Some days are easier than others. This is not one of the easy ones. Chalk it up to a pre-birthday funk, I guess.
Barbara Manning -- Isn't Lonely Lovely?
Strangely appropriate given my mood: PopMatters profiles Harry Nilsson. The first half is a little clunky, but the microscopic analysis in the second half is right on -- even if the piece kind of trundles awkwardly to a strange conclusion. But, you know, worth reading if you're confused about my (or anyone else's -- get ready for that Walkmen tribute to Pussycats) Nilsson fixation. I was also surprised that the piece kinda just glossed over Nilsson's Randy Newman thing; sometimes I think that Nilsson Sings Newman is my favorite of his albums, maybe even more of a favorite than The Point, which is saying a lot, actually.
Harry Nilsson -- I Guess The Lord Must Be In New York City (repost)
Harry Nilsson -- Love Story
Speaking of epic pop music, The Twilight Singers' Powder Burns is worming its way further into my affections this week. Not to be trite, but it really is one of those albums that totally unfurls like a flower upon repeated listening. This is Greg Dulli's naked male pain drenched in gorgeous and lush (but unfussy) production and it's the best Twilight Singers album yet -- and I loved the previous three ("Black Is The Color Of My True Love's Hair," below, is from She Loves You). The heavy burden of his loss and sorrow is palpable in every song, but this is no mere collection of elegiac tributes to New Orleans or his decade-long drug habit or the memory of his friend Ted Demme -- underneath all those layers of angry, distorted sound, there's hope. Of a sort.
The Twilight Singers -- Forty Dollars (repost)
The Twilight Singers -- Underneath The Waves
The Twilight Singers -- Black Is The Color Of My True Love's Hair
Random complaint: I hate pieces like Jon Fine's rant about "editor-rock" -- it just seems cheap and kind of mean to post something so snarky and clearly not well-thought out. It's the kind of off-the-cuff writing that's defended more and more as blogging gains wider influence. I'm of the opinion that just because you can dash something off and post it immediately and edit it later, that doesn't give you license to shoot your mouth off.
Oh, and! There's two new songs at The Dears' MySpace page.
And, I have a mighty crush on Mancunian (I adore being able to use that appellation) up-and-comers The Whip. I thought maybe that my obsession with 80's-flavored synth/angular guitar/spanky bass dance punk was on the wane, but I guess not... Dance, my darlings! Dance!
The Whip -- Trash
Barbara Manning -- Isn't Lonely Lovely?
Strangely appropriate given my mood: PopMatters profiles Harry Nilsson. The first half is a little clunky, but the microscopic analysis in the second half is right on -- even if the piece kind of trundles awkwardly to a strange conclusion. But, you know, worth reading if you're confused about my (or anyone else's -- get ready for that Walkmen tribute to Pussycats) Nilsson fixation. I was also surprised that the piece kinda just glossed over Nilsson's Randy Newman thing; sometimes I think that Nilsson Sings Newman is my favorite of his albums, maybe even more of a favorite than The Point, which is saying a lot, actually.
Harry Nilsson -- I Guess The Lord Must Be In New York City (repost)
Harry Nilsson -- Love Story
Speaking of epic pop music, The Twilight Singers' Powder Burns is worming its way further into my affections this week. Not to be trite, but it really is one of those albums that totally unfurls like a flower upon repeated listening. This is Greg Dulli's naked male pain drenched in gorgeous and lush (but unfussy) production and it's the best Twilight Singers album yet -- and I loved the previous three ("Black Is The Color Of My True Love's Hair," below, is from She Loves You). The heavy burden of his loss and sorrow is palpable in every song, but this is no mere collection of elegiac tributes to New Orleans or his decade-long drug habit or the memory of his friend Ted Demme -- underneath all those layers of angry, distorted sound, there's hope. Of a sort.
The Twilight Singers -- Forty Dollars (repost)
The Twilight Singers -- Underneath The Waves
The Twilight Singers -- Black Is The Color Of My True Love's Hair
Random complaint: I hate pieces like Jon Fine's rant about "editor-rock" -- it just seems cheap and kind of mean to post something so snarky and clearly not well-thought out. It's the kind of off-the-cuff writing that's defended more and more as blogging gains wider influence. I'm of the opinion that just because you can dash something off and post it immediately and edit it later, that doesn't give you license to shoot your mouth off.
Oh, and! There's two new songs at The Dears' MySpace page.
And, I have a mighty crush on Mancunian (I adore being able to use that appellation) up-and-comers The Whip. I thought maybe that my obsession with 80's-flavored synth/angular guitar/spanky bass dance punk was on the wane, but I guess not... Dance, my darlings! Dance!
The Whip -- Trash
posted by cindy hotpoint at 12:03:00 PM
7 Comments:
i regret that i still don't understand nilsson, but i'd be up for patient tutelage. i do not, however, offer tutoring in italo-disco as exchange...mostly because no one wants it, but i might natter on about laura nyro for a while.
greg dulli doing "black is the color of my true love's hair?!" i could make some sweeping generalization about dulli's utterly sexy (yet still kind of gross) presentation and talk about this being a wack dispaly of narcissism, but i'll refrain. for me, nina simone's version is a hard act to follow, but i'll do it for greg.
laura nyro tutelage is a good exchange for nilsson nattering.
which is not to say that i'm not still interested in posting your best-of italo disco at sometime soon-ish.
now, see, i was familiar with joan baez' version before nina simone's, so i guess i'm not terribly beholden to any specific one. (you should see how many versions there are in the itunes music store. b-a-n-a-n-a-s, as the kids say.) anyway, i'm actually thinking i should have posted "hyperballad" or "what makes you think you're the one" instead now. that self-titled twilight singers album is a killer.
Pandemonium Aerial Ballet (uh, you know, the one that condensed and remixed his first two LPs... that one!) is my favorite. But Son of Schmilsson speaks to me as well.
Have you heard of Harry's studio demos for Altman's Popeye movie? Apparently they circulate, and Harryoids speak highly of them, but I've had no luck in finding any.
re: fine's rant.
such blather--of course he would give props to david lee roth. maybe he's just stuck in some 80's mega-metal-space-time-warp-continuum where hair bands and arena rock still rule the airwaves. oops, well in my world, in this town, they do, but that's another sad story (queue the sat-rad.)
and since he probably doesn't or won't take the time to understand the lyrics or the music of those he bashes--whoopee, he dun thunk a new clichéd name for those whom he's pigeonholing--he can't grok the aesthetic. suffer the poor boy wannabe rocker who writes for a business magazine.
re: nilsson
for me, nothing shouts "groovy" like nilsson's tunes. a man so well connected that two music icons of the era died in his flat, a man so hedonistic that none other than john lennon hung out with him during his infamous "lost weekend" phase.
quite simply, the guy "lived, lived, lived" in his place, his time, and had the decency to leave the kid in us all a gift called the point.
and as we well know: a point in every direction is the same as no point at all. maybe mr. fine should cue up some nilsson and focus on one point.
James: I love Pandemonium Aerial Ballet too, just not as much.
Have we talked about those demos before? I feel we have, or something. (: I don't think I've heard them.
"suffer the poor boy wannabe rocker who writes for a business magazine."
chacal, you are SO AWESOME!
it's hard to reconcile taking advice from such a hedonist, but ... The Point is still the best "self-help" story i've ever encountered.
re: the point
self-help for oblio and one where he single-handedly saves (along with arrow, who single-paws) the day.
together, this boy and his dog, are the ante-wesley/wheaton--a duo that saved the freakin' day. in all, the point stands as a child-styled post-ellisonian fable gone good.
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