Ice baby, I saw your girlfriend

Dear friends,

Busy, busy, busy. bee-like, as Cordelia once said on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Which means no links, just me babbling, at the mercy of the Little Monkey Jr. Hit it, tiny caucasian.

1. Watching The Detectives (Live)/Elvis Costello (mp3)

Sigh. I once had a prized bootleg cassette of some Elvis show from 1978 that is nothing but 45 minutes of raging, relentless, spiteful aggression. The Attractions rip it up so hard it sounds like they're about to tear out the floorboards so they can construct a tiny fort to keep their amphetamine fueled paranoia at bay*. No stops between songs, no slow songs, the only banter being the occasional Costello complaint about people not standing which I can't even see how that was possible in the face of such sonic energy. Alas, the tape never had the locale of the show, otherwise I'd be trying to find it right now since I foolishly lent it to a girl named Alison (ha!) in college who quit school shortly thereafter and disappeared into the mist.

This is from Live at the El Mocambo, possibly from that same tour. it satisfies even though compared to that other bootleg this sounds like mother/daughter tea at The Plaza.

2. Suzy Lee (Alternate version)/The White Stripes (mp3)

I much prefer this version from the Dead Leaves... CD single to the one on their album. I wouldn't say subtlety is Jack White's particular forte and on an early song like this, I'd never imagine that he'd be able to lighten up their sound. Oh, that's not to say that Meg White's patented BASH BASH BASH BASH isn't there, just that the interpretation gives the song the feel of a ghost story instead. It seems as if the singer/protagonist is dead and crooning in a sepia toned purgatory; dusty wind blowing tumbleweeds across. Highly recommended.

3. Summer Babe/Pavement (mp3)

The waiting in an abandoned house (or houseboat as I liked sing instead, I botch lyrics like no one.) The accidental laugh that breaks up the "dropped off" from "the first shiny robe." The guitar at the end like a wasp on acid. All those things and more.

4. Jeanny/Falco (mp3)

Eh...I got the album from my library when I was a kid and I taped it. A couple of years ago, I decided I needed it again and found it online (Oh internet! Thou art powerful indeed!) Basically, Falco does a voice over in German over an 80's erotic thriller movie keyboard theme. I have no idea what he's saying** but at the end of every "verse" he gets WAY overwrought and starts singing "Jeanny, quit living on dreams!!!" in english with these chick singers going la la la behind him. It's so, so NUTS but singing along to the chorus is extremely satisfying in that "you are alone, and yearn to over-emote in the privacy of your own home" sorta way. If you want something a bit more obscure than Pat Benatar's We Belong to the Night to do this to, then seek out this song.

An old friend of mine once dated this guy who was an army brat, had grown up in Germany and was more German than American. He liked the Legendary Pink Dots, Einstürzende Neubaten, Nick Cave and...Falco. Specifically, Jeanny. He casually mentioned the song once and we gave each other that secret look of "I love that awful song!, Me too!, Don't tell anyone!" to this day, he is the only person I've ever met who had ever heard of it.

5. A Rush and A Push/The Smiths (mp3)

I love Strangeways Here We Come, even though there's something slightly off about it that I can't put my finger on. Was it the growing animosity in the band? The order of the tracklisting? I can't tell. But I find it interesting that an album that contains a nice number of quality Smiths songs is not one of my favorite album listening experiences...

On a goofier note, this song makes The Monkey dance. It's true. whenever I put it on, J starts to sing along and move his arms to the beat, his hands in the shape of ice cream scoopers. It never fails to put a smile on my face. Very pleasing, indeed.

Have a good weekend!

Love, D

* Interestingly, I've only ever done this on caffeine. It works.

** If any of our readers speak German and would be interested in helping a sistah out, get back to me with the translation.

The motion of her tiny hands and the quiver of her bones below

Dear friends,

Jack White is a Charlie Chan mustache havin' nut and I love him. I'm not just saying that because he could crush me with his monster movie hands. Apparently, he married British supermodel Karen Elson (Who's a real Cockney cutie and probably paler than White (Ha! I meant the man not the color but that works. She's pretty much translucent.)) on Wednesday*. As far as surprise weddings stunningly timed to coincide with film openings/record releases go, he's done much better than Renee's boob job havin' country singer beau**. G'luck with all of that, you crazy kids!

In an effort to balance my cynicism, I'd like to draw people's attention to the fantastic Truth Doesn't Make A Noise by The White Stripes off of the always mispronounced (usually by me) album De Stijl. It's no secret Mr. White would happily play the dude that hands Bob Dylan a towel/crown/bathrobe in the movie version of James Brown's life that I have playing in my head 24/7. Come to think of it, White would play several beaten-up wives as well, anything to sit close to Zimmy at the edge of a hotel room bed and catch some of his genius sweat. While the Stripes cover a few Dylan numbers***, I think the biggest hat tippers are the I wanna be like you originals. Truth Doesn't Make a Noise is one such number; it melds a barely restrained defense of a sweetheart to a recurring desert blues guitar refrain. It doesn't sound like Dylan quite, it's the intention behind it. I can almost see those defensive (or is it light-blinded?) stares behind whiteface make-up and a broad rimmed hat.

Love, D

* thanks to Contributor Gill for the link

** Well, according to the best mean celebrity bashing site on the internet, The Superficial, the new Mr. Z has had a "pectoral implant". I don't care if it's true or not. It's just those words alone that do it for me.

*** At the first concert I went to of theirs, the Stripes covered Isis which was one of my favorite Dylan songs in high school. Basically, as soon as it started I started clucking furiously like a storm sensing chicken. The cousin who accompanied me was...perturbed, for lack of a better word. I believe this was the seed that spawned my Stripes dementia.

Song To Seek: Truth Doesn't Make a Noise/The White Stripes