Friday, April 01, 2005

G, I

Galaxie 500- This Is Our Music

I pep-talked myself for years, trying to get the guts to go up and introduce myself to this one woman that I saw at like every fourth show I attended. Never could muster up the courage to do it- too pretty, too intimidating. The kind of woman, I thought, who probably gets sick of guys trying to meet her at bars.

For years I thought of her as ‘the show chick’ (much in the same way thought I thought of the olfactory mix of patchouli oil and pot as ‘the show smell’.) Come to find out my long-distance show crush was/is Naomi, from Damon and ___________, as well as Galaxie 500.

I was intimidated enough before I found out who she was. Imagine how bad it would have been had she been in a band I actually liked.

Gang of Four- Entertainment!

The difference a few years makes: when the first Radio 4 record came out several years back, I was all over it, thought that the new wave sounds they were playing were being made more relevant in their recontextualization- here, I thought, is where things might be going, and it’s back to where any number of things started. An older acquaintance of mine heard the album and kinda scoffed and said that Radio 4 was just a Joe Jackson ripoff.

Now there’s all this forceful, jittery jagged guitar stuff on the radio that DJ’s rave about and I’m all grumpy because I know the bands they’re blathering on about are just pale Gang of Four imitators. Is that wisdom, cynicism or age?

Garden Variety- Knocking The Skill Level

A complete gem, the reason I’m doing this project.

Sunday night after a long-ass weekend, one of the best that I’ve had in months, and sitting here listening to records kinda feels like a weight, a job. I’m exhausted. Lo and behold, ‘Knocking The Skill Level’ comes up alphabetically, should be called ‘Knocking You On Your Lame Ass.’

So: Jersey three-piece who played at that time in the early-to-mid nineties when there was still a lot of cross-pollination in the punk and hardcore scene- shows going on everywhere, both in DiY venues (ABC No Rio comes to mind here) and at clubs. Don’t sound like anyone else, no one else sounds like them. Two albums, the obligatory split and migration to other bands.

No detectable trends or peers as the band plays their desperate/disparate atonal version of punk rock or whatever it’s called. Songs so honest that I sat here with my mouth open for most of the record, ebbing and flowing and rolling and kicking the asses of all the kids in sweatervests and tight jeans without even appearing to give a shit. No politics, no telephone game.

1 Comments:

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