and console you with a big kiss…on the lips

Frank Black: What is going on, Peter? We’ve never backed away from anything. We’ve even faced evil incarnate.

Peter Watts: Evil incarnate can’t sue.

(from Millennium, “Jose Chung’s ‘Doomsday Defense’”)

I was all set with a post celebrating my reasonably successful upgrade to the new beta version of Blogger, when a certain someone lamented that no one was jumping at a recent juicy piece of celebrity gossip. It seems a former 70’s teen heart throb-turned-fading superstar actor was photographed planting a big sloppy mouth kiss on another man. Said heart throb also happens to be a member of a well known religious organization, popular with many celebrities, that is not known for having a progressive stance on homosexuality. Now while the story is ripe with comedic potential, Armagideon Time lacks the extensive legal budgets possessed by the various gossip rags, and so I’ll just let these “randomly selected with no agenda, honest” tracks do the talking.

“Up your nose with a rubber hose,” indeed.

they’re trying to wash us away

One year after Katrina made landfall on the Gulf Coast, and things are still a mess. Bush the Lesser made a photo-op trip to a carefully selected red state enclave in Mississippi to proclaim that things have improved since he was there last. (“What, fewer minorities and poor people living there?” my wife acidly responded to his assertion.) Of course, when the situation last year featured the inundation of a major urban core and dead bodies floating in the streets, there’s no place to go but up.

My sister-in-law was in New Orleans a few weeks ago for a librarians’ conference, and reported back about a city where upscale eateries and merchants are doing business like gangbusters, while lower end business remain boarded up. (It sounded like a mirror universe Flint, Michigan.) Already the speculators have descended on the half-abandoned city, raking in the big bucks buying flood damaged houses from desperate owners for a song, then “flipping” them for a hefty profit. Meanwhile, poorer homeowners are being squeezed between government assistance that has been glacial in coming and local ordinances requiring them to take rapid action or face demolition or seizure of their property.

Don’t worry, Bush has already announced a plan for recovery involving tax breaks for corporations. Surprise, surprise. We can look forward to one of America’s most colorful and storied cities, a polyglot freebooter’s paradise that figures heavily in our national mythology, turn into a gentrified theme-park facsimile of its former self. Are you ready for animatronic Mardi Gras?

and another thing I’ve been wondering lately

Ever wake up on a Sunday morning and feel like your core essence has been blown to the four winds? Personally, I think I’ve grounded myself pretty well in my role of underemployed slacker dilettante with a strong aversion to personal responsibility, but that’s not to say I’m entirely immune to the vague sense of existential dread occasionally nibbling at the corners of my mind. When I feel it starting to happen, I roll over, go back to sleep, and dream of Tuesday Weld.

Hoodoo Gurus – What’s My Scene (from Blow Your Cool, 1987) – That’s a good question. When I have an answer, I’ll let you know.

New York Dolls – Personality Crisis (from New York Dolls, 1973) – I remember the day I bought this album. It was the summer of 1991, and I had just graduated from Jordan Marsh University (a small conference room at the back of the store where they taught the esoteric mysteries of inventory taking). In a typical move for me at the time, I got bored halfway through my first shift at the store and walked off the job. On the hike back to my house, I stopped at the Crossroads shopping center in Burlington and found this LP in a cutout bin at Strawberries.

Jordan Marsh is no more. That particular Strawberries is no more. The surviving New York Dolls, hovever, have reunited and even released a new album a few weeks back.

Rubella Ballet – Me (from Cocktail Mix, 1987) – Rubella Ballet is one of the few bands whose singles I hunted down relentlessly. Technically anarcho-punk (two members were children of the Poison Girls’ Vi Subversa), their dayglo outfits and “fashion punk” hairstyles combined with their broader sound (some of their tracks have been released on gothic rock compilations) set them apart from their peers.

You can see their video for “False Promises” here. Lest anyone begins making comparisons with Fuzzbox, Rubella Ballet preceded that band by more than half a decade.

The Vyllies – Give Me a Name (from A Tribute to Flexipop, Vol. 1) – Another bit of obscure new wave synthpop from the unofficial series of Flexipop compilations. A little googling turned up the following bits of info: The Vyllies were an all-female Swiss group, and this track was recorded between 1981 and 1985.

X-Ray Spex – Identity (from Germfree Adolescents, 1978) – The Sex Pistols had antinomian rage. The Clash had fiery political convictions. The Damned had a sense of raw loutish abandon. X-Ray Spex had a gnostic awareness about everyday life -- consumerism, identity and artifice, power and subservience -- that feels as fresh today as it did in 1978.

got a lot of good advice to give

I haven't done any linkblogging posts here because they make me feel like I'm being lazy and taking advantage of other people's hard work. There are some things, however, that shouldn't be missed. One of the guys behind the wonderful Killed By Death Records has posted mp3s from a single by his band, The Flakes, and the songs are some of the best punk/power pop tracks I've heard in aeons.

So, if you're into that type of music, go check them out. "She's So Natural" is especially fine, and has been on heavy rotation 'round here for the past twenty-four hours.

I want to turn blue under an alien sun

I think it was the late Carl Sagan who stated that scientists for all their supposed book learning are human, with the same personality quirks and flaws as the rest of us ignorant sods, and that their personal foibles reflect back on the public’s perception of science as a whole. Sagan, of course, was not suggesting that scientists should behave like emotionless technocrats, but was instead trying to explain that the validity of the scientific method should not be dismissed due to the ridiculous behavior of its practitioners.

I’ve been trying to keep that advice in mind as I try and keep up with what has been going on in Prague the past few days, where the world’s top astronomers have been trying to reach a consensus of what exactly constitutes a planet. Between the stargazers’ impassioned arguments, self-important intrigue, and hopelessly obtuse attempts at wit, the gathering has the musky feel of a Newsarama forum, only with better grammar and fewer Wolverine references. Even the geologists got involved in the debate, forcing the astronomers to drop the term “pluton”, used to describe the quasi-planetary objects in the post-Neptunian Kuiper Belt, because it is already in use as a geologic term.

Don’t fuck with geologists. I made the mistake of doing so once, and I got a pummeling to the head so bad, I lost hearing in my left ear for three days.

I assemble material for my posts sometimes weeks in advance. An idea for a theme will occur to me, along with a couple appropriate songs, and I sock them away in a folder and let things percolate for a while. I think of other songs to add, I cull some weaker tracks from the herd until I’m satisfied with the overall feel of my selections. So imagine my irritation when Space Huggy Bear pulled me aside and told me, “Word around the Oort Cloud is that the eggheads have it in for Pluto. My sources tell me that it’s going to get cut out of the planetary loop on the twenty-fourth.” The upshot? I had to push my planet-themed post to the front of the queue.

Fucking scientists. I could have been one of them if I didn’t skip every other freshman Calc class to check out the new stock at the used record stores. They have PhDs and tenure; I got a copy of the original UK pressing of the Clash’s debut album for ninety-nine cents. I still think I got the better deal.

BT – Mercury and Solace (from Movement In Still Life, 1999) – Sooothing sweet electronica.

Shocking Blue – Venus (from At Home, 1969) – Yeah, it’s a bit more obvious a choice that I’d preferred, but I couldn’t bring myself to post “Venus In Blue Jeans”.

Duran Duran – Planet Earth (from Duran Duran, 1981) – From their full-on New Romantic period, before they ditched the pirate shirts and silly dance moves for tailored suits and concept videos shot in Sri Lanka.

David Bowie – Life On Mars? (from Hunky Dory, 1971) – I was going to post Yann Tiersen’s cover of this song as a tribute to a Chilean friend who has a mad crush on Tiersen, but it just didn’t sound right to me. So here’s the real deal.

Dynamic Bass System – Express to Jupiter (from Global Surveyor Phase 2, 2005) – Get-your-ass-up-and-dance electronica.

A Certain Ratio – Saturn (from I’d Like To See You Again, 1982) – A jazzy post-punk (post-funk?) instrumental number. Lost in all the hubbub heralding the post-punk revival by acts like Franz Ferdinand and Interpol is the fact that there was more to the original post-punk scene than Ian Curtis’s chronic depression. Where’s the radical experimentation? The concept of musical theory as political theory?

Alien Sex Fiend – Drive My Rocket (Up Uranus) (from a 1983 b-side, collected on Drive My Rocket: The Collection, Volume 1, 1994) – Is there a song title featuring the seventh planet that doesn’t resort to scatological punnery? There was a period in the mid-1990’s where I listened to ASF almost exclusively. Their 1990 LP Curse is a masterpiece of crude gothic electronica.

Photek – Neptune (from the Metalheadz Limited Edition Box Set, 1998) – Nice, relaxing electronica.

The Creatures – Pluto Drive (from Boomerang, 1989) – Would two Banshees by any other name sound as sweet? I never understood the rationale for this Siouxsie and husband Budgie side project’s existence, since most of their Banshees-era output sounded, well, a lot like the Banshees. The post-Banshees Creatures developed a more electronic-influenced sound, but this track would have fit just fine on Peepshow.

it’s a strange world

I got around to reading the first issue of Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie’s Phonogram today. It was a well-crafted comic, but not my cup of tea, unfortunately. The high concept of Hellblazer meets High Fidelity loses me on the High Fidelity part. I can’t help it; I fucking despise music snobs and their pretentious airs. It’s a deeply ingrained reflex -- whenever I hear terms like “rich tonal modality” used in a conversation about pop music, a blood red rage overtakes me and will not abate until my bony fist crunches into a be-soul patched jaw.

My own strain of audiophilia has more in common with the mystery archeology of Elijah Snow than with the phonomancy of David Kohl. Boston’s debut LP, a collection of 60’s pop song covers by a Korean ladies choir, or a tinny 7” from some forgotten punk act out of Tulsa -- it’s all wonder and novelty to me. I only ask that it not bore me.

One thing that did amuse me about the comic was the way the creators managed to shoehorn their love of Kenickie into the narrative. It reminded me a lot of the chapters in Bret Easton Ellis’s American Psycho where Patrick Bateman launches into overwrought analyses of acts like Huey Lewis and the News and Whitney Houston. Self-justification via evangelism is never pretty.

Personally I like Kenickie’s fem-pop, but they were lightweights compared to other acts mining that same vein in the mid-to-late 1990’s: Elastica, Sleeper, Echobelly, and Republica, to name a few. Shit, if one was serious about the music as magic trope, why not take a trip though Lush’s discography? There’s at least three grimoires of material to be found there.

beat the meetles

Today’s theme is a simple tribute to the songwriting talents of the late John Lennon, the late George Harrison, and the lately embarrassing Sir Paul McCartney. (Sorry, Ringo.)

Nick Cave – Here Comes the Sun (from the I Am Sam OST [International Version], 2001) – From “Release the Bats” to a folk ballad duet with fellow Aussie Kylie Minogue (“Where the Wild Roses Grow”) to this wearily beautiful rendition of the Fab Four’s ode to solar-powered optimism – a very interesting fellow, this Mr. Cave is. Also worth tracking down is the cover of “What a Wonderful World” he recorded with Shane MacGowan.

Siouxsie and the Banshees - Dear Prudence (from Hyaena, 1984) – I pulled out my copy of Mick Mercer’s Gothic Rock encyclopedia in search of a pithy quote to go with this song, and to my bafflement I found autographed 8 x 10 glossies of Traci Lords, Ethan Phillips, and Robert Picardo wedged in between the entries for “Danielle Dax” and “Danse Society”. My wife’s handiwork, I assume. I wonder if she knows that’s where she put them.

The Damned – Help! (from The Light at the End of the Tunnel, 1987) – The b-side to the 1976 “New Rose” single generally considered to be the “first” punk rock record. Armagideon Time favorite Nick Lowe produced the single, as well as the Damned’s first LP.

Sergio Mendes and Brasil ’66 – Norwegian Wood (from Four Sider, 1972) – I really dig the cool easy-listening vibe of Mr. Mendes and company, and not in an ironic post-modern hipster way.

The Wall – Day Tripper (from a 1982 12” single, collected on No Future: The Punk Singles Collection, 2002) – I like this Beatles cover just fine, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the incredible b-side of the single, the note-perfect punk pop masterpiece “When I’m Dancing”, which is sure to pop up on this blog in the future.

The Silkie – You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away (from You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away, 1965) – Here’s a odd one: a folk-rock cover recorded at nearly the same time as the original, produced by John Lennon, and featuring Paul McCartney on guitar and George Harrison on tambourine. (The explanation: The Beatles and The Silkie were both managed by Brian Epstein.)

The Breeders – Happiness Is A Warm Gun (from Pod, 1990) – I originally purchased Pod out of a Throwing Muses completist impulse (as soon-to-be former Muse Tanya Donnelly was a member), and was disappointed to discover Kim Deal really running the show. Over time, however, I grew to appreciate the album’s quirky alt-pop sound, which never fails to take me back to the summer I graduated from high school and drifted around rootless in pursuit of a hipster chick who would eventually leave me in the dust of her bourgeoisie dreams.

e pluribus Elvis

Today marks the twenty-ninth anniversary of Elvis Aaron Presley’s death. On August 16, 1977, the King’s heart, weakened by years of drug abuse and too many deep-fried sandwiches, gave out as he squatted on the toilet in his palatial estate; an absurd yet mythic death for an absurd yet mythic figure.

It is Elvis’s role as a mythic figure that fascinates me. It is a tragic tale of celebrity and success, ruin and rebirth set against the backdrop of the American Century and the concurrent rise of mass consumer culture. A talented poor boy makes it big, only to fall prey to his own voracious appetites, the destructive counsel of self-interested handlers, and a hunger for wholeness that could not be sated by conspicuous consumption. Elvis’s story serves as the Platonic form embodying the distorted sense of perception which accompanies the loftiest peaks of celebrity status and amassed wealth. Its shadows can be glimpsed everywhere these days, from Michael Jackson’s sad antics to Madonna’s delusions about her current relevance.

I wonder how things would have turned out for the King he hadn’t spent over a decade tied up (thanks to his predatory manager, Tom Parker) making progressively awful films with even worse musical numbers. Set free from the stifling confines of his marketing-dictated persona and given access to some the first-rate songwriters and innovative musicians of the sixties, who knows what direction his career could have taken?

While he had no particular love for the Beatles (and bitched about their “anti-American” attitudes to Richard Nixon), Elvis saw Welsh crooner Tom Jones and Brill Building alumnus Neil Diamond as his rivals in the mid-to-late 60’s, suggesting grand pop inclinations consistent with his marvelous post-Hollywood output (“Suspicious Minds”, “Burning Love”). Despite being the seminal figure in the creation of rock’n’roll, Elvis never inextricably locked himself into the genre that way other early rock’n’roll and rockabilly artists did, preferring to see himself part of the broader tradition of pop vocalists.

Ok, enough with my rambling musings and popcult philosophizing, it’s time for today’s tracks.

Elvis Presley - Blue Moon of Kentucky (from The Sun Sessions, 1987) – The b-side to Elvis’s 1954 single, “That’s All Right”, and my personal favorite Elvis track. It’s a revved up cover of a 1947 bluegrass song by Bill Monroe and The Blue Grass Boys. Monroe was so impressed by this rendition that he went back to the studio to record an uptempo version more in line with this one.

Elvis Presley – The Fort Lauderdale Chamber of Commerce (from the Girl Happy soundtrack, 1965) – There were plenty of musical stinkers in Elvis’s films – “Song of the Shrimp”, “Do the Clam”, “Dominic the Impotent Bull” – but this is the one that induces me to curl up in a fetal position on the living room rug. Its faux-Latin/calypso/island mélange has the ethnic sincerity of a cocktail menu at a suburban Polynesian restaurant, and the “chorus” flows like a barrel of bricks emptied down a stairwell. The line “Any male in Fort Lauderdale/who is not pursuing a cute female/will automatically land in jail” is remarkably prescient considering the current backlash against homosexuals in this country. For the record, the number one song of 1965 (the year this song was released) was “Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones -- something to keep in mind while listening to his little gem.

The Dead Milkmen – Going to Graceland (from Bucky Fellini, 1987) – We round out our Elvis tribute with an irreverently silly take on the Cult of the King by Philadelphia’s famed snot rockers. Black velvet painting and thirty dollar commemorative keychain not required.

P.S. If you see happen to see the King shopping for mayonnaise at the Tupelo Piggly Wiggly, please give him my regards.

so much for the golden future

This one’s for Jim, faithful disciple of Halford: Judas Priest’s “Breaking the Law” from 1980’s British Steel LP. This track frequently finds its way onto the mix CD's I use for driving music, and was on the disc I used to christen my faithful chariot, Super Lumina.

My own metal phase was mercifully short, but I still maintain a certain degree of respect for Rob Halford. Any metal frontman willing to dress like Joe Jackson is ok in my book.



Disclaimer: Amagideon Time does not assume responsibility for any suicide-inducing backward messages in posted content. If you are a sad, shitkicker, shop-class cutting, denim jacketed heavy metal loner, please do not listen to content under the influence of cheap booze and/or pot. Failure to follow these guidelines may cause one to swallow the barrel of a twelve gauge shotgun.

test (my patience) pattern

My webhost is acting up today. Hopefully it will be resolved soon. In the meantime, enjoy this music video of the Swingers' "Counting the Beat":

there's a man outside, his name is Jim

Mike Douglas has passed away at age 81. Rest in peace, O Grand Dean of Daytime Talk Shows, proud in the knowledge that you were able to carry a show for twenty-one years without resorting to trailer park death-matches, bribing your audience with free cars, or chair-tossing skinheads.

Here’s Mr. Douglas’s 1966 hit, the slightly creepy (from a 21st century perspective), sing-talking masterpiece, “The Men In My Little Girl’s Life”. It came in 95 on the Billboard Top 100 of that year, sandwiched between the Toys' "Lovers Concerto" and the Four Tops' "Shake Me, Wake Me (When It's Over)". Anyone else miss chart diversity?

got to be a lover, have mercy

More lovers, fewer fighters – that’s what this poor world needs. Despite my occasionally prickly personality, my allegiances are firmly rooted in the lovers’ camp. Just ask my wife, our fifteen-year relationship has become the stuff of local legend for both its intensity and its “you make it look so easy” je ne sais quoi. There are the occasional, minor, rough patches here and there, but nothing that can’t be overcome by a pizza and comics date. (We go to a pizza place, eat pizza, and read comics.) Consequently, I find myself being asked for relationship advice fairly often.

The truth is, I don’t really have any tips that could apply outside our Gang of Two. Like specialized tools designed to service a unique machine, functionality is delimited by a specific context. A friend of ours summed it up best. I was using my wife and myself as examples while pontificating on relationships, and my friend stopped me dead with “Yes, but you two are different.”

I suppose we are, but it’s merely a matter of knowing ourselves and knowing each other, and accepting (if not embracing) differences rather than seeking perfect unanimity. Too often people fixate on finding an oak, when they should be cultivating a promising acorn.

this kiss you give, is never ever gonna fade away

Watch out, for as soon as it pleases them they'll send you out to protect their gold in wars whose weapons, rapidly developed by servile scientists, will become more and more deadly until they can with a flick of the finger tear a million of you to pieces. -- Jean Paul Marat

Today is the 61st anniversary of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima; sixty-one years of living in the shadow of the mushroom cloud, where the fate of human race has become the hazard in diplomatic games of chance. Fortunately, it’s a bluff no one’s dared to call yet. Instead of head-on confrontations that would kill billions in a space of a few hours, we’ve had proxy wars that hemorrhage millions of lives over the space of several years. “Thank God for the atom bomb,” indeed.

The real lessons of Hiroshima and Nagasaki continue to be ignored. Partially, if not entirely, intended as a grand gesture to intimidate the Soviets and impress upon them the awesome powers now wielded by America, the end result was a global race to “get me some of that” that continues to the present day. By virtue of possessing (or by even seriously claiming to possess) a handful of nuclear weapons, a pitiful joke of a nation like North Korea can wield vastly disproportionate power in negotiations with other, “stronger” nations. Of course, other states desire to have their own nuclear trump cards as a hedge in a world where America has proclaimed itself sole arbiter of righteousness.

Over a hundred thousand people, nearly all civilians, died in atomic blasts to end a war whose conclusion was postponed over differing interpretations of “unconditional surrender” (which turned out to be irrelevant in the end, since Emperor Hirohito – whose post-surrender status was the sticking point – ended up keeping his throne). The other reason for the atomic bombings, as a show of force to cow the Soviets, ended up creating an atomic standoff between world powers that continues to this day. The collapse of the Soviet Union did little to halt the insidious fractalization. The USSR’s weak and disorganized successor states struggle to keep track of their atomic arsenals while rogue states and terrorist organizations try to purchase the materials and expertise to build their own devices on the black market.

On that optimistic note, let’s move onto the music.

Bill Haley and His Comets – Thirteen Women (From the Original Master Tapes, 1985) – Recorded in 1954, this is a nice example of early rock and roll from the swing/country end of the spectrum, as opposed to the blues/jump blues side of the family tree. It’s also a light-hearted (depending on your gender and/or sexual orientation) look at the aftermath of a nuclear war from the early Atomic Age.

Subhumans (UK) – All Gone Dead (from The Day the Country Died, 1982) – Just one of thousands of 80’s punk songs dealing with atomic war. The concept of nuclear Armageddon dovetailed nicely with the punk rock’s political/social awareness and general sense of nihilism.

I had a history professor who was a baby boomer traumatized by the Cuban Missile Crisis, and we used to discuss our childhood nuclear war related-neuroses. I argued that it was far worse for children of the early eighties than it was for kids in his era, because we had no “duck and cover” or fallout shelter illusions to protect us from the reality of total annihilation. If the bombs fell, the world was dead. If you happened to survive the blast, radiation poisoning and slow starvation would make you envy the dead. These facts weren’t proxied for my generation by giant Tokyo-stomping lizards or ants the size of Buicks, but presented directly and graphically via films like The Day After and Threads. There was a six-month period in 1984-1985 (triggered by Reagan’s reelection) where I lived in a state of panic. Every siren I heard, every plane that flew over our house had me thinking that zero hour was upon us.

Young Marble Giants – Final Day (from Colossal Youth, 1980) – The famously minimalist post-punk act serves up a soft, bittersweet elegy for a world about to end.

Orchestral Maneuvers In The Dark – Enola Gay (from Organisation, 1980) – One of my favorite pieces of new wave synthpop, from OMD’s second album. The song is titled after the USAAF B-29 Superfortress that dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima. The plane’s display as part of an exhibit on the bombings at the Smithsonian generated some controversy, as did the decision to show artifacts and material reflecting the experience of the Japanese victims on the ground. The Smithsonian caved under the pressure by veterans’ groups who saw a pro-Japanese bias (meaning the vets wanted the glory for but not the stigma of killing 100,000 people), and canceled the exhibit. Unpleasant truths are anti-American, didn’t you know?

Fishbone – Party at Ground Zero (from the Fishbone EP, 1985) – When all else fails, celebrate. Go ska-wild in a bacchanalia set to the beat of thousands of silo doors opening in Kamchatka and Nebraska. The fun doesn’t end until everyone on the dance floor exceeds the lethal equivalent dose of rads.

To round out this assemblage, I suggest you stop by this previous post and pick up “They’ve Got a Bomb” by Crass, whose anarcho-communist members saw the creation of the atom bomb and its usage at Hiroshima and Nagasaki as the horrific end results of institutionalized science and thought. Crass was also responsible for reinvigorating the Committee for Nuclear Disarmament (CND), a British organization pledged toward the abolition of nuclear weapons.

test your metal

The weekend is almost here. Ready to rock like a cloud of delocalized electrons around a lattice of positive ions? Slap on your best set of conduction and valance bands, and key your responsometer to “party”, because today Armagideon Time is going metallic in the most literal, non-satanic way imaginable.

Aardvark – Copper Sunset (from Aardvark, 1970) – This is an outstanding fuzzed out hard rock/heavy prog track reminiscent of early Deep Purple or Black Sabbath. The song is also noteworthy for being entirely organ-driven; the band did not have a guitarist, a unique decision for a hard rock outfit.

The Cardigans – Iron Man (from The First Band on the Moon, 1996) – I admired the Cardigans from afar for months. While channel surfing, I’d surreptitiously linger on VH1 if I came across the video for “Lovefool” and try not to let my wife discover my secret pop music shame. Then one day, she came home and handed me a Newbury Comics bag which disgorged a copy of The First Band on the Moon CD. “I could tell you liked them, but were too embarrassed to buy the album, so I got it for you,” she said. That is what is known as true love.

Echo & the Bunnymen – Silver (from Ocean Rain, 1984) – I’d be hard pressed to think of another pop album as dreamily romantic as Ocean Rain. The inclusion of the utterly inane “Crown of Thorns” (“c-c-c-cucumber, c-c-c-cabbage”) is regrettable, but more than compensated for by tracks like “Seven Seas”, “The Killing Moon”, and “Silver”.

Chromeo – Mercury Tears (from She’s In Control, 2004) – Anyone who begins shedding mercury tears for real ought to cut down on their piscatory intake. Or quit confusing lab thermometers with Fla-Vor-Ices. (A very easy mistake to make, unfortunately.)

Girls at Our Best – Go For Gold (from Pleasure, 1981) – Funky, feminist post-punk with honeyed vocals. An ideal choice for anyone who wishes the Au Pairs or Delta 5 were a bit more poppier, or Crass’s Penis Envy was a little less abrasive.

Kraftwerk – Uranium (from Radio-Activity, 1975) – A short musical interlude titled after everyone’s favorite actinide, and featuring an early precursor to the Speak’n’Spell vocal gimmickry so popular with the retro-tech synth acts these days.

late to the party, but I brought some booze

In vino veritas? Sure, everyone knows that old saw, but thanks to Mel Gibson we now have an updated version, in vino the Protocols of the Elders of Zion. All those times I’ve seen alcohol credited for livening up a party, but little did I realize that they were referring to the Nazi Party. I’ll never look at a beach bash bonfire the same way again.

Something tells me that the Road Warrior is going to end up digging deep into his coffers of Passion geld to salvage his career. Expect to see his PR team announce several massive donations to various Jewish charities over the next few weeks, followed by a trip to the Holocaust Museum in Washington. The road to celebrity anti-Semite redemption is so well traveled at this point, the map has been preprogrammed into the GPS computers of every custom-fitted Escalade sold in greater Los Angeles.

Only in Hollywood could an apology like Mel’s be pulled off with any degree of success. Never in a million years would I consider playing the “I’m broken, please help fix me” card on my wife. “How did your crapulence become my responsibility?” she’d reply, and would be absolutely justified in doing so. Mel, on the other hand, is getting some plaudits for taking the offensive…like he hasn’t been offensive enough already.

But what do I know? I don’t fucking own Malibu, I just have a small selection of tracks inspired by last weekend’s Mel-tdown.

Brenda Lee – I’m Sorry (from The Definitive Collection, 2006) – Not as sorry as Mel, Brenda, but your apology is far superior.

Lloyd Cole & the Commotions – Lost Weekend (from Easy Pieces, 1985) – I’m not a huge fan of Cole’s work, but I think this song is just swell, probably because I’m a sucker for 60’s style guitar pop.

The Kingbees – My Mistake (from a 1980 single, collected on Vols. 1&2, 1992) – Here’s another great new wave/rockabilly song that managed to slip under the public's radar while Christopher Cross cracked the top 100 twice with “Sailing” and “Ride Like the Wind”. L7 was right: The masses are asses.

The Pogues – Whiskey You’re the Devil (from Red Roses For Me, 1984) – Mel should take a lesson in drunkenness from Shane MacGowan. Incoherent, toothless drunk = celebrated genius; angry, anti-Semitic drunk = object of mockery and disgust

Hüsker Dü – I Apologize (from New Day Rising, 1985) – While I love Hüsker Dü, that affection is tempered with the knowledge that the band was the inspiration for countless soundalike alt-rock bands in the 1990’s. I know it’s not fair to judge a band based on their weak cheese imitators, but that can be hard to do when every song evokes shades of some lousy AOA radio staple.

the eyes have it

The theme for today is “eyes”. Ojos. Limpid pools. Vile jelly. My wife went in for a minor procedure on one of her eyelids yesterday that turned out to be far more complicated than advertised. She’s okay now, though sans peripheral vision for the next few days, but the experience-by-proxy has left its mark.

Comsat Angels – Eye of the Lens (from a 1981 single, collected on the reissue of Sleep No More, 2006) - Paranoiac post-punk that might sound formulaic to some, but it’s a formula that works perfectly where this song is concerned.

Faye Wong – Eyes On Me (Almighty Mix) (from Dancemania Deluxe V.4, 2000) – The theme to Final Fantasy VIII gets a makeover for the DDR set. FF8 is often pilloried by angry fanboys upset that the game isn’t FF7. Fanboy logic is unassailable. And stupid.

The Adverts – Gary Gilmore’s Eyes (from a 1977 single, collected on The Punk Singles Collection, 1997) – This unauthorized sci-fi sequel to The Executioner’s Song is a musical rollercoaster ride into the abyss. I wish there were more bands like the Adverts, one of the best acts to emerge from the first wave of British punk.

The Records – Starry Eyes (from Shades In Bed, 1979) – This track has been hailed as a powerpop masterpiece, although I think that’s laying it on a bit thick. It’s an enjoyable, well-crafted song that skews a little too close to “easy listening” territory to be hailed as a standard bearer for the powerpop genre.

Throwing Muses – Pools of Eyes (from The Fat Skier, 1988) – “Dying Rabbits: Deciphering the Lyrics of the Throwing Muses” -- there’s a master’s thesis just waiting to be written. Any takers? Belly fans take note: Tanya Donelly handles the vocals on this track.

Bauhaus – The Man With the X-Ray Eyes (from Mask, 1981) – Nuclear angst meets Roger Corman, with the customary dash of Bauhausian pretentiousness.