Tag: Wilco

If you don’t like what Being Dead is playing at the moment, just wait five seconds.

I’ve been noticing a dry spell on covers making it onto the show, but that was busted tonight with an inordinate (and quite varied) set of songs, starting with Robyn Hitchcock’s take on the Small Faces’ “Itchycoo Park.” He’s got an album of mostly covers, specifically from the year 1967, on the way, and this single is blazing the way. Also covered tonight: David Bowie, Dire Straits, Duke Ellington, Daniel Johnston, and the Bar-Kays.

Sure, we’ve all heard of the Eiffel Tower, but what do we know about the architect whose name it bears? April March breaks it all down on this version of the Pixies’ song. Also in this show, a special-delivery track from Planets in the Ocean, a new project from one of my favorite vocalists, Robb Benson.

Why had I not heard of this Zach Hill (Death Grips, Hella) side project before? The I.L.Y.s hit a lot of my targets — noisy, harshly pop, and completely willing to blur the line between the analog and the digital. The video for tonight’s feature track is also something to behold, though I’d avoid it if you have a thing about bugs. Lots of bugs.

Yes, it’s the Drive-By Truckers, and they remain consistent to their deep Southern roots, but I had to keep checking the player to see who was sounding exactly like Dinosaur Jr. or riffing off Hall and Oates.

Coriky is three musicians crumpling up their resumes, throwing them to the floor, and showing you exactly what they can do.

The pair powered down the sand-skis as they approached the slight concavity in the beach that had been described by the vendor in the spice market. The cliffs of Levera National Park did not seem to be an ideal place for smugglers to congregate, but the actuary would be the first to admit they did not know the first thing about smugglers and their habits of congregation. The blacksmith was better versed in these things, and they didn’t seem to be bothered by where the assignment was taking them. As the morning fog absorbed the last echoes of the recently-killed engines, they marveled at the conical shape of Sugar Loaf rising above the azure Caribbean water.

There’s a handful of acts that can stand out in the vast prairie that makes up modern rural American music, transcending strummy acoustic guitars and introspective lyrics to make something deeper.

A brief taste of Iron and Wine’s evolving style, filling out the expected introspective strumming with updated production and a fuller “band” feel.

This southern gothic staple returns, with a bit less reverb but just as much agony and attitude.