CANDY/SWEETS: CHOCOLATE

Duty bound to prop up this side of the atlantic, with candy, like movies and garbage, an americanism that has crept in and gained an increasing traction in the language over here. I feel I have to say we eat sweets, or, even, sweeties, when in need of a sugar kick. So, true to form, tapping 'sweet' into my i-tunes search, I anticipated reams of inspiration. Sadly, give or take this song, very little fitted the bill, even were I to turn a blind eye to the innumerable double entendres out there, as most of the sweetness and most of the honey referred to comes in a two legged form. Needing, thus, a quick reboot, and chocolate became my go-to. 

Courtesy disallows any discussion over the pros and cons of US versus UK in this confection, the age-old Hershey versus Cadbury, perhaps now academic that Cadbury, for chrissakes, are owned by the cheese paste magnate, Kraft. (The answer, by the way, is neither, my taste erring towards dark and interesting, the continental "plain" chocolate that actually bears some acquaintance with the cocoa bean.) So, with no further ado, here's a selection box of choccy treats, which I will deliver in the form of the once mighty Fry's Five Boys bar. This was a childhood treat in, admittedly, simpler times, a thin bar comprising 5 segments, each with a different boy at the different 5 stages of engagement therewith. Entitled Desperation, Pacification, Expectation, Acclamation and Realisation, the classic stages of how to bribe a small child. Once the most recognised bar in the world, it was launched in 1902, surviving until the late '70s, by which time it had become desperately low key and old hat. 

Desperation:

I Like Chocolate/Johnny and the Raindrops

Has anyone actually heard this monster before? Uncertain quite as to which demographic it was aimed toward, nonetheless it is so gallingly sickly as to deserve a place here. Johnny and the Raindrops, who "have been making music for children and their grown-ups since 2008", that quote giving away the game that they are in that small selection of bands for pre-school kids, like Australia's more famous Wiggles. (I'd love to say like They Might Be Giants, but I am aware their fans now come also in long trousers and are fiercely protective of the band and their oeuvre.)

Pacification:

Chocolate/Tindersticks

An unusual piece from the Tindersticks canon. Unusual, in that it is spoken word, spoken with a voice that sounds normal and unmannered. The singing style of the vocalist, Stuart Staples, is not always so, with one of the, let's say, more curious timbres out there. Don't get me wrong, I adore the band, and his odd vocal style is a big part of that, this song somehow diminishing him a little, making him sound just a normal lad from Nottingham. The backing remains, of course, exquisitely characteristic, a mix twixt David Lynch soundtrack and european art-house film music. It is a long track; please bear with it. If you can't, well, skip to the end. With luck you will then want to hear the whole thing.

Expectation:

Chocolate Girl/Deacon Blue

The song that first endeared me to this ongoing Scottish institution. A terrific song from their debut album, the mere act of adding some sublime pedal steels ensured my interest and attention. I have written about them before, my belief maintained that their first work was their best, further albums never quite having quite the same hooks. But they play on, fairly big hitters, still, on the bigger UK indoor venue circuit: indeed, I caught them, if briefly, playing at  festival just this last summer. With a largely all the hits show, they had the audience lapping it all out of their hands. And, sure, they played this.

Acclamation:

Chocolate Drops/Iggy Pop

A newer song, slightly, one of the highpoint of Mr Osterberg's 5 year old opus, Post Pop Depression. I like it, he coming on all over like a cross between his old mucker, David Bowie, and Mark Lanegan, the thoughtful use of chimes in the percussion department always a mood lifter in my house. It has intriguing lyrics, Pop's own, added to a riff album producer Josh Homme had had lying around for some few years. Basically a variation on the Monty Python song about looking on the bright side, here Pop muses on how, as you sink to the bottom, you become the top of that trajectory, inviting the then corollary that the brown stuff accumulating there might then become chocolate drops. Enticing stuff, eh? But it is a lovely little tune so, with that positivity in mind, who is to say the yellow snow isn't honey?

Realisation:

More Songs About Chocolate and Girls/The Undertones

I'm not sure whether this was written as a response to the Talking Heads' worthy sounding album, More Songs About Buildings and Food; I should check. (A: It came two years later and both bands were on the same label, so it seems a reasonable supposition.) No clever allegorical verbiage here, just a dumb yet smart ode to the simple pleasures of, um, chocolate and girls, sung in Feargal Sharkey's unmistakeable wobbly warble. At the end of this or any day, I am not sure if any of the greatest philosophers could put it better:

"Sit down, relax and cancel all other engagements

It’s never too late to enjoy dumb entertainment"

So, there you have it, 5 boys worth of chocolate. Before I finish, however, let me share with you the delight of discovery as to what the Scots Gaelic for candy turns out to be, sweeties being so integral in Scottish life and dentistry..... (Hint: try saying 'suiteas' aloud. And 'seòclaid' isn't heaven a million miles away, either!)

Buy

Burn/Fire: Fire Door

Ani DiFranco: Fire Door [purchase]

I’m using this Ani DiFranco song, which mentions fire, as an excuse to write about the recent Clearwater Festival, where DiFranco performed. More to the point, though, the weekend was hot and sunny, and despite some precautions, I did get a little burned.

I’ve written about Clearwater before, and it is one of the regular musical highlights of the year for me. Every year is the same, but different, and not just because there are different acts. Like most years, it was a long weekend filled with great music, some of which are new discoveries. Like most years, we get there early, claim our spot at the main Rainbow Stage, and walk around the place, shopping, visiting the Activist Area, and taking in the beauty of the Hudson River. As usual, we ran into friends. And like most years, there is some weather issue—as noted, this year it was hot and sunny both days, which is better than rain, or high humidity, but can be uncomfortable.

This year, though, it seemed as if the festival bookers didn’t have as many big name acts as in the past, especially on Saturday (and some “regulars” such as Toshi Reagon and Josh Ritter were absent). I don't know whether that was a money issue, an editorial decision, or based on availability, or some combination, but it meant that we spent the weekend sampling lots of music from bands that we were unfamiliar with, often moving from stage to stage to catch partial sets. My wife and I (and our daughter who attended with us—another difference) spent more time apart because different things interested us. Because there were fewer “must see” acts on the main stages, I visited the Dance Stage multiple times, which I had never done, to hear Cajun and Zydeco music, and we spent time at the intimate Workshop Stage for the first time, which led to my favorite performance of the weekend.

So, here we go. On the bus ride from the parking lot to the Festival site, we overheard a group of young women bemoaning their hangovers, and their concern that it would affect their performance. Of course, we had to ask them about this, and they turned out to be singers from a band billed as “Upstate Rubdown,” but which at the Festival called themselves “Upstate.” In my exhaustive pre-Festival research, I had checked out their music, and they were on the list of bands that I wanted to try to see. But we began, traditionally, at the main Rainbow Stages with what I call the “old folkies show,” now called “Songs for Pete and Toshi,” to honor the founders of the event. It included, David Amram (87), Josh White, Jr. (77), Tom Chapin (73), The Kennedys, Mike & Ruthy, Tom Paxton (80) and the Don Juans (58 and 66), and Joanne Shenandoah (60).

After a bit of that, we decided to move to the smaller Hudson Stage to check out Upstate. And they were great, despite any lingering hangovers. My daughter described them as like Lake Street Dive crossed with the Staves. She also believes that she may have met some of the women we spoke to on the bus when she visited their alma mater, SUNY New Paltz, for an a capella event.

Next up on that stage was Making Movies, two sets of brothers, one of Panamanian heritage and the other of Mexican heritage, who rocked bilingually, and included many songs focusing on the newsworthy plight of immigrants. Their music reflected many influences, including various genres of rock, Latin and African music.

 
We then returned to the Rainbow Stage for husband and wife-fronted The War and Treaty, which melded blues, rock, R&B and gospel.

They were also excellent, but it was really hot, and I wanted to check out singer/songwriter Margaret Glaspy back at the Hudson Stage (where I could stand in the shade). She was good, too, and I particularly enjoyed her Lucinda Williams cover.

After that, I met up with my wife, and we browsed some of the environmentally focused vendors, before I plunged into the Dance Stage for Beausoleil avec Michael Doucet, and enjoyed their Cajun dance music (but not as much as my friend Frank, who was dancing hard, and sweating through at least his first shirt of the day).

 

I headed back to the Hudson Stage for Beth Orton, and while I was a fan of her early songs, I was not familiar with much of what she was performing, and I had some trouble connecting with some of the unfamiliar songs, which were pretty dark and downbeat.

So, it was back to the Dance Stage for C.J. Chenier and the Red Hot Louisiana Band, a hard rocking Zydeco unit, which filled the floor with joyous dancers (including Frank, sweating through another shirt).

 

It was finally time for the “headliners” at the Rainbow Stage, and we got to hear pop humorists They Might Be Giants. My daughter again pithily remarked at how much work they put into very silly songs.

 

After that, we took a brief trip over to the Sloop Stage, where festival regulars, The Kennedys, displayed their usual excellent singing, playing, songwriting, and storytelling.

But we returned to the Rainbow Stage to hear first night closer, Ani DiFranco, another regular Clearwater performer, who played an strong set that combined her distinctive guitar style with her broadly political, thought provoking songwriting. I don’t believe that she played “Fire Door,” but I wasn’t really listening for it—nevertheless, it is a fine song, about dealing with the aftermath of a relationship betrayal. She did start the set with “Little Plastic Castle,” which I love. So that was nice.

Not bad for Day 1, right?

Sunday promised to be even hotter, but undaunted, our trio of music lovers arrived early, set up at the Rainbow Stage, wandered around a bit and returned for a new feature. Choir! Choir! Choir!, a couple of Canadians who specialize in creating participatory choirs, invited all interested to the front of the stage to learn the background parts to the folk classic, “Turn! Turn! Turn!” My wife and daughter participated, because they have beautiful voices and love to sing. I sat back and listened, because as anyone who knows me knows, I cannot sing. At all. They had fun, although it was a bit disappointing in the end because the lead singers, some of the “old folkies,” didn’t seem to understand what was going on, and were even less rehearsed than the choir.

After that, my wife and daughter headed over to the Workshop Stage for a “harmony workshop” with the band Mipso, while I went to check out River Whyless at the Hudson Stage.

I enjoyed their folk rock sound, but decided to leave part way through their set to join my wife and daughter for two reasons—to hear Mipso, and to try to make sure I got a seat for the next performer at that small tent, Rhiannon Giddens. The tent was packed, with an overflow crowd standing and sitting around the edges. Mipso, a rootsy, folk rock band, played songs and answered questions from the crowd. What I heard made me want to check them out when they did a full set later in the day.

When they were done, a few people left, but the crowd size increased as the time for Giddens to take the stage approached. Luckily, I was able to get a seat.

Rhiannon Giddens is remarkable. Her latest album made my list of favorite music of 2017. She’s a MacArthur award winner, and her bio on their website begins:

Rhiannon Giddens is a singer, instrumentalist, and songwriter enriching our understanding of American music by reclaiming African American contributions to folk and country genres and revealing affinities between a range of musical traditions, from gospel and Celtic to jazz and R&B. 

During the next hour, she sang, played the guitar, banjo, and fiddle, and discussed each song with us, and they included everything that is mentioned above, including a song in Gaelic and one in Spanish.

Being able to see a genius with such prodigious talent in an intimate venue was one of the best things that I have ever experienced at Clearwater.

After a quick lunch, I checked out Terrance Simien and the Zydeco Experience at the Dance Stage (Frank, however, wasn’t there on Sunday—maybe he was doing laundry), and they provided some rocking Louisiana sounds.

Then, I checked out country rock legends Dave Alvin and Jimmy Dale Gilmore, who played some songs that I recognized, both originals and covers, while never missing a chance to say each other's full names.

I wandered back to the Hudson Stage to listen to Mipso, and their music was equally enjoyable in a larger setting.
 

It was now time for the headliners, so it was back to our base at the Rainbow Stage to hear an hour of Rhiannon Giddens, with a full band, including fellow former Carolina Chocolate Drop Hubby Jenkins on guitar (and lead vocals on a few songs). What the set lost in intimacy, it made up in power. As you can probably guess, her performances were the highlight of the weekend for me.

Next up was Jeff Tweedy, who I am also a huge fan of. Tweedy delivered a set of mostly Wilco songs, with a few covers, Loose Fur songs, and new songs mixed in. As much as I like him, I think that his solo act would be better in a small club than a large festival stage. His stage banter, though, mostly about his perceived personal and professional failures, was extremely amusing, as expected.

Finally, the weekend ended with an amazing, rocking set from The Mavericks, who are not only a great band to see live, they also seem to be enjoying themselves on stage as much as we did in the audience. I think that my daughter, who was not familiar with the band, is a fan now.

 

I grudgingly left during the Mavericks’ last song, to try to beat the crowd, sadly listening to the sound of them tearing the joint up fade away while we approached the buses, although I suspect the extra few minutes wouldn’t have made a huge difference in our exit time.

We returned home, exhausted, hot, burned and tanned, and in awe of all of the great music we heard over the weekend. It wasn’t the best lineup I’ve ever heard, but to some that is to some degree beside the point.

Name-Droppers: We're The Replacements

They Might Be Giants: We're The Replacements

[purchase]

I mean, for months we were on the road behind 10,000 Maniacs. We were playing the same cities, and in a lot of cases, the same venues -- but just, like, a day before, or a day after. You just come to realize that...every hotel you've stayed at, they were there the day before. Every highway you drive down, every truckstop you go in, every... venue you play, every PA guy you meet -- they've JUST MET these other people, who you thought you had nothing in common with, and then you realize you're living the same LIFE as [that other band]. So... the denotation of The Replacements is kind of a pun. - John Flansburgh

FiL posted a TMBG track just last week, but his Replacements tune below reminded me of this relatively obscure B-side name-dropper, and I couldn't resist the chance to drop one of our own names into the mix.

As noted above, this is just another song about life on the road, as was my earlier post for this week's theme. The band name in question makes for a perfect nod to "the replaceable nature" of bands on tour. I've never been on tour, but I suspect the feeling of anonymous interchangeability is a universal one. Must be pretty humbling.


Bonus points to Art Brut for their great and grungy 2009 song The Replacements, which describes disbelief at having discovered the genius of the band in question so late in life [a sentiment I can certainly sympathize with]. We don't post new music here on SMM, but the tune is available free to stream at last.fm, and well worth the listen.

Cool Kidsongs: Why Does the Sun Shine? (The Sun Is a Mass of Incandescent Gas)

They Might Be Giants have released several albums of songs for kids, but they're not all that different than the songs they've been releasing for adults for the past 25 years. In fact some songs have appeared on releases for both audiences. "Why Does the Sun Shine? (The Sun Is a Mass of Incandescent Gas)" is one of those songs.


Tom Glazer & Dottie Evans: Why Does the Sun Shine? (The Sun Is a Mass of Incandescent Gas)

[out of print]

It's also one of those songs (see also "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)" that sounds like it was written by the band, but wasn't. In fact, it was written by Hy Zaret and Lou Singer, and appeared on Tom Glazer & Dottie Evans' 1959 album "Space Songs".


They Might Be Giants: Why Does the Sun Shine? (The Sun Is a Mass of Incandescent Gas)

[purchase]

They Might Be Giants first released their version on an EP in 1994, before they started making records specifically for kids. The arrangement doesn't stray too far from the original, but it's so dang catchy, it's safe to say their version brought the song to a whole new audience.

Speaking of whole new audiences, after they started recording kids albums, it became a staple at their kid-oriented shows. It's become so popular, they've rerecorded it for their latest kids album, Here Comes Science.


They Might Be Giants: Why Does the Sun Shine? (The Sun Is a Mass of Incandescent Gas) [live]

[purchase]

For their regular shows, they've revved it up and reinterpreted it as a rocker. It works surprisingly well. The live version I've included here comes from their Severe Tire Damage live album.

Fun though it is, the song contains a funamental inaccuacy: The Sun, it turns out, is not a mass of incandescent gas. It's made of incandescent plasma. To rectify this error, Here Comes Science also includes the self-penned correction, "Why Does the Sun Really Shine? (The Sun is a Miasma of Incandescent Plasma)".

Shorties: How To Find a Shorty

In the course of finding songs for this week’s theme, and reading other people’s posts, I have developed a set of rules for finding shorties. If we ever decide to do a second week of shorties, I hope this will help.

1. Find a song by an artist or band who are known for short songs.

When They Might Be Giants first got together, they had a common problem; no one would sign them. They came up with an unusual solution. They recorded songs that were under a minute long each, and put a different song each day as an answering machine message. Then they plastered signs all over New York City to let people know about their Dial-a-Song service. It caught on, and was even reported in the New York Times where I first heard of it, and soon enough They Might Be Giants were signed to the Bar-None label. Many of the Dial-a-Song tunes found their way onto their early albums.

They Might Be Giants: Token Back to Brooklyn

[purchase]

2. Go with a TV theme or a cover of one.

Spiderman has been made into an animated TV series many times, but this Spiderman theme comes from the first series, made in the 1960s. The original Spiderman cartoon was animated by Ralph Bakshi, who went on to make the movies Fritz the Cat and Wizards.

Moxy Fruvous: Spiderman

[purchase]

3. Use a kid’s song.

From My Head comes from an episode of Sesame Street. It is a rare example of a jazz singer doing anything in less than two minutes. Kid’s songs often come in at under two minutes; there seems to be a widespread belief that no kid will pay attention for longer than that.

Betty Carter: From Your Head

[unreleased, no purchase info]

and, 4. Go with an older song.

Generally speaking, the older a pop song is, the shorter it is. That is because recording and transfer technology limited the length of a recording that would fit on a vinyl single and still sound decent. At the time that the Clovers cut their classic, the upward limit for a single was 2:30. But Love Potion #9 is even shorter.

The Clovers: Love Potion #9

[purchase]

Silly Songs: Shoehorn With Teeth

They Might Be Giants: Shoehorn With Teeth

[purchase]

Geekrockers and modern TV theme song geniuses They Might Be Giants have a reputation for the odd and surreal, but under most of their songbook is at least some semblance of narrative, or at least a mindset which frames their oddities as metaphor for something slightly more normal, and often surprisingly deep and pithy. Not so this short ditty, off 1989 sophomore album Lincoln; near as I can tell, the scattered impossibilities and earworm tune are merely a framework for a series of silly images that come straight out of the fevered dreams of Salvador Dali, from the titual toothed shoehorn to the heavy metal tourplane that runs out of gas in the air and thus can never land. Bonus points for wildly blaring homophonic sax and accordion, which reflect perfectly the nasal voices of Giants John and John, and lend a sense of lightheartedness and glee to untethered lyrics already on the verge of floating away.

The Moon: Nightgown of the Sullen Moon

They Might Be Giants: Nightgown of the Sullen Moon

[purchase]

I was away getting sunfried in a field for last week's Sun theme; happily, in my absence, guestposter Emma of Curiously Tasty showed up to share what I would have to agree is the definitive Sun song, at least as far as alternative nerdrock is concerned.

But They Might Be Giants look upward at night, too. And though, as the surreal title suggests, this song is less about its nominal astronomical subject as it is about the way the moon figures in our dreaming visions and walkabouts, I think this rarity, released on their 1991 B-sides and Remix collection, is an especially definitive precursor to the ultimate success and sound of the two Johns and their decidedly weird sensibility.

In fact, the pouncing homo-rhythmic, practically homophonic Nightgown of the Sullen Moon contains the seeds of much of what would become the culturally vast reach of They Might Be Giants, from the thrash-paced theme to Malcom in the Middle to the more plodding robotic carols and faux gleesongs that frame the Disney Channel's Mickey's Playhouse, which my kids love to explore online when I am trying to blog. Like those others, it is a great and catchy piece, short and sweet, with deceptively simple lyrics that are both a little bit cryptic and somewhat surreal. Like those others, the music doesn't so much provide a platform for the nasal singing of TMBG's lead singer-accordianist as it creates a parallel theme, for the sake of tension and interplay, which makes intermittent silence a natural part of the surprisingly playful musical environment that results. And like so many other They Might Be Giant songs, the song will stick in your head for days, following you in and out of your dreams.

Bonus: Of course, They Might Be Giants produce equally catchy nerdrock when they're talking about the escapist dreams of mental patients. Here's Destination Moon, from 1994 release John Henry:

They Might Be Giants: Destination Moon

[purchase]

The Sun: Why Does the Sun Shine?

They Might Be Giants: Why Does the Sun Shine?

[purchase]


If there is any song solely about the sun, it is this one. They Might Be Giants released it on an EP by the same name in 1993 and it has since been a staple, and a favorite, at their shows.

The original version of this song was a track from one of the 1950's educational records produced to promote science education for children called "Space Songs" and was written by Lou Singer and Hy Zaret. The song explains the dynamics of the sun in perhaps the catchiest way possible, and allows us to learn and dance at the same time.

For those curious about the original version of the song, you can hear it, as well as the rest of the Singing Science Records, here.


Submitted by enna of Curiously Tasty

History: Meet James Ensor

They Might Be Giants: Meet James Ensor

[purchase]

There’s a common misconception that, to be of artistic merit, a work must announce itself with a measure of significance derived directly from its subject matter. Associations have emerged in the minds of many a cultivated music listener, and we commonly designate a catchy pop song by a dedicated nomenclature. While not a complete list of terms, these are the songs most likely to be described as having baselines that are “bouncy” and melodies that are “playful,” ignoring other conventions of songcraft and skill associated with making music that people like listening to. And then there’s the term that remains the ultimate destroyer legitimacy. Real art, it will be said, isn’t just “quirky.” And They Might Be Giants have always been called quirky.

The rejection of "quirky" is really a convoluted way of (wrongly) arguing that upbeat songs without explicitly heavy subjects are exercises in frivolity, and those who claim such things point to a certain and specific kind of audience begged because of that fact. And since it is implicit in this claim that grown-ups care about more in their listening habits, They Might Be Giants may as well have signed the death certificate of their own cred when they began actually making kids music (two albums so far) and deriving a significant portion of their income from appearing on countless soundtracks of family-oriented programming…

But They Might Be Giants are much more than just another “quirky” band. John Flansburgh and John Linnell of TMBG present for your consideration “Meet James Ensor,” a track from 1994’s John Henry that’s remarkable both for the composers’ economy and insightfulness. In three refrains and two verse sections, Flansburgh invokes not only the story of Belgium’s famous painter, but the arc of European expressionism itself in the 20th century.

Once arguably the most exciting and celebrated art movement in the world, by the turn of the 20th century most work by the original expressionists was decried for being redundant, and no longer appealed to the fickle tastes of high art’s patronage. Ensor’s life was wracked by depression after his family forbade him to marry the woman he loved. He grew to believe that an untreated ulcer was a punishment from God, and his self-loathing and borderline mania plagued him through most of his remaining years. Meanwhile, Ensor and his contemporaries were made casualties of the same fate that most traditional mediums of art met in the mass media age, relegated to unglamorous, musty museums if not simply junk stores and landfills. They Might Be Giants cover essentially all of these bases in barely more than 90 seconds, and this is what makes “Meet James Ensor” seem quirky. Its subject is purely an anachronism, and the tribute’s deliberate lyrical turns go unappreciated by the average modern listener. Flansburgh’s invites the audience:

“Dig him up and shake his hand, appreciate the man”

But most will fail to recognize a play on the recurring motifs of death and reanimation present in the artist’s most important works. Ensor’s own self portraits frequently included insects and depicted decaying skeletons wearing clothing, often while posed in the act of painting. It’s all really kind of ironic, since They Might Be Giants’ primary audience as “quirky” popsters are claimed to be adolescents, but these are kids that haven’t taken college art history classes and therefore won’t get the references- references that presumed to have the greatest appeal to the age groups that find the walking dead freaking awesome.

But you, the educated and sophisticated listener, like zombies too! Don’t you? And tributes to forgotten, underappreciated visionaries? In a simple, catchy package TMBG can give you all the angst and sadness of both some beautiful and influential artworks and the tortured man who produced them. They just wish you’d give them the chance and listen. I mean, why can’t smart, grown men make music for people like themselves? And when did you stop appreciating a “quirky” pop song?

City Songs: Istanbul (Not Constantinople)

They Might Be Giants: Istanbul (Not Constantinople)

[purchase]

Why they changed it, I can't say. People just liked it better that way.

From Wikipedia (my favorite source for facts):

"Constantinople was the capital of the Roman Empire (330–395), the Byzantine/East Roman Empire (395–1204 and 1261–1453), the Latin Empire (1204–1261), and the Ottoman Empire (1453–1922). As part of Atatürk's reforms, the Turkish government in 1930 declared its name to be Istanbul, a name in common use for many centuries among the Turkish citizens. By the end of the Second World War, English usage had generally followed this change."