Tag: Push Kings

On this, Hurray for The Riff Raff and I agree: don’t mess with bison.

A very quiet night, perhaps everyone is hunkering down for the leap day. Featured is IDLES, who all look like they could recommend a good IPA, and also would be willing to kick my ass for thinking so. Tonight featured more than our usual ration of covers, starting with a not-unlikely take on Beck’s “Loser” and following up with takes on tracks originally made famous by Muppets and Devo.

Behold, a special collection of songs about individual states in the United States of America!

I can’t say if this is the first time I’ve had a radio show on Independence Day, but it is the first time I’ve prepared something special for the occasion. Presenting Affairs of State, a one-hour set of music dedicated to the States part of “United States of America.” As it turns out, there is a wide representation among the 50 states (51 if you count New Model Army) in the Lacking Library, but I have selected the best 16 examples for this evening.

Boston’s Sleepyhead have been successfully dodging full wakefulness for a couple decades now, putting out an intriguing type of bedroom pop filled with subtle complexities, and their new album is filled to the brim with such. In other news we kick off with a Fugazi cover from quintessential NYC band BODEGA, whose lineage clearly traces back to legions of posterized grit punks.

What is in that Canadian water? Kiwi Jr. are burning up my speakers with their latest release, a rich concoction of perfectly crafted indie guitar pop that seems designed to be played loud, and if I’m supposed to stop doing that, then I guess I’ll be buying new speakers soon.

Supremely independent for going on three decades, Superchunk’s incisive nervous energy is still one of the purest indie highs you can find.

The haberdasher heard a light thump and roll, then felt something tap against a shoe. It was a peach pit. Looking up from the stack of brochures, they saw the orthodontist grinning and wiping their mouth with a sleeve, glancing at the gap on the blanket where the fruit was drying in the sun, clearly suggesting that perhaps another one was in order. The tandem moped leaned against the back of the Gate of Hercules, shielded by its bulk from the bright Croatian summer sun. The peaches had hours to go, and they had forgotten to bring a game., having only whatever reading material they had managed to scrape up in the Hotel Pula lobby.

Well into their third decade, G. Love and Special Sauce still sound like they are in no particular hurry to get there.

The baker took one last look at the cake, sitting on its gold-rimmed stand on the veranda, the carefully cultivated gardens surrounding the Palacio Rioja visible in the background. If it weren’t for the two backpack stealthcopters leaning against the railing, it would be Instagrammable, hashtag noneofyourbusiness. The architect finished the final touches, and gave a silent nod. In a smooth motion, the two of them had their packs on and had plummeted over the edge, carefully angling away to not disturb the icing.