Mixtape 226 • Buffalo
On this, Hurray for The Riff Raff and I agree: don’t mess with bison.
On this, Hurray for The Riff Raff and I agree: don’t mess with bison.
A very quiet night, perhaps everyone is hunkering down for the leap day. Featured is IDLES, who all look like they could recommend a good IPA, and also would be willing to kick my ass for thinking so. Tonight featured more than our usual ration of covers, starting with a not-unlikely take on Beck’s “Loser” and following up with takes on tracks originally made famous by Muppets and Devo.
It's American Thanksgiving time, and there is nothing quite like food in the house.
I know that Water From Your Eyes is a reference I can look up in a second these days, but I am going to refuse to do so to leave the magic untainted.
“You missed the white crocodile,” the chipa vendor told them. The mycologist and the munitions expert gave the expected sounds of disappointment, the same as any tourist drawn to Paraguay’s Ojo de Mar would. One of them spread a blanket by the lake side while the other one got busy with entering the passcodes and unlatching the efficient-looking metal case they had extracted from the moped. Opening it once the blanket was ready, they began taking out the 3D-printed pieces from the foam molding with quick, efficient movements as the Easy Star All-Stars blared out a David Bowie song from the vendor’s portable radio.
Pom Pom Squad began as songwriter Mia Berrin's solo operation but now employs four full-time experts in musical munitions and lethal lyrical techniques
If you are of a certain age and exposure to the MTV, you would think that people in Tijuana eat barbecued iguana, but that was just Stan Ridgway and Wall of Voodoo reaching for a cheap rhyme. Polvo takes the song's nervous energy and turns it up a few notches.
It took Cheo a couple of years to get back into his usual Latin-flavored slinky tinkles after leaving his previous band, but we’re all glad to hear he’s returned.
The topologist carefully unfolded the graph depicting prime number frequencies. Across the scrub, the baker was returning from the Unimog, having concluded the search, and from the looks of their empty hands, unsuccessfully. They must have left it in the cab back in Calabar. Wonderful. Together, they considered the placement of the carved stone monoliths before them, their geometric arrangement random to the average visitor, but a clear reflection of order to the ancient people of Alok Ikom, and apparently, also related to the graph before them, with cataclysmic mathematical consequences.
This is SOME LIKE IT HOT, a Mixtape of music about all things that are Not Cold, an hour of songs about heat and warm places, and bands that celebrate this elusive phenomenon. Although sometimes it resorts to extremes, it is hoped that this sonic concoction delivers some measure of imaginary heat to the listener.