Toward the end of my DJ gigs, while I'm flipping through the records that I brought but have not yet played, I will usually find that I don't have enough time left to play everything I want. In most cases, I simply never found the perfect place in the set to slide in the particular song that I planned on rocking.
The best example from Friday night is the classic single of the short-lived '70s Boston punk band La Peste.
SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION ALERT: Tonight is my monthy DJ night at the King and I Thai, and given the kick I was on earlier this week, I have decided that I'm going to devote at least an hour of tonight's set to my favorite '90s indie rock.
Therefore, what better choice for Greatest Song of the Day than the band who inspired me to get a tattoo of their logo on my leg the week of my 18th birthday?
The Exploding Hearts' debut album Guitar Romantic came out in early 2003. I was in love. I was listening almost exclusively to The Jam, Buzzcocks, early Elvis Costello, and The Only Ones at the time, and was blown away by this band of early twenty-somethings who had absolutely nailed the excitement and catchiness of that late '70s punk/power-pop sound.
Three months later, the rest of the world knew about the Exploding Hearts, but mostly through the most horrible possible circumstance. Reportedly on the way home to Portland from a showcase performance for Lookout Records, their van flipped near Eugene, Oregon. Three of the four Exploding Hearts died.
Great career move, though. The CD, which had been collecting dust for three months as my "employee pick" at Treehouse, became impossible to keep in stock. The vinyl was originally released only on a German label called Screaming Apple Records. I was so obsessed with the album that I purchased the only copy I could find on Gemm.com for about $35, before the accident. After the tragedy, I saw copies going on ebay for $300 each. I never sold mine, and it has now been reissued on vinyl domestically. One of those domestic reissues came in used to the store on Wednesday, prompting me to throw it on the turntable. I probably had not listened to the album for about a year. Still great.
Sometimes a song will randomly pop into my head in the morning and stay there all day. On those days, I don't question it... I call it the Greatest Song of the Day.
I lost my iPod on Saturday. I think it fell out of my jacket pocket at some point. It probably landed in the snow somewhere. I didn't notice it was gone until Sunday afternoon, and I started freaking out.
I still haven't found it, and it sucks because I've only had it for a few months and I can't afford to keep losing expensive toys. I don't know, maybe God is trying to tell me that all this fancy new technology is still no substitute for listening to an album on a kickass stereo.
Anyway, I stomped around for a while. I was in a bad mood for a while. Then I accepted there was nothing more I could do. Maybe it will turn up, but it's probably gone and there's nothing I can do. It's just a thing. An expensive thing, but just a thing.
Today's song is sort of a sequel to yesterday's Jawbox selection, continuing my '90s rock nostalgia weekend. As I'm sure many do, I closely associate Shudder to Think and Jawbox. After all, they were the only two bands to have ever left Dischord Records for a major label. Plus, original Jawbox drummer Adam Wade wound up with Shudder to Think after leaving the former.
While Jawbox's bombastic and fairly straight-forward sound easily appealed to my teenage sensibilities, though, Shudder to Think was a real challenge. I bought their albums because I bought everything that was on Dischord, and because I had some influential older friends who sang their praises. Their abstract post-rock riffs combined with frontman Craig Wedren's eccentric and theatrical vocals were jarring, to say the least.
I tried very hard to convince myself of their greatness, but I don't think I bought it until I finally saw them live. That was about 15 years ago. Wedren had a shaved-head, black goatee, and leather pants, and was singing this music to a pretty masculine crowd. I bought a t-shirt there, that I still have and occasionally wear. Shudder to Think was a gateway for my acceptance and eventual love of a lot of music that leaned on the adventurous side of the rock pendulum. While they certainly had their share of rabid fans, it's unfortunate that their name rarely seems to surface these days.
Toward the end of my DJ gigs, while I'm flipping through the records that I brought but have not yet played, I will usually find that I don't have enough time left to play everything I want. In most cases, I simply never found the perfect place in the set to slide in the particular song that I planned on rocking.
The Exploding Hearts' debut album Guitar Romantic came out in early 2003. I was in love. I was listening almost exclusively to The Jam, Buzzcocks, early Elvis Costello, and The Only Ones at the time, and was blown away by this band of early twenty-somethings who had absolutely nailed the excitement and catchiness of that late '70s punk/power-pop sound.
Wednesday's song is dedicated to my puppy Sophie, who decided that she was going to spend her morning eating our kitchen floor. Bad girl!
Sometimes a song will randomly pop into my head in the morning and stay there all day. On those days, I don't question it... I call it the Greatest Song of the Day.
I lost my iPod on Saturday. I think it fell out of my jacket pocket at some point. It probably landed in the snow somewhere. I didn't notice it was gone until Sunday afternoon, and I started freaking out.
Today's song is sort of a sequel to yesterday's Jawbox selection, continuing my '90s rock nostalgia weekend. As I'm sure many do, I closely associate Shudder to Think and Jawbox. After all, they were the only two bands to have ever left Dischord Records for a major label. Plus, original Jawbox drummer Adam Wade wound up with Shudder to Think after leaving the former.
