X RAY from Zoltan on Vimeo.

God bless the good people at Flavorwire, man. Today, they dug up something I didn’t even know existed: this super-rare BBC documentary on X-Ray Spex-era Poly Styrene. The doc features extensive clips of young Poly talking about her philosophies and views, interspersed with rarely-seen X-Ray Spex performance footage. It is a must-watch.

Get it here

The word critics most often use to describe Mike Watt’s music is “elliptical.” Which should give you some idea just how difficult describing his music is. Ever since his time as bassist for punk/funk legends the Minutemen, Watt has specialized in music of evasion. Most punk rock barrels forward; his is a constant sideways skitter. His songs never take the straight route, but they still manage to get where they’re going faster than anyone else, depositing a few unlodgeable sounds in your ear and disappearing all in the elapsed time it takes for you to mutter, “Huh?”

No one can maintain that kind of high-step forever. Mike Watt is 53 now, and hyphenated-man, his new solo record, is a meditation on that truth, a punk-rock lifer’s shit-eating-grin look at mortality. A lot of aging men in rock make this record eventually, the one that takes baleful stock of their accumulated scars, settles debts, issues pronouncements. The “Regrets? I’ve had a few” record. More often than not, they sag under the leaden weight of their subject matter.

But not Mike Watt’s version — his is, well, more elliptical. There are myriad ways to moan “I’m gettin’ old” in rock and roll, but nobody else has done so by writing 30 songs dedicated to individual figures in Hieronymous Bosch’s gruesome Renaissance triptych The Garden of Earthly Delights. The titles describe the figures: “belly-stabbed-man,” “pinned-to-the-table-man,” “head-and-feet-only-man.” The lyrics, however, are startlingly direct and personal: on “antlered-man,” he sings wryly, “When I was younger, tried to act like something stronger/But the ego, it just won’t let go,” encouraging himself to “get naked, let weakness show.” As is usually the case with Watt’s work, what looks wildly counterintuitive on paper turns out to be, for him, somehow the shortest distance between A to B.

Apart from the words, his voice betrays the years: it has acquired a beer gut and a permanent sunburn, full of the crags and pits that come from decades of “jamming econo.” But the antic rhythms haven’t flagged a step. Many critics have faltered in conveying this experience, but here goes: it’s like riding shotgun in a dune buggy down the sheer side of a rocky cliff, gripping the handles while Watt shouts factoids about the native flora and fauna into your ear. It’s thrilling, queasy, and disorienting; it’s packed with information and over too soon; and the minute you make it down alive, you want to start over.

This was my first time in the actual EVR studio so there may be a few hiccups. I decided to do a melodic punk/power pop/garage rock show, which was super fun but also involved me running around the (tiny) booth like a maniac since punk songs are all two minutes long. It was a sauna in there.

In any case, check out the stream here. Playlist below. Enjoy!

The Beat, “Rock & Roll Girl”
Tours, “Language School”
Reigning Sound, “Stormy Weather”
The Eat, “Hey Jackass”
The Strange Boys, “Woe is You & Me”
Record Players, “67″
NODZZZ, “I Don’t Wanna (Smoke Marijuana)”
The Clean, “Beatnik”
? & the Mysterians, “Do Something To Me”
The Undertones, “True Confessions”
The Nerves, “One Way Ticket”
The Tights, “Cracked”
caUSE co-MOTION!, “Which Way is Up?”
Scrotom Poles, “Pick the Cat’s Eye Out”
The Donkeys, “What I Want”
TV Neats, “Who’s Courting Who”
The Barbaras, “Day at the Shrine”
The Nips, “Take Me Down”
The Barbarians, “Are You a Boy or Are You a Girl?”
Black Lips, “Fad”
Harlem, “Witchgreens”
The Buff Medways, “Troubled Mind”
The Go, “Suzy Don’t Leave”
Cheap Time, “Over & Over Again”
The Dirtbombs, “Sherlock Holmes”
The Hunches, “Not Invented”
The Ramones, “You’re Gonna Kill That Girl”
The Boys, “First Time”
Nobunny, “I Am a Girlfriend”
The Carpettes, “Radio Wunderbar”
Jay Reatard, “Screaming Hand”
The Exploding Hearts, “Throwaway Style”
DC Snipers, “Dirtbag”
The Saints, “(I’m) Stranded”
Reigning Sound, “She’s Bored With You”
The Fall, “Victoria”
Teenage Filmstars, “I Helped Patrick McGoohan Escape”
Love is All, “Nothing To Be Done”
The Questions, “Can’t Get Over You”
The Lyres, “Help You Ann”
VCR, “Christmas Calculator”
Minor Threat, “Good Guys Don’t Wear White”
Tyvek, “Flashing Lights”
Mink Deville, “Let Me Dream if I Want To”
The VIPs, “Can’t Believe It’s True”
The Clash, “Groovy Times”

Just a quick post to point out the arrival of the most recent batch of EPs (along with a few other titles) by post-punk legends Wire. Like a lot of people, I’d had an aggressive disinterest in anything Wire did post-Bell is a Cup, but I thought that the Read & Burn series recaptured much of their old fire. It’s a different sound to be sure — grinding, industrial charge instead of icy deconstruction — but something about the sheer punishing relentlessness of the music completely suckerpunched me. Also in the Wire haul: On the Box, which is perhaps the most noteworthy, featuring vintage Wire TV performances from the late ’70s; The Scottish Play, which features live recordings from 2005 and pf456 Redux, which appears to be comprised of alternate takes/other go-rounds on the Read & Burn material.

I first saw Bishi perform one very hot night in the summer of 2006 at east London’s Bistroteque. The audience had started to blow out the candles on their tables – even the tiny amount of heat produced by a tea light was too much. The room was nearly dark when Bishi appeared, using her clear voice to cut through the sticky air. Even though her sitar playing was still in its infancy then, she was a mesmeric performer: a folk singer with the soul of a showgirl. Her music is just like her, part Bengali, part English and all London.

Bishi has been a fixture on certain London scenes for years now, although she’s still only in her mid-twenties. She’d pop up at various events. It turned out we knew a few people in common. She was talented, yes, and doing pretty well with a Patrick Wolf support slot, but also someone who was just around. Which is why it was a pleasure and a surprise to see her playing on Britain’s biggest chat show, Friday Night With Jonathan Ross, last week. Apparently Wossy is a big fan and asked for her especially. For you American’s this is pretty much like David Letterman or Jay Leno getting into Crystal Stilts: not impossible, but certainly something to make you sit up a little straighter and text a few people. I hope you enjoy the clip.

Something funny’s happened to “Teenage Kicks” in the last few years. The Undertones’ first single has always been a strange beast, combining punk’s jittering attack with pop’s shiny-shiny – after all “Teenage Kicks” crystallised the weird adolescent state where even boredom feels anticipatory, but it was also the one punk song your mum liked. But over the last four years the 1978 single has developed even more of a dual nature.

John Peel was probably the Undertones’ most famous and most vocal fan. In 2001 he wrote in the Guardian that the only things he wanted written on his tombstone were his name and the song’s opening lyrics “Teenage dreams, so hard to beat.” When Peel sadly died in 2004 he got his wish. The song was not only engraved on his headstone, but became his epitaph in more than one way. The Undertones now appear every time Peel is mentioned, and in any context.

And it’s expanded. “Teenage Kicks” – or at least the first 30 seconds of it – pops up everywhere. It’s a shorthand for punk; for festivals; for disaffected youth; for happy youth; for anything indie and for all kinds of record collecting. Most of this is obviously down to unimaginative TV and radio producers, but poor old “Teenage Kicks” is cracking under the weight. Now the song has to carry the standard for everything alternative, while at the same time suffering from severe levels of exposure – as if Mark E Smith suddenly had the tabloid presence of Britney Spears. You can get sick of the sound of it, even though you know, technically, it’s a great song.

And now it’s here on eMusic. And listening to it all the way through, without the accompanying flickering images or the gobbling of presenters, is a joy. It’s sharp and punchy. The guitar hook is crunchy and Fergal Sharkey’s vocals quaver with intensity. The whole two-and-a-half minute package really is hard to beat. Rediscover it now.

The Good
Dr Teeth and the Electric Mayhem – The Muppet Show

The best-non human rock band in the world – the only difficulty is picking your favourite member – the gold-canined Doctor or slinky flower child Janis?

The Crescendolls – Interstella 555

Supremely talented aliens – they play a great show even when kidnapped and brainwashed by evil music moguls. And don’t they sound awfully like Daft Punk?

The Stains – Ladies and Gentlemen The Fabulous Stains

Taking great pride in not putting out and fronted by Diane Lane, we have The Stains. With immense attitude, a great look and some proper snarky-spiky punk, this all-girl three-piece are an inspiration. I wish this band actually existed -ideally I’d have liked to be a member. Even their new wave MTV makeover is great – although it’s supposed to be a sad symptom of selling out.

The Commitments – The Commitments

Dublin’s finest soul band. Prepared to play anywhere, from church fetes to packed clubs with a mysterious older man on trumpet who many or may not have played with Wilson Picket. Sadly The Commitments imploded before they got their shot at the big time.

The Bad

The New Breed – St Elmo’s Fire

I think this really is the bottom of the pile – Rob Lowe as the overly-sweaty sax player in possibly the worst fictional band of all time. The music is the worst kind of pompous 80s soft rock. Then there’s everything Demi Moore as Jules says and does – from the “boffing your boss” conversation to draping herself all over the stage and snogging Lowe. We shouldn’t forget the hideous gay stereotypes (“he’s my decorator!”) either. But it’s kind of hard to think about anything at all with that idiotic saxophone in the background.

Special Mention
Autobahn – The Big Lebowski

You never get to see Autobahn, the group of German nihilists from The Big Lebowski, play any music. Baths with marmosets and de-toeing girlfriends, yes, but never any music. Nonetheless I have high hopes for their techno-Krautrock blend.

Over to you. Any more suggestions?

Hearing “What You Won’t Do For Love” on the overhead speakers in the deli across the street today absolutely made my morning. Then finding out that we have a significant chunk, if not all, of Bobby Caldwell’s entire discography made my week. And THEN finding these youtube clips pretty much made my whole month.

I love you, internet.