Tag: They Might Be Giants

Peel Dream Magazine extend a cordial invitation to visit their hallucinogenic analog planet.

Welcome to a near-biographical experience as we focus on songs named after (and occasionally about) real people you may have heard of.

There’s a lot of great new music out there right now, and near the top of the heap is The Bug Club, whose most recent release is filled to the brim with joyful nuggets of everyday life. The school year has started and the coffers are overflowing with a lot of great new music.

It was a day of jet-setting, starting in the dark hours of morning, and it wasn’t going to be over until the studio light went off. To keep up the energy levels, we presented a double-header of a special, first an hour of The Famous Polka, featuring songs titled after real (mostly) people, and following that two hours of Balkan Fever, with music that was far from exclusively Balkan but all fed into that manic two-step non-stop feeling.

It’s time for another Fun Drive, and what better way to represent tonight’s manic energy than Daisy Chainsaw and their epic “Love Your Money”? Also tonight, we have received a matching grant of one hundred dollars of America, via Telex: THIS IS THE HRVST TROGGOLD TO TELEX THE PLEDGE COMMITMENT THE ONE HUNDRED COMMA DOLLARS STOP OF MATCHING AMPLITUDE OTHER PLEDGES OF DONATION COMMA MATCH EXCLAMATION STOP HAVING REPORTING OF ARTICLE COMMA THE TURKISH ALMOND FARMING COMMA COMMA COMMA BEST THE LUCK STOP COMMA

Nothing to do with Peggy Lee’s sultry standard, this particular “Fever” comes from Aldous Harding, whose unique marshmallows-and-razor-blades sensibility makes for songs that leave you bleeding but which you crave again and again. Also tonight and also from New Zealand, a track from Garageland, one of my favorite underrated Kiwi bands of the ‘90s, which isn’t saying much because they were all underrated and they are all my favorites.

The mysterious Snapped Ankles are descended from the forest people, though it seems they took a detour through some harsh industrial spaces to bring their stuttering electro-strangulation to our ears.

The rich wood floorboards were squeaking under the strain of the game. They had removed their shoes, sketched out the board using a special beeswax that would not damage the finish, and were hopping as lightly as they could, for they respected the solemnity of their location. Nonetheless, the portraits lining the Hall of Admirals in the Museo Maritimo Nacional felt they finally had something to frown about, their serious Chilean brows furrowed in naval concern as they observed the farrier and the anthropologist enjoying their tournament.

If the name didn't give it away, there is a very distinct beach slash surf feeling to San Diego's Wavves and their sun-glittered sounds.

Uwe Schmidt has had an extensive career, recording under many names as electronic musicians do, but it's his work as Señor Coconut (and now as Atom™), where he deconstructs familiar songs into something Kraftwerk would play if hired to play a quinceañera, that brings me this very particular weird glee.