Nudge Squidfish Television

Some people in the Harrisburgh Players universe has been very busy lately, accumulating deteriorated VHS cassettes and other decaying media in hopes of preserving it for future generations to "learn" about "what went on." Of course, most of us, who did not survive among the time of the True Believers, have very little visual evidence of these times and their creative tidal-wave -- that's not to say we can't leave it to our imagination through oral legends passed down and those recordings -- and the stuff Nudge Squidfish has posted in a short time onto the mercurial channels of YOUTUBE (SUBSCRIBE) is filled with footage most of us will have never known existed. Among the multiple UFO sightings are music videos from Tommy Jay and Mike Rep, hour-long documentaries on Jim Shepard, full live shows, obscure audio from JayFish and Nudge himself uploaded over some pretty head-shaking imagery. Start watching, and start digging that rabbit hole you're about to retreat into.

Apparently the resurrection and revival of all this is to be celebrated in a much bigger project which you'll hopefully be seeing in an art museum/lonely basement somewhere soon.



Until then....."Tuff Luck Roy" courtesy of Tommy Jay...

The Lazy Music Group

Little did I know, prior to researching the history of Cincinnati's long-lost Lazy, Steve Schmoll conceived his trio out of the ashes to Pink Lady a (Dayton?) band that included Braniac mastermind Tim Taylor (are there recordings of this?). It all makes sense now. I knew that Lazy bore resemblance to Brainiac -- I saw the band numerous times throughout my salad days -- and were borne in the wave that spread from the Miami Valley down to the Ohio River -- but I never knew there was direct lineage. Listening to The Lazy Music Group (I'm in need of their debut, Some Assembly Required) the band was more than just a branch of Brainiac or a heftier Miss May '66 (from which bassist Kari Murphy was plucked), Scmoll carved very unkempt pop songs out of a Sonic Youth/Pixies/Beat Happening axis, re-imagined as a Midwestern punk trio buzzing in girl/guy dynamics. Thanks to the Afghan Whigs ubiquity among Alternative Nation, Cincinnati had a reputable slew of bands showcased beyond Ohio's borders -- Ass Ponys, Throneberry, the Tigerlillies, and the Wolverton Bros. all were making great records at the time. Lazy made two albums for Roadrunner Records (the same label which now brings you Slipknot and Rob Zombie), but in clicking that link you'd never know the band ever existed on the label (even though they were initially signed up to do many records). Surely, in retrospect, it's probably reasonable to believe that dealings with Roadrunner were a bane on the band, and led to their eventual disappearance in the late '90s. Schmoll could probably tell a yarn about the horrors of major labels and how they devoured "alternative" groups from the Heartland only to abandon them 24 months later. I'd love to hear it.

I would care less if Lazy's brief spark was as flippant and unformed as I remember. In re-hearing those early singles and their sophomore record, the Lazy Music Group, I realized I hadn't heard enough. And even if Lazy were likely more tied to Dayton and Columbus than I remember, I always placed them on the perimeter of what I was loving as a teenager. Despite the album's cringe-worthy cover (emblematic of the cutesy "let your friends design your album cover" indie rock aesthetics of the time) the Lazy Music Group is a consistently engaging record during an age when, as Ron House is known to quote, "most of these bands should only be putting out singles." Much like the songwriting style of his peers (namely Tim Taylor and John Schmersal) Shmoll used more punk than art, more pop than dissonant crackle, a somewhat laconic slacker vibe wrapped in occasional barbed wire or grrlie attitude. At times, as on "Cut It," Lazy could be mistaken for Brainiac, were they demoing skeletons stripped of synth and Moog. Then again "What I Need" is Lazy's Cars-esque new-wave answer to Brainiac's "Radio Apeshot." What distinguishes Schmoll from the pack is a song like "Cheery Smash" -- a tender moment on the record, indolent and breathy, reminiscent of the best dream-pop of the era, but still warped in the middle when Scmoll's guitar shards blast through the haze. Murphy and drummer, Megan Haas, work in tandem with Schmoll, leading the Royal Trux funk of "Cinderella" and the spunky Runaways/Breeders "last dance" track.

Though they provided a variety, the trio was usually tethered at the ankles, finishing each other's phrases, living in their own little punk world. This gave the music an ambiguity in both the lyrics and the sonics which found them focused more on the energy and catharsis that came with their songs. Angsty and brittle? Sure. But Lazy was a colorful diversion, or simple accompaniment, to the massively disparate, yet wholly united, triangle of hope between Dayton, Columbus, and the river-rat dregs of Cincinnati.

If you can point me in the direction of other Lazy records -- whether digital or physical -- I'm interested.

"Open Your Heart" Just Because

I always wanted to be the kid in this video. A Top Ten '80s pulse. Peter Rafelson, who wrote this, also wrote the previously mentioned Jane Wiedlin hit, "Rush Hour." So it all makes sense.

This is just because....the time is right.....entering the holiday corridor.

I Saw Guided By Voices

I've seen Guided By Voices countless times, in countless settings, composed of countless members filling roles. But this was classic. The "band" that made the magic. That I'd seen in supper clubs, arenas, public parks, places as intimate as Canal St. Tavern and a post-office in Tipp City, OH, USA. This night, in 2010, in October, in Columbus, was not an ideal location -- but that is another sub-story, for another time. It couldn't dampen the atmosphere or the songs or the sense of community in the room (people I haven't seen in a decade). Of Bob Pollard's million-strong songbook, he's a master at whittling down a Top 30, a spotless laundry list from that classic era. This would be a setlist most bands from the "era" would kill for on the reunion circuit. Superchunk/Sonic Youth/not even Pavement could match what was heard on this Saturday night. This was a time capsule -- one that I'm content to unearth as frequently as they'd like...and Pollard can keep writing. I've been saying he's in another renaissance and hopefully in his '50s, a renaissance proportional to this classic line-up. I could go into Mitch and Toby (amazing medley there) and Demos and Fennell, but that would only repeat a sentiment I've extolled for years. This was the band.

Thanks again to Mike Sperry - the pro who caught this on tape for all to have. Download the whole show here.

I Saw Best Coast (and Strapping Fieldhands)

Re-examining Crazy For You (perfect title, btw), my foot went directly in mouth. After seeing Bethany Cosentino and Best Coast live, a band crush developed -- foot has been yanked through skull and out the back of my head. It was likely a journalistic grudge that kept me from being smitten. There were weeks spent tracking down America's latest sweetheart too busy for an interview. Her songs are instant hummers, almost too simplistic to commend. Her story -- from mediocre noise troupe to Spector-spit Girl-Group pop, too easy to shoot holes through. So, an interview with America's latest Cali stoner tart would be comprised of questions about week and the Ronettes (or even baser, the Viv' Girls). Mind numbing gnawing you wouldn't want to read for the nth time.

An impromptu "interview" with Cosentino backstage at her recent Columbus show revealed an evolution I didn't expect. She's well aware of the simplicity of it all, how a set is composed in five minutes shuffling around the same 13 songs in a more pleasing manner than the last. I suggested "Bratty B" to lead things off. It's easily Cosentino's most simple ditty, the catchiest thing you don't want to catch yourself singing. It might result in an endless string of rhymes, over and over in your head the day long -- the sign of a wonderful piece of songwriting. Done before? A million times. But having kids in dorm rooms cop your stuff as bohemian acoustic fodder is another level these days.




Who wants to gamble, this song will end up on American Idol this year?



Best Coast's focus, or blurred vision of the classics, is a flawless design. She shimmies and smiles in time with the songs -- her co-writer, Bobb Bruno giving mammoth riff behind her light strumming -- and Ali K. (formerly of the Viv' Girls) plays the role of minimal, shamble-pop drummer to perfection (an indie mercenary/franchise kicker). It's evolution from two years ago -- and you either prefer both (the raucous and wild/the sparkle and sway) or sit cross-armed on one side of the fence. The amount of stranger sweat I was doused in gave me pause to think most kids prefer the sparkle and sway. I enjoy either if it's done right. She's right by me.

Unfortunately the hoopla got in the way of enjoying the revived Strapping Fieldhands. I'm thinking these guys should'a played an early set as well, but the lack of consumption might have dulled them? Stumbling in at their beginning was my end on a school night. I got to see about 10 songs, all pulled from the past, still as obtuse and toppling over with wonderfully antiquated pop. Thanks to the diligent efforts by one Speery, you can relive that entire set RIGHT HERE. They haven't seem to lost a beat, though a vacuum of years have gone by. Witness them doing a personal favorite, "Ben Franklin Airbath" in the year 2010.

I Saw Blue Oyster Cult

Seems like I've had myraid opporunities to see Blue Oyster Cult live over my lifetime. Who knows if I didn't see them in some field circa 1978 and the parents don't remember. It's possible. They've been playing in fields and arenas and stadiums and gymnasiums (and likely a ton of biker bars) since 1968. It's a wonder that in 2010, Eric Bloom and Buck Dharma -- the guitar wizards (twin leads second to only Thin Lizzy) who invented the Cult, still play the lead. And play it with a everlasting fervor. I'm sure it was face-melting during the Tyranny and Mutation tour -- it wasn't here. I'm sure it was fist-pumping "Heavy Metal Parking Lot" in the Summer of 1981, with "Burning for You" on the radio -- waiting outside Hara Arena -- it wasn't here. But they played everything and more, with utmost precision and clarity (a few steps slower maybe, not during "Buck's Boogie"). "Hot Rails to Hell," "The Red and the Black," the hits. Funny it felt like at this, the Obetz Zuchinni Festival, next to a dirt-weed race-track, grease carts and life-threatening midway rides, out on the ball diamond, these legends could get a response with instrumental songs with eight minute solos. In Obetz, and I suppose most of middle America -- "Godzilla" appears to be the biggest hit (though "Burnin" reached 4 on the charts), lots of Godzilla cut-outs for $2 at Wal-Mart in the new millenium and no "time to play b-sides." I truly appreciate their penchant to channel the old version of this band, but honestly, now, even with families around, airbourne cold sores, meth heads in sweat pants, and heavy cops, the band doesn't look or sound that far removed from that past. Burn out the day, burn out the night.

The Ohio Express at the Ohio State Fair

While waiting for DEVO at the Ohio State Fair -- thereby breaking a long-standing family tradition of experiencing the OSF in all it's endless glory, the schedule just wasn't all that this year, you didn't miss any mind-blowing foodstuffs this year Jeff -- we meandered on over to the "side-stage" usually reserved for lion tamer shows and half-hours with comedian hypnotists (no, for reals). This year, the Ohio Express claimed the 6:30 slot. Much more intriguing than Ra Ra Riot. Who knows how many of the 8 days of the Fair the Ohio Express played this stage, but when we rolled up, we were shocked by the comfortable nostalgia of a Steely Dan number. No connections were made intitially.

The crowed was a total of 23 or so -- all scattered about in 1945 fold-up chairs, ratty and scratched. You can smoke at the Fair still (I Was) -- but this was depressing, Grapes of Wrath, non-ironic trucker hat, smoking. Scattered about. Once the Ohio Express started explaining themselves -- as the 2003 - Present touring version of the mythic pre-fab "real" Ohio Express -- and played a "neu" song, the crowd dispersed like a Keno (Bingo) bust.

See, this guy, in the front, was the drummer of the original "fakes" that toured the country as the Ohio Express. They never actually "wrote" Ohio Express nuggets, like "Yummy Yummy Yummy" or "Chewy Chewy" (below), but they acted like it. And in 2003 when they "re-united" the original "fakes," it stood. They can play "bubblegum" with the best of them. And apparently, in Germany, they are huge, writing new material, and lip-synching songs made 50 years ago. It was intriguing when everything came together and you can imagine the legend of the Ohio Express and all of the resonance it has actually had -- Simpson Reference Trumps All.

(P.S. The Ohio Express had one more hit in 1970 -- played by what would become 10cc. Buy all 10cc records you can find.)

Whatever Happened to GOGOGO Airheart?

On the page, San Diego's Gogogo Airheart, in the eyes of revisionist history, are one to leave in the dustbin, a band that has grown more pretentious and forgettable with time. It's a shame though. Methinks they were just stuck in the middle, misunderstood, ahead of their days. The Airheart were wedged between the More Than Music post-rock legion and the dawn of the disco-punk flashpot. And while both of those poles haven't aged all that well (show me your Radio 4 records kids), Gogogo Airheart's ExitheUXA has become a swirling mess of rickety psychedelia and wiry punk trips played up like a teenage Amon Duul, occasionally dubbed-out and blown-out, scattered and shuffled, wonderfully dotted with hash marks where the quartet were truly pushing the envelope.

I imagine at the time they were slighted as being a West Coast copy of Make-Up, as singer Micheal Vermillion's screeching, warbled pants and chants closely resembled Ian Svenonious' wails. And by trying their best at modernizing the Public Image Limited, it was inherent that some of their rhythms would resemble the same beat being employed by lesser bands of the time like the Rapture and Moving Units -- it was something everyone was doing, a reason Gang of Four records were in vogue more than ever, and a simple trend that evaporated quicker than a Southern California rainstorm. ExitheUXA didn't dwell on those punctuations (except for maybe the record's most populous offering, "When the Flesh Hits")or pronounce themselves as a dance band, even if you could seizure your way through the crowd to what they did on the stage. The album was more obtuse, idiosyncratic, veering through some very heavy guitar jams ("Last Goodbye") before coming up for air with atonal no waving.

Let's face it, not much of the GSL/Troubleman/Hydrahead graduating class made a record worth keeping in this new decade. Being removed that long, it's easy to look back and laugh at the awful music we paid money to hear. Gogogo Airheart were different. They were attacking from different corners and listening to a much wider swath of older, obscuro records (and reggae!, check out "Witch Hunt"). I can even see their influence slightly in one of my favorite Columbus bands -- El Jesus De Magico -- a group that could harsh on a groove endlessly, appear to improv into the ether, but bring it all back as if it was in the stones all along. Seek this record out, by any means.

Triumvirat - Dancer's Delight

I was getting all nostalgic in the complete absence of posts over at my bro's blog, Population Doug. When Blonee was on fire, them was good times. But alas, there's been no updates since Interpol were relevant. That's a long time. The synapse that started all of this boo-hoo-ing came when I was 'membering our brief stint as DJs down at the Treehouse (which has now turned into a all-frock all-the-time watering hole), the stoic middle sibling used to spin a 7" he was fortunate enough to dig out in an East Berlin thrift store back when we toured Europe for two weeks. It was by a band called Triumvirat. Haven't heard of 'em? Understandable. Their probably best known for their dollar-bin debut album's cover, of a white mouse emerging from a cracked egg -- than they are for their music. See that description on their page? "German '70s art-rock band a la Focus." Being referred to as an alternative to Focus isn't all that flattering, and taking a quick survey over their catalog reveals they weren't nearly as "good" as Focus. Purely pretentious proggish wankering with a penchant for overwrought synthesizers. Not worth your time.

"Dancer's Delight" was a separate piece of their crowded jigsaw. It was the first piece -- an a-side single that never appeared on an album. Actually the first thing the band ever released. Not exactly sure how this one didn't propel them to international super-stardom, but this style of pop-metal-boogie was quickly abandoned by Triumvirat in favor of those bloated "art-rock" exercises. There are some hints at their future in the very analog synths surrounding the chorus and the dexterity and speed in their playing -- perhaps biker gang prog for primitive computer programmers. All I know is I've always wished I was the one who found this record, as it's nearly impossible to find (even on the internets). So, going against my normal procedure I offer you the only spot on that webs where I could find this. Enjoy.

Record Store Day - The CS & N & Y Debacle

Usually a staunch supporter of Record Store Day. You know it happens most days (or at least once a week). But for some reason I was giddy this year. Jumping from a class that ended at 11 straight to Used Kids -- I found Record Store Day has gone to the early birds. Dudes willing to wait an hour to get that Dum Dum Girls split -- and then buy up everything else. Went to the next store, Lost Weekend, pretty much the same thing. Empty bins. Thanks to Mr. Shannon for holding the Fela 10" for me -- why isn't this all going to vinyl btw? I also snagged one of those Pavement limited editions -- great for a strange encapsulation of a favorite band.

What I did learn is just how amazing CSN&Young, and almost every subsequently solo record or two (or for Young -- countless). I always thought it to be weak protest harmonies to Neil Young's defiantly wild wail. I'm learning. I also want to learn how to harmonize with myself.

Brainiac Live Archive

I've written exhaustively about Brainiac. They shaped who I am in many ways. I still don't think music has caught up to what they were doing in the '90s, in Dayton, and eventually all over the world. Many bands have tried and most of them have failed. I always like to think about what would have happened if Brainiac survived past Y2K. Hypothetical I know.


The Braniac Live Archive is one man's project to keep it all alive and kicking. So far he's done an amazing job posting shows/set lists/videos -- all Brainiac, all the time. This is stuff you should be paying for.

The Scrotum Poles Re-Discovered

I don't know much about the Scrotum Poles. I'm pretty sure I heard one of their songs on a Messthetics comp. some time ago? Did I? Well, seeing them compared to the Television Personalities and the Desperate Bicycles sparked my interest beyond belief. And since the DB aren't close to re-issuing the gold them mined way back when, the Scrotum Poles are quick to oblige. The above video is pretty much all you need to see to get the drift. I do know you can now find all of their recorded material on this recently released Dulc-i-tone compilation. Thanks to my brother for spotting this.

Where is Indian Summer?

I guess it has arrived this week. Thought with the frost and the rain that we might not see it this year. I was beginning to worry, as this is my favorite time of the year.Driving through the fall foliage with the windows down yesterday I realized why I love Ohio, if only for this seven day seasonal harvest. Can you imagine living in a place without seasons?

Anyways, this post is just an excuse to show a Beat Happening video. Funny this fits autumn perfectly.

MJ One More Time? Why Not?

Yeah. Losing Michael Jackson was a huge chink in my armor this year. Don't know why, since I haven't gave a damn since maybe Dangerous. I even shed a tear. I even wrote an obituary. I said he shaped my life more than any other celebrity I grew up with. So happy to start teaching this Autumn and see high school seniors clad in tribute t-shirts and Thriller era garb. That's a comeback. But he was going to have a "real" comeback, and I was almost willing to head to the UK to see this. This weekend at an IMAX viewing of Where the Wild Things Are, my wife and I saw the preview for This Is It, and we both got goosebumps. The This Is It tour was going to be HUGE. Had he lived, he would have certainly made it over to the states, a new album, why not?

More on the Clean...

In conjunction with the Agit-Reader's excellent feature with the Clean, I decided to go scouring for the old snuff on the band. Above, a nice primer, and below the story of Flying Nun, which may or may not have survived without the Clean. Regardless of your opinions towards Mister Pop - I happen to love the slow-burn melodies intertwined in each bit of psychedelic-lite they make -- these clips are necessary viewing.

Os Mutantes Coming to a (American) City Near You

Though, in my own mind, I've become somewhat of an expert of Tropicalia, and would likely talk your ear off for an hour or two if you asked for some recommended albums from the era -- I couldn't likely pull myself away from what made me all in love with the genre -- and that would be Os Mutantes. I was completely nonplussed with their first announced reunion at a Pitchfork festival way back when, but decided to give them another chance this second time around -- since, at least Sergio Dias Baptista, was considering recording a new album. Well, Haih or Amortecedor has finally seen the light of day, and though reviews have been somewhat mixed, and I think that's due to ears not being hip to what's currently popular in Brazilian sound, I'm loving the variety, the diversion to our perceived "weird" underground and ethno-tastes, I'm thinking, though it's not up there with the top 3 Mutantes records, it's certainly better than the output they were outputting whilst falling apart in the '70s.

Still, nothing can match those magical moments in the late '60s.

Caught Up in Caustic Resin

This is in no way an advertisement for Resin Road, the boogie band I’m about to start with some like-minded individuals – it’s about another “resin” band, the Idaho trio known as Caustic Resin. I felt they should somehow be immortalized just for making The Medicine is All Gone way back in 1998. Most people don’t know, but Brett Netson’s crew actually pre-date Built to Spill, the band who were likely the gateway into even hearing a Caustic Resin track (remember the split?). Well this whole post came to fruition in my quandary with Built to Spill. When it was announced that Built to Spill were going to play their seminal Perfect From Now On at the Pitchfork Music Festival I actually got kind of excited. That was quite an important record when it was released, epic in its psychedelic undertaking but still laced with Doug Martsch’s somewhat huckster bittersweet pop hooks. It was, as suggested, perfect. But, despite the outrage I might endure from Built to Spill apologists, he hasn’t made a good record since. In seeing there’s a new Built to Spill record on the way, one that’s being described as “heavy” and “dark,” I’m always anxious to see if he can reignite that spark. The last one was close, but seeing as I can remember the title of it without looking it up does not a great album make.

In the meantime, there is at least one Caustic Resin record worth your time, two if you include the excellent stoner trip in Fly Me to the Moon. Netson though, found a worthwhile balance between the dreadful, druggy, raging, nearing-PacNW aggression (think Wipers/TAD/Butterfly Train) found in his earliest records, and the more hokum melodies he would eventually share with Martsch and run into ground on subsequent records, on one compact document – the aforementioned The Medicine is All Gone. Alias released this one to little acclaim and it took some digging to find it again, seeing as it’s been tough to surface anything on that label (I’m looking at you Throneberry albums), this one is a missing artifact, especially if you’re a fan of BTS. The beauty of songs like the lead-off “Cable” and the stand-outs “Man from Michigan” and “Niacin,” comes in the trio’s instability, the constant wavering of Netson’s (eerily similar to Martsch) vocals – where he almost screams alley-cat minstrels, but manages to wrangle it all in – the monolithic riffs that near a Sabbath wallop but kind of fizzle in a billowing mess of grungy smoke-signals, the psychedelic bong-worshipped guitars going in every which direction that recall the earliest of Butthole Surfer madness. There’s a lysergic trail (I’m sure but not sure of substance abuse in Netson’s history, so don’t quote me) that flows through the penultimate one-two punch of “Mysteries Of…” and their cover of Argent’s “Hold Your Head Up” that is really all one needs for convincing. And there's a heap of excellent snaggletooth-jam on the finale “Enough,” that you might find yourself searching for the even looser/darker expanse of the record that came before this. You might even find yourself sending fan mail to Mr. Doug egging him out of his decade funk to give us what we all really want – a proper follow-up to that hour of bliss he gave us way back when.

Going Beyond Yeti

If you follow along, you know that I often wake up wanting to hear German Psychedelic Music. I once treated you to a video of "Soap Shop Rock" and hoped you would seek some of this out. Most readers prolly already have affinity for Amon Duul II, so this might just be incidental, but I like to make with the grand statements, the realizations of truth, and I can honestly profess that Amon Duul II was the greatest band on the planet at one time. The belief used to be that all one needed from their discography was Yeti, after all it's become synonymous with Krautrock and is the cover of Julian Cope's indispensable Krautrocksampler.

I had flirted with a couple other albums around the same time but had always come back to the "Archangels Thunderbird." Lately though (blame it on the Terrastock) I've been sucking up all of it -- especially the album's after that -- Carnival in Babylon, Wolf City, Viva La Trance, and the most overlooked of the bunch Made in Germany, which is disputably the country's first rock opera. Don't get me wrong, Sabbath is a behemoth among mortal men, but imagine being an acid-washed, burnt-out, bomb-sheltered, teen in post-war Bavaria? Were I that kid, there wouldn't be much left of my b-cells. It's easy to like both sides of the band, but once they were of the impression that their arena-fortified stone-age metal would save their civilization, they were absolutely loco (by retaining the penchant to jam on forever, incoporating a stage-show, smoke and mirrors, wild costumes, more drugs). This (below) isn't that yet, but if anyone can direct me towards a dvd document of the band I'm all eyes.

Polvo? Really? Polvo?

Chris Woods would scoff – “This is total fucking garbage.” He was Polvo’s harshest critic. As the always divisive, North Carolina band reunite this year, the torrent of indie 90’s nostalgia has reached a lame threshold. Will the masses buy a new Love Battery album, is it too soon for a Number One Cup whirlwind tour, did anybody actually listen to Duster? Sure, I’d be happy to see this show in some small capacity, feverish and wound up – I’m as guilty as the others in the enclave of devotees that possess all the records, they were one of those fringy second-tier bands (Silkworm, Elf Power, Bevis Frond) that made you feel like you were part of the club and hence had to have all the collectible cards.

Polvo weren’t that prolific, but they did manage to glide through some expansive and tricky terrain during their tenure. Blending Middle-Eastern echoes with imbalanced rhythms and time shifts, thousand-yard stares and full-frontal guitar skronk, they made albums that were woozy and relentless at the same time. It was in the EPs though that Polvo shined. Particularly the point where I theorize they peaked, the This Eclipse extended player that fell right between Today’s Active Lifestyles and what many consider their epic Exploding Drawing. I’m a fanboy for everything, personally I adore Cor-Crane Secret (perhaps just for the honesty and scruffiness of the recording), and Exploded Drawing has thee best songs of the catalog but is marred by blind ambition. This Eclipse though is the perfect concentration of a band that must be ingested in moderation.

Chris Woods is kinda’ right after all, the detuned strings and oft-putting shredding do rattle and disorient -- they try hard to meditate at times but rarely come up for air. These five songs though, tend to go down easy. “Bat Radar” a cleaner, polished, take on the quirky math rock of the beginning, better paced and readable, maybe the first time they actually thought of themselves as compositional guys and not just stoned travelers. This goes right into perhaps my favorite song by the band, “Bombs That Fall From Your Eyes” is Polvo’s “Grounded,” a prosaic exercise through the post-rock wasteland and the chunky proto-metal mirror (solidifying them as a group as good as Slint and Chavez), gorgeous and brutal. This Eclipse present them with chops, plenty different cuts too, they could hold their own in jazzy instrumental cheek-talk and monolithic sparkling sludge. Treat it as one sonically conceptual piece, an iceberg even, and warm up to it.
But back to these reunions…

If you’re in a band contemplating re-uniting…don’t drag it out unless you planning on recording an album that’s at least as good as your good band’s worst (Lemonheads, Dino Jr., Mission of Burma). Play one or two shows. Here Polvo get a pass, but I’d love to hear something new, as Shapes I thought was going to an interesting place that never was found. Oh well, me, I’m holding out hope for a full-scale Olivia Tremor Control tour, complete with new album.

Another Piece of the Xuxa Empire...(And More)

My wife is a goddess and a saint. Not only did she allow me a trip to geek out on bands in Austin, but she has learned that the fastest way to a man’s heart (or collector scum’s black curdling heart) is through vinyl. I’m getting under the impression that the lot of original Brazilian vinyl press from the late 60’s and early 70’s is lost to Westerners, and strangely enough to the citizens of Brazil. On my frequent trips down there I’ve searched, perhaps not hard enough, but there’s not much of a used record trade in Rio or Sao Paulo, prolly cause (like I said) the lot is lost. What I have found are fairly worn and flimsy comps of various MPB (musica popular brasil) hits, or mass produced samba from Carnaval groups.

Carol went digging again on her recent visit home. No Transa, though Veloso is a national hero, no Rita Lee Fruito Proibido, though the Os Mutantes comeback without her pageant voice, what she did find is treasure enough.

A quick re-cap:

Elis Regina - O Pretegio De -- A compilation of the live-fast/die-young, “little pepper” from Porto Alegre. This is her late period, right before her death, a vibrant and tragic voice over what sounds like the Brazilian Steely Dan. Bonus – Two similar comps by Maria Bethania (Caetano’s sister)and Nara Leao, two incredible if inferior female singers I have now learned.

Various Artists – Lambateira Tropical 2 – According to Carol, the Lambada dance craze originated in Brazil, further research finds that to be true. This was made in 1989, it’s a worn and flimsy comp of the Lambada radio hits of the time (she knows all the words the same way I would know a Black Box song I suppose). Indicative of the slick production of Brazil in the late 80’s, about five years past our 80’s top 40 radio pop. So overproduced and oversaturated with arrangements, it would be hard to place this in the world canon were the origins unknown. Falling somewhere between Saharan Desert guitar surf and Bollywood send-ups, the variety and up-tempo flavors astound me even if the recordings leave something to be desired.

Barbie and the Rockers - A Estrella do Rock -- Yeah, you heard it right. I’m not sure how far the Barbie as a rocker play date ran in the states – did she have a cartoon? an album like this? – but in Brazil, Barbie and the Rockers were dangerously close to being a real band. I do remember that the Barbie “rocker” doll did come with a cassingle of their theme song (wonderfully indulgent power metal riffs, catchy chorus), but this is a full record of covers, sung in Portuguese by a studio band posing as Barbie and the Rockers. Top Tape really has a relic on their hands. “Incluindo musicas de John Lennon e Paul McCartney, John Sebastian e Cat Stevens entre outros.” Absolutely worth the $00.20, if only for the cover art and the group’s rendition of “There Goes My Baby.”
And last but not least……

Xuxa - Karaoke de Xuxa -- Perhaps my favorite Brazilian icon made an extremely rare record of instrumentals complete with lyric sheet, background children’s choirs, and frequent encouragement from Xuxa. She made pop music that sounded like ABBA dipped in the sacred waters of the Amazon. Every note a slide down a rainbow. It’s not all delicious, but if she can teach me the language and keep me entertained at the same time I’ll follow along.

The arrival of this Xuxa gem prompted me to dig up this ol’ article that got lost in the internets and thought it was totally worth re-posting:
If there is an American equivalent to the Xuxa phenomenon in Brazil, I'd love to know about it.

"While her presence as the country's top entertainer has waned in the last decade, it's still hard to avoid seeing Xuxa in televison commercials, b-movies, cartoons, toy stores, and shopping malls. I've become so fascinated by her legend, I've made it a personal mission to visit O Mundo Da Xuxa the next time I'm in Sao Paulo.

In my pursuit to become a self-taught expert on Brazilian popular culture I came across an interesting article on the social impact of Xuxa in her native country.

Amelia Simpson writes in her essay titled "Xuxa and the Televisual Imaginary,"

"The Xou da Xuxa (the live 5-hour, six-days a week, program she hosted for over a decade) attracts because it dissolves unseemly differences of race, gender, and class in a televisual pandemonium of generic happiness and idol worship. Xuxa's image assembles in one tidy package a set of unweidly, mutually contradictory ideas. She celebrates an ideal of femininity that is both erotic and domestic. She relentlessly markets a consumer-driven model of modernity in a country where the basic needs of many citizens are not met. And she presents a white ideal of beauty in a nation with the second-largest population of African descent on earth. Xuxa's image thus reconciles, without resolving, the deep fissures of race, gender, and capital that divide Brazil."

Pretty heavy stuff. She goes on to say that Xuxa's persona became such a encapsulation of perfection for the uneducated, that many thought she was a celestial being and the second-coming of the Virgin Mary. In one case, a Xuxa doll was said to have wept blood.

Of course, American audiences weren't fooled when Xuxa made an attempt at an American version of her variety show. I vaguely remember when this debuted ; being caught completely off-guard by her kooky antics, sychronized dances, and failure to command the english language. All that said, her 1988 movie, "Super Xuxa Contra Baixo Astral" (Super Xuxa vs. Satan) is brilliant from beginning to end (think Labyrinth meets Rainbow Brite meets City of God). "