Heavy Rotation: Jan & Dean, No Age, the Stooges + More

Death and sexual mayhem are the subtexts we're working with for this edition of Heavy Rotation. As always, the jukebox's on the homepage and the angst is in your heart.

Jan & Dean, "Dead Man's Curve"
I love surf a whole lot, but nowhere near as much as I'll love surf in a couple months from now: my annual bout of SoCal-centricity tends to reach its fever pitch around mid-July, for obvious reasons. Jan & Dean's tragically unrecognized Drag City is one of my all-time favorite records; its a proto-concept album about all the different types of cars (hearses, "schlock rods," Stingrays, Popsicle trucks) and all the different things you can do in said cars (drag race, give girls the time, drag race). "Dead Man's Curve" is one of the most breathtaking songs I've ever heard, and is easily the most melodramatic pop song of the sixties. It's one of my favorite songs to DJ- it's fun to watch people's faces go ashen at the theatrical intro, then flip out as it reaches its thrilling climax. This song is also pretty amazing to walk around listening to on headphones, if you're able to resist the urge to act out a pantomime of the hyper-engaging narrative. I rarely am. So if you ever see me running down the street punching the air and miming a car crash, you can safely bet that there I was, on "Dead Man's Curve." (Laura)

Kasenetz-Katz Super Circus, "Quick Joey Small"
This is the second-most punk rock song of all time, trumped only by Count Five's "Psychotic Reaction." That's all. (Laura)

No Age, "Things I Did When I Was Dead"
If you're into doing as you're told, you will have already purchased a copy of No Age's new record Nouns by this point. And if not, maybe this track will urge you in the right direction. You could get the record on iTunes, but then you'd miss out on its accompanying booklet of beautiful pictures, so better to head on down to your local record store or Insound or wherevs else you please. I fully guarantee that more of those slasher-movie effects and droney vocals and really pretty guitar will await you there, along with poppier/slammier stuff like "Ripped Knees" (which probably ties "Things I Dead When I Was Dead" for my personal favorite track off Nouns). It's all so triumphantly great, I've been spinning it even more than the new Madonna - and I LOVE the new Madonna!! (Liz)

The Beta Band, "Dry the Rain"
Speaking of record stores and Nouns, I was kinda hoping that when I went to dutifully buy my second copy at Amoeba on Tuesday, the checkout person would look at the CD and go "This is good," just so I could answer with a semi-smug/dickish "I know" a la John Cusack in High Fidelity. He does that a few times throughout the film, but the best is in the "Dry the Rain" scene. I'm not totally sure why, but that 30-second bit is one of my favorite parts in the whole movie - maybe it has do with my getting some possibly perverse pleasure out of watching people listen to music. I also adore that self-satisfied yet secretly curious expression on John Cusack's face as he glances around the store - totally priceless. Oh, and the song's just golden and so hopeful in that springtime-perfect sort of way. The Beta Band e bom! (Liz)

The Stooges, "Dirt"
I'm only doing one song this week, but it's like seven minutes long so it's like two tracks in one! How economical! Anyway, I feel like I should issue a warning before you listen to this. Don't worry, there aren't any really offensive lyrics or anything like that, unless the idea of Iggy Pop singing about how he's dirt but he's okay with it unnerves you in any way. Then you might not want to listen, because that's pretty much all he says here. No, I must warn you because this sexy, sweaty hot mess of a rock dirge might incite you to leap over your cubicle wall and make out with that guy from Sales or something. So be careful, okay? You never know what the Stooges will make you get up to or get down with; that's why they're so awesome. (Kat)

Heavy Rotation: Van Dyke Parks, Imperial Teen, the Black Angels + More!

We always take the "mixed-up" maxim of fashion at heart here at nogoodforme.com, and so we've got nearly everything this week: perfect pop gems from the 60s, sexy Euro faux-disco, straight-up rock stompers and French chanteuses. (Okay, we don't have everything, but one day one of us will find that perfectly compact black-metal-meets-Motown hit and then our Heavy Rotation collection will be complete.) As always, hit it up at the jukebox on our homepage and let us know what you think!

Van Dyke Parks, "Do What You Wanta"
This song exemplifies precisely why I am incapable of "getting over" the sixties. Songs just aren't this good anymore! I don't know- maybe all the A+ melodies that exist were used up forty years ago, and now songwriters are stuck with D-grade hooks for the rest of eternity? It amazes me that this little kicker is only one minute and fifty-nine seconds long; in a spirit similar to "She Loves You," it packs those two short minutes densely full of fun, folly, gaiety and unabashed positivity. Van Dyke Parks' intensely adorable speech impediment doesn't come across so much on Song Cycle, but on this 1966 single, his delivery sounds sweetly askew, as does a toddler's. His blissful pronunciation of "Waw-awn-ta" strikes a chord with my maternal instinct in a way that I can safely say no other rock song ever has. (Laura)

Mirwais, "Disco Science"
I haven't gotten the new Madonna record yet and I feel real bad, since it's been out a whole three days and all. Instead I'm revisiting Music, which was produced by Mirwais, whom I know virtually nothing about except that he's responsible for this piece of genius I scored off the Snatch soundtrack. Snatch is basically pretty bad (sorry, Mr. Madonna!), but I was mega-obsessed when it came out, mostly because I either wanted to be Benicio Del Toro or at least go out with Benicio Del Toro. Still, there's a whole bunch of pretty killer scenes, especially the Dog vs. Rabbit one that "Disco Science" plays in. Plus, all songs ever created should totally sample "Cannonball," don't you think? (Liz)

The Raveonettes, "Lust"
I predict I'm going to post nearly every song on this record eventually, that's how much I'm digging the latest Raveonettes record. This song is like a perfect introduction to this band: it has this sugary girl-group pop core, but it's dressed up in the noise of nihilism and despair. If that's too high-concept for you, here's a more poetic take: it sounds like L.A. at night, when you've got a sunshine hangover from the day and are settling into your desolate high-rise at dusk. And if that's too obtuse to get a grasp on: this song is great to make out to. If that doesn't help you grasp the gorgeous core of how this song works, well, I can't help you at all. (Kat)

Imperial Teen, "Yoo Hoo"
My favorite thing about Imperial Teen is that the one time I went to see them - fall of '96, opening for the Lemonheads in Providence - Roddy Bottum and I had the same shirt on. It was this ugly, white-stripe-collared, red polyester short-sleeve I'd found at a Salvation Army in my hometown, and somehow Roddy had chosen to wear the exact same thing on the exact same night. Magic! Anyway, they played "Yoo Hoo" during that show, even though What Is Not to Love was a few years away from being released - I remember staring up at one of the amazon girls in the band as she sang the back-up vocal, completely gaga for her. I've kind of lost track of Imperial Teen over the years, but this album and Seasick still sound boss to me. (Liz)

The Black Angels, "Young Men Dead"
I was going to post a Black Angels song from their latest record, Directions To See A Ghost, but alas, the opening section of it was so eerily similar to Liz's Imperial Teen track that it was weird. (Does this prove Laura's theory that top-grade melodies were used up four decades ago? I have no idea.) So instead I'll give you the opener of their last record, Passover, which is gloriously anthemic swamp-rock at its sexed-up best. You can debate all about the relevance of rock 'n roll and the death of guitar-based music or whatnot, but the song just rocks, and sometimes that is all you really need in a track. (Kat)

Sylvie Vartan, "Baby Capone"
If I were facing off with Frank Sinatra at a roulette table in Monaco circa 1963, I would tip the cocktail waitress and request she put this song on while getting me my next Bloody Mary. In this fantasy, my name would be Baby Capone, and I'd wear red lipstick and probably overdo it on the leopard print. This song is uncanny in its ability to evoke the semblance of a time or place that I can feel, though don't necessarily understand. I listen to a lot of music from The Past, and mostly it just sounds like "good" or "music" to me; this historical relic of a pop song, however, has a compelling and sort of spooky energy that makes you feel like you've been transported back to the days of jet-setting, white collar crime-heavy, James Bond-ian livin'. This single's B-side, "Zum Zum Zum," is equally nostalgically fascinating; perhaps more appropriate for soundtracking those hazy, lazy long-ago afternoons I spent tanning on a yacht wearing a white monokini while Dean Martin fed me strawberries. Oh, those were the days! (Laura)

Heavy Rotation: Os Mutantes, Tommy Roe, Linval Thompson + More!

We've got everything full of sunshine and wonder this week: tropicalia, super-sweet psych-pop, an old school ganja anthem and Jay-Z. Hit it up on our homepage as per usual!

Tommy Roe, "Moontalk"
Once, when I was working at a secondhand children's shop in Brooklyn, someone sold us a Cold War-era Golden Book about a little boy who dreamed of becoming an astronaut. My boss and I sat behind the cash reading it aloud to one another; we both gasped at the book's closing sentiment: "My dream," said the boy, "is to go to the Moon. No man has ever set foot on the Moon, but one day soon, America will!" or something similar. It really was a "trip," in the truest sense of that word's colloquial usage. "Moontalk" by Tommy Roe is the bubblegum pop equivalent of that pre-Apollo kid's book; hearing people from the past talk about the future is always brilliantly uncanny. This song positively drips with synthy molasses-esque sweetness, and is so catchy it makes "Dizzy" sound like David Banner. (Laura)

Os Mutantes, "Baby"
Did I mention that I loved Forgetting Sarah Marshall? It's true! My favorite musical components of the movie were those performed by Jason Segel, especially the extemporized angry piano ballad about his needing to see a psychiatrist, but the rest of the soundtrack's pretty all right too. For one, there's this sweet little flashback montage of lovey moments set to "Baby" by Os Mutantes, everybody's favorite Brazilian tropicalia band from the 1960s. The problem with me and Os Mutantes is that, whenever I remember they exist, I get wicked excited and play Everything is Possible till I'm SO SICK of it and never want to hear it again. I'm trying to resist that this time. Anyway, I've always loved "Baby" most for its oddball attempts at lyrical seduction: "You must try the new ice cream flavor," "Look here, read what I wrote on my shirt." Those sound like things I'd say. (Liz)

Calla, "Stealth"
Do you hear that evil laugh? That's me -- now that I've outed my crush on Calla, I feel suddenly liberated to spread the gospel of their music everywhere. This jewel of a track is actually one of their more obscure bits, but it's got all the prerequisite elements of their music that I love: intriguing soundscapes, twist-y song structure, sinewy guitar work that's super-subtle but super-hot, vague yet suggestive vocals, and a penchant for mysterious one-word titles. It's kind of like if Can did a really sexy film noir or spy movie soundtrack or something, which is just about the most perfect thing I can imagine these days. (Kat)

Linval Thompson, "Jamaican Colley (Version)"
You know how the weather gets all nice and all the college kids decamp en masse to the quad to sit in the grass and play hackey sack? And you know how there's always that one dude who brings out his acoustic guitar to play Bob Marley? Well, if that guy were really cool, he'd play Linval Thompson instead, who was way more hardcore and trippy than Marley. I mean, just listen to the passion and conviction beginning with the first line of this song! This guy really loves marijuana! Shit is crazy! (Kat)

Jay-Z, "U Don't Know"
There's a lot of Jay-Z energy in my life lately, which is never a bad thing. On the contrary, it's probably one of the best things in all the world. I'm getting re-obsessed with The Blueprint right now and "U Don't Know" is maybe my favorite track - I like to put it on my headphones and pretend that Jay-Z is either my financial advisor or spiritual mentor or some hybrid of the two. Also, last week I received news that made me feel less than powerful, and "U Don't Know" is always great at making me feel totally mighty all over again. (Liz)

Ananda Shankar, "Jumpin' Jack Flash"
If I were trapped alone in a recording studio for two weeks, forced at gunpoint (or not at gunpoint) to arrange, produce and engineer my own solo album, I'd probably end up with fifteen songs that sounded exactly like this, only with stupider lyrics and scuzzier bass. It would be the most important album ever made. This is the best song to listen to at an obscenely loud volume when you're getting ready in the morning. It actually provides its listener with an adrenaline rush akin to how you might feel after your longest-running rock star crush just asked you for your hand in marriage. It hypes me up so bad that I end up doing things like running across the length of my apartment at full-speed and then taking a flying leap into the front door and injuring myself. Totally worth it. (Laura)

Heavy Rotation: S.F. Seals, Black Sabbath, The Real Kids

Being the complex emotional creatures that we are, this edition of Heavy Rotation dresses up heartbreak and sadness in the guise of pure pop magic. (Well, except for the Sabbath track; that's just full-on angst.) As per usual, check it out on the top-right corner of our homepage.

The S.F. Seals, "S.F. Sorrow"
A few weeks ago I was in a bar and the original version of this song (which is by The Pretty Things, FYI) came on the stereo, and I realized it'd been waaaay too long since I'd listened to the S.F. Seals. The problem with the Seals is they can be kind of forgettable like that. And the bigger problem is that most people probably never knew about them in the first place, which is a crying shame, cuz they were so great. Or maybe everyone in the world totally knows about the S.F. Seals and goes around thinking about them all the time, and I'm the one with the big problems. Just in case that's not the deal, though, allow me to inform you that this is the opener on 1995's Truth Walks in Sleepy Shadows, and it would very much behoove you to go to iTunes right now and buy yourself this track, along with "Ipecac" and "Pulp" (aka one of the greatest breakup songs ever written). (Liz)

Sinead O'Connor, "Jump in the River"
When I was uploading "S.F. Sorrow" for the jukebox, I entered the word "sorrow" into the little "Choose File" field, and the first mp3 that showed up was Sinead's "You Cause As Much Sorrow." So then I was all, "Yeah! A sorrow-themed Heavy Rotation this week!" But that's kind of a drag of a theme, and anyway "You Cause As Much Sorrow" isn't much of a jukebox song. Not a lot of Sinead O'Connor songs are meant for the jukebox, but "Jump in the River" totally works: I wish she'd done more rock-ish stuff like this and "Mandinka" instead of putting out a record of jazz and pop standards next, but oh well. I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got came out when I was 12 and I remember being really freaked out when she sang that lyric about "the times we did it so hard/There was blood on the wall." The cartoon-gunshot sound effect is a nice touch, too. (Liz)

The Kinks, "Yes Sir No Sir"
I am in the exact middle of Ray Davies' autobiography, and I am just so curious to find out how the hell the Kinks got from "You Really Got Me" to this. Arthur (Or The Rise and Fall of the British Empire) is laughably heavy-handed in the consistency with which Davies applies a "damn the man" sentiment to near every last moment. Ray Davies is not a genius, which is kind of what makes him great. I don't even want to know what this song would sound like if it was written by an actual genius! This song totally hits me; when I lived in a converted 19th-century opera house in Bushwick, there was a really shoddy gym in the basement and sometimes I would blast this exact song as I ran on the treadmill and would FREAK OUT adrenalined-ly at "Give the scum a gun and make the bugger fight" lyric and then think, "Wow, Laura, you are so cool for being the only person in the world, probably, whose number one workout jam is "Yes Sir No Sir" by the Kinks." (Laura)

The Real Kids, "Common at Noon"
This is the saddest song there is. I can barely even listen to this song 90% of the time because I know if I do I'll start to cry a little bit. I used to to play this song at four in the morning when I used to DJ -- there'd be nobody in the whole bar except for me, my co-DJ, and a bunch of old winos. I'd stare into my vodka-grapefruit and think about everything sad that ever happened to me, all the while struggling to keep my eyes open from extreme fatigue. (Laura)

Lush, "Ciao!"
This duet with Jarvis Cocker of Pulp is probably one of the bounciest "fuck you after the breakup" songs ever, when you declare yourself completely over someone and how you can't have ever imagined being all into them and What were you thinking? and Everything is so much better now that they're gone from my life! The thing is, after listening to this song a few times, you really start to believe it all because the track is so ridiculously buoyant and you've danced around the room about a million times as it played ad nauseum on your stereo. And then you don't need the song as much anymore, which of course is a beautiful thing. (Kat)

Black Sabbath, "Changes"
From one of the perversely happy break-up songs to one of the genuinely saddest, brought to you by none other than Ozzy Osbourne and company. Really, there is nothing more to be said about Black Sabbath except that they are heavy and awesome, and you really need to stop reading this blog and starting listening to Paranoid if you haven't been schooled in all matters Sabbath. Then come back to nogoodforme.com after the sound has been etched into the dark recesses of the soul. You will completely understand everything, and I can finally have that Ronnie James Dio vs. Ozzy Osbourne lead singer debate I've always wanted to have. (Kat)

Heavy Rotation: Margo Guryan, Helium, Elastica + More!

Margo Guryan, "Sunday Morning"
What is so damned great about Sunday mornings that so many musicians feel compelled to pen odes heralding its utter fabulosity? Personally, I think Sunday mornings suck. They're boring. I'm always in an especially bad mood on Sunday mornings because I know everything is going to close at 5 PM and so am unmotivated to even bother trying to go out. And then there's the unbearable tension that arises from knowing tomorrow is work and/or school and that any peace you may find in the moment is fleeting and will soon be painfully disrupted. If I were going to write a song about a particularly pleasant time of the week, it would probably be called "Thursday Evening at 9 PM" because that is when new Lost episodes play. But all that aside, this song is swoony, dreamy girl-pop at its apex, and if I were ever going to totally cornball out and listen to a Sunday AM glorification tune on actual Sunday morning, I would pick this one over the Velvet Underground's in a half a heartbeat. (Laura)

The Charlatans, "Number One"
This song has been my theme song since the first time I heard it. In my not-even-the-tiniest-bit-humble opinion, The Charlatans are the most overlooked band of the 1960s, which I believe is because they were just too perfect to make much of an impact in a musical climate defined by charming imperfections and anti-structuralist tendencies. Plus there is the whole draggy coincidence of the boringest band of Britpop, The Charlatans (UK) accidentally ripping off their name and making it impossible to productively e-research the first Charlatans. My favorite thing about this song is how the lead singer spends the majority of the lyric discussing how he wants to kill himself pronto, yet his delivery is yawny, blase and even kind of uplifting! Definitely the chillest song about suicide ever written. (Laura)

Helium, "Ancient Cryme"
In celebration of my finally posting the Mary Timony interview I conducted a thousand years ago, I decided to post one of my favorite-ever Helium songs. This is off The Magic City, which came out my junior year of college; I remember playing it on my car stereo while driving onto campus with a friend, and when "Ancient Cryme" came on she said to me, "This song sounds like you, like 'la la la, la la la'!" I still take that as a big huge compliment. Also around that time I saw Helium for the second time, the first being when they opened up for Sonic Youth at Lupo's Heartbreak Hotel in '96, and Cibo Matto were playing next door and sort of crashed the show and played a whole set, with Sean Lennon on whatever instrument it is that Sean Lennon plays. It was my first Helium experience and I thought they were boring, but that's almost entirely because I was stupid 18-year-old. Helium are actually the opposite of boring. I miss them so. (Liz)

Sonic Youth, "Purr"
Speaking of Sonic Youth! I'm still on my retroactive Thurston Moore crush and listening to Dirty and Washing Machine a wicked lot. Dirty's the first SY album I ever bought; I had it on cassette and it took me a while to get all the way to "Purr" cuz I'd usually just play "Nic Fit" over and over. I think "Purr" is kinda overlooked in general, but whenever I actually remember it exists I get super-excited and dance around a little. It's probably one of the most rawk Sonic Youth songs out there, without being all that rawk at all in the grand scheme of things. And if they'd kept on making more pop stuff like this I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have ever started sporadically hating them, but I guess the upside is that sporadically hating Sonic Youth leaves time for lots of other fun things. So it all evens out in the end. Thanks, gang. (Liz)

Elastica, "Never Here"
Elastica's self-titled debut record from 1995 is so underrated, but it's probably one of the best records of that decade. It manages to ooze both the post-punk stylishness and pure pop perfection that could have made this band the Blondie of the new millenium; if it had come out in 2003 amidst the dance-punk phase of indie bullshit, it'd have kicked all those records' asses in a "Wire-and-Buzzcocks-Referencing Records Death Match" or something. The thing no one wants to admit is that while Elastica copped from all those rock dude bands like the aforementioned Wire or the Clash or the Stranglers, Elastica was ten times better in one record because of their hooks, their playful sexiness and a secret weapon in the form of Justine Frischmann, a dark-eyed, foxy tomboy whose nonchalance at her general rockingness revealed how the "Women in Rock" label was as condescending as it was. This song is the longest on their first record, but it's epic and vulnerable and kind of perfect. (Kat)

Thrones, "Django"
This song just makes me laugh. I picture this crazy video where some guy sings in a bad wig and a wrestling costume in a bowling alley; I don't know why. It's like it should be the theme song of a Alejandro Jodorowsky movie or something. (Did you ever see El Topo? Nutso, dudes.) Instead, this track is actually a cover of the theme from a 1966 Italian spaghetti western starring an impossibly charming actor who once told me I was really pretty. (Not in 1966, though; I wasn't alive yet.) Thrones are a one-man sludgy metal outfit from Joe Preston, a guy who used to be in the Melvins. I don't know if he ever performed this cover in a costume when it came out in 2000, but he should have. (Kat)

Heavy Rotation: Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young

Yes, it's practically Neil Young Day here at nogoodforme.com. In honor of our final, most beloved style icon. It's almost required we do a Heavy Rotation that's all Neil, all the time, no? As always: top right, homepage, where you will find our especially-for-you Neil-y goodness. Swoon!

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, "Helpless"
I first heard this song when Patti Smith sang it to me (and about a thousand other cats) in beautiful Boulder last August. I don't know how I nearly made it all the way through the first three decades of my life without ever experiencing "Helpless" before, but I like to think there's a reason it came to me when it did. (What that reason might be, we're still not totally sure.) Anyway, I figured we should get at least one weeper in here, and this one definitely qualifies. But like all the best epically sad songs, it's just as quietly exhilarating as it is heartachey (which essentially sums up everything I love most about listening to Neil Young). "Helpless" is off of the oh-so-classic Deja Vu by CSNY, and all those dreamy background vocals should just take your breath all the more. (Liz)

Neil Young, "Revolution Blues"
Exactly one year ago, I was living in Bushwick with an evil roommate who I loathed so hard that I forced myself to leave the house every day so I wouldn't have to see or speak to him. I would wake up at around ten in the morning, take the train into Manhattan, and spend my days traipsing aimlessly about the city until around ten at night, listening to On the Beach and Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere on headphones, over and over and over. Out of every brilliant song on both of those albums, "Revolution Blues" was the one that saved my life. No matter how many people stared at me like I was a weirdo, I could not help but mouth spitefully along to "Well, I hear that Laurel Canyon/Is full of famous stars/But I hate them worse than lepers/And I'll kill them in their cars." I always say that everything is the best whatever-it-is of all time and am usually exaggerating, but that lyric is the best use of the rhyming couplet I've ever heard, of all time, in my entire life. (Laura)

Neil Young, "Cinnamon Girl (Live)"
I had to make one of my Neiler-themed "Heavy Rotation" selections a track off of Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, as that's the record that birthed my obsession with Neil and still remains my favorite today. The song that lured me in is "Cowgirl in the Sand," heard for the first time on my car radio a few winters ago (in my mind, this all happened while I was driving deep in the barren desert, but in actuality I was heading home from a bar in Glendale). That one's probably my number-one Neil song, but I'd feel kind of blasphemous being responsible for bringing it to your ears via anything but your own car radio (so maybe you could just go buy the song yourself and then play it next time you're cruising through the desert and/or the dusty streets of Glendale, California). But yeah, "Cinnamon Girl"! I picked it because it's the opener for Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, because it's perfect for jumping around to, and because I like to pretend it's about me. Also, the sleeve art for the 45 is just to die for. (Liz)

Neil Young, "Computer Age"
"Computer Age" was the first Neil Young song I ever went out of my way to listen to, which is weird because it is such a huge misrepresentation of everything I eventually grew to treasure about his music. This song is from Trans, his synthesizer and vocoder-heavy 1983 long-player, an album so utterly un-Neil that stupid David Geffen sued him for releasing uncharacteristic music with no commercial viability. Get a life, David Geffen! It may be a bit of an oddity, but this song RULES. Sonic Youth did a semi-okay cover of it in 1989 that sounds like every other Sonic Youth song, but whatever- compared to Neil, Thurston Moore is NOTHING. (Laura)

Neil Young and Crazy Horse, "Cortez the Killer"
It's so hard to pick just two Neil Young songs, and I've surprised myself this time by not picking the love/heartbreak songs that I'm usually over the moon for. (Lately, it's all the songs from the unreleased Homegrown record from 1975, like "Homefires." Damn, that song hurts.) But how can you neglect this genuine masterpiece? Slint did a cover of it, that's how fucking awesome the song is. The truth is, Neil Young with Crazy Horse is just kind of the best stuff ever. You get your sensitive Neil, and then you get your punk-rock crazy Neil. Both Neils are necessary and key to a balanced existence. I don't know how this song can both amble and yet completely rock, but it does. It only proves he's the best. Duh! (Kat)

Neil Young, "Throw Your Hatred Down"
This song is from the era where I had the least amount of Neil consciousness in life -- when I was too busy listening to music made by overwrought post-adolescent males or asexual indie popsters to even pay attention to anything on a major label. (I knew there was a reason why life sucked back then.) I was a total snob, and therefore had no patience for a record made with dudes from Pearl Jam. But finding this acoustic recording a few years ago made me realize that it doesn't matter who Neil Young makes music with, something about his phrasing and melodies will always be pure and beautiful. This is obviously one of Neil's "political" songs, but it's rendered as a gorgeously fragile one here, reminding us how things like hope have to be fought for and protected like everything else. (Kat)

Heavy Rotation: Alice Cooper, Bell Biv Devoe, Lizzy Mercier Descloux

This edition of Heavy Rotation is brought to you by the springtime sunshine and the voices of 1990s alt-rock angels. And of course, all songs are located in the jukebox there on the top right of our homepage.

Alice Cooper, "Sun Arise"
Here's what I used to think of when I thought of Alice Cooper: Milwaukee is Algonquin for "the good land"; that Marriott commerical where Alice is jumping rope with the little kids; and the episode of Freaks and Geeks where Mr. Rosso (who I sometimes run into at the bank and the health-food store) sings "I'm Eighteen." Then I read Laurel Canyon: The Inside Story of Rock-and-Roll's Legendary Neighborhood by Michael Walker (who we never got to thank for deeming us foxy - thank you, Michael!) and discovered that Alice's got some serious Laurel Canyon roots. So last week I bought Love it to Death used at Amoeba and quickly became obsessed with "Sun Arise," the mellowed-out closing track. I'm guessing it's one of most Laurel Canyon-y songs in the Alice Cooper catalogue, as it's wicked sing-along-able and full of "whoa-oh-oh"s and so lyrically perfect for welcoming the springtime sunshine. (Liz)

The Lemonheads, "My Drug Buddy"
One of my unrealized goals for SXSW was to catch one of the Lemonheads' shows. I've seen them lotsa times, but the most exciting one was at Lupo's Heartbreak Hotel in the fall of 1996: My friend and I accidentally met Evan Dando beforehand and asked him to play "My Drug Buddy" and he said surrrrre and was just generally a cutie-pie dollface dreamboat. And then we met him again a few months later and he was far less adorable and sort of sexually harassed a 15-year-old. And then the next time we saw him he was so out of his mind he fell off the stage mid-show. So it was all kind of grisly downward spiral, but last time I saw him - singing for the MC5 in 2004 - he totally had it together and all was pretty much forgiven. Anyway, "My Drug Buddy" will forever have a special place in my heart; I still get a little goosebumpy when Juliana Hatfield comes in on the second verse. (Liz)

Ultra Vivid Scene, "Special One"
I have fond memories of taping episode upon episode of "120 Minutes" on MTV and trading the videocassettes (!!!) back and forth with friends throughout early junior high and high school. There's a certain kind of band that I associate with the seminal alternative music show, the kind where the guitars jangle amiably and the vocals are sort of wispy and imperfect and wry and witty: Kitchens of Distinction, Aztec Camera, that sort of thing. But the video for this song stands out the most for me in that grainy blur of memory, if only for the perfection of Kurt Ralske's early-90s floppy quasi-skater haircut and a beaming, adorable Kim Deal sitting and singing along next to him, resting her head on his shoulder and being cool and completely fucking cute. Ah, how things change: Ralske went on to become a fancy video artist and a visual art professor and Kim Deal went on to be a bit of a mess, but for a shining moment in 1990 they sang together on this valentine-in-a-bottle and were everything I wanted in love. (Kat)

The Move, "Fire Brigade"
Roy Wood, the singer/songwriter/wacky-pants genius behind The Move, is a household name in the United Kingdom. This is one of the many billion reasons why Great Britain is cooler than North America (another one is that their Diet Cherry Coke tastes waybetter.) The Move are one of the only groups of the late-sixties that came close to hitting McCartney-level catchiness. Actually, they're one of the only groups who even bothered to try, so extra kudos for that, Roy. Songs as good as "Fire Brigade" are the reason why pop music was invented. This song is as delightful as British Diet Cherry Coke, American Diet Cherry Coke, Regular Cherry Coke (both British and American), regular cherries, maraschino cherries, and a decadent chocolate sundae mixed together. With a cherry on top. (Laura)

Lizzy Mercier Descloux, "Mais Ou Sont Passes Les Gazelles?"
My love for this song is somewhat dogged by my belief that it was playing in the background for the entire duration of the vacation my family took to Orlando when I was six years old. I am incapable of listening to it without my mind's eye insisting on visualizing my childhood self sitting poolside beneath palm trees and wearing a Mickey Mouse t-shirt that changes color from neon purple to neon orange when you breathe on it. Realistically, it is highly doubtful that "Mais Ou Sont Passes Les Gazelles?" was playing at any point during said Disneyworld vacay, but it should have been. Lizzy invented Worldbeat five years before glimmers of "Graceland" even appeared in Paul Simon's mind. I listened to this song over and over a few nights ago when Montreal was subjected to a mid-March blizzard of epic proportions, and it granted me momentary respite from Winter Hell. It makes you feel like you just drank a Pina Colada, rode Space Mountain, and swam with the dolphins, even though all you really did was rent Season Two of Veronica Mars from the video store and get snow in your boot. (Laura)

Bell Biv Devoe, "Do Me"
A friend of mine was visiting last week, and as what happens often, our conversation often turned to music. In between discussing Finnish avant-rock and whether or not Motorhead is better than AC/DC, talk turned to what Bell Biv Devoe song was better: "Do Me" or "Poison." He picked "Poison," and while I wasn't really ready to commit to an opinion, I can't deny that "Do Me" was always my favorite of the two. "Poison" does have that awesomely skittering beat and a proper song structure, and the harmonies between these former members of New Edition make the track a new jack swing classic. But "Do Me" is kind of sweatier with a dead-proper groove, and the way the boys just sort of lose their shit or get preoccupied with all the things they want to do to your (hypothetical) body sort of hint at a libidinal agony that transformed their image from scrubbed-clean bubblegum kids to dudes who really, really, really like girls. "Do Me" has just enough cheesiness and perv factor to keep things eternally interesting. And points for mentioning the Swatch watch, too. (Kat)

Heavy Rotation: Raveonettes, Brakes, Kaleidoscope

After a few Heavy Rotations, it's kind of clear what our roles are: Liz brings California sunshine and spark, Laura mines beautiful nostalgia and I am the bringer of darkness. Right on! The following tracks are at the jukebox, dudes, top right on our homepage. Enjoy!

The Raveonettes, "Aly, Walk With Me"
I always pegged my feelings for the Raveonettes between degrees of "okay" and "just fine," but something about their new record Lust Lust Lust really amazes me. Their game is completely tight now, and the result is sex and death in a way that doesn't exist in the often limpid likes of most indie rock. It's like they take the sunniest pop tropes and damage and demolish them with distortion. Like Jesus and Mary Chain channeling a 60s girl group, yes, but underneath those ghostly-sweet harmonies, this song is totally hot and desperate and shyly sincere. Perfect to put on eyeliner to, perfect to make out to. But I'm sure you figured that out. (Kat)

Brakes, "You're So Pretty"
For a while now I've been working on this piece of fiction that I hope to send out into the world at some point in the not-terribly-distant future. (Care to publish me? Anyone?) In the movie I'm watching in my head, this song is playing while some adorable science-nerd boy rides his bike around a half-ugly beach town very early in the morning. Brakes really know how to set the mood; totally track down their lovely covers of "Sometimes Always" by Jesus and Mary Chain and "Jackson" by Johnny Cash if you can. (Liz)

Kaleidoscope, "Flight From Ashiya"
If you looked up '60s psych in an audio-dictionary, this song would surely be playing. While their slightly more well-known "A Dream For Julie" is more along the lines of hippie-dippie sunshine & rainbows style psych (even featuring the lyric Strawberry monkeys are smiling for Julie), "Flight from Ashiya" is more Tibetan prayer flags, Beatles-in-Rishikesh, and the rising dawn. I mean, really, it actually sounds like the sound of the sun rising. (Laura)

Lyme & Cybelle, "Follow Me"
Is there anything better in this world than a flawlessly-executed boy vs. girl vocal switch-off? Lyme & Cybelle are a short-lived and super-early-early project of Warren Zevon's (he's Lyme), who I know absolutely nothing about, except for that I really love his work on Lyme & Cybelle's "Follow Me". This song is plaintive and delightful, a bit of a chameleon really- it always sounds perfect, no matter what mood you're in or what season it happens to be. (Laura)

Lucas, "Lucas With The Lid Off"
When I was 15 or something I babysat every afternoon for the little brother of one of The Most Popular Boys In School. The kid and I used to play basketball and dance around a lot to MTV, and one of the songs we dug most was "Lucas With The Lid Off." (He also really fancied "Cantaloop" by US3, but whenever "Dirty Deeds" by AC/DC came on the radio he'd literally roll on the floor laughing, for whatever reason.) I'd forgotten all about Lucas till very recently, but this track still sounds all new and fresh, and the video (directed by Michel Gondry) is way worth revisiting. (Liz)

Scientist, "Dance of the Vampires"
People argue whether or not Scientist Rids the World of the Curse of the Evil Vampires is the best dub album of all time. I'm going to say yes because the record is pure insanity in a genre already noted for its head trips and loopiness. Dub isn't right unless it's sinister and haunting and soul-devouring but (and this is important) kind of goofy. This song lilts and drifts seductively into the rest of the record, which turns kind of nightmarish and crazy-cakes and gets all Donnie Darko-like. No wonder they used it in the Grand Theft Auto III game. (Which, by the way, Scientist received no royalties for. Thanks a lot, Rockstar Games!) (Kat)

Heavy Rotation: Heroin, the Duke Spirit, Cher and More!

It's like Entertainment Day at nogoodforme.com, but don't worry -- we'll have more pretty pictures of what's coming out of Milan later tonight. Until then, skew yourself solid with a whiplash mix that veers from pure noise to sweetest 60s-flavored pop to a honey-voiced indie ballad. It's at the usual place, right there at the top right of our homepage. Enjoy!

Heroin, "In General"
Someday, someone will write an big important book on the importance of mid-90s Gravity Records bands within some slipstream yet oddly influential strand of cultural history. Till then, why not experience one of the great post-hardcore bands on that label? Crash and burn, stasis, crash and burn, stasis, repeat with even more inexpressible angst...somewhere out there, some boy in tight pants and a hoodie is weeping furiously. (Kat)

Cher, "I Go To Sleep"
We all know about disco-era Cher, winning an Oscar for Moonstruck- era Cher, G-string bodysuit on a Navy ship-era Cher, etc. But what about pre-Sonny & Cher-era Cher? Well, first there was "Ringo, I Love You", released under the name Bonnie Jo Mason, her cashing-in-on-Beatlemania Ringo-worship cantata- a fun novelty, though severely lacking in the, um, goodness department. Then came a series of solo records (All I Really Want to Do, Cher, The Sonny Side of Cher) that are alternately rollicking, sulky and angelic-- this song is all three. Utterly perfect. (Laura)

The Duke Spirit, "Wooden Heart"
I have really fond memories of driving around to the acoustic demo of this song while out on a coffee run one sweltry morning two summers ago in Florida. Now this version's on The Duke Spirit's new record, Neptune, and it's not as dreamy as the demo but I still love it just fine. Leila Moss is a honey-limbed lovely, as Natalie Portman would say in Beautiful Girls. (Liz)

The La's, "I Can't Sleep"
Riffy, hooky, and as absolutely Brit as a glass of blackcurrant Ribena on a rainy afternoon. In a perfect world, this song would have been the theme song to Friends, or at least Zoe, Duncan, Jack and Jane. Instead the way inferior "There She Goes" has been plaguing the world via Verizon Wireless commercials and Movie of the Weeks since I was born. (Laura)

Opus III, "It's a Fine Day"
I just realized that for the past 15 or so years I've been picturing the vocalist on "It's a Fine Day" to look exactly like the shiny, bug-eyed witch woman from the second half of the video for "Stay" by Shakespeare's Sister. My only explanation is that both songs came out in '92, and both were discovered by me via the once-legendary Providence radio station WBRU. Also: WHAT IS WITH THE "STAY" VIDEO? Nothing is ever that weird these days. Nostalgia consumes me yet again. (Liz)

Madonna, "I Deserve It"
I think this is one of the sweetest Madonna songs ever. For such a starry-eyed lyric, it is also inexplicably melancholy and modest, which imbues the whole thing with a quality not often found in the icon's oeuvre: a sort of twilight-hour mystery and prettiness. Dean and Britta did a limp cover of this on some record or another and almost ruined the song for me, but I'll never let those hussies take Madonna from me. Plus it's easy to play on guitar! (Kat)

Heavy Rotation: The Sharp Ease, Susan Christie, the Boggs and More!

It's Valentine's Day and as our present to you, we've got a new toy to play with! We have a little music player now -- check it on our homepage up there on the top right, ready and waiting to play you some of our most recent, most beloved (and distinctly non-Valentine-y) songs. It's kind of like our version of a pop-up store -- we'll keep the songs up for a little bit and then take them down for new ones, so listen up while they're hot. We get no kickbacks or anything like that for this; it's all about our pure love of the music. This week:

The Sharp Ease, "Desert Song"
Why oh why did my maybe-favorite L.A. band have to break up? I got this song the other day at Gimme Tinnitus and it's so easing my ache for more of The Sharp Ease's gorgeously clattering high-drama pop. (Liz)

Susan Christie, "For the Love of a Soldier"
Perhaps the most romantic anti-war tune ever written? This genre-defying song is a passionate and excited hybrid of gospel, folk, and sunshine pop. Good choice if you're making someone a mixtape to fall in love with you by. (Laura)

Company B, "Fascinated"
Why complicate things? One of the best songs to come out of the 1980s Miami freestyle movement, and a dance floor classic. Strap on your roller skates and go. (Kat)

The Boggs, "Forts"
All I really need in life is a bit of twang and some swagger. This song is like the best men's vintage suit: sharp, stylish, authentic and a bit lived-in. Also completely and totally fun!(Kat)

Tin Tin, "Talking Turkey"
This post-psych pre-glam gem shimmers, spangles, and straight-up rocks, all the while shouting out submarine travel, the KGB, the Trans-Siberian Railway, ecclesiology and so much more! (Laura)

The Mo-dettes, "Paint It Black"
A few weeks ago at some coolie-cool French restaurant in Hollywood I heard an en francais cover of "Paint it Black" and figured that had to be the slickest "Paint it Black" cover imaginable. But I was wrong: This one's 99 times hotter. (Liz)

Bats for Lashes, "What's A Girl To Do"

We are this close to having a girl crush on Bats for Lashes, the improbable, poetic moniker that the mysterious singer/songwriter Natasha Khan records under. There's her lovely voice, of course, and that super-adorable British accent that pops up in her singing. And she's got that whole sword-and-stone thing going in her lyrics and imagery that can lure Joanna Newsom fans in, but she has an infinitely more mytho-electro musical sensibility happening on her debut record, Fur and Gold, that recalls the lush soundscapes of Kate Bush. She dresses like a very fashion-aware hippie, which never hurt anyone making this kind of mystical, sensuous music, and horses pop up often in her press photos. But I think the thing that will do it is the video for her new single, "What's A Girl To Do," available in July from her new record label Parlophone. It's like the best part of Donnie Darko, only with choreographed bike ballet or something.

M.I.A. = Nu Rave Messiah? Nouveau Neneh Cherry?

I have a lazy theory that super-hot British/Sri Lankan musician M.I.A. was the aesthetic leak that began the nu-rave revival. But nu-rave is kind of lame, musically speaking. (Fashionably speaking, I'm still on the fence, because Christopher Kane kind of rocks but neon still hurts my eyes.) Really, M.I.A.'s awesome because she's like the millenial Neneh Cherry, whose record Raw Like Sushi totally rocked my world way back in middle school. I mean, look at M.I.A.'s new video for "Boyz," the lead single off her new album Kala, out on August 21 on XL/Interscope.

And then look at this old joint from Neneh Cherry's "Buffalo Stance":

Or while we're YouTube-trolling, this Technotronic video, which is just as "trippy":

And just in case that's way too much neon for you for your Monday morning, you can chill out a little to the relatively subdued "Move Any Mountain" by the Shamen:

Random Picture Entry: Syd Barrett

We usually reserve this type of post to put up pictures of creative ladies whose style we totally sweat. But yesterday it was all over the news that Syd Barrett - songwriting genius, psychedelic icon and a founding member of Pink Floyd - passed away, and so I wanted to put up one of my favorite pictures of him:

>> Read an article in the Telegraph
>> An essay by Rick Moody on Barrett