Tag: Messer Chups

Presenting a collection of musical flatteries and facsimiles!

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.

If you want suave, it’s hard to get more suave than “Blue Velvet,” and horror-surf combo Messer Chups delivers a version that’s not only suave but also quite kinetic. From the accelerated temp to the lyrical guitar line to the luscious spring reverb, it’s a welcome spin on the old croony standard. Tonight’s show was accompanied by tremedous wind and lightning, with occasional rain.

I always admired The Hold Steady’s narrative approach to songwriting, but I didn’t imagine it could be applied to this particular Western Colorado town, and tonight’s opening track clearly shows my lack of imagination. Elsewhere tonight, I’m happy to bring you new music from The No Ones, featuring the unmistakable holler of one Scott McCaughey of the Young Fresh Fellows, R.E.M., The Baseball Project, and so much more.

Australian Ben Lee broke through as the singer for the teen outfit Noise Addict, but has since made quite a solo career for himself. He kicks off this edition of Version Control — all covers, all night long.

If you got The Nude Party to perform at your next get-together, it would be the kind of shindig that produces two marriages, three break-ups, and gossip for years to come.

The best place to hide seemed to be, ironically, right behind the ballot box. The numerologist and the baker had been underway on a wholly distinct mission, having already secured the deflated knifeboats inside a conveniently placed culvert. They now seemed to be caught in the crossfire of two opposing factions, each intent on some inscrutable and erratically violent purpose that seemed to be nothing but foiling the other side’s efforts. The roving skirmishes had drawn away participants and created a fairly event-free circle of balance where the pair could hunker down and plan their next move. It was going to be a long night.

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

Listening to Fantastic Negrito is like lifting the lid on a simmering pot to a wonderfully exotic yet very familiar blend of spices.

The paper bag sounded unusually loud as the pair passed it back and forth, sharing the dried apricots as they waited in line for the exhibit to open. Once again, their contact was to be intercepted in the gift shop, according to the dossier that they had found taped under the back seat of the Combi. The ornithologist scanned the sky for any migratory species, though they really should have known better. The magistrate felt at ease with the assignment; this was their first visit to Ankara, but the premise behind the Ulucanlar Prison Museum was quite familiar.