Tag: The Wood Brothers

Guiding you to uncharted peaks of happiness, here is Mt. Joy.

The tang of fall is in the air, though the days are dressed for summer. I missed Frankie and the Witch Fingers when they were in town a couple of months ago due to work travel, and I was supremely bummed, as their particular take on electropunk is right in my wheelhouse. Tonight’s selection is a weird little experimental number from their latest release, which I highly recommend.

You’re not crying, it’s just Water From Your Eyes.

The aleatory nature of playlist selection for The Lacking Organization means all-instrumental sets are rare, so having two in one show definitely merits a mention in the show notes. Tonight’s highlight is Mac DeMarco, whose new album provides the perfect soundtrack for this particularly floaty stage of summer.

I always admired The Hold Steady’s narrative approach to songwriting, but I didn’t imagine it could be applied to this particular Western Colorado town, and tonight’s opening track clearly shows my lack of imagination. Elsewhere tonight, I’m happy to bring you new music from The No Ones, featuring the unmistakable holler of one Scott McCaughey of the Young Fresh Fellows, R.E.M., The Baseball Project, and so much more.

It took Cheo a couple of years to get back into his usual Latin-flavored slinky tinkles after leaving his previous band, but we’re all glad to hear he’s returned.

The topologist carefully unfolded the graph depicting prime number frequencies. Across the scrub, the baker was returning from the Unimog, having concluded the search, and from the looks of their empty hands, unsuccessfully. They must have left it in the cab back in Calabar. Wonderful. Together, they considered the placement of the carved stone monoliths before them, their geometric arrangement random to the average visitor, but a clear reflection of order to the ancient people of Alok Ikom, and apparently, also related to the graph before them, with cataclysmic mathematical consequences.

I have never been so uncomfortable, thought the hacker as they strained to match the wires in the fusebox, their head inches from one of the combine’s many potentially lethal harvesting blades. The lookout’s shadow was barely visible against the hangar door. Straining to clip the blue wire into the scanner, they heard a soft call and nearly lost an ear before remembering their uncomfortable position.