And if you did, great. But this has nothing to do with your bone density or overall health, though I’m always glad to hear when others are in good spirits…except when I’m not glad to hear anything. Anysegue, Vitamin Tramp is a Texas-based band fronted by Ralph Thompson and Dave Novak. Band members include Ralph Thompson and Dave Novak, who are supported by members Dave Novak and Ralph Thompson. Pay attention kids: this information will come in handy later on in the show.

Before I continue, I need to admit that I’ve met Dave before. He’s a good friend of Justin’s whom I met once last summer. It was a great night that began at St. Andrew’s (with me proudly ordering a beer by announcing my first-ever “I’ll have what he’s having”) and ended at a sort of shady little karaoke joint (where both Justin and Dave earned even more of my respect by backing me up as I rocked “Gold Digger”). That said, I was really nervous to write this review, for various reasons, including: a. Dave is a really nice guy who backed me up on a Kanye West song, b. It’s difficult for me to in any way criticize someone who has put forth the effort recording an album– in this case, a double album– requires and c. I’m not very good at reviewing stuff. So yeah, there be the caveats, now here be the reviews!

As I mentioned, I was given two very different albums. The first, Since Pflugerville, has a much more mellow, acoustic feel than its counterpart, the electronically-charged Robot Exoskeleton. I’ll start with the former, so as not to confuse anyone. Also, I’ll step up and admit that this was definitely my favorite of the two albums, mostly because I found it easier to pay attention to each sound being delivered, as it seemed to be a much rawer, more stripped- down effort.

The first track on Pflugerville is “Ralph’s Voice Mail,” which is basically just a really clever intro to Track 2, “The Vitamin Tramp Theme Song.” The opening track is a voice mail message sent from one band member to the other, pitching a theme song in which the two sell themselves as “the best damn band.” I’m sold, immediately, on this one, if just because of the self-awareness the band seems to have right off the bat. They follow “the best rock band is Vitamin Tramp,” with “look who’s on the cover of Rolling Stone/it ain’t us.” This self-deprecation permeates, pretty cleverly, this album, and lends to the band’s charm. Also earning brownie points from Shibow is “Will it Be the Same, ” an amusing ditty featuring south-of-the-border-type guitar work that questions what it will be like to trade in an old car/girlfriend/job for a new one. I have to stress how much I appreciate a band that doesn’t take itself too seriously, that seems to play with otherwise serious issues (relationships, career changes, etc.) and take them in stride.

The playfulness is momentarily halted for “Alia,” which I sort of thought was about me since it described its title character as a “princess of some Middle Eastern nation” (ok, I’m not Middle Eastern, but whatever, I played along for a second). Then I got over myself and actually dug this one, despite the fact that I felt the transition between this song and the last a bit jarring. The song, about a worldly, exotic woman seen from an outsider’s perspective, comes with an intriguing thought: what’s it like to be an “other,” and is it possible to really live the “middle class dream”?

The band returns to form with “Solo Self-Titled Debut,” a song in which the band basically breaks down the fourth wall between artist and audience, even outright-ly asking “how do you like my solo self-titled debut,” boldly asking a question many other bands want to, but just self-consciously won’t. The fact that its chorus is basically a series of “la la’s” only highlights how ridiculously scared some bands are of lightening up.

The band is at its strongest when it plays with the idea of what it means to grow up and out of old habits. Vitamin Tramp draws a fine balance between mischief and genuineness, especially in tracks that deal with the issues that come with age . The relationship-related songs, like “Whatever You Hide,” didn’t cut as deep for me as the ones about maturity, and the transition from youth to adulthood, like “Goodbye Sunrise.” This, for me, was about saying goodbye to beginnings, which is a pretty clever and layered concept to consider. It’s a perfect, summery song, and even made me nostalgic (for what, I’m not sure, as last summer wasn’t really one for the books).

Another standout for me was “The New Me,” a menacing three minutes that opens with someone clearling his throat and possibly hocking a loogie (bold!). It’s filled with a fun clap-along beat and funky, blues-y piano supporting a warning of “you’re not gonna like the new me.” It also includes one of the strongest lines on either album, “I just need some way to cope with this intense loss of all hope,” and reminded me quite a bit of one of my favorite quirky artists, Ed Harcourt.

The previous song was definitely in the running to become my favorite Vitamin Tramp song, until it was beaten by the On-the-Go-Playlist must “Through With You.” This creative, paradoxically modern throwback to 20’s speakeasies and swingin’ gangsters (shut up, sometimes I can get really stereotypical, ok?) is the band and its best, and is hands-down the most entertaining track on the album. It’s fun, breezy and includes three vital ingredients to a good song: horns, fabulous background vocals and the word “skank.” Stick a sign on my lawn, because I am sold.

Sometimes, I feel as though I’m listening to 2-3 different bands. Perhaps the band is still finding its footing, or perhaps it is just incredibly playful. Either way, the range in sound speaks to its versatility, which is pretty impressive.

The final highlight for me was “Useful,” the conclusion to this album. It’s just as upbeat and sunny as the album’s opener, reading more like a classified ad than a song, and this is definitely the type of duo that can sell itself.

So now let’s move on to Robot Exoskeleton, which, as I mentioned before, has a feel completely different from that of its partner album. Opener “Closeup” immediately announces this album as loud, and certainly more electronically based than Pflugerville. There is, still, much of the other album’s energy (and, at times, much more), especially on tracks like “My Smile is a Mile Wide,” with pumping percussion and vocals. At this point, I have to pause: two dudes are making all of this noise? The album, is some ways, reminds me of early 90’s favorites like the Spin Doctors and Deep Blue Something. Its unapologetic in its straightforwardness, which– especially in today’s self conscious “rock star” climate– I completely appreciate.

While I don’t consider discussions on relationships to be the band’s best angle, I did take interest in “Different,” a song about questioning a relationship’s validity at its end. It hit home for me, especially with lines like “did we make the right decisions/when we told each other lies.” It’s human nature to backtrack and try to figure out what could have been done differently, and the band tackles the subject nicely.

I wasn’t a huge fan of “Daughter of My Boss,” mainly because it seems like I topic that’s been done before (in an Ashton Kutcher movie, no less), so I moved on to the hilarious “Jenny Talbot.” The line “Jenny Talbot/ just reach out and grab it,” was enough to have me do a spit take that–thankfully– occurred in the privacy of my room.

“She’s So Mod” appears to be the female answer to Arctic Monkeys’ “Brianstorm.” She’s modern, she’s trendy, [she annoys me to no end when the corner of her ugly Marc by Marc for Marc in Marc over Marc with Marc Jacobs bag repeatedly pokes me in the shoulder] and she’s a complete narcissist. Really, who wouldn’t want her?

Another big track for me was the incredibly dark “I Need a Contact,” a desperate song that repeatedly, distortedly wails that “this is an emergency.” Definitely the most serious song on either album, this one took me by surprise.

My last favorite was “Why Can’t We Wait,” a rockin’ song about summer romance that, somehow, had a Grease feeling to it. This is what I truly like about the band: every subject is tackled with heart, and, pretty importantly, fun.

Vitamin Tramp doesn’t want to be on the cover of Rolling Stone. Ok, maybe they do. Hell, I do. Really, though, the band isn’t trying to please you, or me, or anyone but themselves for that matter. I think that’s part of its appeal, especially in an era in music where if we don’t like you, we’re not supposed to like your music. By essentially opening themselves up, admitting that they aren’t hanging with “Puffy Combs” they make themselves more likeable. I love a band that can make fun of itself while still getting its point across. Vitamin Tramp, you got my stamp.

I’d just like to conclude by saying that if that last sentence didn’t convince you that I shouldn’t be writing music reviews, nothing will. Seriously, even I found that cheesy. In the purest way I can, I am asking you to check this band out, plain and simple.

Visit Vitamin Tramp on Myspace, or preview Since Pflugerville and Robot Exoskeleton on iTunes below:

Robot Exoskeleton

Since Pflugerville

I never realized how messed up that song was, considering it included Snoopy, beloved  by children everywhere. Now, I know a few things: Snoopy often imagined himself in dogfights atop his doghouse, and this was alluded to in the strip. I also know that Schultz had nothing to do with this song (though after a lawsuit obtained the rights to all royalties from it). Still, I thought I’d point out a few interesting points.

In the predecessor to this song, Snoopy and the Red Baron , we learn that 80 men died trying to end the streak of Baron Von Richthofen. And it was true that this German held that record. But in the first verse of this fun happy song, we learn “they’re buried together in the countryside.” That means all of his victims were in a mass grave. That’s not only historically inaccurate, it’s just a little dark. Ultimately in that first installment, Snoopy is shot down, goes to the Great Pumpkin for help, and then returns to the skies to shoot down the Baron. Forget Dave Petreaus, the all-knowing military strategist we need to be consulting is a gourd.

Anyway, the Baron lives to fly again, returning for a special holiday-themed version of the same basic song. In this version, Snoopy sucks wind and almost gets shot. But the Christmas bells ring out below, and the Baron has a moment of kindheartedness, making Snoopy land on the other side of the Rhine, “behind enemy lines.” The song ponders why the Red Baron had Snoopy in his sights and didn’t shoot. I too would be slightly hesitant as well to waste bullets on a cartoon dog when the combined allied air forces were after me. Even if that cartoon dog did shoot me down once before.

So Snoopy lands, and the Baron wishes him “Merry Christimas Mein Friend.” This of course, in an awful German accent that sounds more like a bad impression of a Pakistani accent. This villan then  audibly pops a bottle and toasts Snoopy. That’s right, this villain who had killed 80 allied pilots and the cartoon dog shared a drink, and then got back into their planes to go kill other pilots.

Perhaps that bit of thinking has come back to bite me in the booty. Yes, dear readers, “new flame” has become “extinguished flame.” Let us all take a second to mourn (and then take that second right back). In my defense, I wasn’t fawning all over the damn dude, but I’ve typically considered myself to be of the don’t-talk-about-the-mofo-unless-you’ve -made-it-through-a-season-together mindset. But hey, I thought it would benefit the last story to present that relationship as a disclaimer. Who knows, maybe he took me seriously and found himself terrified by the idea of having to compete with Urkel for my heart. Dumbass.

So anyway, sure, it’s always a bit sad to have to say farewell to that special (or, you know, “special”) someone, but I think it can also afford you — well, me — the opportunity to reflect on the relationship and decide what is and isn’t acceptable behavior. Now, readers, before I continue, let’s keep in mind that this is Shibow talking. If I wanted to make a behavioral do’s and don’ts list, I’d have to first deny any and all involvement in this , and Mama wouldn’t lie to you. This, kids, is Shibow’s Musical Musts.

Now, of course, I don’t expect any guy I date to like all, or, really, any, of my music. So this isn’t really that kind of list. Cheesy as this may sound, and I know it will sound very cheesy, my music is a part of who I am. That screen name you click on with the away message about how “I can’t be your friend/unless I pretend?” That’s very likely my screen name, and it’s very likely a lyric from a song close to my heart. So I’ve decided, in my own words, to basically use this space to give ya’ll a little more insight into the heart of Shibow than a simple away message could.

I don’t expect you to like Wilco, I expect you to listen to Wilco. Of course, this could apply to any of the many bands I heart, but seriously, if I give you a song, just listen to it. Listen to a snippet of it. I listen to the songs you send me. Really I do. Also, anyone who’s dated me knows I’m not much of a talker, so if you’d like any insight into what I’m really like, listen to the friggin’ song I ask you to listen to. No, I am not really an American aquarium drinker (that’s a reference to a Wilco song, guy I sent a Wilco song to. You’d know that if you’d listened to it. I know you’re probably now kicking yourself for missing out on that one.), but Jeff Tweedy’s voice could send me into a crying fit on any given day. So at the very least you’d learn I was a baby. Wait…

Dude. I’m trying to tell you about Once. For the two people who know me but don’t know this about me (Note: if you’re one of these two people, do not admit to it. You’ll regret it.), pay attention: Once is one of the greatest films of our time, and certainly the best musical that’s been made in my lifetime (though, considering I’m in my early twenties, there really wasn’t much competition to begin with). Pretend to pay attention when I talk about it. Again, as I don’t tend to talk as much as listen, give me these few minutes to rant on this film. Also, if you aren’t listening for whatever reason, do not admit to it, even if your reason for not listening is “I was thinking about how pretty you are.” That’s stupid, and probably not true.

Ok, well, I wasn’t really talking about substance abuse though. The following is an exchange that may or may not have happened between a first date and me…. or a friend of mine and a guy she went on a first date with… or maybe I made it up entirely:

Girl: I’m pretty heavy into music. Love, love, love music. Writing about it, finding new music…

Guy: Yeah? I did coke with Slash once.

To be honest, I’d never hold past drug use against a person. How much of an illegal substance you chose (I repeat, chose) to ingest in the time before (I repeat, before) you met me is your business, unless you’ve still got a dimebag stash you haven’t told me about. However, when we are speaking about a subject, and you suddenly feel the need to impress me with some sort of fact related to that subject (Note: Yeah, it’s sort of endearing, but not impressive, if you do it once. It’s obnoxious, and really not impressive, if you do it more than once.), make sure the fact you present is proportionately related to the subject at hand. Of course I’d love to hear that you hung out with one of the greatest guitarists of the past two decades. The image of the two of you rubbing crack remnants from your nostrils is something I do not need. Also, it’s a bit deflating to be interrupted in the middle of an extremely rare I-actually-want-to-keep-talking moment to hear about how spaced-out cocaine makes you.

And my music is lame? I once dated a guy who thought he was amazing at freestyle. He’d bust a rhyme that, well, didn’t really rhyme, with a rhythm that, um, wasn’t too rhythmic, to a beat he’d created that sort of had no beat. Now, I’m sure I sound pretty snooty in saying that, but I am actually a drummer, and have been for about 6 years now. I’m not terrific, but I know enough about percussions to know what’s good and what is absolutely disgusting. I’d never put anyone down for trying, and the reason I’m even commenting on his lack of abilities now is because he is the Devil. My problem with this, though, was his constant need to use my computer to create said crappy beats, often closing out my iTunes and/or Pandora (one of the greatest sins, in my book), without permission, deeming my playlists “lame.” My music is not lame. Your face is lame.

You like Nickelback…and that’s ok. One of the nicer guys I dated had musical tastes that didn’t dip very far below the mainstream top-40 level, which is totally cool with me. Though he knew very little about Turin Brakes, he knew enough to tease me about my love for “folk-y old man guitar music.” Teasing is cute. Teasing means you’re listening. This, we like.

I’m sure the shrinks out there will try to dissect this list and read into it for clues as to how I prefer to be treated overall by whomever I choose to date. Do it up. You may be right. I, personally, am far too lazy to analyze the above points for greater significance right now. Oh, and, uh, in case anyone thought I was, uh, like, sad or anything… I’m good, man. I’m totally good. I just, uh, you know… thought I’d give you all the softer side. Endear you to me and all that crap. Suck you in, basically.

Speaking of which, I think I’m due for a little Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

I’ve pasted here for your enjoyment (or ridicule). Links to iTunes are available (where iTunes has the song) by clicking on the cover art.

Hey Boy: Teddybears Sthlm: A rousing anthem by a Swedish band that once played hardcore music, an unforgettable beat and a sing-able refrain make this song one of my favorites on the collection. Its the song I put on when I need that little bit of extra ooomph to push me through the last mile. Bum bum chicka boom chika bum buch…

A Question of Time: Depeche Mode: The original Eurotrash, this British band rode the new wave and electronic movement into notoriety. There’s that beat again. That might be a theme or something. Also great lyrically, a story of a man foolishly trying to keep a woman as a perfect cupie doll.

Take on Me: A-Ha: I grin every time I hear this song, and have used it as a running song for years due to the persistent synth and drum machine (or drummer that is so precise you could set an atomic clock to him). So far, no American bands on the list … this one was formed in Norway. While looking at this album, I noticed the guy on the cover has the most oddly-shapen tricep muscle. Anyhow, for full effect while you are running, imagine you are holding the hand of a dreamy, pencil-drawn hunk and running through a roughly sketched world from some sort of “no fun Gestapo.” Or something.

I Wanna Be Sedated: The Offspring: No, I don’t have anything against the Ramones, it’s only that the tempo and sound quality of this version of the song a little better than the original version. This is actually a pretty close rendition, complete with handclaps and tambourine. Oh, BTW, this band was formed in New York City, so at least the yanks are finally represented here. When I say the yanks, I don’t mean the band the Yanks, which I am sure is an actual band that exists somewhere. Those guys aren’t represented. They probably should be represented, getting an agent really helps with getting a record deal. Unlike the movies, interested record executives don’t just turn up in the woodwork, or in the backstage area of the Palace Hotel Ballroom.

Pop Princess: The Click 5: I’ll admit it – this one is a throwaway pop tune – these guys, while all individually talented, were slapped together 98 degrees style as a powerpop group. But then again, saccharine pop beats influenced by punk are a perfect fit. Oh, that and listen to this song twice and you’ll be humming it at work for a month. I can see them now in the secret lab/recording studio stirring a big pot of hit song … A dash of falsetto voice … 1 cup emo hairdos, a dash of 2 chord riff, and a hook you could hang Yeti’s coat on. Stir until boiling, add 5 matching suits, serve.

Kick Out the Jams: The Presidents of the United States of America: I went through a stage when I bought the CD after “Peaches” and “Lump” came out where I listened to these guys non-stop. It might be because at that point I could count my CDs on one hand. It has since been demoted to the occasional novelty spin, but this song has the perfect tempo and attitude for this mix. The only downside to this song is that when it is over, you’ll be disappointed to see that only a minute and a half has passed on your watch.

Note to self, never write that in a personal ad.

Runnin’ Down a Dream: Tom Petty: While I am always a fan of Tom Petty’s work, this remains my favorite album of his. Made around the same time as The Traveling Wilbury’s masterpiece, this song is co-written with ELO’s Jeff Lynne. In this one, Petty’s mellow voice manages to still squeeze out an intense song, so intense that the drummer or someone lets out a random exclamation at 2:55. And I think it is probably just me, but I get the urge to lean forward and do an air-acoustic strum during the appropriate part of the song.

Memory: Sugarcult: Again, the punk formula works great for running, quick, simple and rash. These guys are one of those cusp bands who never seem to be able to get past the soundtrack song. I think what I like about them is, although they sound pretty polished, I could also see them being the band of a guy you knew from high school. Sugarcult are from Santa Barbara, and apparently were given their name by their lesbian neighbors.

She’s A Maniac: Michael Sembello: This guy is a freak of nature. I’m glad I decided to research all of these. Michael started out as a studio guitarist , (a fact that reveals itself in the oddly placed axe riffs in what is otherwise a total electronic pop song. Wail away Mike. You are such a badass) and eventually he wrote the grammy-winning soundtrack number playing on your audio device. Since then, after writing some less memorable soundtrack and score numbers, he turned into some weird eastern religion guy (check for yourself). Still, this song is great for a girl that needs a little push around the next bend.

Kylie: Akcent: While we’re on trashy pop songs, I’d like to think this one is tearing up the charts in Eastern Europe somewhere. If this song is any indication, they may know food and culture, but they’ll never really get pop music. For this song, you can thank my Russian office mate. If I wasn’t so certain that they were actually trying to sound cool, I would say this is a clever commentary on just how vapid the whole club scene is. More realistically, this guy is a superstar and means every word. I’m picturing a guy who kind of looks like Borat wearing something metallic and tight. You’ll appreciate the refrain “But I’d rather do you on the backseat of my car.”

B.O.B.: Outcast: Even if Big Boi and Andre continue to put distance between themselves and end up breaking up, their influence on music is already cemented. This is actually a couple of songs in one, but the important thing is the drum machine pounding out the tempo throughout the song. I’m pretty sure this song came out before our most recent conflict with our little oil-sodden bogeyman of a protectorate. This is another song I look for deeper meaning in, but no matter how many times I read the lyrics, I fail to really be able to see anything deeper in them.

Blue Jeans: Silvertide: Not to be confused with 90’s hard rock band Silverchair, whose debut album “Frogstomp” was one of my most regretted purchases, this band is a little rock outfit who I first heard about when someone gave me a sampler CD that happened to contain this song. This is a newer, polished release version, but I think captures the mood of this mix. Lyrically, it captures the dichotomy that Meredith Brooks attempted to breach with her unfortunate song. That is, how some women want to be untouchable princesses and trashy sex objects at the same time. The sound quality is a bit sketchy on this, but I have not been able to find a better version, so maybe it was just recorded it on a Fisher-Price tape recorder.

Parallel Or Together: Ted Leo and the Pharmacists: Ted Leo is one of those minor deities of the indie scene, reliably drawing moderately sized crowds nationwide, and always revered by guitar-toting guys and ladies all over. This song at first sounds like it is bringing it down a notch. But the tempo is actually faster. You’ll find your legs moving faster with this one.

Tarzan and Jane: Toy Box: I’m really embarrassed to admit it, but I love this song. When I am on the elliptical trainer, the silliness and the tempo make these 3:05 minutes just fly by. The only problem is, this one is even worse to be walking down the street singing than the Pop Princess. Try explaining to the guy in the elevator, why you are saying “I am Jane and I like to Ride an Elephant.” Just trust me on this one, give it a try and you’ll jam through it. Just don’t turn your headphones up enough that the person on the next machine can hear it.

Date with A Night: Yeah Yeah Yeahs: For a girl with occasional sapphic tendencies, this song is a great example of girl punk. Sure, this song is vaguely about a man, but i think it fits that sappho-punk genre anyhow. This girl’s a screamer too, and has a Grohl-ish ability to destroy her vocal cords while singing. I have to admit I’m a bit partial to the porno-riffic moaning and groaning.

Filthy/Gorgeous: Scissor Sisters: These musical andro-Geniuses (androgynous-es) are an ultimate guilty pleasure for anyone claiming to be a straight man. Building their sound from such masculine influences as Elton John, Leo Sayer and Donna Summer, they have updated the disco genre with a modern club beat. Thanks to that, this song can grace this mix’s line-up despite stringent BPM requirements.

I Want Your Girlfriend To Be My Girlfriend: Reel Big Fish: Do you remember SKA? It is generally looked upon as this era in music most people our age would rather forget. While it is not terribly respected as an art form, possibly because it is often credited to such gems as Deborah Harry’s 1980’s hit song Heart of Glass, with bringing Ska to wider potential, it actually represents some of the best of Reggae, Punk and Bossa Nova styles. Of course, a musical style bourne primarily of two styles that have hardly ever had a US hit single that wasn’t a cover has an uphill battle. Anyhow, this song is a great party song. It represents the best stick in the eye attitude of Ska. I’ve always said, Ska is like punk with “Eat My Shorts” tee shirts and and skateboards instead of leather jackets and narcotics.

What do you think? Any ideas of your own for the perfect jogging song?

Enjoy this post? Check out Shibow’s Guide to Your Unpretentious–But Completely Funkalicious– Fiesta Mix

It’s weird that sometimes I now feel like an old man when I turn on the radio and hear new music. Like a withered grandpa, I just go, "Kids these days! Why cant they listen to cool music like we did in the 90’s?" What is this Shakira bullshit?? I want guitars and catchy choruses and some songs you can sing-a-long to! Some feel — you know, good rock! Well if you’re like me I have good news for you. The Presidents of the United States of America’s new album has all of this. They stay true to the sound that has made them what they are. In typical Presidents fashion, they deliver short catchy pop songs you can sing along to.

Now, if you are familiar with the Presidents you know that most of their songs either talk about animals, girls or random things like the Death Star, peaches or dune buggies. This album stays true to that formula. Songs like Ladybug, Loose Balloon, Poor Turtle and Truckstop Butterfly hold true to the subject matter you would expect from the Presidents. There are a few standout great songs on this album that I can’t ignore. Usually the Presidents they have one or two songs that are on an original topic and catchy enough to make you keep pushing the back button on the iPod to listen to them repeatedly. On the last album, for me, it was Some Postman. What a great song. If you’ve never heard it, go check the video out on youtube right now. Because its great. Anyway, back to the new album, there are alot of standout songs here.

The first notable track is the first track on the album, Mixed-Up SOB. This song is basically about the girl everyone knows who has problems but makes herself seem like shes hot shit. You know, the girl that shows up to a party at your friends house with two random dudes that no one knows and decides to do coke in your friend’s bathroom. Oh, and then acts like its cool and ok. A mixed up SOB. Great track. Preview on iTunes

The second track worth mentioning is More Bad Times. It talks about how sometimes life sucks but it could be worse … and handles it in a comedic fashion. Very funny. Preview on iTunes

The third standout is French Girl. The moral of this story is that French Girls suck in many ways but yet guys fall in love with them. Preview on iTunes

The last is Scrappy Puppy which is a bonus track which happens to be one of the best tracks on the album. This one is a typical Presidents song with a catchy as hell line that says Here Boy Come Home. Great Track. In fact, this track is worth the few extra bucks. Preview on iTunes

Overall, great album. Reminds me of why I started listening to these guys over 13 years ago now. How time flies. I give it a big thumbs up — a nice 5 stars. Sure beats the hell out of Justin Timberlake or Shakira.

——

Like this story? You might also enjoy Ryan’s review of TMBG’s latest CD, or Shibow’s Making the Case for Mainstream.

Well, if that introduction tells you anything, I know very little about the art of planning the perfect house party. Listen, I can bake you a cookie or two, perhaps even a pie if I’m in the right mood, but I really can’t help you figure out if green napkins will match your beige tablecloth (from an amateur’s opinion, though, that color combination sounds really nasty). I can, however, help you, my terminally uncool friend, create the perfect party mix. For I myself am quite uncool. My iPod, however, is not. She (Yeah she’s got a gender. And what?) is hooked up.

Now before I continue, let’s discuss my thoughts on cool vs. uncool. In this context, at least, I consider myself to be, again, quite uncool, in that my goal in life is not to deem your cd collection, whomever it may include, lame. I leave that to the…um…well, think of a word that rhymes with "cools. " That’s who I leave that to. So, if you consider yourself a fellow dork, welcome friend! 

Let’s start with Shibow’s Five Commandments. There are five because a. five seemed like a nice number and b. I was going to make it ten but couldn’t think of ten and didn’t want to borrow five of Jesus’s:

1. Thou shalt not swear off popular music.

2. Thou shalt not play Damien Rice. I know you think it will get you some. It will get you none.

3. Thou shalt include at least two upbeat, sort of ridiculous songs for the less-than-rhythmically-coordinated (examples follow).

4. Thou shalt embrace thine uncool-ness, for it is a blessing in disguise.

5. Thou shalt not at any time (unless asked by a genuinely interested partygoer) begin offering biographical information and/or little known facts about artists or songs included in your mix. You are not Pop-Up Video, and this is not a classroom. Now I have included background info on most, if not all, songs included, but that stays between us. That we keep on the low.

Onward! 

Gwen Stefani, "Wind it Up"- Now I say "Wind it Up" specifically and not just any old Gwen Stefani song because, well, this isn’t just any old Gwen Stefani song. For this unbelievably danceable tune, the sometimes No Doubt-er samples none other than the forever gangsta princess that is Julie Andrews. Anyone able to turn Sound of Music’s "The Lonely Goatherd" into a club-worthy hit deserves airplay at your fiesta. Preview on iTunes

Hot Chip- There are several to choose from, as this Brit group specializes in the electronica, but I’d go with "Over and Over," the band’s tongue-in-cheek response to critics who deemed their first album too "laid back." Keep an ear out for the robotic interludes spelling out "kissing," "sexing" and, um, "Casio." Preview on iTunes   

Prince- Now I shouldn’t have to elaborate on this one, but I will for the Prince doubters reading this (all two of you). Prince is what’s up. The man, who screams football to absolutely no one, lit up what was otherwise a pretty rainy, (speaking of which, that performance of "Purple Rain" should do more to explain why I chose Prince than this entry does) fairly predictable 2007 Super Bowl (oh, like you didn’t know the Colts had it). I’ll let you choose the song, though I’d recommend "Kiss" and must remind you to choose something with a good beat (meaning this is not the time to pull out "Diamonds and Pearls" in order to showcase your falsetto, no matter how glorious it may be). Preview on iTunes

M.I.A.- Incredulously neon wardrobe? Check. Seizure-inducing music videos? Check. Barely understandable lyrics with vaguely political subtext? Check. A song whose chorus contains oddly, addictively rhythmic gunshots ("Paper Planes")? Ch-ch check! Recommended are the aforementioned, "Bucky Done Gun" and the disco-tinged "Jimmy."  Preview on iTunes

Matchbox Twenty + Alanis Morissette + Mute Math [Editor's Note: If you go to this, you deserve to be alone.].

Oh. Ohhhhh. So, yes, I giggled a bit after reading that snide editor’s note. Then, I thought a little more about the implications. So, I enjoy mainstream, angry soccer mom rock. So? Does that mean I deserve to be alone? Thing is, I’ve been a fan since my days as a nerdy, quietly angry eleven year-old parochial school student. Now, I realize that the point of this article is to make the case for Matchbox Twenty as a legitimate, necessary rock band, and the image of a frizzy-haired Catholic school girl in a maroon jumper jamming to "3AM" will do nothing of the sort , but there’s more to the story, kids. So let’s call Matchbox 20 the marijuana of rock music. Let’s do it because a) I say so, and b) it might do a little something to justify that which is commonly known as "the guilty pleasure." I’m sure such a metaphor would do more to conjure of images of, oh, say, the Grateful Dead, but for the purposes of this piece, it’s all about me* (and my delusions).

I can credit the band with being my "gateway drug" into lesser-known, equally — well, honestly, oftentimes more — talented artists. How the…you ask? Basically, the band came out around the same time as boy band mania began molesting America’s youth (Oh, my bad, was that inappropriate?), and I really wasn’t interested in New Kids on the Block: Redux. Liking a band that preferred eyeliner (which completely badasses you) to Abercrombie pretty much singled me out amongst my Nick Carter-obssessed friends, and, well, I enjoyed it. Here was my first glorious step into music snobbery.

This is where my argument comes into play. Think about the possible effects of smoking up. There are basically about three: 1. you try it and absolutely hate it, 2. you try it, like it, and become a lover of the leaf, or 3. you like it, but crave something harder, become curious, become very curious and eventually become a crack head. Applied to chosen band, 1. you try listening to "Push" and lament the death of true grunge, then vow to assassinate band members, fans, similar bands, etc., 2. you fall in love, find "your band" and become a faithful follower of them, Third Eye Blind, Nickleback, and so on (oh, and set yourself up for trouble with group #1), or, 3. you like them, but aren’t quite satisfied, and begin to crave more, better, perhaps more difficult-to-find music. That’s me: #3 (that being said, I am not a crack head). I liked MB20. I also liked being the only one my age who, at the time, did.

I’d like to believe this logic (or illogic, depending on how you digest this article) could be used to explain away many of the guilty pleasures we choose to keep hidden. Perhaps your love of the Spice Girls turned you on to the British Invasion, and led you to more acceptable, less manufactured Brit-pop acts. Maybe your affection for Justin Timberlake opened your eyes to the underground hip-hop world, and took you to M.I.A.. Or perhaps your deep connection with Whitesnake…nope, even I can’t touch that one.

Case closed.

*The author would like to apologize to anyone who may be offended by the notion of Rob Thomas being compared to Jerry Garcia. You Dead Heads are not to be messed with.

You remember watcing Sesame Street as a kid dont you? We all watched it at some point. In that show they had these little ditties about numbers, for the most part thats what this album is mostly about. Some of the songs even though you would rather they didnt stick in your head. The first song ‘Zeroes’ is a perfect example. It’s teaching kids about the number zero. I already know about that number so I feel a little odd humming that tune in my head but I do anyway. I can’t help it. The song has that catchy TMBG feel that just sucks you into it and will not let it leave your brain.

Theres a few songs that standout that an adult would most likely enjoy even more then the kids, tracks like ‘7 days of the week (I never go to work)’, ‘Apartment 4′ and ‘Eight hundred and thirteen mile car trip’ could be on an adult TMBG CD and no one would think anything of it. This album continues on the tradition of ‘No’ and ‘Here Come the ABCS’ where if you can make it past the fact that its made for children, its a really good CD. Out of 5 stars I give it 4. Just because its great for kids but not every song is great for adults, however, most of them are.

Interested? Purchase "Here Come the 123s" on iTunes!