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Will you kindly kill that doll for me?

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The Pogues – Fiesta

Party.

Opening as the provider of solace, Fiesta’s saxophone breathes grace into saluting lungs, and assists the ease of such with plumes of waltzing bass. It is a firm liar. An opening scene twist through restless guns.

Off they charge!

The song barks into the life of a virile orgy with fanciful instrumentation and bleating drives of drunken babble fodder – of times and moments had. “Come all you rambling boys of pleasure and ladies of easy leisure.” The swift strumming of guitar accompanies prancing accordion through an entire rush of musical ecstasy before coming to cartoon conclusion. “There is a minstrel! There! You see?” Fiesta is sheer electricity, without flinch and without apology. It leaves no time for thought or for the now; it is a call to reaction and the faster pulse. Pure pleasure. [Charge.]

Posted on December 13, 2010 - Tunes - 1 Comment » Share

Who’s got a beard that’s long and white?

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Bob Dylan – Must Be Santa

Today, in town, minus the merry-related products and gifts, you could be mistaken for thinking it was just another evening of shopping and grabbing. A convivial air to be sure, but nothing too definite. Beyond the window of toys, maybe things were always like this.

This Christmas will be my very first away from family. I want both where I’m going and where I’ve been. Too comfortable in what I’ve had and too excited for what I don’t. So off I trot (with that skip in step). The destination: the beach, the wonderful, the partner in crime. I might write her a children’s book – one to make her smile. With illustrations, too no less. One where a girl of doubt grows to defeat the big monster. It has been done before. It can be done better with a brighter light. Or I’ll be the one to sprightly devour whatever I’m told to buy; mow the shelves of “the perfect” gift.

Christmas used to be something different. It used to be excitement and vibrancy and trance-like and selfish. Now it has become somewhat symbolic and grows every year as a distraction to the norm. It’s a way out of the crippling formalities and normalities of every other day. It’s not the birth nor the under-tree offering; it’s a sort of time you can trust. You may now vomit. [Be Santa.]

Posted on December 10, 2010 - Tunes - 1 Comment » Share

Halcyon days, halcyon daze

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The Cardigans – Choke

This bath – it is clumsy and it is a grave.
She made void this maiden voyage.
Her moon has foundered in nighted seas,
Scraping sand from our thick knees.
Silly lines,
But winning smiles. [Give.]

Posted on December 5, 2010 - Tunes - No Comments » Share

Your little feet

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Posted on December 3, 2010 - Videos - 1 Comment » Share

Whatever Happened, Conor Deasy?

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The Thrills – Whatever Happened To Corey Haim?

I don’t know where the Thrills are anymore. On hiatus? Broken? In-cave living? Woodwork workshop? Creative writing class? Bemoaning Irish politics and listing – in its vast entirety – what exactly has gone wrong?

What’s certain is that they have disappeared. Probably once Virgin’s desire for further chart topping fell flat, leaving that champagne bottled untouched, its virginity free from clumsy spoils for one further night. And this was all of three years ago now. This song, almost in its eight year of existence, summons the very best of the Thrills. Deasy, with that ‘everything’s-gonna-get-better’ tone, washes tough and sharpened layers of rugged instrumentation with lush and promising darts of strained melody, all the while accompanied by strings that gloss and dazzle an already drenched melodic offering, fraught at the mouth with failed emotional restraint. “I came to the city /to build a mountain” He would. “So if I betray you…” He wouldn’t. As a clear departure from their usual ocean-free delivery, …Corey Haim has huge drive and surges with intent to clear pop heights. A dizzy memory. [Splash.]

Posted on November 30, 2010 - Tunes - 2 Comments » Share

Wishing cities would sleep

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The Fall – New Face In Hell

New Face In Hell does to my gut what the Velvet’s Gift never fails in doing – that is the spin back to life of a rottin’ stomach. If I were a guitarist I’d be a rhythm guitarist. I’d take the backseat, pass plaudits to the lead, and live a life of devotion to the pop of hips; the bringer of the rhyme of no reason to dancing tricks.

Title and knowledge of the fact aside, I still hear Smith scream, “And you face him… how?(!)” I somehow like it better that way. The judgement. And that kazoo, too, mocking the contagious nature of the lead guitar and its notions of musical notation. My eyes feel like irritated wounds. If I were sleeping now it would change everything. [Explanded & Deluxe.]

Posted on November 23, 2010 - Tunes - No Comments » Share

Oh, what to do with myself

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Posted on November 22, 2010 - Videos - No Comments » Share

Just wishing that I had just something you wore

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Pixies – Cactus

Run outside,
In the desert heat
Make your dress all wet
– And send it to me.
Bloody your hands
On a cactus tree,
Wipe it on your dress,
– And send it to me.

This, for me, is rock music at its most concentrated, free from fears of restraint and sterile backlash, ready for consequence; the marriage of macabre and comely poetry. Lust of the obsessive compulsive (the starved), and the damning of separation. The trudge and delicacy of jangly guitar, ushering through support, exploding in rising chords that dangle on the precipice of climax. The space between the parted is where the perverse dream. Cactus is the pleasure of suffocation and the capture of heat. [Buy Digital.]

Posted on November 16, 2010 - Tunes - 2 Comments » Share

Bi-hearted

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TV Girl – If You Want It

“Hello, it’s me.”

It may be the early-bird present giving season saturating my already eager system, but If You Want It‘s pocket-change-jangling introduction sounds like supermarket shopping distraction; those seasonal tracks spinning in dance on open air over product shelving, spinning just a little too fast to hurry you out of there.

“We’ve done this before.”

The song’s storyteller, its one sided bias, tells of a drunken romp with the familiar, a certain masochistic guilt, the passing of lacking-time, and repeated consummation of bare skinned embrace. Somewhere between the narrator’s enunciated admission is the space to park our very own exaggerations of possible love or obsession or both, and the petty jealousies that birth thereafter.

“I can see you’ve learned some tricks from those boys over in Europe.”

“If You Want It” meanders with the vinyl static of an Old Dirty Bastard instrumental (I think it’s the tight lipped slam of anything rhythmic) and never lets up, with a fragranced air of rattled piano keys and squealing trumpet. “In the hallway your eyes stay on the ground. Doesn’t bother me, because when the weekend comes around you’ll want it [again] and you’ll get it.”

If you do want this and those pockets of yours (ours) are ever too tight, to the point of finger nibbling on inspection, then fear not, TV Girl has released a self-titled four-track extended play for free download – even in fantasy high formats for “audiophiles and nerds”. It’s a welcome feature and seasonal one. Go get it.

Posted on November 11, 2010 - Tunes - No Comments » Share

And the bells they will ring

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Sleigh Bells – Tell ‘Em

I haven’t listened to music for days now – smack-dab in the middle of the lull, and so am in need of awakened senses; for the smell to return, for the vibrancy of colour synaesthesia to blind me. Tell ‘Em is the crack of finger snap, the dispersing wave of guitar response, the frantic rev of sound that falls somewhere between a video game shooter and an engine on start up. Krauss’ vocal styling reaches keyboard imitation as it occasionally rises to the collapse of a final syllable. Its frantic nature fails to diminish as it carries you aboard a provoked drum machine and surging pelts and belts of tumultuous guitar notation.

[Audio by Sleigh Bells.]
[Visuals by Christopher Anderson.]

Posted on November 5, 2010 - Tunes - No Comments » Share

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