Tuesday's Cartoon (and Photo) Chuckles

Okay, I don't know who was responsible for that last one -- it wasn't me, honest -- but I think it's kind of on the money anyway. 😎

My New Favorite Band (An Occasional Series): Special "It Came From Sydney" Edition

From just a few minutes ago in 2025, please enjoy drop dead great Australian retro powerpop-sters Large Mirage and their infectious and hilarious ode to a gal who can't quite make up her mind -- "Miss Okay."

Man, those kids really have the Revolver guitars and vocal harmonies down, don't they?

Can't seem to find a detailed bio of them anywhere online so I'm not sure how long they've been doing this sort of thing, although they're apparently highly regarded as a live act in the land Down Under. That said, you can dig more of their music, and find out a little more about them, over at their official website HERE.

G'day, mates!

[h/t Michael Conroy]

La Fin de La Semaine Essay Question: Special "I Can't Take the Way He Sings But I Love to Hear Him Talk" Edition

Okay, I can't recall if I've ever posted this before, but in any event it cracks me up.

A HISTORY OF MUSIC TIMELINE

Early Music -- chants, grunts, banging
Greco-Roman -- flutes, harps, shepherds
Medieval -- monks singing in unison, some broad named Hildegarde
Renaissance -- lutes, high tenor voices
Baroque/Classical -- opera, Masterpiece Theater
Romantic -- Strings, tuneful, Lincoln Center
Modern/Contemporary -- chants, grunts, banging

I don't know who wrote that, BTW, but apart from it being very droll, I am also of the opinion that it's basically accurate.

Especially the "chants, grunts, banging" part. 😎

Which brings us, inexorably, to the subject of the weekend's business. To wit:

George Harrison famously told John Lennon to listen to Bob Dylan's lyrics. Lennon responded "I don't listen to the words."

IMHO, the greatest pop records ever made are almost mostly all about the music. They sound like what the lyrics say, to the point you don't need to actually listen to the words; lyrics are merely the icing on the cake. For example, if you don't speak English, and can't understand what Jagger is actually carrying on about in "Satisfaction," the record will still mean the same thing to you as if you could. Because the sound of what the band is playing behind Jagger speaks perfectly clearly to the song's meaning.

So -- that being the case, what is a post-Elvis rock/soul/country/folk record with perhaps not particularly good, trite or overtly asinine/nonsensical lyrics (or merely chants, grunts and banging) that you love to death anyway???

Discuss.

In case you were wondering, my fave -- hands down -- is...

I mean, that doesn't even HAVE lyrics -- just a lot of non-linguistic yelling.

And yet, you know exactly what it's about, don't you. 😎😎

Alrighty then -- what would YOUR favorites be?

And have a great post-Thanksgiving weekend, everybody!!!

It's Turkey Day: Special "B. J. Wilson is God" Edition

From 1971, here's Procol Harum Mark II...

.....and their utterly gorgeous live version of original organist Matthew Fisher's "Pilgrim's Progress." With Gary Brooker singing Matthew's part from the studio version.

Pilgrim -- get it? It's not rocket science, kids. 😎

As long-time readers may recall, this song is something of a Thanksgiving tradition around here by now, but I thought I'd try to do it a little differently this year. Hence my delight earlier this week when I discovered the above clip, which I had not seen previously.

Meanwhile, for now, enjoy the cranberry sauce and stuffing, everybody!!!

And get ready for a way cool Weekend Essay Question on the morrow!!!

Today's (Pre-Thanksgiving) Cartoon and Photo Chuckles

U-Haul & Oates. Heh. 😎

Have a great holiday, everybody!!!

Broadcast News

From 1987, and their fab gear album 13 Ghosts, please enjoy the most blues-wailing The Broadcasters and their meisterwork "Down in the Trenches." Produced by Wayne Kramer of The MC5, BTW.

That's one of the Great Lost Singles of the Eighties for sure. Come to think of it, those guys are one of the Great Lost Bands of the Eighties as well.

Anyway, I bring it up because that video -- which was briefly in heavy rotation on MTV back in the day -- has been unavailable online for public consumption for quite a while (some kind of legal issues, or so I'm told). So I was delighted when I recently discovered that it had shown up on YouTube again.

I should add that the Broadcasters aforementioned album is killer from stem to stern -- totally rocked out in a sort of classic proto-pop punk, Brit Class of 66-68 way; think The Yardbirds meet The Move and then they all go out to lunch at Boston Market. It's long out of print, alas, but you can -- and should -- pick up a good used copy (CD or vinyl) over at Amazon HERE.

Meanwhile, because I love you all more than food, here's a 1990 live clip of a later incarnation of the band (as The Roues Brothers, under which moniker they continue to perform to this day) having a go at Them's "Gloria."

Featuring some guest asshole whose name rhymes with Sleeve Nimels up front on vocals. 😎

It's a long story, but let's just say that (as you can probably see) everybody involved was having a very good time. 😎😎

Tales from the Crypt

So I was looking at a 1993 issue of the Magazine Formerly Known as Stereo Review over the weekend, and chanced across a bit of snark I'd totally forgotten. And which cracked me up.

SARAH BRIGHTMAN
Dive
A&M 31454 0083 (52 min)
Enya on helium? New Age electro-pop from hell? Whatever it is, it's courtesy of the Phantom of the Opera ingenue formerly married to the equally annoying Andrew Lloyd Webber, and I say get it outta here. Docked numerous points for a horrendous cover of Procol Harum's "A Salty Dog," which the without-a-clue chanteuse strips of all melodic interest or drama. -- S.S.

We used to run like half a page of those little mini-blurbs (called Quick Fixes -- my title) every issue, and it was pretty much my favorite thing to write for the pop review section. I literally could say anything I wanted and nobody gave me any editorial grief. Ah, those were the days.

Oh, BTW, -- here's that Brightman version of "A Salty Dog." I'm pleased to discover that it's as bad as I made it out at the time.

P.S.: From an actual contemporary review (not sure by who) of the Broadway Phantom -- "Sarah Brightman couldn't act scared on the IRT at 4 in the morning!" 😎

La Fin de La Semaine Essay Question: Special "I am Not a Number -- I'm a Free Man! Oh, Wait...Actually I AM a Number" Edition

And now, from some time post-COVID, please enjoy my current fave cover act, the delightful Middle Aged Dad Jam Band and their spirited version of Tommy Tutone's "867-5309/Jenny."

BTW, just for the record (as it were), I should say I'm a huge fan of Tommy Tutone, who are unfairly dismissed as one hit wonders IMHO.

I mean -- c'mon. This one, which was actually the band's first Top 40 record, absolutely freaking slays me.

I should add that back in 1980, when I had just switched from playing guitar to bass (as we were getting the Floor Models together) I used to hone my four-string skills by playing along with that. I mean, what a fabulous groove.

In any case, I bring the whole thing up because it leads us, inexorably, to the subject of the weekend's business. To wit:

...and your favorite (or least favorite) post-Elvis pop/rock/soul/folk/country song with numerals in its title is...?

Discuss.

So -- my favorite?

That's from Steppenwolf's (to me) inexplicably underrated sophomore effort; it's a minority opinion, I know, but I think it's one of the greatest hard rock (in the old fashioned sense) albums ever.

And my least favorite?

Hey -- I like a lot of bubblegum stuff from that period. That song, however? I think the word is "yucky." Especially in the contemporary context of the Epstein files. 😎

Alrighty then --- what would YOUR choices be?

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!!

Today's Cartoon (and Photo) Chuckles

The Plant and Page one absolutely kills me. 😎

A droll new Weekend Essay Question on the morrow, promise.

The Most Mediocre Thing I've Heard Lately (An Occasional Series): Special "These Kids Today With Their Loud Hair and Long Music" Edition

And speaking of rock critics performing fellatio, here's the extremely irksome Amanda Petrusich servicing Tame Impala auteur Kevin Parker in the October 27th issue of the New Yorker.

The magic [! - Ed.] of Parker’s music -- what makes his records so restless, dithery, dynamic -— hinges on the minuscule yet crucial difference between perfectionism (endlessly boring) and obsession (endlessly interesting). “Everyone thinks I’m a perfectionist,” Parker said. “That’s the assumed narrative when someone orchestrates a whole album -— the Brian Wilson idea. But if people actually saw me in the studio, and saw how little I cared about so many things...” He paused. “On the backs of my albums, you’ll see a photo of a microphone meant for singing pointing at the kick drum, held up with a wine rack. I’ve just never really given a shit about that. I would love for it to sound better, because I respect a lot of big pop producers.” He added, “You always worship what you don’t feel you are.”

Yeah, right -- magic. And I'm Marie of Romania.

I should add that elsewhere in the piece Petrusich informs us that Parker's music is "shaped in part by the spirit of bush doofs, all-night dance parties thrown in rural, off-the-grid locales," and that the term "doof" started "as a derogatory word to describe club music, because from a distance all you hear is doof, doof, doof."

Apparently, it never occured to her that Parker's music might be characterized in that way because Parker is, in fact, a doofus. 😎