What goes better with Jim James’ voice than Jim James’ voice? Fried Chicken? Maybe. The voices of M. Ward and Conor Oberst? Certainly. They put on a 3 hour + show at the Auditorium Theater. What could beat that? Well, on the following night (Halloween), they performed their encore as 
The album of all original bluegrass songs isn’t funny. It’s not funny how good it is either. So what if he hasn’t made a decent movie in like forever. He’s made a great album here. Sure he’s backed by some of bluegrass’s best, but he doesn’t need them. Warning: he doesn’t sing on most of the songs. 
This would probably win this category even if it didn’t compare God to Jiminy Cricket. However, it’s nice that it did. 
Congratulations “Stars of Leo.” After drawing your name from the hat, you’re the lucky winner. Congratulations hat for containing so many great songs.
Pulp was known for their full, sumptuous productions (typified by the work the legendary Scott Walker did on We Love Life), so Steve Albini does not come to mind as the obvious choice to record Mr. Cocker. But the team works to perfection. Cocker’s songs are still a mix of Roxy Music-style glam and classic ‘50s and ‘60s rock, though he adds some more rocking sounds to the repertoire this time around. His band tears into it, and Albini makes it sound, in spots, pretty ferocious. Trading in raw for lush makes the music more sensual and sleazy, especially on the songs where Cocker portrays the many different ways a middle aged man can try to get in the pants of a 20-something year old woman.
I’d never posted a video to Facebook before this one. Figured I had no choice since these guys are really something you have to see for yourself. Nobody commented on it but I’m sure that’s just because its greatness rendered everyone speechless. Sadly their record doesn’t quite accurately capture their contagious energy and optimism. Even more sadly, their show at Lincoln Hall sold out before I got a ticket.
Watch it. It’s even funnier and more fun than most of the bad reviews this album has received. I love it. Then again, I’m Jewish. But about as Jewish as Bob Dylan.
I know. I know. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know. Thanks to East Village Radio on the internet I now know about the great Arthur Lee and his psychedelic masterpiece. If anyone out there wants to see rainbows without having to attend a gay pride parade or drop acid, listen to this album.
Maybe his best musical days were already behind him. Still it’s really sad he’s gone. Mama-se, mama-sa, ma-ma-coo-sa.
I always thought that was Miranda July on the album cover. And I like Miranda July, so I don’t know why I never bothered to pick up this album but thanks to everyone for naming it to their ten best and forcing me to pay attention. I myself am laughing with a mouth full of blood after punching myself for not having given it a listen sooner. Laughing of course because of the way I punch.What Does Community Radio Mean To Me?
Nobody ever asks me that question. I tend to get more “Do you have a quarter?” and “What are you looking at, man?” Maybe the reason for that is purely geographical. I hail from the southwest corner region of Logan Square. Although maybe it’s more of a corridor than a corner. That’s not important. What is important is the present state of community radio in the neighborhood. Right now it’s fairly limited to the enormous Harley Davidson that likes to swing by blasting AC/DC’s “Back in Black” and MGMT’s “Electric Feel” which rises through my apartment’s floorboards on a regular basis thanks to my downstairs neighbor’s egomaniacal stereo. Don’t get me wrong. I love both those songs and could listen to them all the time. And do. But I yearn for more. Sometimes I get it when the neighbors two doors down pump up their tejano music to set their Friday night garage party in motion. Plus there’s the not-so-faint sounds of electric guitar thrash and reverb that escape the walls of Ronny’s four nights a week. Still, the sound quality is poor. I get better static tuning in an AM station from St. Louis. And so for these reasons and many more, I look forward to the day CHIRP launches and changes what community radio means to me, which is more often than not the neighborhood ice cream truck’s twenty minute rendition of “Pop Goes the Weasel” on calliope
→
