Tin Ear Tuesday – Pollen Transit Tin Ear Tuesday – Pollen Transit

Tin Ear Tuesday – Pollen Transit from pinpointmusic on 8tracks Radio.

It’s been a strange meddling with spring here in the big dumb city. Flowers bloom, the sun rises and my allergies go apeshit as I watch the light creep in between the buildings by my window and fade out into a cosmopolitan oblivion. Yes, it’s too much inside. Yes, I should get on my bike and ride through parks and ruins taking snapshots of the place I seem resigned to never leave despite my better judgment and employment history but now nature’s made those decisions for me and it’s back to the cold, dank grey. I think I like it, sometimes. Feels right. A little dour, perhaps, but I prefer to think it’s a second chance to breathe and ready for the blazing hours ahead devoid of mental complications as the parade of tanks commences and my mojo reminds it’s rev. So, of course, this TET is a mess as forms returning tend to be but it’s got some nice bits in it, some coarse and topical (despite a distance of thirty years) screaming and a little Julie Andrews affection thrown in for the lady who keeps patient watch over me in my slurring attempts to exceed. Rockit.

hgjHand Grenade Job – “Witchcraft” from Demo…Some Saturday nights I have a dance party here in the arms of Newtown with socks and brews and loop de loops in pink leopard printed panties. Other times I like to turn the lights down low, get naked and envision myself as some dime store Kesey playing action man to the Manson ladies as we cross the desert crafting spells and disparate melodies to eclipse the machine. I’d like to think it’s voodoo, baby but if it were, I’d be ahead. Instead, I let myself resign to the drum and whispers of these DC sisters whose magic might just become me.

teraTera Melos – “Surf Nazis” from X’ed…Yeah, buddy! WHOOOO-OW-OH! Noodle brain talent takes it’s wank to the beach where it bleeds Jan and Dean all over the copper tones and Charles Atlas never had a chance against these three ninety pound weaklings with their small army of changes and history of break neck flights of fear and fretwork now eased into something almost dreamy. Pleasant enough, at least. Good work if you can get past the idea that its complications might serve first and foremost to quiet the screaming of a hive brain coke sweating King Crimson.

bonaparteBonaparte – “Quarantine” from Sorry, We’re Open…Pants off, dance off. Horse head hijinks. Queer aging weirdness with blood and guts and wolves and boobs and all that God made good in his seventh day fever dream of stolen ribs and swollen disease. I really need to find a way to make it to Berlin. I feel (and fear) I’ll find my people there. And over big black beers, we’ll make the world turn left for a glittering season of unmitigated sexual anarchy. Oh, man. Could it ever really be?

crassCrass – “Sheep Farming in the Falklands” from Best Before…1984…Thatcher’s dead and half the world raised up their arms to salute her ten million dollar death parade while the rest hung their heads in contempt at the peaceful passing of one of the most contentious political figures of the last western century. I don’t have too strong an opinion, personally. England has always given me the creeps. I will say, however, that even when old iron lips appeared as Ms. (or is it Mrs?) Streep, all I could fathom was Maggie’s reflection in the cold reptilian eyes of Ronald Reagan. What a fucking prick.

stoicStoic Violence – “Fight Them All” from Stoic Violence…I’ve never been a thug. I’ve never even really been so much of a fucking bruiser though I have been known to get plenty beat up from time to time whether by self-inflicted idiocy or in the pits I aged out of somewhere back around ’03. Still, I am a sucker for a fight song. A frothing, manic melee where no one survives, least of all the man of war. They make me feel good. Strong. Assured. Just like a bad idea should.

im so hollowI’m So Hollow – “Nosferatu/Distraction” from Emotion Sound Motion…It took me an embarrassingly long time to understand that there was a whole world of music outside of the hairshirt hacienda of Tony Wilson but when I did (thanks, in no small part, to Ms. Mitzi) I grew safely assured that post punk was my fucking jam and then I fell in love and stopped feeling so goddamn depressed all the time but when those waves of shame come back to surface their disappointment at my continued existence I turn to England. Sheffield, this week. Some band I’d never heard of until last Saturday, 2am. This is their sole LP before disappearing into the obscure returns of adult respectability or maybe a dozen other bands. I don’t know, man. I’m an American.

alexAlex G – “Forever” from Trick…Alex G has five full length records (and a couple singles) under his belt and the kid isn’t even old enough to drink yet. Jesus fuck. What have I done with my life? What are YOU doing with yours? We’re all just sheep, man. Mechanized and fattened for slow, unremarkable slaughter while this Philly native is at home writing painfully pretty odes to a knowing lonesome and just going ahead and sharing them for free with such prolific regularity as to just make me want to take a long winter’s nap and imagine I’m one tenth as accomplished as he’ll assuredly be when he’s in his mid thirties.

sparksSparks – “Do Re Mi” from A Woofer in Tweeter’s Clothing…Phew. Right. Release. A song for Mitzi who first got me to sit down and suck up The Sound of Music sometime a few years ago and though I will admit I was no fan (musicals haven’t been a fit for me since my last lay of high school) she’s the best and Sparks are a wonderfully weird eruption of avant pop genies. Have been since the 70s. They just played Coachella, I see. Good for them. The Maels deserve your affection and a seriously sizable paycheck.

Tin Ear Tuesday – Pollen Transit from pinpointmusic on 8tracks Radio.

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