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Naughty. But adorably cute and catchy, is the new video for Peter & Kerry's song, Fucking Around'. A lot more upbeat than my fave tune by the duo ('Knees'), 'Fucking Around' has been stuck in my head for a week. And well, I love the naughty song title. The video is safe for work, in case you're wondering. If you're a Londoner, or live nearby, get yourself down to the Camden Barfly on May 9th.
http://youtu.be/mJpHDw_Wm60
Photo credit: Prokopi Constantinou.
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I was on my way to see Punch Brothers at Town Hall in Manhattan and was not off to a good start. It was 8 o'clock and I was just getting off work. But first, I had to catch my bus. "No problem," I thought. My bus is never on time, let alone early. So imagine my surprise as I watched the bus speed down the street four minutes ahead of schedule.
Oh boy.
Somehow, through a combination of luck and walking very fast, I made it to the venue just in time to pick up my press and photo pass. Unfortunately, I was under the assumption I was not getting a photo pass, so of course I didn't bring my camera. Always be prepared. Lesson learned.
But the night quickly turned around once Punch Brothers took the stage.
OH BOY!
Led by charismatic frontman and mandolin extraordinaire, Chris Thile, Punch Brothers are not your typical bluegrass band. While members Thile, Gabe Witcher, Noam Pikelny, Chris Eldridge, and Paul Kowert are all virtuosos on their respective instruments, Punch Brothers have a style and swagger that might be associated with a rock band or pop group. That is certainly apparent on their latest album, "Who's Feeling Young Now?" which was heavily featured during their two hour-plus set. It is a more accessible record than previous releases, but that's definitely not a bad thing.
On songs like the titular "Who's Feeling Young Now?" and "New York City," Punch Brothers exhibit a pop sensibility that is rarely explored successfully using only traditionally bluegrass instruments. But that doesn't mean they ignore their bluegrass roots. Town Hall seemed like a raucous roadhouse outside Nashville, complete with clapping, stomping, and hollering from the crowd, when they covered “The Brakeman’s Blues,” originally written by Jimmie Rodgers in 1928.
For the rest of the evening, Punch Brothers brilliantly walked the line between instrumental virtuosity through playfully interwoven solos and being rock stars. Their cover of "Just What I Needed" by The Cars was pure pop fun, but their instrumental cover of Radiohead's "Kid A," which appears on their album, is on another level of musicianship, deftly reproducing electronic blips and scratches using only stringed instruments. This recording on their album is impressive, but it is even more so live. To close out the set, they launched into a spirited version of "Rye Whiskey," complete with a trespasser who danced his way across stage, much to the amusement of the band, but not security. Oh boy!
After an energetic set and possible criminal activity on the part of the trespasser, Punch Brothers returned for a much more subdued encore, ending with a tribute to Earl Scruggs and Levon Helm, both of whom died recently. The show ended with opening performer Jesca Hoop joining Punch Brothers on a cover of The Band's "The Weight," completely unplugged, with the audience soon singing along. It was a poignant way to end the night on a beautiful note.
Punch Brothers continue their tour in the US and abroad through the summer. Oh boy!
Brian is a punk-ass book jockey who enjoys corgis and being awesome. When he isn't doing that, he likes going to shows and being e-famous. His global internet empire starts here: @goodinthestacks.
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"Sweeter than warm Cherry Pie."Okay, so we've entered into a situation where nothing has been wrote on the site since the last "Songs to Cure Depression" and it makes me think one of three things.
1. This should be bi-weekly and I'm writing far too much for one writer to write on one site.
2. We need more goddamn writers on the site.
3. I really don't give a fuck about points 1 or 2 because this is magic.
So lets run with the latter.
My day (today) started hungover with the low lows, depression had reared its ugly head and nothing I did was getting rid of it. So I hit the bottle, the cowards way out. But I was out , out in the big wide world of the trafford centre when I started drinking so it wasn't all bad. I was with a good friend (Lewis) and we drank hard, made arse-holes of ourselves and rode the bumper cars.
I'd won a plush PacMan toy from a grab machine and an hilarious 4 year old with his French parents kept us amused in the indoor wetherspoons so I gave the damn thing to him.
"say thankyou."
"yeah."
Hell. that was good enough for me. Then we played laserquest and as a duo we took on the staff there and won. BUT WE ARE MISSING THE MAIN POINT.
I was introduced to this song this morning (before the low lows fully set in) by a young lady with a great soul and, shit, I was blown away. Maybe this is a testament to how the talented can fall through the slits in grids and become tramps, or maybe it isn't. I couldn't tell you. What I can say is that Danny Small has more talent than 12 Olly Murs, 17 Alexandra Burkes, and pisses on Justin Bieber like he was nothing but a bleach cake in a urinal (which has about the same amount of talent.) This is what every miserable shit in a suit riding the subway (or underground as they call in in London ((or BUS as we call it in Manchester))) needs to shoot a hot load of sweaty sunshine right into that glory hole in between the gluteus maximus muscles.
Plus, I love cherry pie.
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I had the pleasure of seeing Regina Spektor supporting Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers last week in Denver and this song has been on my mind ever since.
I know it comes out of my mouth every other day that I'm not a fan of big venues/big shows/etc... but seeing Regina with that kind of a sound system and light show was amazing.
"All the Rowboats", which is the first single from her upcoming release What We Saw From the Cheap Seats (out May 29th and available for preorder at ReginaSpektor.com) is possibly my favorite thing Regina has ever done.
Spektor uses striking imagery of art trapped, imprisoned:
All the galleries and museums "Here's your ticket, welcome to the tombs" They're just public mausoleums-- The living dead fill every room
The result is haunting and I pretty much just want to say LISTEN.
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This track very possibly could have passed me by if not for the incomparable Ben Morse who recommended this song with an emphatic "love".
This project was put together by Esquire, with the challenge to write a song inspired by the phrase "pacific standard time". And I'm not going to lie, it sounds a little hokey to me. But I listened and it is a really good song. Really, really good.
This sounds like a Hold Steady track to me- in the narrative style surrounding the characters Kevin and Heather and life (and two different coasts) pulling them apart. It's heartbreaking because of how real and relatable it is with lines like:
She’s old enough to know it doesn’t always work, but you never get so old it doesn’t hurt
You should listen.
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"...whatever seeds that you're sowing, I like the way this is going."Okay, so last week was a real bummer and this week's is a day late, but, we're here and now I'm feeling a little better. I haven't drank in two days (I even sat in a goddamn pub and didn't touch a drop. Just sat sipping at a coffee) and I've been once again working my arse off with the various writings. Anyway, before I slip away on yet another tangent, let us break this down.
It's a strange thing, this old life shite. How you can swing from one extreme to another (well not quite another, I'm not exactly shitting rainbows but there's definitely a strong waft of what I thought was a stagnant air of...hope) with just the smallest of gestures, oh, and if this sounds a bit vague, it is meant to be. But, hell, it takes a man (or woman) to hit the bottom of the barrel to realise that he has nothing left to do but crawl on upwards, brushing off the crusted layers of shit until he hits the horrible blinding daylight of day to day life, of sweet, sweet, cum-sucking reality.
So I plan to sober up (don't hold ya breath, though if you did you could probably hold it until I started breathing again,) keep a high level of work ethics, find whatever iota of zen I have left and work it until I can (perhaps/possibly/maybe/goddamn hopefully) be the kind of man that I can actually be proud of, because it's damn hard to keep your head above the water if you don't have a single shred of self-respect.
As far as the music goes it (once again) has very little to do with the situation, or does it? Anyway, it's a great song by Mark Everette(a.k.a. E)'s music project, Eels. It's a simple song, a pretty song, a love song, a song that (if not sung by a man who makes my life seem chirpy) would probably fit nicely in a Disney film. But fuck it. It's a great song by a great musician. One that I'm sure must understand the completely fervent need, now and again, for a real pick me up and the conversation of a good friend with a beautiful soul.
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Crywank is the alter-ego of James Clayton, a singer/songwriter from Barnsley. Having garnered a lot of attention with, his first album, 'James Is Going To Die Soon', Crywank has become a staple of the UK's acoustic scene. Now with 'Narcassist On The Verge Of A Breakdown', his latest album, out and available for download - both records are available for free online - we thought it was about time we did a session.
Crywank played two songs from the new record, and they came out awesome. Please share with your friends, like on YouTube, subscribe and all that stuff. Drop us a line in the comments if you have any ideas who we should session with next.
Nostril Tampon
You Couldn't Teach Me Integrity
Filmed under a bridge in Manchester by Dicking Around Productions and edited in a less glamourous location.
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