Tag: Man Man

This Buck Meek character is difficult to pin down, simultaneously rural and urbane.

In the last few years, John Lydon, once known to the world as Johnny Rotten, has been in the news for a variety of reasons, none of them related to his music, most of them leading to unfortunate public judgements. His band’s new album makes their name Public Image Ltd a handy reminder, as it serves up a take on society more in tune with their past work than the expected yelling-at-clouds. Elsewhere! To the listeners voicing strong opinions about the adorably shrill kids’ story that ran at the top of The Final Hour — your comments were passed on to Management and that short chunk of audio root canal is gone. Well done!

Maybe it’s the lackadaisical groove she can effortlessly establish, or her warm confident voice, but listening to Madison Cunningham is like sinking into the sofa for a new episode of your favorite show, a general feeling of ease, comfort, and complete enjoyment. Also, maybe you thought you heard a dirty word during “Tounge-Clucking Grammarian”, but you didn’t — let’s face, there’s a lot of rhymes for “clucking” that could register a false positive.

Tonight’s opening theme is clearly tribute to the Imaginary City — the opening cover is from the town’s The Streetwalkin’ Cheetahs, who are named after an Iggy and the Stooges lyric and have been pumping out a corresponding racket for about 30 years now. The song itself, originally by X, is about a friend of the band that left for England to hook up with the Damned’s Captain Sensible. The lore is unclear on whether the Captain was expecting that or not.

Weird manic indie funk-verging-on-pop with a weird manic sense of humor and they’re not afraid to throw in a horn section here and there to bolster their hooks and riffs.

Coriky is three musicians crumpling up their resumes, throwing them to the floor, and showing you exactly what they can do.

The mason laid a bare hand on the stone block. It was nearly three hours since the sun had set, yet the western-facing brick, part of the multitudinous grid that made up Port Blair’s Cellular Jail, still retained a significant amount of heat. The cryptographer glanced back at the yelp of surprise, but continued scraping a sample into a container with a microchip at its bottom using a dental tool, humming along with Caribbean tango audible in the distance. They were supposed to meet the man with the elephant down at the beach in only forty-seven minutes. It was still unclear why the plan called for such a journey as part of their extraction to Viper Island.

The catamarine knifed silently upstream, its passage discernible only as a faint twin wake on the surface of the river. Up ahead, the sonar array was already picking up the turbulence from the Mbocaruzú falls, the staccato warning pings slicing neatly between the Mozambique big-band swing being piped into the earpieces. In their individual pods, the cartographer and the miner reviewed their maps, surveys, and orders. Up ahead, behind the rushing down-flow of the water and completely out of sight, a set of steel doors silently opened and awaited the pair’s arrival.

The macabre sounds of The Bad Man will appeal to those who like dark carnivals and shadowy ringmasters rasping out bits of polka, sea shanty, ska, and more.

If the aliens thought we communicated in oldies, and were trying to send us a message, this would be it.