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by Eddie Satyago
Music is one of a few things that can be both disposable and irreplaceable. Think about how often you listen to music without giving it much thought, like when you’re shopping, going out to eat or drink, or driving in your car with the radio on.
I used to work for a radio station where we would give away CD samplers with one or two good songs and 6 or 7 bland rock songs that only appeared on there thanks to pay—I mean the station really believed in that singer-songwriter who happened to be related to or blackmailed the head of A&R at The Big Record Company owned by The Bigger Media Company. Leftover samplers were used as coasters in the office or we’d stuff them into prizes that would be shipped out to winners every week.
When I left commercial radio, I decided that I needed to appreciate music more. Even that mediocre singer-songwriter on the sampler didn’t deserve their life’s work to turn into a coaster for a soda made by a sponsor of the station.
Here are six albums (5 on CDs and 1 on vinyl) that I found while crate digging through various record stores, secondhand shops, garage sales, and other places where forgotten music has collected dust.
My favorite song is on this album. It’s “One Pure Thought.” It was love at first sound when I heard it in the spring of 2008. I was living in Orlando, working at Walt Disney World thanks to their college program. I was in my apartment cleaning the kitchen when the song appeared on an iTunes station I had on for background noise. I stopped wiping the kitchen counters to listen to this song. I downloaded the song as soon as it finished.
By the time I upgraded to a new laptop the following year, “One Pure Thought” was played almost 500 times, according to my iTunes library. In 2018, a full decade after its release, Made In The Dark was in the back room at Open Books Pilsen, in a row of movie soundtracks and other electronic music. At the time, CDs were $2 each and they were strongly suggesting cash.
I walked back to the car, pulled out the quarters I would use for toll roads and played the album in its entirety while enjoying a late afternoon summer drive. I miss both having a working CD player in my car AND to be able to just drive for awhile without breaking the bank.
by CHIRP Radio DJ and Features Co-Director Mick R (Listen to his most recent shows / Read his blog)
It's the same thing, day in, day out. Wake, go to work, have a dinner, go to bed. The in-between parts of these predictable, routine segments of your day are mostly filled in by mistakes, doubts, and compulsive behavior.
A couple of weeks, months, and years of this rat-in-a-wheel kind of plot can make anyone ready to throw themselves into traffic. Life can feel like one big bowl of gruel. Like one grey, undifferentiated mush. And it's this chain of stunted progression that Indiana's Jacky Boy are looking to break.
Comprised of drummer Mark Edlin, guitarist Zac Canale, and guitarist and vocalist Steve Marino, the Bloomington band has just released their second album Mush on Darling Recordings.
By plugging into the buzzy verve of late '90s and early '00s alternative rock and bringing the larger than life hooks of groups like Foo Fighters and Third Eye Blind back to the level of the oil stains on the floor of your parent's garage, they have drafted a set of enthusiastic power-pop that shows that speaks directly to the inner optimism of slackers everywhere. Just because life isn't going the way you'd hope it would, doesn't mean you can't bare its brunt with a genuine smile.
Winged Wheel – No Island (12XU)
Welcome to The Fourth Wall, CHIRP's e-conversation on cinema. This week's subject is the 2020 Oscar-winning film Nomadland.
This edition is written by CHIRP Radio volunteers Kevin Fullam and Clarence Ewing.
Kevin:
When you grow up with all the trappings of middle-class suburbia, it's hard to imagine a Shadow America out there, roaming the land. Poor neighborhoods? Sure. The homeless? Absolutely. But not three million transients (according to the BBC) who shuttle from town to town across our country, living out of their vehicles and subsisting on odd jobs along the way.
While you'd never describe these drifters as wealthy, they're largely not indigent either. And for the most part, their decisions to eschew the conventions of modern living don't seem to be born out of financial calamity. Theirs is a conscious lifestyle choice. Who are these people? What drives them? This is the backdrop of director Chloé Zhao's Nomadland, based on a 2017 novel of the same name by Jessica Bruder.
Like The Rider, Zhao's previous film, Nomadland might as well be cinéma vérité as it follows the life of Fern (Frances McDormand) while she travels the country in her rickety van. Outside of an intertitle which explains the collapse of her Nevada hometown following a mine closure, the exposition is minimal, and much of the film revolves around Fern's survival. Today's work might be at an Amazon distribution center, while next month's employer could be a state park. After that? Perhaps a gig as a line cook.
All the while, her van needs upkeep. Rinse. Repeat. Fern ain't the loquacious type, and her backstory is parceled out in dribs and drabs. Eventually you learn that she lost her husband right around the time when the town went under, which might account for her steely, detached disposition.
There is a chance that you have come across a song (or two, or so many more) that you enjoy and did not realize that it's either been covered by someone else or is a cover itself. We hope that this series allows you to appreciate both the original and the covers they have inspired, and to seek out and enjoy new music in the process.
We take a look at The Stone Roses’ signature song and how another band from across the sea from them made it their own decades later while sorta plugging some English footwear.
“I Wanna Be Adored” is the opening track from The Stone Roses’ 1989 self-titled debut album, and it is the perfect introduction for this English rock band. One of the most memorable bass lines in rock ‘n’ roll history, the buildup to the first verse is nothing short of pure joy. The lyrics are simple and to the point, with “I don't have to sell my soul/He's already in me” comprising half the lyrics.
The Stone Roses is a prime example of when a band’s spotlight shines a bit too bright very quickly and fades away almost as fast, either by circumstance or the band’s own undoing. By the end of 1989, they were on top of the charts, performing sold out shows at large theaters, and allowed numerous other neo-psychedelic rock bands to exist like the Charlatans UK and Happy Mondays.
By the end of 1990, they were fighting with their record label, Silvertone (which ended up in court, with the band winning) and taking their sweet time on their second (and final) studio album to follow-up their impressive debut.
The band split up in 1996 and though they have since reunited and toured (and split up again), sometimes it’s for the best when a band and its lead singer have reached their prime and remain in the past, like 8-tracks and MTV’s 120 Minutes.