The Ludic Log
Cultural Sausage
Ludic ListsSkullbucket

ARCHIVES
(All Past Entries)

LINKS
(Other Sites) ~ (Other Writing)
(About This Site) ~ (Bio/C.V.)

THE INDICES
Some choice selections from the archives of the Ludic Log

THE BEST OF THE LUDIC LOG:
  the best of the Ludic Log

THE CRAPPYS:  
a celebratory selection of the world's worst food

THE DIALOGUES: 
humorous back-and-forths

THE GEEK INDEX:
  recaps of comic book encyclopediae

RECEIVED IDEAS FOR A NEW MILLENNIUM:
  a compendium of cliches for our times

BILLY'S PRISON DIARY:  
a collection of thematic short fiction

HIPSVILLE: 
selections from an aborted urban novel

THE GUNS OF CAMELOT:  genre fiction for your inner geek

ADVENTURES IN REFERRAL
a daily assortment of random search engine queries leading people to the Ludic Log in the past 24 hours

"fat presidents"

"supergirl bodypaint"

"journal of modok studies"

"rouge the bat nude"

"fuckeroo"

"acoustic all-stars live at the birchmere"

"old man take a look at me now"

"chaldean.com"

"x-men wolverine fucking rogue"

"ascii potato"

01.28.2007

The Ludic Log continues the sunday mp3blog tradition continues.  Today's seven-song playlist (download here; 25MB .zip file) is themed around that thing that makes the world go 'round:  money money money!

TRACK 01:  "Bad Penny", Big Black (from the Songs About Fucking album, 1987).  As close to a statement of purpose as Steve Albini ever came up with, this song, of the menacing, brutally perfect Songs About Fucking album sent the band to their doom with a roaring blast.  Posing himself as the ultimate irritant, the poison in the system that just couldn't be flushed away, Albini hyperattuned his guitar to ringing, slashing extremes as he bellowed:  "I think I fucked your girlfriend once.  Maybe twice, I can't remember.  Then I fucked all your friends' girlfriends.  And now they hate you."  Albini has never been shy about placing himself in the role of hated provocateur, but he's never sounded as vile, as malevolent, as acidic as he does here.  The rumbling near silence after the break in the middle of the song is one of the tensest moments in mid-'80s post-punk.

TRACK 02:  "A Nickel per Fish Sandwich", Negativland (from the Dead Dog Records bonus CD, 1995).  After the disastrous release of their U2 album, Negativland was essentially litigated into near non-existence by the combined actions of U2 (the band), Island Records, Casey Kasem, and, in an extremely ironic twist, their own label boss, Greg Ginn, who proved that he only took the whole fuck-the-man aesthetic of his Big Black days to the point where it started to cost him money.  Never ones to take a crushing defeat at the hands of corporate culture lying down, the inveterate media-hackers decided to put out a book -- Fair Use:  The Story of the Letter U and the Numeral 2 -- documenting the whole sad history of the case, complete with a highly enjoyable audio CD featuring brand-new songs.  This one, like most of the others, encapsulates the absurdity of intellectual copyright law with their deft blend of goofball electronic compositions and highly damning audio samples, including some from a humorless copyright lawyer and Greg Ginn himself (used without permission, of course).  Hilarious.

TRACK 03:  "Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?", Tom Waits (from the various-artists compilation Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?:  Songs of the Depression, 1991).  Tom Waits was born to sing this song.  He's cited it in interviews as one of his favorite American compositions, and the version that appears here -- accompanied only by a whispering, shuffling drumbeat and a dirge-playing banjo -- is both uniquely Tom Waits and perfectly respectful to the tone and intent of the original.  Although it often gets used as a referent to the lovable-hobo archetype, the song is in fact one of the Depression era's most outraged, bitter statements of betrayal:  it's being sung by a man -- embodied here in Waits' perfect drifter-dying-of-TB voice -- who worked on any number of great projects of the modern age, told that he was helping to build the American Dream, only to be chewed up and thrown away "now it's done". 

TRACK 04:  "$2.75", Dryspell (from the Dryspell album, 1993).  I'm violating a cardinal rule of mixtapery here by including a project done by friends, but amazingly enough, I just don't have that many songs with dollar signs in them -- amazing considering how much money I've spent on records in my life.  Anyway, despite the fact that I was personally acquainted with these boys back in my wasted youth, it's a pretty good song:  an energetic, polyrhythmic affair that definitely spells early-'90s but has a memorable guitar hook and is only slightly marred by the Pearl-Jam-wannabe vocal performance.  Nice work, fellas!

TRACK 05:  "2.99 Cents Blues", Regina Spektor (from the 11:11 album, 2001).  Regina Spektor's first record didn't really give that many indicators of the outstanding songwriter she'd blossom into with albums like Soviet Kitch and Begin to Hope.  She still resembled a more intelligent, less fey version of Tori Amos than she did the anti-folk standout she is now.  Still, she managed to snare herself a release deal largely on her strength as a live performer and songs like this, where a decent piano-blues riff is propped up to great effect by her skittering, up-and-down vocal and a very clever set of lyrics.  Rough stuff early on, but a hint of things to come.

TRACK 06:  "10 Dollar", M.I.A. (from the Arular album, 2005).  The most well-known song to reference the dialogue of the Vietnamese prostitute from Stanley Kubrick's underappreciated Full Metal Jacket, unfortunately, is 2 Live Crew's base, insulting "Me So Horny".  But it should be this tremendously enjoyable dance-hop great from Sri Lanka's M.I.A.  Satirically funny, exaggeratedly poppy, and unseriously autobiographical, this club floor confessional delivers the "What can I get for 10 dollar?  Anything you want!" line with a lot more meaning -- and a lot more irony -- coming from a young Asian woman than it ever did coming out of Luke Skyywalker.

TRACK 07:  "Death Car $25", Ass Ponys (from the Little Bastard CD-single, 1995).  Seemingly nothing more than a throwaway b-side from the Bethel, OH band's contribution to the Empire Records soundtrack -- sadly for this brilliant band, the most success they would ever acheive -- "Death Car $25" is actually a nice encapsulation of much of their appeal.  It features an intricate riff from singer/songwriter Chuck Cleaver that shows off the reason he's one of the must underrated rhythm guitarists in rock music, and the lyrics are a perfect example of his obsession with grotesque southern gothic storytelling.  The only flaw is that it doesn't feature the whole band, so you don't get a taste of their excellent overall sound, boosted by Randy Cheeks' expressive basslines, but it's still a mighty tasty song. 

Permanent Link
Previous Entry ~ Current Entry ~ Next Entry
E-mail the Ludic Log ~ Find Me Out
RSS Feed

"The time is always right to do what is right." (Martin Luther King Jr.)