Tag: MC Honky

The Streets are not your typical old-fashioned new-fangled crew.

Tonight’s show kicks off with a long overdue hour of Version Control 10 — our special blend of songs that you might call “covers”. About a year ago, I filled three hours with covers, which leads me to believe something is messing with the covers ecosystem, and I have my theories. The middle hour was a regular Mixtape (if such a thing can be allowed), and the Final Hour was its usual rocketride mindtrip, a big thank you to all that came aboard.

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!

Music all about your special someone and / or a newborn human.

The Boo Radleys are eager to share their sweet shocking intensity and it will instantly lift your day.

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.

Tonight started out with an hour of the sickest music around, which is to say songs about illness, medication, and other health-related issues. The following two hours were the usual incomprehensible mixture of genres and bad attitudes.

Part of what will be known as the Great Australian Psychedelic Expansion, Bananagun is more incense and lava lamps than strobes and smoke machines.

The earth rumbled into an appropriate angle of repose as the bucket wheel ground to a halt. On the ground, the sapper raised an arm to signal to the operator, sitting high above in an air-conditioned cab as disproportionately tiny as a brontosaurus brain. The sounds of Taiwanese ragtime could be heard on the earpiece now that the excavator had stopped digging into the hard Upper Peninsula soil. This machine was capable of extracting tons of copper ore in a single hour, but now it was digging for something far more valuable.