you're keen..

Throbbing Gristle - Zyklon B Zombie (buy here)
I've loved that silliest of band names since the first time I heard it. And I've developed a soft spot for the sonic trials wrought by the promethean Genesis P Orridge and his muckers. I considered posting here Very Friendly, a detailed, 18+ minute, scary-as-fuck masterpiece recounting Ian Brady's and Myra Hindley's axe murder of Edward Evans. But then I thought that'd be a bit much, so I went for this charming ditty about, er, gas chambers. But I promise you, if hear Very Friendly you'll never drink a glass of German wine again without thinking of it...

I Envy, You're Jealous

Green-eyed monstah courtesy of Janice

This week Contrast Podcast goes green, and I don't mean tree-huggy and eco-friendly (though I'm sure our carbon emissions are refreshingly low). No, we're talking about reveling in yet another deadly sin, that of envy. Download the podcast here, listen to what our contributors covet, then tell everyone how envious you are over here. And let me also take this opportunity to say how thrilled I am that Dearest Brad, my ex-roomie and great friend, is making his third appearance on the podcast! Yay!!

(00:00) Intro from Mr G. Letch & Mr A. Thrub

(02:55) Damgok - Penis envy
Tim from The face of today

(05:41) The Dead Milkmen - Everybody’s got nice stuff
SiD from Too Much Rock

(08:58) Reel Big Fish - I want your girlfriend to be my girlfriend
Natalie from Mini-obs

(12:56) Joe Jackson - Is she really going out with him (live acapella)
Brad from Brad’s Blog

(17:33) Pulp - I want you
ZB from So the wind won’t blow it all away

(22:41) Jonathan Richman - No mas por fun
JC from The Vinyl Villain

(25:07) Cat Power - She’s got you
Linda from Speed of dark

(29:18) The Jam - David Watts
FiL from Pogoagogo

(32:20) Envy and Other Sins - Prodigal Son
Crash from Pretending life is like a song

(37:03) Barenaked Ladies - Just a toy (live)
James from Appetite For Distraction

(40:48) The Hellcows - Jealousy
Eiron from A Blog of No Importance

(42:49) Bettye Lavette - I do not want what I haven’t got
Anna from the Music I-Quiz

(45:47) Ash - Envy
Ross from Just gimme indie rock

(49:39) Elliot Smith - Jealous guy (live)
Dirk from Sacred Loser

At first I considered going with a track about jealousy, but then the pedantic old sod in me emerged from the fusty recesses of my brain and reminded me that jealousy and envy are not one and the same. Technically speaking , envy refers to the discomfort caused by fixating on and/or coveting something that someone else has, while jealousy refers to the feeling generated by a perceived threat to something or someone with which one has a relationship. So, for example, I'm envious of you when I realize that you're shacking up with PJ Harvey. You, on the other hand, are jealous when I begin flirting with her and she returns my attentions. Oh, just face it, you're not good enough for her! She really wants to be with ME so just fuck off and leave us to --

Er, ahem. Sorry, got carried away... Anyway, here are the two jealous tracks I was weighing up before David Watts came to me in a revelatory flash:

The Rapture - House of Jealous Lovers (buy here)
I'm telling you, Peej is MINE MINE MINE!! She and I will dance like mad fools to this Noo Yawk No Wave masterpiece. As an aside, I saw The Rapture live twice and both times they were absolutely superlative. Once was on an NME bill along with The Von Bondies and Franz Ferdinand (and headliners Funeral for a Friend, who were so middling I left halfway through). The second time was supporting The Sex Pistols at Crystal Palace. Also on that bill were The Dropkick Murphys, The Libertines ("Pete Doherty Shows Up For Gig Shocker!!"), and And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead (who I'm offering up as a free suggestion for next week's CP episode of "Bands With Ridiculous Names"). That was quite a long aside, wasn't it? And those italics can be hard on the eyes. So, where was I? Oh, PJ Harvey! MINE!!

Black Flag - Jealous Again (buy here or e-here)
Angry young man in seminal angry SoCal hardcore band singing an angry song about an angry girlfriend. There's a soap operatic story behind the recording of this choon, which you can read here. This version has vocal duties performed by Ron Reyes a/k/a Chavo Pederast, who is apparently now a born-again Christian living in my fair city of Vancouver. Ye gods!

You know, Dearest PJ isn't the jealous type. So say if I wanted to take up with Siouxsie Sioux, or a thirtysomething, not dead Audrey Hepburn, I'm sure she'd be cool with that. Don't believe me? Well, listen here:

PJ Harvey - Oh My Lover (buy here )

Tales From The Double Down, Part Two

Door to the Double Down men's loo, snapped by caseyville

Saturday in Vegas, my third day in that city. Already I'd grown weary of the glitz, the relentlessness, the Ersatz. Earlier in the day Dearest T had left on a jet plane back to the shores of Blighty, leaving me alone in this strange town.

What to do? Why, head on back to the Double Down. Duh.

Truth be told, I was a bit hesitant going on my own. Not because I'm shy, but because I worried (once again) about being the sad, old man at the bar. But what swung it for me was the promise of four bands playing live. Indeed, the Double Down routinely hosts gigs, mostly of the punk, garage, and raucous roll persuasion. There's no cover charge, the bands don't get paid much more than a pittance and some booze, and yet the roster is always full. Why? Cos the Double Down is awesome, that's why.

When I arrived, the place was hopping, again with the most marvelously eclectic mix of punx, tattoed love boyz 'n' girlz, college kids, and regular Joes & Janes. And I needn't have worried about being the solitary gooseberry; folks actually came up and TALKED to me! I had a most engaging conversation with Howie, an Elvis lookalike van driver from, of all places, Vancouver. Amongst other things, we discussed his penchant for corpulent women. And he bought me beers. I also chatted to a hipster dude in town for his stag do, who suggested that when discussing my profession I should refer to it as "BANG-KING" (equal stress on each syllable) so as to convey the idea that it's something vaguely edgy, perhaps even pornographic. A bit later I ended up refereeing a beer shotgunning competition. Dang, this really IS the "Happiest Place On Earth."

And then there was the music. What fun!

Shaun Kama took to the stage (such as it is at the DD) with his Kings of the Wild Frontier, looking like the bastard offspring of Nick Cave and Johnny Cash, all wiry frame, tattoos, careworn face, tight black jeans, and slicked-back hair. And together they belted out some righteous music. Though Kama's pedigree is steeped in punk and metal, the tunes were squarely based in the American West; twangy, country rawk underpinned by crackling energy. The songs spoke of roads traveled, dice rolled, cold hearts, phantoms, death, loneliness. It was all sincere, tight, and most excellent.

Shaun Kama & The Kings Of The Wild Frontier - This One Ends In A Murder (buy here)

Next up were LA's The Cheatin' Kind, and boy did they stir the pot! More country & western, this time served up sassy, trashy, and thrashy with liberal splashes of both honky and tonk. Brassy blonde frontwoman Babs McDonald's vibrant twang was amply backed up by the plucky pickin' of marvelous Miss Melanie Makaiwi on bass, and the gentlemanly duo of Chel T. Rich on skins and Paul Morris on gee-tar. The set was a stompin' romp through covers ("Good Girl's Gonna Go Bad," "Took A Lot Of Pills & Died") and originals, including their affectionate ode to the very bar we all found ourselves in that night.

The Cheatin' Kind - Double Down (Most kindly sent by Miss Melanie. It's not on their 2006 album Turned On Too Long, but you can and should buy that over here)

SoCal punks The Cosmic Creeps fired off some groovy ghoulishness a la Misfits, but to be honest your FiL was still in too much of a Western yee-haa frame of mind to truly appreciate what they had to offer. On top of that, he was hanging out with Howie by the men's room (see photo above) having his umpteenth Red Stripe. So once the Creeps finished sometime after 2AM, FiL called it a night, foregoing the charms of local hardcore outfit The Latchkey Kidz. But thanks to the magic of YouTube, I was able to see some what I missed. You can too!

And so once again I hit the bed in my hotel room, head all a-buzz, thinking about how to get back to the Double Down at least one more time during my stay in Vegas. I had become convinced it was the only way I was going to survive another four days in that town...

P.S. Miss Melanie did a stint with the brilliant Scarling, who recorded an awesome cover of the only Radiohead song I really like, Creep. I've been waiting for an excuse to post it, so now that I have one, here you go:

Scarling - Creep (buy here or e-here)

Have A Heart

Dearest Friends, rush on over right now to The Vinyl Villain. What? You're still here?? You need convincing?? Sigh...

Dearest JC has hatched a brilliant idea to raise money for Quarriers, a Scottish charity that supports children and families facing physical, emotional, and mental issues. Why the campaign? Well, his godson, Kevin, has benefited tremendously from the Quarriers' good work. See the video above.

You're still here? You want to know what's in it for you?? Sigh, OK. Dearest JC has promised that for every pledge of £6 he'll provide the donor with a customized 60-minute CD culled from his extensive collection of Orange Juice rarities. Just take your pick from the listing on his blog. He takes PayPal, so international borders and currency exchange is no problem. Whether you're in Afghanistan or Zimbabwe, you can contribute.

If you're still here, I worry that you may have no heart. Unlike Dearest JC...

The Jam - Solid Bond In Your Heart (buy here)
No, you ain't getting any Orange Juice from me, go pay JC yer £6 for that. But I will give you this delicious early version of Solid Bond, recorded before Weller The Jam split and formed The Style Council.

A Deep Fear Indeed

Scaaary picture courtesy of the very brave G-Na

"You asked me once," said O'Brien, "what was in Room 101. I told you that you knew the answer already. Everyone knows it. The thing that is in Room 101 is the worst thing in the world." -- George Orwell, 1984

Dearest Friends, this week the contributors to Contrast Podcast's episode 101 open up their psyches to reveal to all listeners that which they fear most. And the result is a list of terrors that would chill anyone to the bone, inter alia death, falling, sensory deprivation, and anthropophagic sea creatures with big teeth. Share the scare by downloading the podcast here.

(00:00) Corinne Bailey Rae - Steady as she goes
Tim from The face of today

(03:17) Maria Taylor - Xanax
Marcy from Lost in your inbox

(08:59) R.E.M. - Walk unafraid
Crash from Pretending life is like a song

(13:56) Tindersticks - Milky teeth
JC from The Vinyl Villain

(17:31) Morphine - Sharks
Anna from the Music I-Quiz

(20:10) Fear - Now you’re dead
Ross from Just gimme indie rock

(22:32) The Jam - Down in the tube station at midnight
Dirk from Sexy Loser

(26:28) Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris - Falling down
Linda from Speed of dark

(30:03) Peter Gabriel - I don’t remember
Mark from Cinema Du Lyon

(34:07) The Cocteau Twins - Blind dumb deaf (peel session 1983)
ZB from So the wind won’t blow it all away

(38:48) The Sharks - Short sharp shark
FiL from Pogoagogo

(41:46) Nerf Herder - 5000 ways to die
Thom from Better in the dark

(44:55) Great Lakes Myth Society - Across the bridge
Natalie from Mini-obs

(50:00) Air (feat. Neil Hannon) - Somewhere between waking and sleeping
Eiron from A Blog of No Importance

(55:08) John Mayer - Stop this train
James from Appetite For Distraction

I'm a fretful, but not generally a fearful person. But I do have an irrational fear of sharks. More specifically, I don't like being immersed in an opaque, natural body of water. You see, I instantly begin imagining malevolent, fishy, toothy things swimming up from the dark depths to pluck my legs off like bananas. Curiously, clear, tropical waters (where I would probably be more likely to encounter a FiLeater) are OK. And I don't mind (in fact I thoroughly enjoy) being on dark waters in craft, from huge ferries to weenie kayaks. However, put me in the water and I have to focus on fighting the panic.

You can therefore imagine my unease when last summer I took a kayaking course that involved me regularly flipping my craft over in the murky waters off Vancouver to practice self-rescue. Truth be told, I got a lot more comfortable doing that over time. Rather, I managed to develop a wee rationalizing mental mantra which included the fact that there have only ever been two recorded shark attacks in Canada, and the one near Vancouver in 1972 involved a rather unimpressive spiny dogfish. All that said, I still need to actively manage the fear...

Dearest Anna from the Music I-Quiz appears to share my selachophobia (as the boffins call it), though since she lives in Australia I reckon she's probably more justified in having it than I am (Australia = great whites, Vancouver = spiny dogfish). She also has lovely taste in music, as she picked the tune I had originally wanted to submit. But here's the alternative version I had originally hoped to submit:

Morphine - Sharks Patrol These Waters (off of this)

Sharks definitely top my fear parade, though in the physical world scorpions come a close second, especially those big, black emperor scorpions. Yeuuchhh! But I was hardly going to go with that idea, since I'd have to post a track from a dreadful German soft metal band. In the realm of the less tangible, my top fear would probably be finding myself alone. That would destroy me.

Calexico - Alone Again Or (buy here or e-here)

Next week we return to the land of sin, and explore envy. Find out how you can take part over here.

Tales from the Double Down, Part One

The view from the bar, courtesy of beatnikside

Our first night in Vegas did not begin auspiciously. Dearest T started off the evening with some unimpressive martinis at one of he countless bars in the vast, glitzy bowels of Caesar's Palace. The barman, a smarmy cornfed boy with a monosyllabic name like Chip or Brett, had served them up with a nudge-nudge, wink-wink request to let him know if there was anything --ANYTHING-- else at all he could get for us. We didn't take him up on his offer, and instead migrated to Venice's St Mark's Square (or a fanciful facsimile thereof) for dinner. A post-prandial perambulation took us to some other bar in some other hotel, where we had more dreadful martinis.

By this stage we were cranky drunk, and sometime around 10PM Dearest T mooted the idea of retiring for the night. But damned if I was going to go out like that. For you see, I had a plan:

I wanted to go to the Double Down Saloon.

Dearest T took some convincing, but I cajoled, wheedled, and assured him that it was just a short walk off The Strip. He relented, then assented, and we set out.

A ninety-minute walk through Vegas's ripped backside and several blisters later (I had slightly miscalculated distance, direction, and location), we arrived. The Double Down is an unpreposessing one-story, white box of a building tacked onto a small, low-end strip mall. A shingled awning above the sngle-door entrance proclaims it "The Happiest Place on Earth." The grizzled bear of a bouncer (think Hulk Hogan) politely carded us as we entered. Unfortunately Dearest T had forgotten to bring any ID, but he agreed to the doorman's proposition that if the police busted he place, he'd be escorted by them back to the hotel to verify his age. All very pragmatic and amiable. We entered, slid up to the bar, ordered some beers, and looked around.

I liked what I saw, and loved what I heard.

Psychotically psychedelic and primitive murals featuring skeletons and wild women stared for ceiling and walls. A small, rough stage was stuffed into one corner, along with a couple of well-chewed sofas. In another corner some dykes were playing pool on a battered table. A tin plaque advised a capacity of 157. Two TV monitors played loops of vintage sleazoid horror films, seventies music videos, and clips of Japanese porn. A plastic bottle labeled "Hippy Spray" sat on top of a cooler. Hand-lettered signs hung around the bar: "$5 Bacon Martini," "Graveyard Shift Special 4AM-10AM, $4 Schlitz & Ass Juice," "You Puke, You Clean." And the jukebox --oh, the jukebox!-- belted out a divinely righteous stream of garage, proto-punk, hardcore, and, er, Frank Sinatra.

We chatted aimiably with a voluptuous, slightly pixilated sweetie named Fiona, who, having made an understandable yet erroneous assumption, asked Dearest T and I if we'd prefer to go to a gay bar. We declined the kind suggeston. The room was slowly but steadily filling up with a heady mix of tattoed punks, scruffy college kids, latino greasers, and Betty Page lookalikes.

Then it was time for the evening's featured entertainment: Szandora, the Hula Hoop Chick.

Sigh.

Magenta, pixie-cut hair. Curves like the Indianapolis 500. Skin of alabster.

Sigh.

Dearest T's tongue hung out all the way to the floor as she mounted the pool table and gyrated languidly, hoop spinning casually around her hips as the primal thudding of the Slits' "Heard it Through The Grapevine" pounded from the jukebox. "Such control!" he marvelled, as his eyes popped out on stalks. Then off came her bikini top, and T's tongue plus eyes emerged further. I was not immune to Szandora's multiple charms, but it was the soundtrack that blew me away; the Slits had now given way to the Dead Kennedys' "Police Truck." Absofuckingloutely marvellous.

I don't rightly know what time it was that we left, nor do I recall what time it was when we regained our hotel room. All I remember while lying on my spinning bed, listening to Dearest T puking up martini & beer in the bathroom, was thinking that at the Double Down I had found a slice of heaven amidst the hell of Vegas, and that I had almost a full week to get there again...

The Slits - Heard It On The Grapevine (buy here or e-here)
Dead Kennedys - Police Truck (buy here or e-here)

The 100 Club

Yes, it's official: Contrast Podcast has joined the 100 Club. Today Dearest Tim posted the hundredth episode and it's chock-full of songs celebrating the century. So come along and have a listen here to what HRH The Queen (it's true!) is getting so excited about!

(00:00) Sharon Jones - 100 days, 100 nights
Betty from The Royal Family

(04:34) Fun 100 - Computer
ZB from So the wind won’t blow it all away

(07:21) Love of Diagrams - At 100%
Bob from Gimme Tinnitus

(11:32) The Soundtrack of our lives - 21st century ripoff
Chris from Phosphorous.net

(15:35) Maxi Priest - Full 100
Mark from Cinema Du Lyon

(21:06) The Byrds - One hundred years from now
Brian from State Fare

(23:56) NOFX - 100 times fuckeder
Marcy from Lost in your inbox

(25:59) Lyres - 100cc’s (Pure Thrust)
FiL from Pogoagogo

(29:11) Generation X - One hundred punks
Dirk from Sexy Loser

(33:03) Carlton Rees - 99 and a half won’t do
Matthew from Song by Toad

(36:35) Nick Lowe - One’s too many and a hundred ain’t enough
Anna from the Music I-Quiz

(39:30) The Anniversary - A hundred ships
SiD from Too Much Rock

(45:23) Shout out louds - 100 degrees
Crash from Pretending life is like a song

(49:26) The Cure - One hundred years
Eiron from A Blog of No Importance

(56:25) The Divine Comedy - I’ve been to a marvellous party
JC from The Vinyl Villain

(01:01:00) The Offspring - One hundred punks
Andy from Circles of Concrete

(01:04:33) The Tragically Hip - At the hundredth meridian
Thom from Better in the dark

(01:08:17) The Pixies - Oh my golly
John from And you’ll never hear surf music again

(01:10:30) The Loved Ones - 100K
James from Appetite For Distraction

(01:13:51) Roy Harper - When an old cricketer leaves the crease
Stuart Dade

I was most surprised to see that no-one submitted those Wunderkinder of the 80s, Haircut 100. No, really, admit it, you're shocked as well. So here they are - hey, camisas! Indeed...

Haircut 100 - Favourite Shirt (Boy Meets Girl) (buy here)

I briefly considered submitting Sonic Youth's 100%, but decided that all that hipster talk about sticking knives in heads wasn't in keeping with the celebratory spirit of things. Have a listen, you'll hear wot I mean...

Sonic Youth - 100% (buy here)

OK, OK, here's where I come clean. The glib reference to the 100 Club above has given me the thinnest of excuses to post a clutch of the best punk songs evah! Why? Well, the 100 Club Punk Festival, that's why. Yes, I'm talking about those seminal (now legendary and mythical) two days in September 1976 where that London jazz club saw eight bands bring the white light/white heat of early punk out from the underground. Far more people claim to have attended than ever possibly could have. I certainly didn't and don't know anyone who did. But oh, in the words of Cher, if I could turn back time...

Sex Pistols - Nookie (buy here)
Vibrators - Pogo Dancing (try eBay)
Damned - Neat Neat Neat (buy here)
Siouxsie & The Banshees - Mittageisen (Metal Postcard) (buy here)
Subway Sect - Nobody's Scared (buy here)
The Clash - White Riot (buy here)
Buzzcocks - Boredom (buy here)

Oh, that's only seven bands? Er, heh heh, um, you'll let me get away without playing any Stinky Toys, won't you?? Here, have a look at The Clash. That'll take your mind off things...



Yes, I digressed, but you'll thank me for it later. Next week, CP gets all Orwellian on your ass and asks you for episode 101 to face your greatest fear. Find out how over here.

Waiting For The Plague To Move On

It's all disease and pestilence round our way, and has been to one degree or another for the past month. It's been coming in relentless waves of increasing intensity, and the body count as of today stands as follows:

• FiL pasted to the sofa for the past two days with a rotten, feverish head cold
• Dearest Wife nursing a fortnight-old, low-grade, energy-sapping bug of some sort
• Darling Daughter in bed for several days with a fever, congestion, and a raw throat
• Little Man confined to bed this evening after having thrown up spectacularly not once, but thrice

This too shall pass - sooner rather than later, please...

Les Savy Fav - Raging in the Plague Age (buy here or e-here)
Mudhoney - Here Comes Sickness (buy here)
Depeche Mode - Shake the Disease (buy here)
Taxi Taxi - Family Doctor (buy e-here)

P.S. Tales from the Double Down to come, health permitting...

Hope

Your mornings will be brighter
Break the line
Tear up rules
Make the most of a million times no

For Dearest Nico.

Bauhaus - Hope (buy here)

Make Mine A 99

Through the eyes of lazigaze

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream. Well then, it's a bloody good thing that the Contrast Podcast is overflowing with the stuff this week. Yes, Dearest Tim a.k.a. Mister Whippy has fired up the van and this week's Dearest Contributors have provided a delicious variety of musical flavours for your tasting. Go on, try the lot over here, and let everyone know what your favourite is over here.

The menu:

(00:00) John Brim - Ice cream man
Tim from The face of today

(03:16) Tom Waits - Ice cream man
Eiron from A Blog of No Importance

(06:45) Thao Nguyen - Bag of hammers
Ross from Just gimme indie rock

(09:39) Michael Hearst - Where do ice cream trucks go in winter?
Linda from Speed of dark

(13:51) The Undertones - Here comes the summer
Dirk from Sexy Loser

(17:28) Sister Vanilla - Down
Crash from Pretending life is like a song

(21:18) Dinosaur Jr - Feel the pain
JC from The Vinyl Villain

(26:26) Lee Konitz - Ice cream Konitz
ZB from So the wind won’t blow it all away

(29:23) The Dropkick Murphys - The rocky road to Dublin
James from Appetite For Distraction and
Andy from Circles of Concrete

(32:40) The KLF (featuring Tammy Wynette) - Justified and Ancient (Stand by the JAMS)
FiL from Pogoagogo

(39:32) Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band - Ice cream for crow
Chris from Phosphorous.net

(44:45) Joni Mitchell - Both sides now
Natalie from Mini-obs

For the benefit of those not versed in British cultcha, there's a reason Dearest Tim chose the theme of "Ice Cream" for episode 99. You see, a "99" is a cone of soft ice cream with a finger-length bar of flaky chocolate stuck in it. Indeed, the choco-digit is itself known as a 99 Flake, though no one is really sure whence the numerical nomenclature. So whole generations of British sproglets grew up asking for a 99 from dodgy men in rickety vehicles playing creepy music.

I chose my contribution for four reasons: it namechecks an ice cream van, it's awesome, it features Tammy Wynette, and it features the lyric "make mine a 99." So the first and last of these qualified it for inclusion. I didn't have too much else to scoop this week, but these might have ended up in the sundae:

Ariane - Ice Cream (on this CD, which I have but dunno where you can buy it...)
Yeah, yeah, yé-yé!! I was sorely tempted to dish up this bit of French (yes, I know she was Belgian, but give me some artistic license, willya?) vanilla, but I had already submitted it for CP's first birthday last year. Anyway, it recounts the story of an ice-cream-loving fille and her gin-swilling partner who have a thing going on, despite their differing appetites. All of this set, of course, to a hip, swingin beat, daddy-o...

The Dickies - The Banana Splits (buy here)
Silly punkiness a go-go!! For those who didn't grow up in the American idiom, The Banana Splits was a kids show from the late sixties / early seventies starring a beagle, a lion, a gorilla, and an elephant, all of whom were on some sort of psychotropic drugs.

Next week marks CP's 100th episode! Help celebrate by submitting something suitably hundredesque - find out how over here.