Tag: Los Amigos Invisibles

Guppy will make you feel like a million bucks, wreck your car, and make you lose your security deposit.

Back to the tried and true formula of new, old, obscure, and occasionally weird with tonight’s set, which features the return of Les Savy Fav and their always welcome abrasive electropunk. It’s now that time of year when I enter the studio in daylight and exit in pitch black darkness, which I always appreciate. In between, there were lots of exciting discoveries. Expect more heavily-censored Guppy in coming weeks!

Thick Paint has a sound you just want to slather and spread on.

There’s a whole new album from Wreckless Eric, a whole album, but tonight’s selection resonates for the simple fact that this is the third reference to the radium girls I’ve heard this week, all from very different sources. As we say around these parts, it’s a real plate ‘o shrimp. Also worth noting tonight is n-th track from the Bug Club’s Rare Birds album, which has so many good songs on it you’ll be hearing from them for months to come, and that’s even with not playing the ones with bad words.

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.

Cheekface takes nothing seriously, not even my undying love for their questionable attitude.

Firing things up near the top of tonight’s Mixtape are The Hives and the precision attack of “Rigor Mortis Radio,” from their recent return to affairs of sound. Also, what do you know… another fine Fugazi cover to open tonight’s mixtape, this one the chromatic riffing of “Merchandise” as interpreted by Sounds Of Swami. Elsewhere tonight, a shout-out to Chuck Dinkins for introducing me to Tupelo Chain Sex.

The lasting appeal of PJ Harvey’s staredown is undeniable.

Bo Diddley may have written tonight’s opening cover, and Spoon may be the one actually performing it, but the spirit of Billy Childish, whose version earworms its way through my head every year or so, is quite strong on the shambling, end-of-the-rehearsal vibe heard here. To the listeners voicing strong opinions about the adorably shrill kids’ story that runs at the top of The Final Hour — your notes have been passed on to Management.