Tag: Mark Mothersbaugh

Orange Drink can be sweet, it can be tart, and sometimes it will even remind you of citrus.

No pan flute, no washes of synthesizer textures, just Olivia Jean doing her best impression of a land-bound siren and kicking up the octane in the Enya original to unsafe levels. It’s a hot summer so far, with lots of great releases crowding the older stuff out of the playlist, and it shows no sign of letting up. There’s a new album from the Boo Radleys (it’s been a while!), and I am obsessing over motorik sounds from Orange Drink and Motor!k. It’s far more than will fit on a single cassette, unless you get one of those ultra-long ones that your car deck will eventually eat up.

The three-hour live shows have settled into their own rhythm, with the stranger and more electronic offerings drifting into the territory of The Final Hour, between 11pm and midnight. This show is for the early risers who might be familiar with the upbeat indie pop that gets played at the top of the show but are missing out on the darker moods that are featured near the end.

Like pre-teens throwing every liquid into the kitchen blender and daring each other to drink the results, Woody and Jeremy fuse all manner of sounds legitimate and profane into some murky concoction that tastes surprisingly good.

It's a celebration of Pat Fish, also known as The Jazz Butcher, who passed away unexpectedly last week, on October 5. We kick things off with another one of my favorites, the Asylum Street Spankers, taking on his "D.R.I.N.K." to glorious heights, followed by a couple of sets drawing from his 20th century material.

Billy Martin’s drumming makes me think of oxymorons like “precisely sloppy” and “intensely casual” and “red hot chill out”.

Time has not dulled the edge of this band. "Show Me The Sun" highlights their psychedelic side.