King Bowser sings to Princess Toadstool of his wicked intentions. From a compilation album released by Nintendo in 1991, and previously a B-side for wacky, wonderful power poppers Jellyfish.
For a novelty record these guys sure put a lot of effort (and unconventional instruments) into the mix. Listen for the perky banjo that kicks in on the second chorus at 1:10, or the jew’s harp, or…
Dutch band Kayak’s career arc was similar to that of Genesis: early albums featured more ambitious symphonic progressive rock, and later work crossed over into more commercial mainstream territory. Depending which era you listen to, their work may call to mind bands such as Camel, Alan Parsons Project or Marillion.
The Merlin album from 1981 represents a middle period, and contains songs of the more Pop-gressive variety alongside a few more ambitious compositions.
“Niniane (Lady of the Lake)” spotlights the classical influence of conservatory-trained keyboardist Ton Scherpenzeel, who also shows a rather impressive command of English in his lyric writing here and elsewhere, considering it’s not his native tongue.
From the upcoming third album–a double CD/triple LP conceptual rock opera, no less–by the punk-ish Jersey indie rockers.
The album and its artwork are inspired by the 1594 Shakespeare play of the same name. The song’s title is slang for turning the knob on an amp or instrument up to the max, or ten (unless you’re Spinal Tap). And the lyric is one fuel-injected, rapturous ejaculation of punk-pop glory.
Bobby Bland: “Ain’t No Love in the Heart of the City” (1974)
If ever an artist should have been forcefully prevented from sampling a song of a previous era, that artist would be Jay-Z, whose unholy appropriation of Bobby Bland’s soulful ’74 ballad checks most every box on the offensive lyric checklist.
The real crime here, in addition to that of artistically spinning silk thread somehow into a burlap dress, is that young fans of the Kanye Wests and Jay-Z’s of the world are typically uninformed as to the true source of inspiration, and come away with the impression that their favorite rap artist has created, when he has merely synthesized.
It is not true to say that all the best music was created in decades past. But the rap genre seems to be making the most convincing arguments that it was.
If we have to be subjected to absurd “new Dylan” comparisons every few years or so, it’s refreshing at least to hear them applied to a female for a change. Australian singer-songwriter Courtney Barnett’s dry, witty, rambling lyrics have called a lot of attention to her debut album, Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit.
But she rocks too, coming as she does from a grunge/garage band.
“Dead Fox” illustrates the toll exacted on animal and even human life by dangerous highway freight trucking in the name of big business and lower supermarket prices (I know, another song about that).
But Barnett’s sardonic stream of consciousness lyric style makes what should be a pedantic diatribe instead sound like a droll (if pointed) anecdotal musing.
It’s pretty catchy too.
The video, animated and directed by Rory Kerr and Paul Ruttledge, drives home the song’s point in rather grisly fashion.
Such was Kirsty MacColl’s gift that even when she tried her hand at traditional folk balladry–a form in which she had no real background–the results were transcendent.
This gem of a B-side, sparsely arranged and featuring the haunting penny whistle of The Pogues’ Spider Stacey, puts MacColl’s voice to the forefront to achingly beautiful effect, perhaps made sadder still in light of her own premature and tragic demise.
Every Moment Has A Song 