Category: Mix Disc Monday (Page 1 of 3)

Mix Disc Monday: I hate myself for loving this song

February 25, 2008 / David Medsker

Guilty pleasures. We all have them. Actually, I never had any until recently, because I figured that if I didn’t feel any shame about liking a song, then it wasn’t a guilty pleasure. Ah, what a naïve child I once was. I surely should have known that music would turn on me and become something I didn’t like, and then that something I didn’t like would create something I liked (ahem, “I Want It That Way”).

So I was inspired to reexamine my CD collection and cast a hairy eye at which songs have not exactly held their own against Father Time. I still like all of the songs on this list, mind you; let’s just say I have since come around to understanding why others may disagree with me.

“I Beg Your Pardon,” Kon Kan (Move to Move)
I think the laconic vocal is what hooked me, as opposed to some over-sampled tenor like Dino or Paul “Boom Boom, Let’s Go Back to My Room” Lekakis. I remember, as early as the following year, someone played that song at our local college dance bar, and as people were leaving, they were mock-imitating the keyboard riff. Not much of shelf life for this one.

“Strawberry Fields Forever,” Candy Flip (Madstock…)
It must have been the use of “Funky Drummer” in a cover version of one of my all-time favorite songs. That clearly blinded me to the breathier than breathy vocal, the impossibly slow BPM, and, well, pretty much everything else about it.

“Hello,” The Beloved (Happiness)
It’s a List Song, which is always a bad sign. When the choruses consist of the names of celebrities, followed by “Hello, hello, hello, hello,” you should know straight away that you are not dealing with a band that’s going to change the world. Especially when two of the celebrities paired together are Willy Wonka and William Tell. In the interest of full disclosure, I have granted a full List Song pardon to Simple Minds’ “Up on the Catwalk,” because the drums are just too damn cool.

“Hella Good,” No Doubt (Rock Steady)
I was very, very late to the No Doubt party, and then as soon as I started to like them, they started falling apart. The individual tracks to this intrigue me – I can totally envision Arthur Baker working his mid-‘80s mojo on it – but truth be told, there isn’t much of a song here.

“Turn Me On,” Vitamin C (Vitamin C)
And while we’re talking about songs that don’t have much of a song, play a song like “Turn Me On” at a bowling alley and see what happens. The verses, literally, disappear, and the chorus is exactly the same every time. It’s a hell of a chorus, but as much as it pains me to say, it’s not enough.

“Do It,” Knodel (The White Hole)
The song is funny, but funny has a short shelf life. And that chorus does not live up to the promise of the verses. And that second verse is killer. “Do you like swing / Music / I said no / She said why / don’t you come / back to my / house and we / can swing dance / on my bed.” Um, did I say that I didn’t like swing music? Strike that, reverse it.

“Love Is All That Matters,” Human League (Crash)
This is basically “Human” at a faster speed, which is funny because “Human” is “Tender Love” by the Force MCs at a faster speed. The lyrics are god-awful, too. “Love for giving, love for good / Love to keep us faithful / After all is said and done / Love is all that matters.” Huh? If there’s a song on this list that truly embarrasses me, it’s this one.

“Certain Things Are Likely,” KTP (Certain Things are Likely)
Roughly three-quarters of the beat mixes I made during my DJ days contained the garage mix of this song. I just loved that Phil Harding bass line, and in retrospect, I’m not sure the song deserved it. And what the hell does mean to say that certain things are likely? It’s both wishy-washy and profound.

“Careful Where You Step,” Saga (Silent Knight)
Saga’s biggest problem was that they were absolutely terrified of open spaces in their songs. This song, with its guitar-to-keys-to-drum-fill busyness, demonstrates that as well as anything. Still, when I heard Michael Sadler set off that siren in the break, followed by some crazy-ass guitar soloing, I was mesmerized. Nowadays, less mesmerized.

“Tattva,” Kula Shaker (K)
It was those Beatle-esque verses, those damn things get me every time. If the melody is hypnotic enough, they could be saying, “We are the master race / Everyone else must learn their place” and I’d sing right along.

“He’s a Man,” The Other Ones (The Other Ones)
I used to always try to look for the next hit single on an album I liked. When this band scored with “Holiday,” I was convinced they should follow it with this song. The harmonies in the chorus clearly distracted me from the brain-dead lyric. “Lonely boys are never happy when they’re all alone / Tell me one lonely boy who is happy on his own.” Um, if they’re lonely, then they’re not happy to be alone, jeez. I did dig the guitar solo, though. Remember when even the poppiest of pop bands had guitarists that could shred?

“Just Another Victim,” Helmet & House of Pain (Judgment Night Soundtrack)
Musical tastes can sometimes be like playing Crazy Climber; if the window closes on your hands before you find another window to move to, you fall out of touch, metaphorically speaking. As the dance music window began to close on me in late 1993, a strange new window opened, one with Rage Against the Machine, Redd Kross and the soundtrack to “Judgment Night,” which I bought solely for this song. That window closed almost as soon as it opened, but it was fun while it lasted. In a black bag, a tag on your toe…

“Hateful Hate,” 10,000 Maniacs (Blind Man’s Zoo)
Even Natalie Merchant has admitted that she’s embarrassed by this song now. Such minor-key righteous indignation, wasted. One person that surely still loves this song today is 10,000 Maniacs drummer Jerry Augustyniak, because it’s one of the rare moments when he’s able to let rip.

“The Thin Wall,” Ultravox (Rage in Eden)
I let this song slide for doing the very thing that Jason Mraz does that makes me crazy: Midge Ure just won’t stop singing. Talk, talk, talk, and that talk has references to bovine grace and those that act as though they’re moved by unheard music. Are you kidding me? It must be the video, which is the UK synth pop version of Billy Joel’s “Pressure.” Both videos, coincidentally, were directed by Russell Mulcahy, who helmed all of the videos from Duran Duran’s Rio.

“Going South,” Wolfgang Press (Funky Little Demons)
I remember meeting up with my family for a wedding shortly after this song broke. I kept singing, “Peace and love, a phony kind of lover,” and my brother Steve kept saying, “Stop it!” My brother-in-law Kevin, who was a DJ, sang along with me. It had to be some kind of Stockholm syndrome-related condition that bonded us that day.

Alternative, Artists, Electronica, External Music, Mix Disc Monday, Playlists, Pop, Rock, Songs, Videos

Mix Disc Monday: Call it a phase

January 28, 2008 / David Medsker

We’ve spent more than enough time in this section blowing sunshine of the keisters of various lyricists – songs about dreaming, songs about being lonely, etc. – but not this time. Today, we tip our cap to the man in the producer’s chair and the use of a nifty trick called the phase, or a flange. Ever heard the sonic equivalent of an ocean wave engulf a song? That’s what we’re talkin’ about. We even included small snippets of the songs (accessible here) so you could hear them for yourself. Rock on, producer man.

“Out of the Blue,” Roxy Music (Country Life)
The ultimate use of the flange effect, in this writer’s humble opinion. Every time they hit that instrumental bit, boom, here comes a wave. And Jesus, that ending. I picture Bryan Ferry driving a roadster in the country as fast as it can go, only to careen off a cliff at song’s end.

“Evil and a Heathen,” Franz Ferdinand (You Could Have It So Much Better)
In an age where every pop and rock record is produced within an inch of its life (White Stripes, you are hereby excused from this discussion), how is it that Franz Ferdinand is one of the only new bands to use the most time-tested production trick in the book? Not sure, but it took this “Radar Love”-esque rocker to another level.

“Gods of War,” Def Leppard (Hysteria)
If we’re talking production tricks, then it’s a foregone conclusion that Robert John “Mutt” Lange is going to make an appearance. Mutt pulls out all the stops for this six-and-half-minute anti-war rocker, but saves something special for the very end: a giant flange to make the last explosion sound like it’s going down the rabbit hole.

“Killer Queen,” Queen (Sheer Heart Attack)
“Dynamite with a laser beam.” Are there five words that would sound better with a wave passing through them than those? It’s a great tease, but producer Roy Thomas Baker gives up the goods in the final chorus, throwing a flange through the entire track. Probably the first and last time a song inspired by Noel Coward becomes a US hit.

“Easy,” Morningwood (Morningwood)
They made marginal waves thanks to their brilliant record cover tribute video “Nth Degree,” but what most people don’t know is that Morningwood could bring it, dude. For your consideration, “Easy,” a high-speed AC/DC-type stomper with a monster flange in the break.

“Round & Round,” New Order (Technique)
New Order was once called the ultimate example of man meets machine, so it would only stand to reason that the machines would take over one of the band’s more well-known singles and show off a little.

“Sweetest Perfection,” Depeche Mode (Violator)
Production usually takes a back seat to arrangements and instrumentation when it comes to Depeche Mode, but that was before Flood got his hands on the band. He let them play guitars, beefed up their drums to make them sound like the rocks stars they were, and for the twisted little tune in 6/4 time – is it about a girl, a drug, or neither? – Flood let loose with a flange. Nice.

“Night People,” The Tubes (Love Bomb)
Capitol Records would like to inform you that they hate this record. The Tubes had just notched their first big hit with the David Foster-produced Outside Inside, and the Tubes took advantage of that commercial boost by making an oddball art rock record with Todd Rundgren that featured an entire side of songs at the same speed, strung together seamlessly. Yes, the album has not aged well, but our inner geek still rocks out to it once in a while.

“The Genius I Was,” Trash Can Sinatras (A Happy Pocket)
What this? A group of sensitive Scottish minstrels are rubbing elbows with Queen and Def Leppard? Damn right. Any Trash Cans fan – if you can find one – will tell you that “Genius” is one of the band’s best songs, with or without the studio trickery.

“Blue Jay Way,” The Beatles (Magical Mystery Tour)
It is unknown whether this is the first flange in pop music history, but given the number of other firsts in the Beatles’ recording career, it wouldn’t surprise us one bit if it were. The song’s subject matter? A friend of George got lost in Los Angeles on his way to meeting the Quiet One. That’s it. Deep, isn’t it?

“Standing in the Shower…Thinking,” Jane’s Addiction (Nothing’s Shocking)
Go back and look at the band photos on this record. Dave Navarro is wearing a beret and a gaudy necklace. Ahhhhh hahahahahahahaha! Suddenly, I don’t feel so bad about how I dressed in 1988.

“Coma,” Guns ‘n Roses (Use Your Illusion I)
The list’s longest entry, clock in at a whopping 10:16. And the crazy part is that this is far from the song’s wildest moment. That honor belongs to the chorus of angry ex-girlfriends.

“Stop Draggin’ Around,” Lenny Kravitz (Mama Said)
This is the one instance where a little restraint would have gone a long way. Instead of using it in just the verses or just the choruses, Lenny lets it fly nonstop. If he played for the Red Sox, they’d call it Lenny being Lenny.

“The Devil,” Tears for Fears (Everybody Loves a Happy Ending)
The uses here are short, but effective. How to turn a drum roll into an avalanche: Exhibit A, “The Devil.”

“Better Be Home Soon,” Crowded House (Temple of Low Men)
This is a simple one, at the end of the instrumental break before the last chorus. It’s so pretty, you’ll almost forget that the song Neil Finn is singing is filled with fatalism and doubt.

Alternative, Artists, External Music, Mix Disc Monday, Pop, Rock, Songs

Mix Disc Monday: 1988

September 3, 2007 / David Medsker

Pop was not quite yet the dirty word that it would become over the next 18 months, though Rick Astley, Paula Abdul and Martika were well on their way to sending pop past the point of no return. Hair metal was winning the record sales battle, but modern rock would soon win the war (thank you, Kurt Cobain). Somewhere in the middle of all that was me, the only one on his dorm room floor who liked both Book of Love and Guns ‘n Roses. It proved for some interesting listening, that’s for sure. Maybe not timeless, but definitely interesting.

“I Don’t Want Your Love,” Duran Duran (Big Thing)
One of the last great Duran singles, with a phenomenal video to boot. I professed my love for remixer Shep Pettibone in my 1987 installment of MDM, but anyone who’s heard the album version of this track knows that Shep actually saved their butts with a bass-heavy remix that sent the song to the top of the dance charts. Obscure trivia bit: the man playing drums in the video is none other than David Palmer, formerly of ABC.

“Peek a Boo,” Siouxsie & the Banshees (Peep Show)
Anyone who knew me back in 1988 knew that this song and I were rarely separated. The backwards drumming – which I, of course, would play backwards on my turntable, to hear the drums going forward – the crazy stereo mix job by Mike Hedges, and Siouxsie’s insanely catchy, climbing vocal in the chorus resulted in the coolest thing I had heard up to that point.

“The Great Commandment,” Camouflage (Voices & Images)
It would be another year until “Personal Jesus” would drop, and aside from the three killer singles, Music for the Masses was a grand disappointment. Those looking for a Depeche Mode fix, therefore, were forced to look elsewhere, and this German band delivered one marvelous tribute to Fast Fashion…then promptly faded into obscurity.

“Tired of Getting Pushed Around,” Two Men, a Drum Machine, and a Trumpet
Roland Gift was off doing some acting gig or other, which left Andy Cox and Dave Steele with some time on their hands until they began recording the next Fine Young Cannibals album. Not content to stand idly by while a ton of people rode the coattails of “Pump up the Volume” and scored hits with sample-heavy instrumentals in the process (Bomb the Bass’ “Beat Dis,” S’Express’ “Theme from S’Express,” Simon Harris’ “Bass (How Low Can You Go,”), Cox and Steele made this. And it was good.

“Hot Dog,” Martini Ranch (Holy Cow)
Find the 12” mix, if you can. (I have it, but if I post any more .mp3 files – ahem, like the next song on the list – the RIAA will surely haul me off to Azkaban.) If you haven’t heard of the band, you’ve definitely heard of at least one member (actor Bill Paxton) and the lass responsible for backing vocals (Cindy Wilson, formerly of the B-52’s). The song isn’t really a song so much as a series of sound effects put to a snazzy beat – I still love it when Dino barks – but that’s pretty much all you needed to do in order to score a club hit in 1988, as Two Men, a Drum Machine and a Trumpet will attest.

“Sugar and Spice,” Scritti Politti (Provision)
Few people besides me and my friend Tony still gave a damn about Scritti Politti when they finally dropped Provision in 1988 (back then, a three-year gap between albums was an eternity), and not even the inclusion of Miles Davis would change people’s minds. True, the album was no Cupid & Psyche ’85, but it had its moments, and this song, featuring the late Roger Troutman rocking the voice box, was one of them.

“Another Lover,” Giant Steps (The Book of Pride)
Well, if Scritti Politti wasn’t going to crack the Top 40, I’ll go for the next best thing. Pop duos were all the rage in 1988, with Giant Steps, Times Two and the next entry on this list all scoring chart hits. None of them were built for the long haul – go to Jefito’s blog if you want to read a very amusing analysis of Giant Steps’ album The Book of Pride – but their contributions were all noteworthy. Well, except for Times Two. They were just terrible.

“Love Changes Everything,” Climie Fisher (Everything)
No, it’s not Rod Stewart, but that’s actually a good thing. After all, do you remember the songs from the album that Stewart released that year? “Lost in You”? “Forever Young”? “Crazy About Her”? Awful. This, on the other hand, was wonderfully disposable pop featuring former Naked Eyes keyboardist Rob Fisher, who tragically died in 1999 following complications from stomach surgery.

“What’s on Your Mind (Pure Energy),” Information Society (Information Society)
Ah, the fun you could have with a song before the sampling rules made it cost-prohibitive to borrow whatever you felt like borrowing. I had an unhealthy fascination with this band, perhaps because they went as club-crazy as I secretly hoped Duran Duran would go at the time. Of course, Duran has since gone club-crazy by teaming up with Timbaland and Justin Timberlake, and it’s the dullest thing they’ve done in decades. Careful what you wish for, I guess. InSoc fans, take note: the link above is to the super-rare video version of the 12” mix. Enjoy.

“All We Need is a Dream,” Cheap Trick (Lap of Luxury)
The mega-smash that got away. Epic, in their infinite wisdom, chose to release the Diane Warren ballad “Ghost Town” – that’s right, Cheap Trick was reduced to recording Diane Warren songs in the late ‘80s – as the follow-up to the Top Five hit “Don’t Be Cruel,” It peaked at a dismal #33. This song, however, would have been huge, I just know it.

“Desperate People,” Living Colour (Vivid)
I used to love playing this song blind for people before telling them anything about the band responsible for the music. It all seems so quaint now, but black bands just didn’t play like this back then, so it was a great surprise when someone was finally exposed to a band of brothers that brought the rock. Sadly, well over half of the people on whom I pulled this cute little stunt would invariably say, “No way, these guys are niggers?” Sigh.

“Believed You Were Lucky,” ‘Til Tuesday (Everything’s Different Now)
Aimee Mann was so far out of Epic’s plans when this album was released – they wanted her to collaborate with outside songwriters. They chose Diane Warren. She chose Elvis Costello – that it’s a miracle they deigned to green-light a video for this. Likewise, Aimee looks equally uncomfortable lip-synching the song. Maybe it was that wildly curly hair weighing down on her thoughts.

“Piano in the Dark,” Brenda Russell (Get Here)
I worked two jobs that summer, which meant I only listened to the radio early in the morning and late at night. Not in the mood for the 12” mix of anything at either time of the day, I listened to Sunny 95, and this song was their unofficial anthem (well, this and that god-awful Gloria Estefan song “1-2-3”). Beautiful, beautiful song, and in this writer’s opinion, one of the last great R&B ballads.

“Into Temptation,” Crowded House (Temple of Low Men)
As much as I like to keep the energy on the spry side when assembling these mixes, it would be unforgivable for me to overlook one of the finest pop bands of all time as a result. The song allegedly disturbed singer Neil Finn’s wife so much that she was convinced that he was having an affair. Elvis Costello, meanwhile, heard the song and said, “I would have given my right arm to have written it.”

“Underneath the Radar,” Underworld (Underneath the Radar)
Underworld would like you to think that they were immaculately conceived as the cool-as-shit techno band that made “Born Slippy” and “Cowgirl,” but anyone who had a nose for DOR (that’s dance-oriented rock, for you little childrens out there) in the late ‘80s knows The Awful Truth. And by awful, we don’t actually mean awful. Well, maybe the band’s second album, Change the Weather, was a misstep, but Underneath the Radar was a fine little pop record.

Alternative, Lists, Mix Disc Monday, Pop, Rock, Songs, Videos

Mix Disc Monday: 1987

August 20, 2007 / David Medsker

Ah, 1987: the year I learned how to beat mix. I had been buying 12” mixes to my favorite songs for years now, but I hadn’t the foggiest idea what to do with them until I walked into a club in Athens, Ohio, and heard a guy playing the mixes I had in my dorm room, only on top of each other at the same speed. I was mesmerized.

But it wasn’t just dub mixes and sampling for me in 1987. There were a number of fine little pop songs that year, along with some great rock records (the phrase “classic rock” would come a couple years later). 1987, in fact, is arguably one of the greatest years in music history – Appetite for Destruction, Pleased to Meet Me, The Joshua Tree, Kick, the list goes on and on – but this list, to quote a line from another seminal 1987 album, goes out to the ones we left behind. Well, some were more left behind than others.

“I Don’t Mind at All,” Bourgeois Tagg (Yo Yo)
I originally had this slot filled by Level 42’s “Lessons in Love,” but took it out since I already used that on my MDM on the One-Hit Wonder’s Other Hit. Not sure what else to say. It’s a short, sweet little acoustic ditty, and it has nothing in common with anything that follows. Just sayin’, is all.

“Don’t Disturb This Groove,” The System (Don’t Disturb This Groove)
I’m thinking that it had to take no less than 30 minutes for singer Mic Murphy to do his hair for this video. Hang a sign up on the door; Mic’s not going to be ready to shoot for a while.

“Holiday,” The Other Ones (The Other Ones)
Wikipedia and Allmusic tell me I’m cheating on this one (the album sports a 1986 release date), but as God is my witness, the first song I heard from them (“We Are What We Are”), was promoted as a brand new song in March 1987 on a station that was very quick on the draw about promoting new music. Plus, my copies of Crowded House’s Together Alone and Enigma’s The Cross of Changes have a release year of 1993 on them, and I know for a fact that they didn’t come out in the States until early 1994, so mleah. Anyway, this is total throwaway synth-pop, and I love every second of it (well, the album version, anyway; the radio remix they use for the video blows). If you liked this song, hunt down the album, stat. It’s an ‘80s bubblegum classic. Seriously.

“Tragic Comedy,” Immaculate Fools (The Dumb Poet)
Moody guitar pop song with a singer that’s dressed like Neil Tennant circa “West End Girls”? Sign me up. The band had a much, much bigger hit in 1992 with “Stand Down,” at which point they had left their China Crisis-emulating days behind them. A decision that had to be made in order for a pop band to survive in a grunge world, I suppose. At least they left me this.

“Sheila Take a Bow,” The Smiths (Louder than Bombs)
La, la, la, la, lala, la, la. I had loved “How Soon Is Now?” from the moment I heard it in 1985, but my full-blown love of the Smiths had begun only a year before this song came out. Six months later, they were finished. Sniff.

“Good Times,” INXS w/ Jimmy Barnes (The Lost Boys Soundtrack)
If you had told me in 1987 that Michael Hutchence would kill himself before Morrissey, I would have laughed you out of the room. Ten years later, I’m still having a hard time fathoming Hutchence’s decision to check out early. Man, could Jimmy Barnes wail, though. I wonder what he’s up to these days. Whatever he’s doing with his life, at least he’s still alive.

“Planet Ride,” Julian Cope (Saint Julian)
I’ll be honest: YouTube links went a long way towards dictating what made this list and what didn’t (my apologies to “City of Crime,” the Dan Aykroyd/Tom Hanks rap from the “Dragnet” soundtrack. The video’s there, but it’s a sorry-ass copy). But I’m taking matters into my own hands with this one. This song has no video, and no music file to link to…so I’m creating one. Sinfully out of print – unless you count the are-you-freaking-kidding-me $45 import – this song, not to mention the album that spawned it, deserve a second look.

“Time Stand Still,” Rush (Hold Your Fire)
One of the things that I always liked about Rush is that their tastes changed along with mine. I was moving away from mainstream rock when Hold Your Fire came out, and it’s as if they sensed that because, in order to entice me, they recruited Aimee Mann, singer of my then-favorite band ‘Til Tuesday, to sing backing vocals. Rush and I would stay together until 1993’s Counterparts, after which we would go our separate ways. I still think about drunk dialing them from time to time, though.

“Dirty Water,” Rock & Hyde (Under the Volcano)
Rocker dudes might turn their noses up at this odd little pop song, but before they do, they should keep in mind that the Rock in this band is Bob Rock, engineer on the Aerosmith comeback albums and producer of the majority of Metallica’s post …And Justice for All output. And the video holds up remarkably well in retrospect.

“Heavens Above,” The Style Council (The Cost of Loving)
I have an irrational love for this album. I know it’s not as good as I think it is, but as the poet laureates GTR once said, when the heart rules the mind, one look, and love is blind. Paul Weller + Dee C. Lee = sweet, sweet musical love, baby.

“Hard Day (Shep Pettibone Remix),” George Michael (Faith)
Some people consider Presidents, or civil rights activists, their heroes. In the late ‘80s, my hero was Shep Pettibone. He was, bar none, the best remixer on the planet, and to have him remix your latest single was to be touched by the hand of God himself. “Hard Day” was the first song of Michael’s that he allowed to be remixed by anyone other than himself, which should tell you just how highly regarded Pettibone was at the time. Now if only I could find the full-length 12” mix, which is two minutes longer than the version on the Faith CD…

“Pump up the Volume,” M/A/R/R/S (Pump up the Volume)
Put the needle on the record when the drum beats go like THIS! Let me guess: you’re shaking your booty, aren’t you? I thought so.

“Touched by the Hand of God,” New Order (Salvation Soundtrack)
Sure, “True Faith” was cool and all (and also remixed by my boy Shep Pettibone), but when New Order dropped this 12” late in the year, and had my former remix hero Arthur Baker at the knobs, I couldn’t resist. The video, which pokes fun at the hair metal poodle cut-sporting gargoyles, is gravy.

“Join in the Chant,” Nitzer Ebb (That Total Age)
Of the dozens of beat mixes I made in college, there were only two or three that didn’t include this song. Simply Put, I thought this was the Coolest Song Ever. That keyboard riff. Those drums. That metal-on-metal percussion. Lastly, singer Douglas McCarthy’s relentless “Fire! Fire! Fire!” at the end of each verse…muscle and hate, indeed.

“Kiss,” Age of Chance (Crush Collision EP)
It all started as a joke. “Hey, let’s record the most raucous version of Prince’s “Kiss” that we possibly can, and FAST, so it can chart at the same time as his version.” It took another year before it was released Stateside, and even then it still predated the sample-heavy Pop Will Eat Itself by a good two years. Tom Jones and the Art of Noise may have been the ones to hit the charts with their cover, but to anyone who’s heard this version, there can be only one “Kiss” cover. Note: this is also a link to an .mp3 file of the song. Who loves ya, baby.

Alternative, Lists, Mix Disc Monday, Pop, Rock, Songs, Videos

Flashback Friday #1 – Greetings To The New Feature

May 31, 2007 / Will Harris

No one asked for it, but here it is, anyway: a new feature on ESDMusic which, hopefully, will become a regular reason for you to visit the site…provided, of course, that we can come up with enough material to maintain it. But, frankly, when you hear the premise, I think you’ll agree that with all of the music geeks we’ve got around here, that shouldn’t be an issue…

Borrowing on the same general concept as Bullz-Eye’s Mix Disc Monday, Flashback Friday will allow our writers to venture into the depths of their possibly-embarrassing personal histories by pulling out old mix tapes and writing about them. In theory, this should reveal a lot about where we were musically at the time we made the tapes; in reality, however, it may just indicate how limited our budget was at the time…or, at least, that’s what this tape of mine shows.

That’s right, as the person who came up with this idea, it’s only fair that I get the ball rolling, and lemme tell ya: I was attending Averett College in Danville, VA (go, Cougars!), and it was a real rarity for me to buy anything that wasn’t on its second or third markdown in the cut-out bin…and, believe me, you can tell.

Title: Greetings from Averett, Vol. 2
Date of creation: late March 1991 (approximate)

Side 1:

“Main Title / Rebel Blockade Runner,” John Williams and the London Symphony Orchestra (Star Wars: The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)

I’ve always been of the mind that every mix needs to start off with something witty, clever, funny, or just, y’know, something memorable. Given that this was 1991 and we were on what would turn out to be a 16-year drought between new “Star Wars” films, beginning the tape with the familiar main titles from the original flick – now known as “Star Wars: A New Hope” – certainly qualified. Unfortunately, the title theme segues directly into another track, ”Rebel Blockade Runner,” and as a result, the whole thing ends up going on longer than most normal people would ever maintain interest. I mean, I love that soundtrack, and even *I* started to get bored. By the way, while I’ve attributed this to the actual “Star Wars” soundtrack, given my budget, I have to believe that this was much more likely taken from an el-cheapo recording done by, say, the Generic Philharmonic Orchestra…which means it’s almost certainly not John Williams conducting but, probably, his non-union Mexican equivalent. (Juan Williams?)

“Losing My Religion,” R.E.M. (Out of Time)

This is the track on Side 1 which most definitively dates the tape for me. As noted, I was a man with limited funds, and most of my purchases were CDs and cassettes that I’d rescued from the cut-out bin at the record chain in the local mall, but I sucked it up and bought Out of Time on its first day of release. I still remember writing a review for the Averett College newspaper, The Chanticleer, and declaring that this song’s lyrics sounded like a parody of the band’s style. (“I think I thought I saw you try” is the one that leaps immediately to mind.) I must’ve made this tape within a day or two of the album’s release and only known this song; otherwise, I almost certainly would’ve put “Texarkana,” “Near Wild Heaven,” or “Shiny Happy People” on here instead.

“This Is the World Calling,” Bob Geldof (Deep in the Heart of Nowhere)

Wow, did this album get reamed when it was first released. I’m sure Bob didn’t expect much else, though; after you’ve been held up as the pop star who fed the world, you ought to know that the press is going to tear your next LP a new center hole. Yeah, that’s right, Geldof’s fallible. So what? And, anyway, Deep in the Heart of Nowhere wasn’t nearly as bad as everyone said; it just wasn’t as good as, say, your average Boomtown Rats album. I still say the first half of the album is pretty damned good, and this song, which leads off the record, is definitely a highlight.

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