Com Medo Com Pedro

from the LP Gal, Phillips Records, 1969



Backed by the incendiary & psychedelic crew of Os Brazões, the undisputed queen of Tropicália, Miss Gal Costa, turns in her most decidedly “out-there” album ever in this self-titled LP, making her admittedly freaky fellow Brazilian rockers Os Mutantes sound relatively tame in contrast. Drawing a comparison doesn’t really work here, but Gal was surely influenced by such wild women as Janis & Tina Turner, perhaps Grace Slick most of all, or maybe I just feel that way due to the Jefferson Airline-esque backing music, which is bass-driven and absolutely searing, like a fucking hit of DMT to the dome-piece in some places. Perhaps not surprisingly if you consider the twisted acidy vibe, when I translated the Portuguese lyrics to this song I found the whole thing appears to be about the apocalypse, “…now I’m not afraid…God forbid that I should be afraid now, after I have already played in the world; God forbid that I should be afraid now, after I have set foot on the bottom...after the end of all fear, the end of the world…from the end of everything…the end!!!” Given the autocratic, not to mention murderous, military junta which controlled Brazil at the time, these words could very well have carried two meanings, secretly encouraging the free-thinkers to stand strong.

Time Warp (dub)

from the 12” single, ICE Records, 1981



Sprung forth from the studio like some funky gamma ray, this smokin’ track still tears up a dancefloor like nobody’s business, all spacey lazer synths and that relentless drum machine break, like the pounding hooves of some cyborg disco horse; and all the while, the diva’s keep singin’, “…do do do do, do-do do do…” Eddy Grant will eternally be remembered here in the States for his smash hit “Electric Avenue”, but a one-hit-wonder he most certainly is not; having moved with his parents from Guyana to London, Mr. Grant’s first time on top of the charts was while leading his band The Equals, way back in 1968!! Indeed, this cat has had one hell of a career, going on to act as producer for such luminaries as Sir Mick & Sting, and running his ICE records label out of Barbados; sounds like a rough life. DJs take note: this cut never fails.

Funky Mountain Fogdown

from the CD Euphoria, Hollywood Records, 1997



I think there’s something in the water supply…well, that’s what I tell people who ask me why Colorado has continued to be ground zero for the bluegrass revival that’s been kicking since the early ‘90s, for lack of a better reason I suppose. If one wanted to, you could probably see live bluegrass on every night of the week within a 20 mile radius of the semi-official epicenter of the scene: Boulder. Salmon built their early support base with constant gigging in and around the front range here, and they stand proudly atop the pile of area crews right next to Yonder; to be sure, some older heads around here would gasp at that assessment, but I’m merely comparing the level of notoriety those two bands achieved (i.e. national vs. local), not their sound. Where Yonder has stuck primarily with a semi-traditional bluegrass template, Salmon was always quick to highlight their eclectic range by labeling their musical stew as “polyethnic Cajun slamgrass”, whatever that means. Going to see bluegrass live is a great time though, I can’t lie---you almost feel like the music carries you back in time, to the pioneer days of mining camps and shady ladies which used to populate the surrounding hills.

Mt. Airy Groove

from the 12” single, Elektra Records, 1982



Mainly known for their smooth jazz excursions (ala: the Weather Channel soundtrack), the Philly-based crew known as Pieces of a Dream, along with everyone else in the early ‘80s, just couldn’t resist the opportunity to play around with the emerging style of hip-hop, still in it’s relative infancy back then. Using live instrumentation on bass, drums, & electric piano/synth, these AOR jazz cats skillfully demonstrate that you don’t have to come hard to come correct. Golden era crew Leaders of the New School, featuring a young Busta Rhymes, did a phat remix of this song, using the original keys & break on a loop, and you can’t even tell the difference, proving just how tight the musicianship inside this band was; “…just listen to the synthesizer and the drums, we’re gonna show you all where we come from…” Word.

Jump Into My Mouth & Breathe the Stardust

from the LP Dandelion Gum, Graveface Records, 2008



It’s been snowing for a few days, and that means yours truly has a higher marijuana intake, so off we go on a little adventure: a nautical interplanetary voyage born of weed, magic mushrooms and dense soggy forests, cultivated by heady gnomes who seek audio truth, ingested by those willing to take the polysynthetic journey---this is the world known as Black Moth Super Rainbow. They do what they do, and they do it so fucking well. Of all the things I love about this band, I think the one aspect that keeps me coming back for more is that ever-present and fateful vein of doom & calamity which is laced atop everything they do, peeking around the corners of their musical collages like sleep-dep shadow people, not exactly threatening in an off-putting way but always lurking, preventing their brand of kaleidoscopic lunacy from ever drifting near the FDL (fromage demarcation line). Strawberry Fields on the moon, for real dude…

Runaway Man

from the EP The Tesla EP, Mullet Records, 2009



The recent ‘80s-based retro revolution is like crack rock to me, in as much as I can’t fucking quit this stuff man; the many layers of synthesizers embrace my very being like a well-known friend, connecting back with a psychic urgency felt only at the apex of the Cold War…well, as re-interpreted by kids who weren’t born then anyways. This fact is perhaps best exemplified by those on the other side of that fence, Russian young adults who never knew the Soviet Union proper, just the mishmash of nation-states left in its wake. Named after the infamous inventor and superhero to physics nerds the world over, Moscow-based crew Tesla Boy skillfully demonstrate that chill wave isn’t merely a western trend, and from what I’ve seen and heard of modern Moscow nightlife they aren’t just imitating LA. So, throw your hammers & sickles in the air, and wave ‘em like you just don’t care, oh yea!!

Unbelieveable

from the 12” single, Parlophone Records, 1990



Looking backwards, I’m entirely convinced that the music video for this specific song proved to be a vital early step in the slow proliferation of electronica in the United States; the very sight of all those ecstatic British blokes & birds in baggy clothes and floppy smiles, pupils dilated to the fullest, proved to be something of a clarion call for us kids across the pond here---let’s be honest, it helped a great deal that they were actually a “band”, only having one DJ on stage in the clips didn’t intimidate wary Americans at all. Although the name officially stood for “Epsom Mad Funkers” (in a nod to New Order, surely one of their biggest influences), their own lyrics on the self-titled B-side to the this single, not to mention the clear substance of choice amongst those partying in the video, gave rise to the more commonly known explanation, “Ecstasy, Motherfuckers, From us to you!” It also coincided with an explosion of British & Euro rave compilations hitting music stores, in Florida anyways, and for many of us at that point, the die was fully cast: we would soon be going to raves and, thus, defining something new for ourselves, then just coming out of the ‘80s. Even watching the video now, some 20 years later and as a boring old man, I’m besieged with an endearing sympathy for how innocent it all was…well, minus the drugs anyways, you know what I mean…

Cheap Sunglasses

from the LP Degüello, Warner Bros Records, 1979



Anyone that knows me well (the “me” of the last decade or so anyways) is chuckling to themselves at the mere suggestion of this song’s title---I admit, I have a weakness for shades, I have a lot of them, and not exactly the cheap variety anymore either; ya know, us guys have a limited amount of accessorizing ability, so get off my back already. The funny thing about it is, after this album and subsequent tour finished, with the guys in ZZ Top rocking Wayfarers at every show (and then-new beards), Bausch & Lomb saw their sales go through the roof---smell a rat? Shouldn’t be terribly surprising, although it may have been ZZ’s first foray into subliminal advertising, it sure as hell wouldn’t be their last, as we’ve all come to be quite familiar with those fuzzy faces over the years, in a plethora of ad’s, endorsements and music videos. Personally, I could give a fuck less if a band “sells out” or not: as long as the music continues to kick ass, who cares?! This song is one of those permanent staples of any region’s classic rock radio programming, and if you’re riding in my car, believe that that volume knob is gonna get cranked. Quick fact: it’s actually true that, after having watched ZZ guitarist Billy Gibbons (then in his band the Moving Sidewalks) shred opening for him during the Experience’s Texas tour dates, Jimi Hendrix himself said in an interview that he thought Gibbons was the best guitarist in America at that time…high praise indeed!!

Hangman

from the LP Together, Brain Records, 1972



There were two distinct veins of krautrock, and while almost all of the tracks I’ve posted in the Honeypot thus far fall into the spacey electronic school of thought, there were a substantial number of bands which subscribed to a more Western-leaning approach, top amongst them being the Hanover, Germany-based crew Jane; basically, by any other name, this style of kraut is essentially blues-based prog rock, but the one feature which sets both Jane and others like them (Frumpy for one) apart is their insistence upon jamming at a mid-to-slow tempo, probably less of a plan than a natural outgrowth for people who were consuming entire caravans of hashish, “…when I wake up in the morning, it’s the end of the day…”! Jane never fails to deliver on a lazy afternoon, almost like they infused the proceedings with consciously positive vibrations, ably predicting both the needs & the heady nature of their audience.

The King of Carrot Flowers

from the LP In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, Merge Records, 1998



Promptly losing your shit & proceeding to have yourself locked up in an institution after finishing the sessions for your latest record is certainly one way to make sure your album gets noticed---not saying that Jeff Magnum’s nervous breakdown was a premeditated marketing ploy, I’m not quite that cynical, but he surely knew it wasn’t going to hurt his band’s (Neutral Milk Hotel) career the way spending time inside a mental hospital might damage the reputation of an individual not regarded as an “artist”. People drool over this album like it was fashioned from the tears of God or something, where for me it’s a rather uneven affair, overwrought in many places, and tightly wound to say the least. I have to concede, though, that on a handful of songs his mastery of both language & melancholia is undeniable, weaving stripped-down timeless tales that mask their impact inside clouds of sing-song childlike sincerity, “…when you were young you were the king of carrot flowers, and how you built a tower tumbling through the trees, in holy rattlesnakes that fell all around your feet…and your mom would stick a fork right into daddy's shoulder, and dad would throw the garbage all across the floor, as we would lay and learn what each other's bodies were for…and your mom would drink until she was no longer speaking, and dad would dream of all the different ways to die, each one a little more than he could dare to try…” And that emotive accordion, always a nice touch!

Crossing Borders Mixtape

Side A, 1997



The title of this mixtape could actually serve as a tagline to the story of Jenö’s career, both in the geographic sense (as he was raised in London, but moved to San Francisco during rave’s halcyon days at the urging of some British ex-pat pals who had gone there for vacation and never returned home) and in the philosophical sense, as Jenö became well known for spinning heartfelt sets which appealed to almost everyone in attendance; for lack of a better adjective, his mixes embody the concept of being ‘soulful’. He continues to spin records to this day, mining the funky cavernous depths of the beats and feeding sonorous communion to the masses.

Modern World

from the LP The Modern Lovers, Home of the Hits Records, released: 1976, recorded: 1972



My better half surprised me with a netbook for Valentines Day this year, which means two things: 1) I am overcome with joy, and 2) I am also overcome with the shooting pangs of anxiety which strike those who suddenly realize the dinner & flowers they’d previously planned on no longer meets the holiday gift relativity requirements, and thus, must scramble to put something together---a trip to Williams & Sonoma should do the trick (I literally just winced at my own inexcusable yuppiness). This modern world of ours, with its tiny little laptops & lightning fast internet (not to mention these nifty medical marijuana cards!!!), is surely an exciting place, and I only say that partially tongue-in-cheek, as I sit here typing my post for an electronic blog on said netbook. Underground superhero Jonathan Richman was but one among countless throngs of Velvet’s fans who felt compelled to start a band after being exposed to the VU experience, and Boston proved to be the perfect place to do so; his Modern Lovers remain as one of the earliest & rawest proto-punk crews around (that’s their “Roadrunner” the Sex Pistols covered), imploding before they ever got an album out, with its members going on to play in such seminal bands as the Talking Heads & the Cars. I’m not entirely sure what the percentage breakdown of sarcasm to authenticity is within this song, but either way, it’s fun to sing along, “…well I'm in love with the U.S.A. now, I'm in love with the modern world now, put down your cigarette, and share the modern world with me…” 831 to my dearest T.

We Took the Wrong Step Years Ago

from the LP In Search of Space, UA Records, 1971



Harrowing and radiant, like a glowing crystal carafe filled with pure LSD-25, the combination of acoustic and electronic elements within this song forge a strangely perfect union that underscores Hawkwind’s entire vibe: pushing heuristic, hypnotic analysis of the past and the future; don’t be fooled by its lilting allure, this is a proclamation of environmental doom (think: Al Gore’s trip, if he wasn’t such a d-bag), and they were rather ahead of their time in delivering it, “…think about the things that we should have done before, the way things are going the end is about to fall…take a look around and see the warnings close at hand, already weeds are writing their scriptures in the sand…the morning sun is rising, casting rays across the land, already nature's calling, take heed of the warning; we took the wrong step years ago, we took the wrong step years ago, we took the wrong step years ago…” The “space log” (see: consuming vast amounts of varying psychedelic substances and attempting to compile a journal for space travel) which came in this incredible LP is, without question, one of the most drug-addled pieces of literary exorcism ever sent to press---it alone is worth the cost of a complete used copy, not to mention the incredible tunes found within. By the way, we had snow falling in 49 of 50 states yesterday. Nice.

Jam Packed (At the Wall)

from the 12” single, Epic Records, 1988



Okay, confessional time for a second here, I thought this track was the joint for a hot second back in the day---for real, you couldn’t go anywhere without hearing this pumping from speakers up & down the beach: from bars, clubs, car stereos, radio stations, you name it. For the longest time I had no clue who had sung it, until the wonders of the internet solved everything for music obsessives like myself, and it wasn’t surprising to find out that the singer, one Nicole McCloud, had actually been earning her stripes in the dance music underground for a few years before this single dropped. I still can’t put my finger on exactly what I like about this track; I mean, it’s a pretty basic beat, but that sub-bass really rolls hard, and all the flashy effects which normally dry out new jack swing cuts work together flawlessly here for some reason. Plus, you can’t fuck with the fierce turquoise, bull fighting-ish outfit that she’s rocking on the cover!

Up On the Sun

from the LP Up On the Sun, SST Records, 1985



Kurt Cobain always spoke highly of the Meat Puppets, admitting their influence on his own music and even inviting them out on tour & to come help out when Nirvana played that classic ‘unplugged’ set for MTV, but for those of us who weren’t into the Puppets ahead of time, the connecting line between the two bands was a blurry one at best---due mainly to the fact that their album from then (1994) Too High To Die, while being a great LP, sounded almost nothing like the atmosphere on their early – mid ‘80s albums. As you can hear on this song, Mr. Cobain wasn’t just influenced by this band---the Puppets fucking molded Nirvana in almost every way: the reject vibe, the blasé but experimental playfulness, the unabashed link to fuzzy classic rock; hell, Cobain even sculpted his vocal delivery after Curt Kirkwood’s (they shared a first name for fuck’s sake!), so much so that parts of this song, the title track off of their third album, genuinely sound like it could be a Nirvana outtake, “…not too much more, too much more; not too much more, too much more…”. We recently had the pleasure of seeing the Meat Puppets open for Ween out at Red Rocks, and I’ve gotta say, they still rock!!

Nana Nina

from the LP Panama!, Soundway Records, released: 2006, recorded: 196?



Growing up in Florida, and particularly when I lived in the Dominican Republic, there were always several kinds of Latin-based music pumping out of apartments, cars, shops; when I was little, it all basically sounded the same to me, but as you grow up and fall more in love with music generally, one begins to notice that there are certain types of songs, or beats, that you gravitate towards---now, as a grown adult, I can distinguish exactly what it was that captured me about some tunes and not others: percussion. This track, by Panamanian scenesters Bush y sus Magnificos, has a fucking army of congas, bongos & djembes that hold the reigns, and they are so categorically funky that my ass moves without conscious thought, dig?!

Lollipop

from the LP Awoo, Arts & Crafts Records, 2006



My head’s been in a funny place since the holiday vacation to Florida---it’s like some remnants of my juvenile delinquency there have followed me home, after hearing about people who were, at one time in my life, so integral to my survival, I just can’t get the gears to stop grinding. Yes, it’s so simple for us as adults to smile endearingly back at the naïveté and idealistic ignorance of our youths---but when I more closely examine some of my insights from back then, I’m faced with the possibility that we only tell ourselves that to continue validating our socialized, jaded, monotonous and predictable lives as “productive adult members of society”. There is a truth within the maelstrom of adolescence, a pursuit of the ‘now’ which supersedes any rational or logical balance of past & future juggling that we so avidly engage in throughout the rest of our lives. I’m not pining for the old days here---a lot of that time was hell on earth for all of us; but, some of it was also the freest I have ever been: free from responsibility, free from complete disillusionment, free from obligation, free from SHAME! That freedom opens subways into vast recesses of the mind which seem to be difficult in accessing later on, paradigms of thought that wind up getting heaped upon the mound of “then”. And yes, I realize it’s virtually impossible to live like that perpetually, but isn’t it too easy & simplistic to merely look back upon our youth with the critical view that it was all just blissfully uninformed crap?! I don’t know, just thinking out loud here… This song is by a large collective of Canadian musicians, The Hidden Cameras, and it serves as background to the trailer of an incredible film by queercore godmother & DIY purist GB Jones, called The Lollipop Generation (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jeMQlzX0CbM), which I can’t get out of my head either, albeit, not something for the faint of heart or closed of mind; the vibe of this track is obviously influenced by the Femmes, Feelies, most of all Plastic Bertrand’s “Ça Plane Pour Moi”, but the words are super cryptic, “…can't contain the nervousness that creeps into the loins of us, our fate concieved of block by block and word for word, we walk the talk…turning into sap, the, incredulous man, stumbles as he glances, away, the harrowing way…he's taken in hand, led by, his favorite band, mumbles as he dances, in a, crumbling gang…lollipop, lollipop…” No great certainty or assurance to take away here today, these are ruminations which remain very much in progress, but they will hopefully distract me less now that I’ve bored you with them.

Sin

from the LP Pretty Hate Machine, TVT Records, 1989



Yet another case of the critics being dead-ass wrong, this debut album was lambasted from all directions upon its release, yet it proved to be a divining rod for the second wave of gothic boys & girls, a clarion call to be firm in their dastardly image, and a celebration of all Reznor’s influences: Throbbing Gristle, Ministry, Front 242, Chrome, DAF. This tape was a big deal man---you needed to have it by 1990/1991 if you were “cool”; the weird thing about that being, I remember some rather preppy individuals rocking this album back then, I suppose initialing just exactly how much crossover appeal Trent was really slinging. His severity, in both tone & message, increased with each successive album from here on out, so it’s always kind of refreshing to spin these older songs and recall back when these tracks were actually sort of scary and imposing, loosely masochistic and submissive, but barely intimating what was to come later.