Tag: Nick Lowe

A third installment of Version Control, our semi-regular exploration of tribute and imitation.

Tonight, we start with a special presentation of My Favorite Lies, a one-hour collection of songs about untruths, deception, fakery, and more. Moving on, we filled the rest of the evening with the usual variety of genres, mostly from the last few months. Of particular note are new releases from Holiday Ghosts, Adrienne Lenker, and Alejandro Escovedo.

Sure, we’ve all heard of the Eiffel Tower, but what do we know about the architect whose name it bears? April March breaks it all down on this version of the Pixies’ song. Also in this show, a special-delivery track from Planets in the Ocean, a new project from one of my favorite vocalists, Robb Benson.

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.

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.

Taking a vibrantly psychedelic sound and drenching it in cavernous production has made sure Lilys have always floated through time with a sound that is clearly from the past but also obviously from the future.

It’s the triumphant return of Pom Poko and their shattered-and-reassembled attacks of aggression and affection, like the sonic equivalent of staying inside the sauna for as long as you can, then running out to roll around in the snow.

The sound of Star Feminine Band is born of Benin, brightly colored patterns, and wild abandon, young carefree voices skipping over liquid guitar and intense percussion.

A variety of acoustic guitar performances from Hitchcock, of songs both original and by others, which results in a very contemplative sort of musical journey.

They call it Hotlanta for a good reason, but I’m sure The Black Lips have enough bad attitude to have way more colorful names for their hometown.