Tag: Thee Oh Sees

Joanna Sternberg is an open book, and you can’t keep from turning the pages.

There’s a whole new album from Wreckless Eric, a whole album, but tonight’s selection resonates for the simple fact that this is the third reference to the radium girls I’ve heard this week, all from very different sources. As we say around these parts, it’s a real plate ‘o shrimp. Also worth noting tonight is n-th track from the Bug Club’s Rare Birds album, which has so many good songs on it you’ll be hearing from them for months to come, and that’s even with not playing the ones with bad words.

Things started out normally, with a cover and an excellent new single from Waxahatchee, but took a turn for the unexpected when the highly-anticipated Cat Empire set went missing. Was it skipped over on the player accidentally? Had I forgotten to make a copy to bring to the station? Could I download it from the backup at home? After a couple of sets of troubleshooting, it turned out I had named the file incorrectly. These are the hazards you encounter as a live-in-the-studio DJ, kids.

They appear to be American, not so much Trappists, but they sound like a clattering of drums and hooks.

If you want suave, it’s hard to get more suave than “Blue Velvet,” and horror-surf combo Messer Chups delivers a version that’s not only suave but also quite kinetic. From the accelerated temp to the lyrical guitar line to the luscious spring reverb, it’s a welcome spin on the old croony standard. Tonight’s show was accompanied by tremedous wind and lightning, with occasional rain.

I know that Water From Your Eyes is a reference I can look up in a second these days, but I am going to refuse to do so to leave the magic untainted.

“You missed the white crocodile,” the chipa vendor told them. The mycologist and the munitions expert gave the expected sounds of disappointment, the same as any tourist drawn to Paraguay’s Ojo de Mar would. One of them spread a blanket by the lake side while the other one got busy with entering the passcodes and unlatching the efficient-looking metal case they had extracted from the moped. Opening it once the blanket was ready, they began taking out the 3D-printed pieces from the foam molding with quick, efficient movements as the Easy Star All-Stars blared out a David Bowie song from the vendor’s portable radio.

Every so often, I’ll gather up some of my favorite tracks from the last sixty minutes of my three-hour radio show and create an entire episode of The Final Hour, this one being the third such installment. This is the music that is played between 11pm and midnight, and it’s generally darker, more instrumental, sometimes even experimental, and this is an opportunity for the chronologically challenged to experience some of that closer to their regular waking hours.

Tonight’s opening theme is clearly tribute to the Imaginary City — the opening cover is from the town’s The Streetwalkin’ Cheetahs, who are named after an Iggy and the Stooges lyric and have been pumping out a corresponding racket for about 30 years now. The song itself, originally by X, is about a friend of the band that left for England to hook up with the Damned’s Captain Sensible. The lore is unclear on whether the Captain was expecting that or not.

Sometimes it takes a while for an album to be recognized as a classic, sometimes the shock of recognition is instant and universal. This is the case for Spoon and their latest release, Lucifer on the Sofa, which showcases much of what has made the band a constant source of solid material, but in a concentrated way that will make you start all over as soon as you hit the end.