Mixtape 256 • Version Control 3
A third installment of Version Control, our semi-regular exploration of tribute and imitation.
A third installment of Version Control, our semi-regular exploration of tribute and imitation.
The Streets are not your typical old-fashioned new-fangled crew.
The Mommyheads would like to know if you are OK, like really OK and not just saying that.
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.
Lewsberg wear their love for certain protopunk prototypes quite well.
I was not properly prepared to discuss Cat Power’s tribute to Bob Dylan’s 1966 Royal Albert Hall concert, and specifically where it was recorded, but now I can reveal the facts: the Cat Power recording was made at RAH. However, Dylan’s original recording was NOT made at RAH, despite the famous bootleg’s common name, instead having taken place in Manchester, a good ways away.
Let’s face it, we’re going to be hearing tracks from The Bug Club for a couple months, since I keep finding gems strewn loosely about their most recent album. Lots of listeners checked in for this show, my apologies to those that checked out during the elevator hellride at the beginning of the show. Technical issues, we’re working on them.
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 will hear their thunderous approach before you see them, and you will be surprised, for despite their name and the glorious stadium-sized riffing, Naked Giants are the size of mere mortals and usually appear dressed in public.
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.