It's St. Patrick's Day! A day originally intended to celebrate the patron saint of Ireland and Irish Christianity. Now we drink beer and take drunk pictures and drunk text and drunk dial and drunk drunk drunk.
Hey, did you know St. Patrick's Day is a provincial holiday in Newfoundland (and, by extension, Labrador)? I didn't. Now I do. Enjoy your day off of work, Newfie friends! Your, uh, Saturday off of work.
Keep it real, y'all. While enjoying your Guinness or your Kilkenny or your Smithwicks or your Harp or your Baileys or your Shamrock Shake or your anything but Corona, listen to this incomplete list of Irish rock 'n' rollaz.
I have a mild fascination with early rock 'n' roll copycats, the guys and gals who banked off of the very specific sound of particular trendsetters during the 1950s and 1960s. This fascinations doesn't extend to today's music because everybody is blandly copying everybody else (also, get off my lawn). But as we look way back at a time when rock sub-genres were new it is interesting to see what kind of bandwagons various musicians were jumping on.
The Beatles were the most popular band in the known universe. They still are. I just watched a documentary that described how the Beatles contributed to the demise of Russian communism. The impact the Beatles had on global cultures was substantial. It's no wonder then that many bands wanted to sound just like them.
A good example is a band called the Swinging Blue Jeans who, like the Beatles, were a four-piece band from Liverpool and, also like the Beatles, rode the Merseybeat wave to popularity in the early-to-mid 1960s. Their most popular song, one you've certainly heard before and likely attributed it to the Beatles, was "Hippy Hippy Shake," released in late 1963. Originally recorded by American singer/songwriter Chan Romero in 1959, the Beatles had actually performed the song live prior to the Swinging Blue Jeans' studio recording, though the Fab Four themselves never released it on any studio albums.
It's all there: the screams, the Buddy Holly-influenced guitars, the Lennon-esque larynx-blistering vocals (though Paul would do lead vocals when the Beatles performed the tune). And you probably already know exactly what the band looks like.
Another Liverpudlian Merseybeat band, Gerry & The Pacemakers, shared more commonalities with the Beatles than just location and sound. The Pacemakers, like the Beatles, were managed by Brian Epstein and had their songs recorded by George Martin. In fact their first single, "How Do You Do It?," was originally recorded by the Beatles. (The Beatles ultimately rejected the song as a single, choosing instead to release "Please Please Me.")
During the band's heyday they were the second-most popular band from Liverpool, though in retrospect they may be regarded as Beatle-Lite. Their most Beatley song, and a favorite of mine, was a jumpin' little ditty called "It's Gonna Be Alright" from 1964 (or 1965, depending on what side of the pond you're on).
And yes, 1960s television variety shows were very bizarre.
There were tons of similar-sounding bands during that period of Merseyside influx, and it's likely the musicians were influencing each other rather than outright copying-and-pasting. But sometimes it's obvious when somebody is doing their best to sound like somebody else. The Knickerbockers originated in New Jersey but they put on their Beatle boots and fake British accents for the 1965 song "Lies," their biggest (and only) hit.
This is probably the best Beatles song the Beatles never wrote or recorded. Dude sounds more like John Lennon than John Lennon does.
And you definitely already know what this band looks like.
It's the most wonderful time of the year.
The hap-happiest season of all.
Baseballtime.
I have to remind myself not to take these spring training games too seriously. The proven players are only here to warm up their bones, and tied games after the ninth finish as ties. It's all casual and fun.
This season will be wrought with drama and side-notes and other items of interest:
- who will take advantage of the new playoff spots?
- will the Red Sox and their new annoying manager get their act together?
- ...the New York Mets more so?
- Cardinals sans Pujols?
- Angels with Pujols?
- Tigers with Prince?
- can 49-year-old Jaime Moyer (and his 1-year-old Tommy John'd arm) still be useful?
- can 44-year-old Omar Vizquel... also be useful?
I can't wait. I can't wait.
HEY,
These are some of my favorite baseball songs.
Right-click. Save as.
These are my five favorite albums of 2011. These are the songs that moved me and shook me more severely than anything else did all year.
Numbers 5 and 2 originated in Toronto, so maybe I've developed a Canadian bias.
Numbers 4, 2, and 1 are screamers, so maybe I've retained my heavy music bias.
Numbers 4, 3, 2, and 1 all rely on Christian imagery and metaphors, so maybe I should have prayed about this list longer.
At last... So long, 2011! You were kind of a weird one.
5: Feel It Break by Austra
I'm a sucker for synthpop. I can't really explain it. Perhaps I had a particularly impressionable experience with The Human League as a small child. I don't know. But when somebody gets it right, when they music is served without frills, when it SOUNDS like how the original Tron movie LOOKED, I'm all about it. And Austra absolutely gets it right.
The songs of Feel It Break are bleak but not depressingly so. Dark-ish without being, you know, dark dark. The bouncy synthesizers prevents any of these songs from becoming dirges. We've got song titles like "The Choke" and "Hate Crime" and "The Villain," but I can bop my head to each of them. And I do.
"Beat And The Pulse"
4: Aesthetica by Liturgy
Listening to Aesthetica is like watching a thousand tortured souls play with the spirograph set each one got for Christmas. It's hypnotizing, wholly consuming, slightly terrifying, and so, so good. And maybe there are mathematical principles involved, but who knows/cares? Even though Liturgy pours out the metal (the blackest kind of metal), Aesthetica is surprisingly accessible. Obviously this isn't for everybody, but despite the brutal exploration of auditory concepts and the nightmarish imagery each song conjures up, this album is quite listenable and, more than that, very enjoyable. The kids will love it.
3: Strange Negotiations by David Bazan
Bazan does it again! Which is what everybody says every time David Bazan does it again. But, dang it, Bazan does it again! More semi-autobiographical stories of clumsy sin. More soul-searching lyrics. More painted pictures of conflicted humanity. More truth the way Bazan sees truth, which may not be truth at all, but he's doing the best he can, okay?
He's back with a full band, collaborating with Pedro The Lion pal T.W. Walsh among others. Strange Negotiations is in fact very Pedro-esque in sound, but less so lyrically as his spiritual beliefs have altered over time. The songs are still sung with God as a context, but the context of God Himself has changed. And Bazan's lyrical straightforwardness, still searing as ever, is deceptive because it carries so much baggage. There's the spiritual weight (the kind that gets heavier the more you know what you don't know), and there's the weight inherent in this business of being human. And this is why I love the man. He provokes and challenges, and he won't judge you for whatever conclusions you draw from his music. He'll just release another album to mess with your personal philosophy.
"People"
"Strange Negotiations"
2: David Comes To Life by Fucked Up
For a myriad of reasons, none of which were very good, I avoided making any serious effort with these guys. So as I listened to David (more as a courtesy than anything else) I had one of those rare musical revelatory experiences, the kind that shifts your perception of music six inches to the left. It happens all the time when people finally decide to see what's so great about Johann Bach. I never expected it to happen with stupid old Fucked Up. And I guess that's the point of a revelation. You don't see these things coming.
David is anthemic, and it's melodic, and it's aggressive, and it's a booty-shaker. And somehow it is ambitious and epic without coming off as pretentious. Individually each of the 18 songs are fantastic, but all together they tell a serious 4-part story with characters and plot twists and warped narrative arcs. It's all very fun in a Vonnegut kind of way, and if that's your thing then you'll have a dumb smile on your face while rocking out.
There are about 100 amazing things about this band and album, few of which I'm capable of succinctly explaining. Kingdoms is divided into three parts, each with their own theme, but each a specific part of a bigger picture (that picture being the love God has for his sinful creation, which is a pretty dang big picture). The lyrics are honest and human, gritty real, and presented with brotherly love. This stuff changes lives. For your consideration, a snippet from the declarative track "Induction":
"The Kingdom of God is for the burnouts, the broken, and the broke, the drug addicts, the divorced, the HIV-positive, the herpes-ridden, the hopeless, for the outcasts that have been created by the church, and for the outcasts of our society that have been created by us."
I can think of a handful of high-profile purveyors of the Faith who would sooner shoot themselves in the face than honestly recite those words. Anyway, the music itself is passionate melodic post-hardcore gloriousness. It SOUNDS good, which is important because if it didn't then all that other stuff wouldn't matter.
For all of the time and effort the band put into this high-quality product, it is completely baffling that Kingdoms is legally free to download in its entirety. Do so at:
