Your Fucked Up Childhood #3: The Snowman

tumblr_inline_nfzu25X0UK1qzwijzLooking forward to it snowing this year? No?! Can you pinpoint the exact moment at which your sense of wonder blackened, crumbled and blew away on the breeze? Maybe it was the day you saw Channel 4’s 1982 animated adaptation of Raymond Briggs’ ‘The Snowman’. Every time the subject of snow comes up at this time of year I inevitably end up gnawing on the knuckles of my clenched fist as a means of both plugging my mouth and preventing me from raining a flurry of punches upon those balking at the fact that this astonishing annual phenomenon might prevent them from, wait for it, getting to work.

The Joup Friday Album: Emitt Rhodes

Emitt-Rhodes-Emitt-Rhodes-383053At 64, nobody needs or feeds Emitt Rhodes, whose legacy is unfairly aswim in comparisons to Mr McCartney. In this age of archeological appreciation for overlooked artists, Emitt Rhodes has come agonisingly close to being paid his long overdues but unfortunately fallen short at every opportunity. From inclusion on the soundtrack to Wes Anderson’s ‘The Royal Tenenbaums’ to being the focus of a documentary dedicated to his unjustified obscurity and aimed at setting the record straight, 5 years have passed since it’s plaudit winning appearances at independent film festivals – the stars periodically align but fail to influence a wave of reappraisal.

Joup Confessions

Gary Cherone.
Nuno Bettencourt.
Paul Geary.
Pat Badger.

I wouldn’t advise that last one, they carry Tuberculosis and must be destroyed on sight. My friend Kurt and I were contorted in hilarity paralysis over the Bass player’s name a couple of years ago when we reminisced about our much berated appreciation of Extreme as 12 year old High School starters, then he bought me their second album which I hadn’t listened to for more than 15 years.

“Nuno, Gary, Pat and Paul.” we’d reluctantly submit in tandem to our chief antagoniser when fervently defending the band, furnishing him with the first names of it’s members at his request, to which he spat back without missing a beat:

The Monday Song Poem: Dick Kent ‘Christopher Columbus & The Compass’

 

The Joup Friday/Saturday Album (by way of an unrequested Joup Confession) weezer: ‘Everything Will Be Alright In The End

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“What’s with these homies jacking my appellation?
Why do they got it on their front?”

Those despicable “Geek” T-Shirts…  as if ‘jocks’ hadn’t done enough to nerds throughout the ages, they have to re-appropriate their insult and adorn themselves with it, as well as other accoutrements like those clear lensed, thick rimmed glasses. I own a weezer T-shirt. Ain’t no one giving me kudos – ironic or otherwise – for wearing that testimony to social shortcomings.

The Joup Friday Album: JEFF The Brotherhood ‘Heavy Days’

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A 65 year old guy named Gene called it;

…for performers who are also songwriters — the creators — for rock music, for soul, for the blues — it’s finally dead. Rock is finally dead.

He should know, he Rocks N’ Rolls all night and parties ever-ry day.

Diagnosis? Murder.

The Joup Friday Album: Mercury Rev ‘See You On The Other Side’

Othersidemercuryrev ‘Empire State (Son House in Excelsis)’ transports me to a gold and frozen 70s New York Morning. Like the intro to some film that doesn’t exist, the staccato piano stabs and underlying atmospherics serve as a sun-dappled Hudson, before the drums, bulbous bass and fluttering flutes summon-up some 16mm Manhattan panorama, speeding up, slowing down, growing in stature as though to pencil-in the enormity of it all. Horns come blasting-in after the 4:15 mark in a staggering pantomime of car horns, dizzying buildings, swelling and spinning until everything accelerates into chaos like the throng of vehicular and human traffic on the streets below. ‘Young Man’s Stride’ bids a final farewell to the galloping jams that made up much of 93’s exhilarating ‘Boces’, while also reminding you of just how much of a dry run that album was for this one, but while ‘Boces’ sounds like an extraordinary rock record, ‘See You On The Other Side’ evolves into something transcendent – it’s texture more deftly crafted but with organic and otherworldly results; muted and drunken trumpets, lilting wind instruments, wailing soul singers, an idealised, pharmaceutically-enhanced vision of the world’s capital city.

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