Tag: House of Freaks

Put on the appropriate colors and get ready to cheer on Sports Team!

Tonight we open with Margaret Glaspy and her delightfully umami voice tackling Creedence Clearwater Revival’s classic, dedicated to all the changing weather, a favorite topic of these introductions. Elsewhere tonight, the set that started with Los Straitjackets and ended with the Skatalites was 🔥, as they say. Look for it in an upcoming Mixtape.

DJ Shadow, master of spin and finesse of fader, hits hard and in the nick of time.

Let’s face it, we’re going to be hearing tracks from The Bug Club for a couple months, since I keep finding gems strewn loosely about their most recent album. Lots of listeners checked in for this show, my apologies to those that checked out during the elevator hellride at the beginning of the show. Technical issues, we’re working on them.

I don’t care how many times I have to cut and paste Snõõper’s name to preserve those weird accents, they’re worth it.

Out of all the songs to receive Animal Collective’s swirling dayglo treatment, “Jimmy Mack” might be the most unexpected yet the most deserving. Elsewhere tonight, loyal listener Underdog, usually located in the wilds of Georgia, was able to tune in around lunchtime while traveling in Japan, making the second show in a row with a listener based in Asia. Get me marketing!

When I hear the sounds of Islands, I am reminded of sparkling diamonds and shattered glass.

I meant to write the notes for this show sooner than a month after the fact, but travel plans got in the way and here I am struggling for an intro. I can tell you that hearing Sparklehorse take on Robyn Hitchcock and the Egyptians’ “Listening to the Higsons” for the first time, mere weeks ago, felt like someone became obsessed with the same cassette as I did thirty years ago, but actually got around to letting the hen out.

I always thought Kurt Vile was a play on the name of the German composer that gave us “Mack The Knife,” but that seems to be his given name (bonus: middle name is Samuel). Sonically, he’s more in line with Lou Reed than Weill, topping his awkward nouveau folk with a voice that may not be the most musical but is actually the perfect medium to express this particular malarkey.

Hissing steam and spitting fire, the Old 97s chew up the rails and cross-ties by playing country music with a punk attitude.