Lambchop - Soaky In The Pooper

(Merge, 1994)

A song about offing yourself! In the toilet! By drowning! Yes sir, we’ve all considered doing JUST THAT every now and then, but perhaps it’s better to experience death vicariously through Lambchop’s lovely “Soaky in the Pooper,” which tells a black tale of suicide and its aftermath over lowing horns and pluck-a-pluck strings, Kurt Wagner’s deadpan delivery giving gravity to even the recitation of the ridiculous title line (which is brilliantly rhymed with “Better call the super”!). The studio-/tape-edit-trickery bullshit of B-side “Two Kittens Don’t Make a Puppy” is worthless, however; even the most dire of Elephant 6’ers would be ashamed to include this on any release. Still, if nothing else, I suppose it indicates that Lambchop, even in its earliest days, had ambitions far beyond the orchestral country-pop ghetto to which many wanted to consign the band. And as I sit here mulling this mellow-yet-dark record, you know what? I realize yet again that I really like these guys!

Oh, and speaking of “liking,” I’d “LIKE” to give a very special “fuck you” to the Spanish-speaking fellow who felt the need to scream into his cellphone through the final hour of our choo-choo trip to New York City tonight. I’d been hoping to rest in peaceful, grave-like silence as we rolled on down the tracks, but this dink made it necessary for me to blast loud music through my headphones in an effort to drown him out. So consider my nerves frazzled and my panties twisted on this post-Thanksgiving Sunday.

Labradford - Julius

(Merge, 1994)

I suppose I should account for my absence this past week. You see, I was in Portland (The Bearded City), where I was attending a supercomputing conference and generally enjoying the cheap, rainy livin’… though the best part of the trip was not to come until the flight home, when I shared an airplane with Everclear’s Art Alexakis. Not only was the guy flying economy (latest album musta stiffed), there was also an entertaining anecdote to be collected and shared: my boss sat directly behind him, and at one point his seat started shaking so violently that she thought he was having a seizure. Upon leaning forward to make sure he was OK, she saw that famed vocalist Art was in fact laughing hysterically at a “greatest bloopers” video that was being screened as in-flight entertainment. Ha! A true man of the people!

Labradford is people too, so we can now transition neatly into a brief review of this rather swell early single. The group takes many of its cues from Sonic Boom’s work in Spectrum and late-period Spacemen 3, with its glacial minimalism and sung-spoke vocals. Quite pretty in a chilly sort of way, even if songs like the church-y, drumless “Julius” never build to any satisfying conclusion. “Columna de la Independencia” is similarly languid, like a sleepier, moodier American Analog Set (and it wouldn’t surprise me at all if the AmAnSet guys were big Labradford fans in the early days). Neither song is significantly better than what you can find on the band’s easily-had LPs, but it’s all still manna from above for fans of druggy ’90s post-rock.

The 6ths - Heaven in a Black Leather Jacket

(Merge, 1993)

Never was a Stephin Merritt fan. It’s always been about disinterest rather than dislike, even when my earholes were force-fed 69 Love Songs for a few college years. That record’s witticisms and (I’m told) sophisticated bent just didn’t get my motor chooglin’; I far prefer dum-dum to clever when the music’s cutesy. But hey! This 6ths single mostly rights those wrongs. Robert Scott from the Bats (sez the insert; who dat?) sings about kissin’ on a Hollywood girl/guy in the strummy, Scot-pop soundalike title track with the kind of awkward, guileless innocence of bands like the Pastels. Do I make that comparison just because he has an accent? Do I find the whole thing appetizing just because it isn't Stephen M vocalizing? MAYBE. And yet…!

Brisk, squelchy electronic drums give the B-side a goofy appeal, even as Merritt waxes pessimistic about the entertainment biz and – ho ho! – sorta responds to the disc’s A-side, droning on about not finding love in L.A. and how he’s watchin’ it all “rot in the sun.” Two short, simple songs – one sunny, one bleak – both of ’em musically peppy and charming, even if not AT ALL memorable. Total candy!