This song is trouble. The vocal sounds both like a maniacal Brenda Lee ( country legend from back in the day) and an actual freight train, and can be likened to the sensation of getting pummeled in the face for 2 minutes, then slowly sliding down a wall, which is to say it totally kicks ass.
Hey you quiet/loud crunchy guitar 90’s alternative throwback, I have a crush on you and can’t take you off repeat…but anyway…Small Talks are out of Myrtle Beach, Florida, and this one is kind of like peak era Juliana Hatfield with uh…balls (seriously), and is exceedingly great.
Suggesting the Pet Shop Boys at their most lost, and ineffably pretty, “Thirteen” is solely comprised of synth and sadness, and unquestionably built for staring wistfully out train windows, and playing on repeat.
Ed Zed on the timeless, wry, & disappointed post-punk pop greyness of The Bomber Jackets…
“My songs are like Bic razors, they’re for fun, for modern consumption. People can discard them like a used tissue afterwards. They can listen to it, like it, discard it, then turn onto the next. Disposable pop.”
Freddie Mercury speaking in interview circa late 70’s.
I love that quote. Can totally imagine Freddie delivering it, and adding a “do you understand Darling?” with a flourish after he says it. It describes the true core essence of pop music…buuuut of course some songs are more disposable than others. I mean, there are very few people on earth who would label the average Queen song as disposable (although, we could ostensibly nominate “Body Language”, and I’m pretty sure Freddie would agree). Fact is, “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure”, and ” some girl’s mothers are bigger than other girl’s mothers”…which lands us here. One of the great things about the 80’s and early 90’s was that any crazy piece of whatever could end up in the chart. No matter how off the wall, cheesy, unapologetically ludicrous, drowned in lush earnestness, or buried in chocolate coated jellybeans and sprinkles something was, if it had a chorus, an eye-catching video, or a picture sleeve it had the potential to become a hit, especially in the UK. Throughout the 80’s especially, there ran a seemingly endless stream of shameless tunes in garish colors, that if they weren’t pop songs would have been action figures, anime characters or bowls of multi-colored, sugared cereal. There were twisted-tacky euro-tastic anthems ( the earnest WTF*ckedness of Falco’s “Sound of Musik”), frothy fat-synthed joys with anonymous female vocals literally built for the radio ( Maisonettes “Heartache Avenue”, Rah Band “Clouds Across the Moon”), and belligerent teenage girls, chanting homemade slogans, and giving you the finger ( Shampoo, Annabella of Bow Wow Wow). It was all cheese to the core, but like really, really good cheese.
“A bip bam-boogie and a booga-rooga, my cassette’s just like a bazooka”. HELL YES IT IS GIRL.
We no longer have to live in the vacuum of coolness. As a result of streaming, and YouTube, we now live in a musical world without context. There is no need to hide in the closet anymore. If you like trashy pop music, you can like it openly. You can love it out loud. You don’t ever have to start a sentence with ,”I know it’s cheesy/bad/lame but I really like (insert song you hate yourself for liking here)”. You can say, “know what, I f*cking love Mambo No.5″ …actually no, don’t say that, because in no universe is it okay to like that song, but anything else you got, OKAY. Take ownership, you are free.
No, it will never be okay to like this song.
And with that here is a Spotify playlist featuring the aforementioned wonders plus a some other equally magnetic pop things from back in the day when the charts were truly the wild west. And hey, I’d love to hear what your favorite cheese tune is, and why the hell you like it. I promise I won’t tell anyone.
This song wants to hug you. The debut single from Superego is straight up melodic joy, joy, joy. It’s featured star is a massive, shiny guitar that’s let loose to run amuck in a green grassy field under, of course, the bluest of blue skies.
Bloxx are described in their bio as a “4-piece indie band from London”. True enough but what they really are is a f*cking great “4-piece indie band from London”. The situation “Coke” relates is full of frustration, regret, and resignation, but it’s all enveloped in a swirling, sticky, swampy guitar line ( which reminded me for a second of the ravishing “Slide Away” by Oasis), and blessed with a singalong chorus, and as such, is nearly impossible to evict from your head once you’ve heard it.
And there’s more where that came from featured below. Make sure to check out the snarling and kicking “Curtains”, the stuttering, airborne pop of “You”, and the he’s an arse, you should be with me anthem “Your Boyfriend”. All are exceptionally fine.
Lastly, here’s a little “Coke” live, and yeah, it’s really, really good :
I’m a sucker for “Right On’s” in a pop song. The best ones in history ever, live within the intro to Marvin Gaye’s classic “What’s Going On” and they are love. Which brings us here to Mulch’s “Baby Blue”, which has a generous helping of them, and exudes earnest warmth, love, and confusion about family and the universe in the most tuneful way possible. In addition, it also possesses the most bitchin’ guitar break.
“Sand Dunes” (the other track above) is a lo-fi amalgamation of Prince, Shuggie Otis, and Brian Wilson. It’s a little demented, a little romantic, and has more hooks than a tackle box ( Okay, I sincerely apologize for that last bit but it’s true). To summarize, like “Baby Blue”, it’s pretty damn good.
Please enjoy this seven minute acoustic ballad by eccentric musical genius Momus from 1987, featuring an endless stream of death references from history, myth, literature, film, and real life (circa 1987 that is, shout out to then potential nihilists Reagan and Gorbachev). How he’s managed to make this laundry list of darkness, and fatalism sound wistful, romantic, and melodic continues to boggle my mind to this day. It’s disconcerting… and utterly beautiful.
Oh yeah. This is some fine and glossy pop, festooned with a bit of boogie guitar, and a heavenly vocal that I swear sounds like Judee Sill, semi-mysterious, revered 70’s singer/songwriter of all people. Anyway, all of this together makes for a pretty heavenly sound, and a welcome new entry into the pop church hymn book.
And here’s the aforementioned Judee Sill to have a listen to if you haven’t before. She remains forever unbelievable, and otherworldly.