If you're going to form a rock band, there's worse things you can do than model yourself musically after XTC in the early to mid-80s.
In a more perfect world, these guys would've been huge:
But sadly, of the groups from last decade that most resembled XTC, these guys flamed out the quickest, leaving behind one unspeakably brilliant album.
The second album was never finished... but the band made all the raw tracks available online as an "open source album." So if you're inclined to finish these songs, remix them, add or subtract elements and combine them into something new... then go at it.
"When you name something, it gives you power over it."
I don't believe that.
"Then how come you felt better when you learned the name of the weird flu you had?"
That wasn't about the name. It was about being able to get better.
"By using the name. Because knowing the name gave you power."
But what about before anyone named it? Naming a disease doesn't mean you've cured it.
"Maybe not. But if you divide everything into two... before you name it and after you name it... the before part is all swirling and amorphous."
And the after part is swirling and amorphous with a name.
"What about you? What were you before you had a name?"
I didn't exist. My parents named me long before I was born.
"Maybe they did. Maybe you just came into existence with a name. And that name seeped through the membranes until your parents recognized it. And knew it was part of you."
I can't find the reference anymore... But a few years ago someone told me that, before the word "hippie" caught on, people who were... basically hippies referred to themselves as "the Beautiful People." (And if you know where this "fact" originated, let me know.)
I know this much: John Lennon had a weird psychedelic song fragment called "One of the Beautiful People" and Paul McCartney had a chorus that started "Baby You're a Rich Man." And they strung the two together, tweaked the lyrics, and came up with a hippie anthem for the period just before anyone knew the word "hippie."
By the way, Wikipedia says the original mono mix of this song featured a spin echo feedback delay that bridged the end of one verse with the start of the next. When it came time to make a stereo mix, engineer Geoff Emerick could not recreate the spin echo effect, so he just took it out. (Feel free to compare and contrast.)
J.B., whose regular blog is the fantastic The Hits Just Keep On Comin', shares the story original version of "Brown Sugar" (with Eric Clapton and Al Kooper) over on WNEW's Rock Flashback blog. It's even better than the "official" version (in my opinion).
They Suggest Piano Lessons for Young Beauty Queens
The days got longer, the pants got shorter, and the sun got warmer.
And the plans started hatching. Where we'd go. Who we'd visit. What we'd eat.
Then the couples shattered, stretched, and broke.
And another summer had arrived. This one different. This one less carefree, more serious.
This time the end was in sight. And for most of us, it wasn't filled with joy and gladness. It was filled with doubt and despair.
The internships were horrific, hours of torture bookending endless drinking. More and more, conversations would begin with "Can you believe people live like this?"
The phone calls were more tense.
The concerts were harder to plan.
The standing Tuesday night Frisbee games moved to Thursday, then to Saturday afternoon, then to never.
The interruptions -- which had made each previous summer bearable -- now became something we dreaded.
There was a chill everywhere, even when it was over 100 degrees and the wind was blowing inland off the tides of shorelines gone.
The ones who'd already left were divided into two groups: the ones who admitted their unhappiness and the ones who could hide their unhappiness.
We didn't know what was happening... only that it was important.
And, as we struggled to wring the last drop of May out of the air, we couldn't wait for June to come. Everything would change.
Of course, back then, we thought we could come back anytime we wanted.
You could argue that Enigma Records was the coolest label in the world in 1985.
I wore most of the oxide off a 1985 cassette sampler from Enigma, driving far too fast on roads in 21 different states in a French car constructed (poorly) in Kenosha, Wisconsin. (Who knows, the tape might still be around in an old shoe box or still in the glove compartment that car, which I haven't owned since the 90s.)
I don't remember much about the cassette, but it had songs on it by Don Dixon, Game Theory, the Smithereens, the Dead Milkmen, and (if memory serves) Mojo Nixon.
If I had the tape right now (okay, and if I had a car that could play tapes), I'd get on the nearest highway right now, roll down all the windows, blast the rest of the oxide off it at high levels of volume, and drive approximately 123mph.
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