There's a time in life for Hoagy Carmichael. There's a time in life for Claude Debussy. There's a time in life for Jerry Lee Lewis. There's a time in life for Destiny's Child. All these things have their moment. ~Elvis Costello
Guster have gone for an 80’s nostalgia feel on their 2019 Look Alive album, and “Overexcited”, presented here in it’s non-LP extended version, evokes that British cheek and spirit of bands like Madness.
The lyric video will fill you in on the hilarious bantery bits.
Though dubbed Auckland, New Zealand’s smartass retort to Sum 41 by Allmusic, Steriogram are so much more. On their second album, the David Kahne-produced Schmack, the band combine pop punk with Beastie Boys-style white boy rap, Nirvanaesque riffage, Weezer’s gawky sense of humor, and classic rock reference all to glorious effect.
Tyson Kennedy’s snark rap vocals play against Brad Carter, who carries the chorus melody on “Walkie Talkie Man”, and it’s all pinned on a mighty Kinks-inspired riff and an exuberance that schmacks of too many energy drinks.
I recommend reading along to this one.
Well you’re walkin and a talkin And a movin and a groovin And a hippin and a hoppin And a pickin and a boppin Those bods are being bad You better take a stand You gonna wake up that thing in your hand You’re looking all around There is trouble to be found Make sure when you find it you get to say it loud Gotta code three Need back up Bring me my bright pink fluro jacket
He’s fat and he don’t run too fast (Well you’re walkin and a talkin) But he’s faster than me (You’re my walkie talkie man) Last night at the show we saw him (Well you’re walkin and a talkin) Going out of his tree (Go Go Go Go)
Well you’re walkin and a talkin And a freakin and a yellin And a bossin and a speakin And a lookin and a pointin Always tell us what to do With your high top shoes And you wave your torch With your black short shorts Don’t let em get away Don’t think they can play Nail ’em to the wall Cause you really need to say Gotta code three Need back up Bring me My bright pink fluro jacket
He’s fat and he don’t run too fast (Well you’re walkin and a talkin) But he’s faster than me (You’re my walkie talkie man) Last night at the show we saw him (Well you’re walkin and a talkin) Going out of his tree (just the drums!)
He’s fat and he don’t run too fast But he’s faster than me Last night at the show we saw him Going out of his tree
He’s fat and he don’t run too fast But he’s faster than me Last night at the show we saw him Going out of his tree He’s a walkie talkie man!
Well you’re walkin and a talkin And a movin and a groovin And a hippin and a hoppin And a pickin and a boppin Those bods are being bad You better take a stand You gonna wake up that thing in your hand You’re looking all around There is trouble to be found Make sure when you find it you get to say it loud Gotta code three Need back up Bring me My bright pink fluro jacket
The Grammy-nominated video is pretty yarn good, too:
LP is Laura Pergolizzi, who has written for Rihanna, Backstreet Boys, Cher, Rita Ora and Christina Aguilera among others. “Lost on You” was a platinum-selling single in Italy, France, Greece, Poland, and Switzerland. It also topped the charts in Israel, Turkey, Romania and Serbia, yet it somehow missed the top 40 in the US.
Dean Ween and Gene Ween–Mickey Melchiondo and Aaron Freeman respectively–have made a career of what reviewer Stephen Thomas Erlewine called “cheerful vulgarity”.
But with Dean and Gene each having now released solo material, it’s easy to discern that Dean was the writer more given to the madcap Zappa-esque tendencies and showcases for guitar pyrotechnics while Gene provided the smoother, more mellifluous moments of a typical Ween album.
“Exercise Man” is credited to the Dean Ween Group, but it’s classic Ween.
On her Grammy nominated 2015 debut, Courtney Barnett sliced through the muck largely due to a brilliant off-the-cuff lyric style, a wry, witty sense of detail, and a punk lite, almost Dylanesque delivery.
All good stuff.
But “Need a Little Time”, from the sophomore outing Tell Me How You Really Feel, confounded expectation. Where most of Barnett’s work playfully jabs at your frontal lobe, this one earnestly pulls at your heart. And the melodic hook here is like a fall into a vat of strawberry-flavored taffy.
