Tag: Superchunk

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.

There wasn’t enough room on the narrow boat for the botanist to take out a handkerchief and wipe their brow. The square head vessel, slicing through the water on its way to the Phong Dien Floating Market, looked to be laden with mangos, but that was a ruse. The pyramids that piled the boat only a had a skin a single mango deep. Underneath were piles of something with about the same density as mangos, but much much more valuable. The captain twisted the knob on the cabin radio on hearing some narcopolka, the device’s limited capacity making the sound increase not in volume, only in distortion. The sun sparkled off the water, a thousand heat lasers evading the shade thrown by the wide straw hats they wore.

They are everywhere, and some of them are downright weird. My downstairs neighbor once told me only prime numbers could be trusted, but he held a reserve of disdain for 2, which he claimed was too prime for its own good. A big appreciative shout out to Bam Bam, Lily and Generoso, and Redlands Ron for their on-air contributions, and anyone who may have pledged online before or after the show.

A listener suggested I slip in Wham!’s “Last Christmas” but as someone filled with old-fashioned Lacking Integrity, I politely declined. That said, your host survived the season unscathed. In this episode, we dedicate the Middle Hour to some fine covers. Shout out to Robin in Atlanta for hanging out in the late-night post-holiday gulch.

This is HOUSE MUSIC, a special one-hour mixtape from yours truly featuring songs about homes, residences, possibly apartments, and other locations of abode. I ran out of time and didn’t get to play “Stranger In The House” with Elvis Costello and George Jones, but surely it will fit into a future show.

Driving indie guitar rock with extra-strength riffs and detailed dynamics, great harmonies, and memorable hooks.

Solo effort from longtime pop gem Ted Leo, filled with wicked hooks and his distinctive singing voice.