Tag: Julian Lage

Club Makumba is hot, the drinks are strong, and you’re not ready to leave just yet.

When you set out to record a song that’s been famous, or popular, or claimed in some other way by some other artist, you are taking a shortcut with great risks and great rewards. Rarely can you pull it off the way Chicks On Speed do with their rendition of Cracker’s “Euro Trash Girl,” with a radical approach to deconstructing and reassembling the indie country hit. You’ll just have to hear for yourself.

The mechanical harvestman towered over the fig grove, its spindly arms tucked underneath as it towered over the fruit trees. The cryptobotanist aimed the infrared reader at the edge of the cultivated land, where the real Bhutan took over, hoping for even a quick glimpse. The landscape gave nothing in return. The operator’s headphones leaked the sound of some Turkish reggae, bounced from a satellite to overcome the foreboding mountains that ringed the valley. They both had patience to spare. The beast they were seeking had only one food source, located right here, and everyone’s gotta eat.

The landtrain rumbled over something bumpy. Probably a hill, thought the conductor, as they made their way down the gently swaying aisle, digital holepuncher out, ready to process the ticket. The passenger, sole occupant of the car, sat oblivious, staring out the window at the landscape rushing twenty feet below, the faint sounds of some Slovakian cumbia leaking out of the expensive earbuds. “Ticket please?” The passenger startled, and reached for the sleek titanium briefcase, its embedded digital timer declaring to everyone that it held no ordinary cargo.

The first mate adjusted the sails, letting out some wind to keep both skids on the sand. The sun shone down like a hole punched in a blast furnace someone painted blue, the radio broadcasting its gypsy salsa above the hiss of the sandmaran's travel. Leaning on the tiller, the captain let out a yell of warning as they crested a dune, gaining air for a brief moment. They still didn’t have a plan for replacing the statue, but they had a thousand miles of desert to work something out.

High-order guitar instrumentals more concerned with melody and expression than pyrotechnics. Truly ear-opening.

Did Jeff Rosenstock manage to find an unrecorded Ramones song? "Beating My Head Against A Wall" sure sounds like it, and that is 1,000% a compliment.

I'm really going to miss Sharon's voice and her uncompromising work ethic.