Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

The Fall “Senior Twilight Stock Replacer” – If you’re listening to this song on headphones or decent speakers with a bit of separation between them, it will be hard not to notice something a bit perverse about this song: When Mark E. Smith enters the chant on the catchy, nonsensical chorus, it sounds absolutely terrible. Not his performance, mind you — he’s just being himself, albeit on the slurred and lazy side of the MES gray scale — but rather the actual recording, which is basically one of the worst overdubs I’ve ever heard on a proper, non-lo-fi album. It sounds as if Smith was singing along to the song on a boom box and kept unknowingly hitting the red record button on and off. And here’s the thing: It kinda works, in part because his voice is this distinctly menacing, intruding thing that clashes with the unity of the chant. It also succeeds because it’s bratty, and it comes across like a nasty afterthought, like “fuck you, I’ve made over thirty albums, and I’m putting in the overdub myself!” Smith is fantastic anti-hero; it’s not too hard to imagine him manhandling a console while some poor, bloodied engineer cowers in a corner. (Click here to buy it from Amazon UK.)

The Mountain Goats featuring Erik Friedlander “Lovecraft In Brooklyn” (Live on Fair Game) – On the album Heretic Pride, “Lovecraft In Brooklyn” is a moody, dynamic rocker, but in this live studio recording, John Darnielle and cellist Erik Friedlander dial down the volume but increase the tension so that each chord change feels a bit like giant invisible hands drawing tighter around the neck of the song’s deeply xenophobic protagonist. Friedlander’s parts dart along the outside of Darnielle’s acoustic chords, alternating between low melancholy, and high pitched paranoia. The song hits its peak as the character plunges to the depths of his fevered delusion and panic — “I woke up afraid of my own shadow — like, genuinely afraid.” He goes on to describe a vision of interstellar Cthulu-ish horror, but that one small moment in which he seems to acknowledge his irrationality is riveting, heartbreaking, and brilliant. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

She & Him “Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?” – A lot of actors and actresses make a go at pop music, but nearly all of them fail for two basic reasons — first, their taste is mundane and their tunes are ordinary at best, and second, they are not successful in translating their appeal on screen to a medium in which their body is invisible to the audience. Zooey Deschanel makes it work on her first album with M. Ward mainly because good — decidely retro — taste is crucial to her aesthetic, and perhaps more than any other actress of her generation, she has developed a persona that is at once seemingly authentic, and precisely calibrated to make a specific segment of the population swoon.

This is what comes across on the She & Him record — even with your eyes closed, she fully inhabits her character: Shockingly beautiful, but incongruously modest. Cute, coy, and self-aware. A bit old fashioned, but firmly rooted in the present. Small town, with just a dash of big city. She plays the extraordinarily pretty girl next door who is inexplicably unconceited and unpretentious, and has a carefully curated vintage wardrobe, a big box of old vinyl records, and a taste for sweet, low key romance. This may or may not be the actual Zooey Deschanel, but that’s irrelevant — she’s so good at selling this persona that if it’s at all a put-on, it’s hard to spot the seams in her fabrication.

Deschanel doesn’t come to the She & Him record with a desire to reinvent herself as a rock star a la Juliette Lewis, and there’s no assumption that we’re getting anything particularly confessional or revealing. Instead, we get a concentrated dose of Zooey-ness in the form of well-crafted old school pop songs that showcase her sweetness, humor, and humility. The best songs sound like a sunny day in a perfect world, and encourage the listener to imagine that they are somehow either inhabiting the life of her character, or that she is singing to them. “Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?” in particular makes me miss Gilmore Girls in the worst way — it’s really a shame that the series ended too soon for Lorelai or Rory to stroll through Stars Hollow, completely at one with its gentle, adorable whimsy. (Click here to buy it from Merge.)

Heloise and the Savoir Faire “Po’ T” – At the start of this song, Heloise stumbles upon a familiar face from her past, and goes on to reminisce about a night of escalating sexual tension from back when she was a somewhat rebellious 17 year old, and he was a gun-toting southern roughneck who answered to the name “Po’ T.” The arrangement carries us through her shifting levels of nervousness and excitement, starting us out on shaky footing when she re-introduces herself to him, and moving on to approximate her thrill at revisiting the good times she had running with this lascivious bad boy. Clearly, much of that thrill came from feeling a bit in over her head, and that comes across in the music — even at the song’s boldest moments, she sounds like she’s trying hard just to keep up with herself, much less this dude. That said, the real tension in the song resides in the present tense, but it’s all left to the imagination — like, where did she run into Po’ T as an adult? Obviously, she has changed a lot, but what is he like now? Does he retain any of his sexual appeal? Has she thought about him much at all in the time since she was a teenager? Does he remember her? (Click here to buy it from Yep Roc.)

Britta Persson “Kill Hollywood Me” – Three of my favorite albums right now are essentially records about the relationship between fantasy and reality. Whereas the Kills’ Midnight Boom and Alphabeat’s self-titled debut yearn for the romance and drama of fiction, and attempt to create a more romantic world through sheer force of will, Britta Persson’s Kill Hollywood Me heads off in the opposite direction, fleeing from the crushing weight of expectations. As she puts it, “memories and fantasies are to be seen as enemies.” She’s not arguing against romance; she’s rebelling against narcissism, the notion that there’s a way our lives ought to be, and the sense that we’re doing it all wrong if we’re lacking in glamor or following trajectories that aren’t quite as dramatic and concise as a story arc in a television series or a film. Her words are sharp, but humble — well, the ones I can understand, anyway. Her accent and phrasing has a way of obscuring her lines, and so a refrain in this song comes out sounding something sorta like “when the fish stinks,” “when the finch sinks,” “when the face stings,” or “when life is steaks.” (Click here to buy it from Amazon Germany.)

Meanwhile, at Fair Game: I forgot to mention this last week, but our sessions with the Child Ballads and Peter Moren are both available now.

Of Montreal “Feminine Effects” – Kevin Barnes’ character in “Feminine Effects” feels entirely powerless, to the point that she feels that she owes her identity and happiness to her rich boyfriend, who took her out of the country and brought her to the “real city.” The song is a rather gutting mixture of emotions — there’s tenderness, love, and gratitude, but also a deep sadness and this unarticulated, barely conscious guilt and resentment. Much of Barnes’ recent work has tended toward the abstract and purposefully gaudy, but he’s extremely successful in communicating a great deal of emotional complexity in this song with only a spare arrangement and simple, straightforward lyrics. In just the first line — “Bobby, baby, you make me so blurry inside” — he conveys so much about this girl’s inner life, and the conflict in her mind between wanting comfort, glamor, and affection, and her desire to discover her own identity. (Click here to buy it from Green Owl Records.)

Cornershop “People Power” – In his very best songs, Tjinder Singh contrasts his relatively sedate voice with joyous, colorful grooves. The tunes feel like casual celebrations in the context of everyday life; a small allowance of pure pleasure in a day otherwise filled up with the hardships and boredoms of routine. Even in a full-on disco track like “People Power,” Singh comes across as an introverted guy who doesn’t feel entirely at home in his body or on a dance floor, but he’s certainly a person who acknowledges the empowerment of joy and togetherness — the song is essentially a fantasy of pleasure and freedom, on both a personal and cultural level. Singh’s music has a way of drawing the listener in, and triggering a response from the listener — for example, the other day I was listening to “Brimful of Asha” on the subway, and it took every bit of strength I had to keep myself from singing along. I think this is very deliberate thing on his part — he’s willing to go halfway, but he needs you to complete the song. (Click here to buy it used for an extremely low price from Amazon.)

The Breeders “Walk It Off” – As far as I am concerned, the gentle rumble of a Kim Deal bass line — whether she’s playing it or not — is one of the most consistently pleasurable things in all of music. It triggers a Pavlovian response in my mind, this immediate feeling of comfort and approval, even when it pops up in subpar songs by unremarkable bands. It’s a warm, thick sound that fills up negative space without drowning it out. In its clumsy sort of grace, it communicates a casual, somewhat self-deprecating attitude that often comes in sharp contrast with the agitated treble it ordinarily accompanies and accommodates. To use a rather uncool example, think of the way the Kim Deal-style bass line in Bush’s “Swallowed” adds a sheepish, humanizing shrug to a song that might have otherwise come across as far too self-absorbed and overbearing. Even when deployed in a tune as intense as “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” the Kim Deal-style bass line lends a bit of subtext that serves to counter the foregrounded angst and aggression — it’s basically there to say something along the lines of “Hey, dude, I know. Cool out, we’re having fun here, we’re rocking out.”

Of course, nothing complements a Kim Deal bass line like a Kim Deal vocal. Her voice is even more cool and low key than her music, and can express even the most potent neuroses with an unpretentious grin. She downplays the melancholy in her music so effectively that sometimes it’s easy not to realize that it’s there in the first place. “Walk It Off,” from the first Breeders album in six years, is carried by its rolling bass and Deal’s scratchy coo, and almost entirely conceals its anxieties under a veneer of ragged optimism. Of course, despite a lot of cryptic lyrics, some lines give away the source of her worries: “Nobody’s allowed to fight until the band starts playing tonight,” “Trying to get rid of the friends I’ve got,” “I’ve been waiting for a message all night.” The title and refrain are basically a subtitle for the bass line’s rejoinder: “Talk it down, walk it off.” (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Thrushes “Heartbeats” (Dthenextlevel Remix) – Let’s be really really really really real about this: Most remixes are total bullshit. I’d estimate that maybe 99% of all remixes are terrible, and out of that number, about half are utterly unlistenable. The market is saturated with shitty remixes, and it’s only going to get worse as more bands emulate Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails by getting the multitrack recordings of their songs in the hands of amateur producers.

Still, every once in a while, you get something like this remix by Dthenextlevel. It’s the kind of remix that does what a remix ought to do — take a song that is already terrific, switch up the arrangement, and unlock its full potential. The melody and emotion of the song isn’t just intact, it’s enhanced by the electronic beats and synthesizers. Whereas the original recording hid its potent hook and plaintive vocals behind an overbearing drone and a beat that self-consciously referenced Jesus & Mary Chain and every other band who ever nabbed the rhythm of “Be My Baby,” this remix is bolder, brighter, and about ten times more beautiful.

Basically, this is one of those remixes that dares the band to be better. I mean, they don’t have to become a dance act, but they should know that this sound definitely suits them well, and that foregrounding Anna Conner’s voice is a very good idea, and that the shrieking guitar feedback is more breathtaking when it’s not totally dominating the arrangement. This track is such a thrill; I really do hope they move more in this direction because for them, it’s the difference between being a nice little shoegazer band, and becoming one of the most promising pop bands in the country. (Click here to buy it from Thrushes.)

Peter Morén “Social Competence” – The funny thing about this song is that even though Morén is expressing angst and frustration with a variety of social situations, he doesn’t sound poorly adjusted or incapable of functioning. Maybe that’s why it’s called “Social Competence” and not “Social Incompetence.” Either way, it’s a bit more interesting to hear someone sing about how they manage to hold together despite persistent stress and strain — for one thing, it’s not quite as common and exhibitionistic as a “help, I’ve fallen apart!” tune, and it can be rather instructive to learn a bit about how successful people cope with mundane problems. (Click here to buy it from Touch and Go.)

Sally Shapiro “Hold Me So Tight” (The Cansecos remix) – Most Sally Shapiro songs — whether they are album tracks or remixes — tend to be extremely cold and aloof, to the point that the tunes become monochromatic and bloodless. The Cansecos go for contrast on their remix by setting Shapiro’s thin, nearly affectless vocals to a warm, dynamic disco track carried by a bouncing bassline, a smooth keyboard groove, and filled out with a buzzing synth drone and barely-there acoustic guitar strums that complements her low-key persona. It’s quite a revelation — taken outside the context of a white-on-white arrangement, it’s easier to notice the subtleties of Shapiro’s phrasing, and the sudden shifts in the percussion highlight hooks that get buried in other versions of the same song. (Click here to buy it from Paper Bag Records.)

Clinic “Emotions” – For a while there, it was difficult to tell whether Clinic were in a creative holding pattern or a downward spiral. This is mainly because they stubbornly refuse to budge from a weirdly specific subset of song styles, and so it took a little while to figure out that they are more interested in embracing self-imposed limitations than in reinventing their wheel. Do It! carries on from the experimentation with psychedelic elements that characterized their previous record, but this time around, the integration of hard psyche riffs and quasi-folk acoustic guitar is less forced, and the melodies and rhythms are more inviting and inspired. “Emotions” is another variation of their particular brand of romantic late night balladry — see also “Mr. Moonlight,” “Kimberley,” and “Falstaff” — but like “Free Not Free,” its twin sibling on the new record, it is spiked with a sharp, compressed guitar refrain that casts the more swoon-inducing chord changes into sharp relief. (Click here to buy it from Insound.)

Judi Chicago “Chick Feel A” – Judi Chicago are exceptionally great at two things, and lucky for them, it’s pretty much all they do: The music is all thick, sleazy synth grooves and tight beats, and the vocals and lyrics play up a distorted, absurd version of male sexuality that is simultaneously silly and menacing. “Chick Feel A” sounds especially humid and sweaty with its ample negative space and slower tempo, and at times it comes across like the LCD Soundsystem of an alternate world where James Murphy is less interested in singing about his record collection and getting older, and more willing to shout stuff like “I’ve got a hat made of mirrors — SUCK ON THAT!,” “I’m a prick, prick teaser!,” and “Do they know it’s Crisco time?” (Click here to buy it from Aljera.)

John Vanderslice “White Dove” – John Vanderslice and his band are very sharp and precise, and through their set, they do a fine job of translating the careful sound of his studio recordings into performances that live and breathe in the moment. Nevertheless, the best part of his show comes at the end, when he and his bandmates enter the audience with acoustic instruments, shhh the crowd, and play a folky singalong (without so much of the singing-along) in the round. I saw it happen twice this week, and though it’s clearly a ritual, it doesn’t seem forced or false. As much as I love the crisp beats and the neat keyboard sounds of the main set, I kinda wish he and the band had spent a bit more time on the floor. (Click here to buy it from Barsuk. Also, a big thanks to John. I owe him one.)

Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks @ Music Hall of Williamsburg 4/2/2008
Pencil Rot / Elmo Delmo / Out Of Reaches / Hopscotch Willie / We Can’t Help You / Real Emotional Trash / Malediction / Gardenia / Dragonfly Pie / Cold Son / Baby C’mon / Oyster // Tuesday Afternoon (Randy Holland cover) / Alright Alright Alright (Mungo Jerry cover) / Old Jerry (brief instrumental tease) / Baltimore

Wow, this was just so much better than the Monday show. I mean, that was a pretty nice show and all, and if you only saw that one, you shouldn’t feel like you got screwed or anything, but the sound quality and physical space at the Music Hall is soooooooo much better than at the insanely overrated Bowery Ballroom, and Malkmus was considerably more disciplined and “on” in this set. There’s always going to be a playful sloppiness in his live performance — it’s pretty integral to his persona — but on Monday, he often seemed a bit apathetic. In this show, he struck a nice balance of goofiness and focus, even when he led the band into an odd improvised detour in the final solo section of “Hopscotch Willie.” “Elmo Delmo” and “Real Emotional Trash” were the major highlights, but the versions of “Baby C’mon,” “Gardenia,” and “Alright Alright Alright” were spirited and boppy.

Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks “Malediction” (Live in Portland, 2005) – I’ve got to say, “Malediction” came as quite a surprise. Some of you may remember that “Malediction” has a particular personal resonance for me; to the point that in retrospect, it basically sounds like my life in 2005. Hearing the song in concert three years later is a funny thing — aside from just loving the song on the basic level of enjoying its textures and melodies, it gives me this feeling of pride, like “I took that advice, and it worked out very well.” But it’s still a living thing, and the advice never stops being relevant. I’d kinda set the song aside for a while, but hearing it last night was a nice reminder. (Click here to buy it from Matador.)

The Chap “Surgery” – There are people who have to cut into people’s bodies every day. It’s their job, and it’s ultimately sort of mundane. They go inside of bodies, see things that may only be viewed one time by the naked eye, but it’s all very impersonal despite the terrifying intimacy of the activity. It’s a little weird, and The Chap have sorta written a song about it, and it is about as chilly, sterile, and sleek as a scalpel. (Click here to buy it from Ghostly.)

The Rosie Taylor Project “London Pleasures” – The song mostly feels comfortable and familiar, like walking through a place you know by heart. Well, not walking — it’s like some sort of sulky frolic. There’s an odd gravitational pull, and it drags you toward the ugliest, loneliest part of town. It’s overcast and everything looks like a mess, but there’s still a certain charm to it. (Click here to buy it from Bad Sneakers.)

Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks @ Bowery Ballroom 3/31/08
Dragonfly Pie / Gardenia / Baby C’mon / We Can’t Help You / Hopscotch Willie / Real Emotional Trash / Cold Son / Post-Paint Boy / Oyster / Elmo Delmo / Baltimore / Church On White // Out Of Reaches / I Don’t Care About You (Fear cover) / Alright, Alright, Alright (Mungo Jerry cover) / Dark Wave

You know what? The Jicks is funky music. They’s a powerhouse. Especially Janet Weiss.

Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks “Real Emotional Trash” – If you look back on it, through every phase of Stephen Malkmus’ career as a musician and songwriter, there’s a fairly constant lyrical theme. Basically, everything he writes is an expression of restlessness, and the dulled anxieties of a guy who always has his eye on the exits, even when he’s perfectly happy. This is not a man who writes about being hung up on anyone — he’s either getting flirty with you, enjoying the moment with you, unhappy with you, leaving you, or looking back on what you had while moving on into the horizon. In the songs that are not directly or indirectly about relationships, he’s either dodging the topic of himself with oddball narratives or abstracted language, but even then, there’s this feeling of “hey, let’s see what happens, let’s find out what’s out around the bend.”

So naturally, things were bound to get a little complicated once he settled down. After dispensing advice to both himself and others on Face The Truth, the songs on Real Emotional Trash find the writer easing into stability and commitment. Basically, the fourth Jicks album is the emotional flipside of the fourth Pavement album, Brighten The Corners, a record primarily concerned with observing domesticity and weighing its merits from afar. In some cases, he’s clearing having a good time with it — “Gardenia” may end with an expression of dull frustration, but it’s a genuinely sweet tune about the daily reality of unconditional love. In others, he’s self-medicating and pondering a creeping existential dread. Tellingly, most the record focuses on the latter, as it begins with his “stoned digressions,” and ends with him spacing out just enough to obscure his ego and sidestep his fears.

The epic “Real Emotional Trash” splits the difference between the pleasure and the angst. There’s some deliberate irony at the start, with him singing “taking out the wife,” and then “daddy’s on the run” with a just a bit of distance in order to get across a bemused “huh, I guess this is my life now” sentiment. Like a lot of the songs on the record, it’s the sound of a guy feeling out the space in his life, and figuring out how to slip into new roles and responsibilities. As the song progresses from plaintive balladry to groovy rocker, the lyrics shift to a fantasy of escape and adventure. Some of the lines are lifted directly from the lost classic “Carl The Clod,” including a clever bit about embracing advancing age, but the most gutting line is his conclusion, in which he essentially declares himself unable to control his wanderlust and places the burden of commitment on his partner: “Police me, or please me.” (Click here to buy it from Buy Early Get Now. It is no longer early, but you still get high quality bonus material. Actually, let’s be really, really, really real about this: If you buy it this way, you get “Walk Into The Mirror,” the best song from the sessions.)

James Rabbit @ Arlene’s Grocery 3/28/2008
Lions Of Love –> “The Fucking Universe” and “Light Green Light” / George Gershwin / Red, Blue, Violet / Monsoon / Did You Tie Me Up Or Down? / Welcome Back / In Love With The Idea / Count On Me / Lions Of Love –> Options

James Rabbit “George Gershwin” (Live in session for Fair Game, 3/25/08) –

1. I wouldn’t have ever guessed this from listening to his albums with James Rabbit, but in live performance, Tyler Martin is actually quite a lot like Stephen Malkmus back when he was in Pavement. He’s constantly playing around — switching up his phrasing, altering his lyrics, and purposefully throwing musical curveballs at his band mates. He sounds totally alive in his music, and he seems far more interested in expression and inspiration than perfection. Just like Pavement, he and his band are capable of hitting upon a fantastic balance of craft and chaos.

2. Here’s another comparison that works: Tyler is a lot like Stuart Murdoch of Belle & Sebastian, at least in the sense that even though his band is largely a showcase for his talents, he insists upon prominently featuring the voices and musical contributions of his friends. (Spencer Owen’s tune “Did You Tie Me Up Or Down?” isn’t even a James Rabbit song, Tyler just wanted to include one of his friend’s compositions in the set.) Though Tyler’s voice is the most compelling, the interaction of the voices is key to the band’s appeal, particularly on the Coloratura songs that highlight the individual’s place in community, and the value of comradery. To continue this analogy, if Tyler is clearly the Murdoch of the band, Max Bennett-Parker is the Stevie Jackson, and Libby Hendon is the Sarah Martin.

3. Most obviously, Tyler Martin is like Bob Pollard circa the early 90s. He’s been writing and releasing songs into the void for years, and he’s more interested in creating his own reality than entering into an indie culture that must seem awfully dull and monochromatic compared to the lovely little bohemian subculture that they are a part of in Santa Cruz. I want them to tour, I want them to be well known, I want very badly for them to get the passionate cult audience they deserve, but at the same time, I kinda don’t blame them if they’d rather not step out of their own little world. It seems so nice where they are, you know?

(Click here to buy Coloratura, one of the best albums you are most likely sleeping on, via the James Rabbit site.)

Planningtorock “Think That Thought” (Stringed Up Version) – I’m not usually a person who privileges acoustic instruments over synthesizers (it’s often the other way around), but this new string-based arrangement can’t help but to make the album version sound like a home demo. The album recording compensates for its thin fakey string sound with a pleasing backing vocal that answers and counters the lead, but it’s just nowhere near as elegant. Whereas the song had been a bit lost in a track that called attention to its artifice, the string arrangement doesn’t burden it with nearly as much context. In addition to the removal of the second vocal and its attendant responsive lyrics, there’s a shift in pronouns in the first verse that completely changes the meaning of the song. In the first version, she sings about trying to dig beyond her conscious mind to uncover what is truly motivating her, and recognizing the resulting echo chamber in her brain: “When I think about that thought, that thought thinks about me.”

In this take, the lyric shifts ever so slightly outside of herself, as she attempts to predict and understand the thoughts of someone else while unable to shake off the tainted filter of her own perceptions. The song becomes much sweeter, and the low key pizzicato and breezy melodies echo that sentiment while also mimicing the fluid tangle of notions and motivations within a mind.

Another great thing about this arrangement is that in cutting out some clutter, it highlights what an amazing Led Zeppelin song this would have been. Seriously, just listen to this and think about how it would have sounded if performed by Houses of the Holy-era Led Zep. She comes a bit close to Robert Plant vocalization already, but the instrumental parts definitely seem like something Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones would have written around that time. (Click here to buy it from iTunes. Originally posted on September 25, 2006)

Hank “You Are The Child Of Betrayal” – Though the new EP by Hank may lack the lo-fi “wait, was this recorded live at some crazy party in a basement someplace?” quality of their How To Prosper In The Coming Bad Years album, the songs remain spare, concise, and catchy, with an emphasis on contrasting Cab Williamson’s deep, droll monotone with the expressive voices of his female band mates. “You Are The Child Of Betrayal” is a grim title, but the song itself is rather optimistic. The singer seems a bit surprised by her own happiness and good fortune, and though she’s calling up her friends to let them know, she’s obviously a bit worried that she’s about to jinx herself. I especially love the way her voice pitches up slightly each time she sings the word “up” (as in “things are looking up!”), conveying an excitement and enthusiasm tempered by doubt and cynicism. (Click here for the Hank MySpace page. Originally posted November 8th, 2007)

The Childballads “Stewart Hassle” (Live in session for Fair Game) – Stewart Lupton has a new strategy: He’s writing new lyrics upon the foundations of respected classics, which is both supremely ballsy, and in line with the folk tradition. “Stewart Hassle” is his variation on Lou Reed’s epic “Street Hassle.” In this recording, he transposes its main theme to acoustic guitar, and replaces Reeds’ “great monologue set to rock” with a personal story about a homecoming, a reckoning, and a lost love. Lupton’s words are stark and colloquial, and linger in a place halfway between wisdom and regret. At the core, it’s a song about wounded pride — Lupton sounds genuinely embarrassed at certain moments, particularly when he explains “I did some things out in the streets / and some things were done to me / and the scariest thing / is just how it looked / the same as it does on the tv.” Throughout, he clings to the remnants of his dignity, and does his best to put his worst days into perspective, but in the end, the most gutting sentiment is expressed with only a slight modification of Reed’s words — “Love has gone away / it’s stripped the rings from my fingers / and there’s nothing left to say / except that I miss you, baby.” (Click here for the Childballads MySpace page. The full session will be available from Fair Game soon.)

Elsewhere: Did you ever think the Beatles invented music? I do! AND I TALK ABOUT IT EVERY NIGHT!

Girls Aloud “Hoxton Heroes” – In this song, Girls Aloud verbally eviscerate some conceited British indie musician, tearing into his privileged background, poor wardrobe, pathetic chart placements, and utter lack of tunes. In other words, it sounds like a Pop Justice blog post set to a particularly heavy Xenomania track. There’s just something so perfect about this — in part, it’s because it’s fun to hear them rip into these sort of dull, obnoxious post-Coldplay types, even if it’s done on entirely shallow and materialistic terms. Mostly, though, I just love that they’re putting out a song so squarely aimed at their most rabid fans on the internet. (Click here to buy it from Amazon UK.)

Also: James Rabbit will be playing two shows in New York City this week. They will be performing at Goodbye Blue Monday in Brooklyn tonight, and at Arlene’s Grocery on Friday night. I strongly recommend that you see them, especially if you are a fan of brightly colored fabrics and floral prints. They played a session for Fair Game last night, and it was rather joyous and magical. You’ll be hearing some of that soon enough.

Marybell Katastrophy “Slabiak” – There are moments in “Slabiak” that are so fully saturated with anxiety that the song pushes up to the edge of listenability. Those moments most often come just seconds before the shift into the chorus, a section that is no less agitated, but offers some sort of release in the form of an electronically manipulated vocal part that rises into an eerie high note that comes close to the sound of Karin Dreijer Andersson on the Knife’s Silent Shout album. Nevertheless, there’s not much room in the piece for feelings of relief — it’s basically an expression of a seemingly infinite emotional crisis, and any sense of peace just feeds its own frustration and confusion. (Click here to buy it via Marybell Katastrophy’s official site.)

We Are Scientists “That’s What Counts” – I’m not exactly sure what We Are Scientists were going for with this song, but it comes surprisingly close to sounding like mid-period Squeeze. If that’s deliberate, well, then good on them, I suppose. They were clearly going for some sort of ’80s romance here — I mean, c’mon, the song is mainly characterized by its smooth saxophone leads — and they are entirely successful in capturing something sort of relaxed, elegant, and mildly decadent, with just a tinge of melancholy and regret. It barely needs the lyrics to get across its sentiment — essentially, “hey, this fling was really nice in the moment, but this is obviously not a sustainable thing — but the words land with a gentle, conversational economy that suits the low key character of the piece. (Click here to buy it from Amazon UK.)

Janet Jackson “Rollercoaster” – Much of Janet Jackson’s music since the late ’90s suffers from the singer’s overcompensating exhibitionism. She’s told us — and showed us — so much about her kinks that the topic has become a total bore, especially as she made it the the focus of virtually everything she does, including her latest record. She’s still rebelling against her good girl image, and for what reason? Among her catalog of fantastic hits, the best always conveyed her sexuality in the context of sweet come-ons or full-hearted romance. I mean, for example, isn’t it so much better to fill-in in the blanks on a song like “Escapade” and surmise that she wants to take her boyfriend to some sort of fuck colony, instead of just flat-out singing “I want to take you to a fuck colony”? Subtext is a nice thing!

Unsurprisingly, the best song on Jackson’s new record Discipline is decidedly PG-13 in tone. “Rollercoaster” rides a subtly throbbing, slightly aloof Rodney Jerkins beat and sets a fairly standard “your love is like a rollercoaster” sentiment to a vocal melody that vacillates between a gentle coolness and a non-cloying sweetness. There’s a great deal of negative space in the track, and so the piece feels extremely light and smooth, like a musical approximation of soft-serve ice cream. The song doesn’t need to be coy — it’s open and sincere, like a good crushy pop tune ought to be, especially if it is being sung by Janet Jackson. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Adam Green “Twee Twee Dee” – I think Adam Green gets a real kick out of making the listener constantly doubt his sincerity, and contend with the bizarre, sometimes incomprehensible mixture of over-the-top irony and genuine feeling in his songs. The baritone crooner shtick works very well for him — it provides the songs a soupy sort of comfort, and it puts him in a context we already know relies upon a balance of high production values and syrupy sentimentality. No one expects anyone performing in this style to be entirely sincere, and so Green takes some of the guess work out for the listener, while still leaving them on shaky ground. “Twee Twee Dee” is slick, relaxed, and groovy, but for every self-conscious cliche or odd non-sequitur, he sneaks in a bit of legit melancholy. The goofiness dials down the severity of the emotion, but that’s a good thing because a lot of the time, sadness is diluted by humor, good will, and the strange twists and turns of any given day. (Click here to buy it from Amazon.)

Meanwhile, on Fair Game: Bryan Lee O’Malley came on the show to talk about Scott Pilgrim!