By Emily Carney
With all the will in the world
Diving for dear life
When we could be diving for pearls
—Elvis Costello, “Shipbuilding” (performed by Robert Wyatt)
By Less Lee Moore
“It gave me a great feeling, a feeling I haven’t had for a long time. It convinced me to do more appearances, either with or without the rest of the Beatles. Everything went down so well.”
—John Lennon, as quoted on the Ottawa Beatles Site
By Hanna
Presente is a great album—if you can get it. As a result of his breaking with Sony, Renato has released it independently, as he’s emphasized overly clearly in interviews. It’s like a perfect tiny illustration of protectionism: while the independent release has had many advantages—more control over promotion, a more detailed concept and, of course, the uncommercial 17 tracks of the CD—it also means it isn’t for sale anywhere outside of Italy. The Sorcini network has insured it gets shared, but it is a situation that should be resolved, as this is shutting many people out and alienating an already detached market.
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By Noreen Sobczyk
This compilation is culled from covers of the many high quality songs in the Scott Walker catalog. If one wants an emotive, theatrical, “over the top” vocal, inherent to Scott Walker’s delivery—they would do better with the genuine article. On the flip side, if Walker’s show-tune-meets-cabaret delivery is too dramatic for your liking, then this compilation is an excellent way to enjoy these beautiful songs.
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By Less Lee Moore
Danny Echo has been blessed with a great big rock and roll voice. This was apparent when I saw the band live at NXNE 2008: they played their hearts out and even though there were only a handful of people in the crowd at Lee’s Palace, you’d never know it by their enthusiasm.
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I received Kajagoogoo’s White Feathers at my 13th birthday party. I’d asked for it on cassette because my family and I were going to Disneyworld the next day and I wanted to be able to listen to it on my Walkman. (Ah, the pre-digital age when you had to have blank tapes handy and couldn’t just rip a CD to your hard drive and then transfer it to your MP3 player.)
By Adam McIntyre
At first it could just be chalked up to “he’s just a drunk redneck who suddenly is jonesing for some Skynyrd” but then Mike Judge popularized the cliché and it became pop culture turned inside out. Man-children, fueled by The One Time They Yelled It At Oak Mountain Ampitheater And The Whole Audience Laughed, undeterred by the nasty incident at Lilith Fair and presently ignorant of the lineup, truly believe that they are part of the night’s entertainment. Oh, but now a hipster is yelling it. Perhaps it’s a step further; he’s being ironic. He would actually hate it if Kasabian played “Freebird,” but two PBRs in and suddenly he has replaced “show us your tits” (the drunk boy mantra of choice in many situations) with a good old “Freeeeebird!” Again, you laughed at him once. This is your fault. He doesn’t own any Skynyrd, but the boys in that legendary southern rock band would agree: you should throw ice (or anything) at him. Extra points for hitting his girlfriend if he has one.
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By Lisa Anderson
The boys of Depeche Mode and I go way back. This relationship has had its ups and downs, but the romance has been rekindled. I was able to reconnect with them last month when they released Sounds Of The Universe, their first new album in four years.
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By M. Bevis
I’m not a big fan of television; you might even say that as I’ve gotten older, I’ve removed daily TV consumption from my life to the point where it is almost totally absent. I just can’t seem to sit through an entire show these days, mostly due to incessant advertising and the seizure-inducing graphics and attendant volume. But as a reformed couch potato, it isn’t easy kicking the habit. I still get my required fix of quality programming via the web or DVD. When my TV is actually switched on, you might catch me watching the news, or maybe the odd PBS special. But there is one show that always commands the remote, the only show that I am hopelessly, unapologetically addicted to: LOST.
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By Laura L.
I think it was Lynyrd Skynyrd who once sang about “that smell.” This smell, that smell, that other smell. There are good smells, like the smell of clothes after being dried using fabric softener. There are bad smells, like any gas station bathroom in the middle of nowhere. And then there is the smell that comes from my grandfather’s copy of Twenty-Four Hours A Day.
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