The Holiday Blues. We all know that feeling, right? And here, on new song "No Gifts This Xmas," the Blank Tapes deliver a rather perfect ode to gloomy cheer, ugly-sweater bummers, and festive malaise -- with just the right amount of implied winking. The acoustic opening, lazy tempo, and drawling vocals of Matt Adams all make for an easy good time.
The Blank Tapes recently moved back to L.A. from their longtime home up here, but we still count 'em as local, because we want to, and because this year's full-length, Vacation, came out on Oakland's Antenna Farm records. Also, the band is playing the Chapel next Wednesday, Dec. 18 -- when "No Gifts This Xmas" should damn good. Listen and download here:
A piece on Noisey today asks why so many bands that were great when young and hungry became so mind-bogglingly mediocre as they grew famous, rich, and old. Here's why:
Because young people tend to be the only ones stupid, brave, and poor enough to make good pop music.
Seriously. Pop -- including rock, hip-hop, and "pop" as we know it -- relies largely on the naiveté, lack of forethought, arrogance, narcissism, and inherent recklessness of youth. Not all of it, but most. And as people get older, they tend to lose their nerve and/or will to potentially embarrass themselves publicly by saying true, interesting things. (The crazy-geniuses don't, of course, but most of our pop/rock/hip-hop stars aren't crazy geniuses.)
Jonathan Richman @ Great American Music Hall, Thursday, Dec. 12
Jonathan Richman created the Modern Lovers, a band inspired by the Velvet Underground, in 1970. Before their long-awaited album (produced by John Cale) was released, Richman had already moved on. Disillusioned by the negativity he heard in rock music, he started playing in a folky, acoustic style, concentrating on songs that celebrated the calmer, more positive aspects of life. The childlike simplicity of his music and his goofy, positive attitude has won him a large, loyal following. His appearance as the singing narrator/Greek chorus in the 1998 Farrelly Brothers film There's Something About Mary introduced him to a wider audience, but he never cashed in on his temporary A-list celebrity. At 61, he continues on his own sunny, eccentric path, performing with an effortlessly brilliant optimism that makes first-time listeners lifelong fans. J. Poet
Ever since he unleashed the utter lunacy that was the Trapped in the Closet series, it became impossible for us to view R. Kelly as anything other than a figure of fun, of ridicule; an ambassador for people who have no grasp of reality the world over. Put simply, the kind of musician that rhymes the words "Bridget" and "midget" just never deserves to be taken seriously ever again -- no matter how many misguided teens perform "I Believe I Can Fly" on American Idol.
