Tag: Sharon Jones + The Dap-Kings

The fourth aggregation of musical replicas and facsimiles!

Presenting a collection of musical flatteries and facsimiles!

I’ve done a couple dozen all-covers shows already, usually during fundraising, but for some reason have never come up with a name for them. It must have been because the painfully obvious Version Control hadn’t occurred to me yet, a real embarrassing confession given my day job in the realm of code. At any rate, it is here, and we are going to be versioning them semantically starting now.

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.

You can say that bedrock funk bassist Bootsy Collins is The One, and you would be right on so many levels.

There’s no detail too small or scar too deep for Eels to pick up and examine in a wry musical light.

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 Shilin Night Market had seemed to grow even more chaotic in the intervening years, yet the vendors and customers still retained their preternatural calm, as if the events happening all around them were due to forces completely out of their control. As the skeptic checked the status lights on the Stinky Tofu Containment Device for the seventh time that mission, the inspector pinged the jetpacks they had secured under a table of bejeweled phone cases to make sure they were primed for a quick getaway. Their progress came to a sudden halt as they considered the sign before them: “Small Sausage In Large Sausage - $120”

Posthumous releases are always a tricky proposition, but Sharon Jones was a talent literally larger than life, and the combination of her of deep rich voice slathered over the funky Dap Kings has yet to fail.

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.