You must listen to 69 Love Songs. Magnetic Fields’ (aka Stephen Merritt’s) album that is at the zenith of the Magnetic Fields’ creative energies. Three CDs, chock full of swell pop songs with oodles of goofy lyrics, different styles and with a multitude of different themes based on l’amour. I told my granny, as I drove her to bingo in my Daewoo last Thursday, that the music we were listening to in the car was called “69 Love Songs.” She slapped me and said, “Filthy trash!” I love her, sure, but the slanderous comments she’s made throughout my young life have hurt. I mention to her, from time to time, that seniors commit suicide more than any other age group, minus teens, but she keeps playing bingo.
“Marx and Engels,” by Belle & Sebastian
“If I could see/That the girl just wants to be/Left alone with Marx and Engels for a while/She’s writing in the style/Of any riot girl.” Holy shit balls, did you hear THAT U.S. government?! Gonzales, lock her up! Terrorize her behind bars for the common good! She’s a wing nut! A threat! Shit balls!
Interesting group, Mew is. They’re from Denmark. They’re Danish. They’ve got this space pop vibe thing going on. It’s kind of popular amongst fans who like Danish space pop vibes. Jonas Bjerre, Bo Madsen, Johan Wohlert and Silas Graae won, in 2003, Album of the Year and Band of the Year at the Danish Music Critics Awards. My question then: How hard is it to win Band of the Year at the Danish Music Critics Awards? Who are they going up against? Yodelers? Harpists? That kick ass dude who plays the saw?!
“Mmm, Mmm, Mmm, Mmm,” by Crash Test Dummies
By no means do I consider myself a singer. But get me to a bowling alley bar and I will karaoke the shit out of this song. This one, and Alanis Morissette’s “Thank You.”
His great-great-grand uncle is Herman Melville, the author of Moby Dick and the less popular novella, Stevie the Narwhal. His father is Mr. Hall, because Moby was born Richard Hall. He received his monicker, Moby, when he was a kid and it’s a good name for a DJ electronica guy. Better than, say, Richard. His electronica-pop music has made him fammous. “Play” was a break out. “18” and “Hotel” solidified his stature.
Just like Moby, only purple.
Many of Mussogorsky’s works were unfinished when he died, and their editing and posthumous publication were mainly carried out by Rimsky-Korsakov, who, to a lesser degree, corrected what Mussogorsky had composed. “Boris Godunov,” for example, was reshaped and repolished with drastic cuts, wholesale rewriting and rescoring, insertion of new music and transposition of scenes. Just though you should know. Rimsky-Korsakov is a meddling bastard.