Mixtape 194 • You’re the Baby
Music all about your special someone and / or a newborn human.
Music all about your special someone and / or a newborn human.
The carefully curated collection of artists performing tracks made famous by other artists continues, in the third annual Version Control. Some of these could be so obscure as to ask “is it a cover if I never heard the original” but we can leave the answering of that to the armchair philosophers. I’ll go on the record saying a good song is a good song no matter who performs it. Also, to the listener and fellow cassette afficionado that complained about Maxell and Memorex being mentioned in the same breath: my point is that neither one of them is TDK.
It’s time for another Fun Drive, and what better way to represent tonight’s manic energy than Daisy Chainsaw and their epic “Love Your Money”? Also tonight, we have received a matching grant of one hundred dollars of America, via Telex: THIS IS THE HRVST TROGGOLD TO TELEX THE PLEDGE COMMITMENT THE ONE HUNDRED COMMA DOLLARS STOP OF MATCHING AMPLITUDE OTHER PLEDGES OF DONATION COMMA MATCH EXCLAMATION STOP HAVING REPORTING OF ARTICLE COMMA THE TURKISH ALMOND FARMING COMMA COMMA COMMA BEST THE LUCK STOP COMMA
Sure, we’ve all heard of the Eiffel Tower, but what do we know about the architect whose name it bears? April March breaks it all down on this version of the Pixies’ song. Also in this show, a special-delivery track from Planets in the Ocean, a new project from one of my favorite vocalists, Robb Benson.
Tonight, we have Fruit Salsa! A fresh variety of fruits, from the ordinary to the exotic, is selected and cut up into an hour's worth of delectable desert. Somewhere in there, The Soft Boys give us a live version of a Tin Pan Alley classic.
If you got The Nude Party to perform at your next get-together, it would be the kind of shindig that produces two marriages, three break-ups, and gossip for years to come.
The best place to hide seemed to be, ironically, right behind the ballot box. The numerologist and the baker had been underway on a wholly distinct mission, having already secured the deflated knifeboats inside a conveniently placed culvert. They now seemed to be caught in the crossfire of two opposing factions, each intent on some inscrutable and erratically violent purpose that seemed to be nothing but foiling the other side’s efforts. The roving skirmishes had drawn away participants and created a fairly event-free circle of balance where the pair could hunker down and plan their next move. It was going to be a long night.
As you may suspect, Peter Bjorn and John hail from Sweden, and as you may expect, they do Anglophonic indie pop better than the Anglophones.
Out of all the ways there were to get into Zugdidi — they could have taken the ekranoplan, for example — the agency had chosen the bus. This exasperated the developer to no end. Their gear sat somewhere in the guts of the green behemoth, guarded by six different hardware and software protocols, but it still felt queasy to be so far removed from it. The meteorologist peered across the botanical garden to the Dadiani palaces. Somewhere in there, a nondescript yogurt stand would have a small radio playing Konnakkol techno. They were to purchase two cones and overpay. Instructions would follow.
A rowdy, loving tribute to The Cramps, even rawer and more intransigent than the original, from two women furiously channeling Lux Interior and Poison Ivy.