Summer Came Running

Too sexy to be a married band one minute longer 

Last week, I was swimming at the cottage with an unusual ease of breath for May when across the water-skied waves I could hear the recently called quits Handsome Furs' tune "All We Want, Baby, Is Everything" buzzing away on the dock. Dan Boeckner’s voice is an exquisite piece of rock n roll ass. He and his wife Alexei Perry were a transfixing duo I fell hard for a couple of years back during a hot July show at Lee’s Palace. It was all sweat and leather and cheap boombox drum smacks and that killer voice! It pac-mans a song and a room and you just feel it. The songs were great too, particularly on the first album, but many standout tunes fill their three LPs.

It's hard to argue with Dan's breakup timing (oh what a keen sense to own). Wolf Parade, as mighty as they are/were, announced last year that they were on an extended hiatus and it makes sense to me. Their music had gone from jaw drops to warm smiles to listen to and apparently to make as well. As an aside, this should be a more popular strategy for bands after 4 or so albums to avoid creative burnout, especially now that major labels don't call the shots and you likely haven’t signed yourself into eternal debt to get your records out. So, as much as I already miss HF’s next album, I will give Dan the benefit of the doubt that he has made a good choice in shelving great band #2.

Power trio formula: two guys are too cool,
drummer gets run-off

This past week came some Häagen Dazs for broken hearts in the form of awesome new band news – DB has teamed up with King Spooner Britt Daniels and drummer Sam Brown of New Bomb Turks to form a new band called Divine Fits and they have an album coming out this year on the mighty Merge Records. Wow. Sounds great. Along with label mates Arcade Fire, Britt’s Spoon are the grassy knoll trigger men firing final rock n roll mercy bullets at corporate labels. Once spurned by Elektra, aka home of The fucking Doors, Britt turned his career into a velvet vengeance flick, expanding the Spoon sound beyond the Pixies guitar grind of the early stuff to the now signature, horny-souled thump that has won them huge critical acclaim and a worldwide audience. Divine Fits pairs two dynamic and distinctive singers who share a knack for urgent melodies and sweaty rhythms. Each also has been known to blow up a pretty song midway and dramatically piece it back together. Very exciting news and I hope they can deliver on this considerable promise.

Radio City Drunkettes!

And in other piece-it-back-together news, Guided By Voices have another spinner coming next month from the classic era crew entitled “Class Clown Spots A UFO” (check out that link for free download of superb song of same name). This year has been a banner year for Team Pollard. A reanimated GBV chimed in the new year with a really good album that though it may have elicited a slight overgush because it was such a relief to sceptical fans, did their legacy proud. Looking back, there should have been little doubt they would pull it off. Bob’s solo work had gotten more consistent and the return of Tobe Sprout and his stored gems made it a lock. Now comes the ultimate reform challenge – put out a second good album! The fat Pixies won’t bother. The crazy Van Halen’s may kill DLR before he hammers another VH cheque. I haven’t kept abreast of The Spin Doctor’s plans, but my point is that it’s tough to maintain the initial surge of reform-tricity.  Break up sex is great - you feel you are right back where you belong and you never really liked that other chick/guy and you kinda miss your clothes smelling like this and she/he always has cold beer – but then you wake up to that stupid laugh and more talk about her/his mother and the cat stretches on your chest and you can’t get the fuck out of there fast enough. Old hang-ups re-up pretty quickly.

   As far as recent indie rock reduxes, Dinosaur Jr. may be the exception. They have a third break-up sex platter due in late August and the first two were stellar. We’ll see what Archers of Loaf and Afghan Whigs and others can muster, but I’m not holding out much hope beyond a brief tour or two. The early indications are that CCSAU is a killer party – check out the songs that are leaking around and I’ll review it in a couple of weeks. I can’t wait.  

Yacht Punk, Baby

This picture smells like a hit

I sought out some Harry Nilsson a couple of weeks ago after our FLA vacation. We were in a bar owned by a former member of Deep Purple (sounds cooler than it actually is but still, it had its charm). Though it didn't have Ian Gillan's bongos or Ritchie Blackmore's capes on display, it did have a framed copy of Nilsson Schmilsson on the wall. Knowing him only as a sorta weirdo soft rock drinking buddy of Lennon, I hadn't ever sought him out. But staring up at this bleary eyed, bed headed bum in a housecoat I couldn't help but be intrigued. It certainly lent the bar some needed mystique. The cover image is such a fuck you. I mean, can you imagine the fight at the record company? Ballsy. Even in pre-music video, pre-internet 1971 image mattered at least a little. I would stare at album covers for hours, read the liner notes and credits and thank yous and who used what drum sticks, cymbals, amplifiers & guitars. It was powerful imagery & all the visual support you had to accompany this magical sound in your headphones. In 1971, in an era of fantastical album cover art from psych to Warhol to full costume silliness, comes this doughboy staring bakedly off into space. And on an album absurdly titled to make fun of his name & growing myth. It’s a picture you would grab from your friend before they showed anyone. Dean Torrence, one half of Jan & Dean designed it, along with a few other album covers. As I read up on Harry later and listened to his music, it all came into place. This guy was an original who stubbornly went against type, a champion anti-hero to The Beatles who was able to operate under his rules and be just successful enough to get away with it. He was the abandoned son of a circus performer father and he never played a concert. Ever.


The man was a gifted & oddball artist, a talented arranger & masterful melodist, but the differentiator was his unbelievable voice. He had three octave range and layered his recordings with intricate & beautiful harmonies. Like other musical giants - Hendrix, The Byrds - he killed cover songs, owning Badfinger's "Without You" (which became a #1 hit for Harry) and almost besting the best on his cover of Sgt Pepper's "She's Leaving Home".  He also did an album of standards, and an awesome entire album of Randy Newman songs. Not exactly blessed with a commercial sweet tooth.

BFFs & definitely NOT
 Cold Turkeys 

The documentary Who Is Harry Nilsson (And Why Is EverybodyTalkin' About Him?)  is a must see for music fans. It tells the story of a shy dog food poor kid who used his immense musical gift to inspire, confound, even torture really, all of who came to love him. Like so many haunted men, despite his best efforts he turned into his father. Faced with the slow revealing of that harsh truth, he flipped the booze & drugs switch and torpedoed his career, his incredible voice and then ultimately himself. The movie features many of his friends and family's Nilsson reminiscences, including insights from friends Van Dyke Parks, Randy Newman, one of my favourite rock n roll singers ever, Mickey Dolenz and yes, Harry's wives. Check it out yourself or come over and we will watch it together with a bottle of cognac and an 8-ball.