It wasn’t that long ago that I was one of those people. You know, those people who say dismissively “Oh, I listen to most everything except for rap and country”.

Then the Cactus Blossoms came into my life. Well, “came into my life” might be slightly misleading. To be honest, I stalked them at least a little. As a die-hard fan of the Minneapolis based Jack Klatt and the Cat Swingers, I went on a quest to discover Jack Klatt’s compatriots. I assumed they’d have to be good.

I was oh-so right.

When I say The Cactus Blossoms are Western and Country, put from your mind the modern pop-country drama queens and kings. Rather, I’m talking about Jimmie Rodgers, Gene Autry, steel guitars and fiddles. While this is serious music, it doesn’t take itself too seriously. Forget about pop-country tweeny love songs or serious ballads about how the refrigerator broke and the dog ran away.

This album boasts expert craftsmanship, from the myriad instruments to the brilliance of the song writing. The music is dominated by the lead singers perfect harmony, steel guitars, and a particularly beautifully played fiddle. The album boasts 10 albums, 8 of which are apparently originals. To be honest, the whole album just feels so…cohesive that I’m surprised they all aren’t written by the same hand. The Cactus Blossoms truly have song writing prowess.

This certainly isn’t a “let’s rock the fuck out” album. You’re not going to fly into manic dancing. But if you’re anything like me, when it comes on randomly after several days of not listening to it, an audible “ah” will escape your lips as you realize that this is just the perfect song for right now. Just like it always is.

Find The Cactus Blossoms at their bandcamp page, where you can enjoy their music and pick up an album while you’re at it. You know you want to.

What to Expect
Singing cowboy style old-school Western. Fiddles, steel guitar, and talented musicians remaking an iconic American musical style that deserves to be revived.

What to Take Away
While the idea of “Western Music” often makes people wrinkle their noses, it shouldn’t. I’m the first in line of this guilt-train.

What to Drink with it
There’s been a lot of whiskey drinking round Sound and Tonic, and that’s not letting up this week. Find your nearest bottle of whiskey. Pour a shot or two into a glass. Drink it warm.

Favorite Song
It’s a tie. “Adios Maria” is beautiful. The ballad is exactly what I expect from an old singing cowboy. The heavy fiddle influence doesn’t hurt – I’m a huge sucker for any instrument played with a bow. The singing is also just so damn spot on.

Alternatively, “Cold Foot Boogie” is so absurdly 1970s western-Hawaiian kitsch that it made me laugh out loud, and ultimately caused me to purchase the album. The steel guitar is instant nostalgia.

Heretic Pride is an enigma. On one hand, it is home to the song Heretic Pride, Sax Rohmer #1 and Lovecraft in Brooklyn. On the other hand, it’s home to quite a few songs I can’t seem to remember exist. Then, I think to myself “Damn. Heretic Pride is the perfect album! I love every song!”, only to actually listen to the album and realize this isn’t true. I just have constant and recurring amnesia about the songs I dislike.

On one point I am utterly certain: the polished arrangements do not detract from the album. I love lo-fi old school John Darnielle as much as the next person (if the next person loves lo-fi old school John Darnielle a whole bunch), but these songs are meant to be polished. You can feel it. Take Lovecraft in Brooklyn, play it with old guitars and record it on a boombox in someone’s basement and it’s going to suffer. Sure, I’d love to be in that basement, hitting the record button, but the crisp energy of the song is…amazing. It would be missed.

The album is missing a central theme. I see several smaller veins, such as the manicness and unrequited love, but the overarching theme doesn’t exist. It’s kind of jarring. I walk into a Mountain Goats album expecting a package deal. Splitting up “All Hail West Texas” just doesn’t feel right, but I freely pick and choose songs from this album.

From the undeniable electricity of Lovecraft in Brooklyn to the light and airy Tianchi Lake, this album’s just hard to sum up. The only niche it seems to fill is the “Mountain Goats Fan” niche.  I guess that means, despite the change in recording and instrumentation, this newest albums remains in the “vocally and lyrically driven, story like songs for those who think stories should be about insane writers, lake monsters and cults” niche.

Oh! Crossover special. Fan of the Irish folk band Heathers? They cover Heretic Pride. I recommend watching this video now for ultra happiness.

What to Expect?

John Darnielle. You probably aren’t walking into this album without a well honed love of the man, anyway. Expect his awesomeness, some fancier music, and a good deal of awesome. And some boring, at least if you think like me. Because damn, some of the songs are boring.

What to take away?

This album is a mixed bag to the Mountain Goats enthusiast. It’s lacking some of John Darnielle’s staple elements, such as a central theme, and it has really boosted the production value, but it’s packed with some amazing goodness and is definitely worth the sticker price.

What drink to pair it with?

This is a tricky one. Without a cohesive flavor to the album, it’s hard to say. I’d venture the third least expensive bottle of Gewürztraminer at your local wine and spirits store would do well. Spicy, slightly dry, a bit unusual, and not for everyone.

Favorite song?

It’s definitely Lovecraft in Brooklyn. That song would leave me manically air-guitaring through multiple iterations. It’s just too much. I also love how different it is from Darnielle’s normal style. When that guitar grunged in to open the song up, I grinned like an idiot. I knew it was going to be brilliance.

“In the Craters on the Moon” has an undeniable something something about it, and is a hard contender for first place. John Darnielle’s quote, listed below, makes me love this song even more.

“Sometimes you just don’t want to leave the house for days… and your friends come over and say they brought groceries. Don’t let them in! It’s a trick! They’re not really your friend. When you lock yourself in your house and all you need is daytime TV, and a pencil, to keep track of the days that you’ve been locked in the house. This song was written, with that pencil.”

Folk is big these days. At least it was there for a bit. Between the Avett Brothers and Mumford and Sons, it seemed the world was ready to step away from the auto-tuning and enjoy music that’s more than 65% real. I hope that’s still going on. I don’t follow the world closely enough to know anymore.

If folk is big, then the Armadillos should be big too.

This is a band that really knows their shit. They wield their instruments masterfully, which is all the more amazing considering their instruments include things like accordions, tin flutes, mandolins and cellos. Wrap this all up with amazing skill and some amazing voices and you have folk gold on your hands. Honestly. The Armadillos are my 8th most played band for the past year, even though I only own 8 songs by them.

The album seems to inhabit the period between the end of the Revolutionary until the industrial revolution gripped America. Even though there are a fair number of years between those two events, the album seems a solid, cohesive unit. This is more than just half-hearted nostalgia, though. These artisans have crafted some amazing songs that feel period, even while being spruced up with tempos and instruments not native to the time. When I listen to Yorktown, for example, I’m not thinking about the Armadillos. I’m thinking about Yorktown, and what it would be like to be on that battlefield.

Admittedly, some songs have me more than others. I adore Eleanor. So, so, so much. I’m also quite partial to Devil’s Rag, and of course York Town. Some songs don’t have the immediate appeal of those three, but are still utterly lovely songs. The only song I’m not partial to is the Donner Party, and I admit it’s exclusively because I’m a weeny. I can’t just listen to it as a song. No, I must imagine what it would be like to be forced to eat a friend, neighbor or acquaintance due to starvation. It kind of bums me out, contemplating if I’d eat my best friend, and thus, I don’t listen to that song.

But can we focus on Eleanor for a minute? The song is utter perfection. From the opening mandolin to Sheila’s voice, it’s just so much. It’s so good. And the lyrics? They flow beautifully. There’s not a phrase that catches or a questionable verb. I don’t talk to many people, and few enough of them have a penchant for folk music, but by God I make people listen to this song.

Here. Go listen to them now. Right here. Don’t go to Myspace to listen to them. You click on them, Myspace ignores your request and starts playing Rihanna on J-pop. Best to skip that entirely and go to the bandcamp page. Bonus, once you decide they’re amazing and awesome and such, you can buy it. Right there. Whoo, convenience.

What to Expect?

The most amazing Revolutionary War/Industrial Revolution inspired indie folk of your life. Listen. Listen and be well.

What to take away?

The Armadillos should have more songs available to the public.

What drink to pair it with?

What to quaff with this album? A truly dizzying question. Whiskey and water, most likely. If that’s not up your alley, drink some Yuengling, if you’re lucky enough to be in a state where it’s available. I’m not, anymore.

Favorite song?

Eleanor. Eleanor for the win. Seriously. This song is among my favorite songs ever of all time. Go listen to it, and it’ll be one of yours too.

This is an important album in the library of any Zevonite. It’s the end of an era, a beautiful final album by an amazing musician with the help of many brilliant, talented and famous friends. It’s truly a lovely album. I just don’t like it that much.

Heresy and blasphemy, should the High Priest of Zevon hear of it, my life is forfeit.

That’s not to say I hate the album. Some songs are just utter perfection. “Dirty Life and Times” is an amazing song, the lyrics in “Disorder in the House” are witty and amusing (the couch of despair later turning into the davenport of despair is particularly amusing). Numb as a Statue and Prison Grove are utterly captivating, and Keep me in your heart is breathtakingly depressing.

The album is packed with guest musicians: Jackson Browne, Jorge Calderon, Tom Petty, Ry Cooder, Emmylou Harris, Don Henley, David Lindley, Timothy B. Schmit, Tommy Shaw, Bruce Springsteen, Billy Bob Thornton, Joe Walsh and Dwight Yoakam.

And yet, despite all of this, I never find myself wanted to listen to The Wind from beginning to end. I always just want to pick out those four songs that I adore and ignore the rest of them. Music is amazing, though. Spent four years skipping over “Carmelita” when it would come on, and then one day I realized Carmelita was an utterly amazing song. Listened to it on loop for days. Perhaps I’m just not there yet, and in a couple years the rest of this album will catch up with me. I hope so.

What to Expect?

Warren Zevon, all over the board. From rough bluesy Rub me Raw to light and delicate Don’t Leave me, this album runs the gamut of Warren Zevon’s repetoire.

What to take away?

As the final album of Warren Zevon’s career, this album is a must for Zevonites. You will love some of the songs on it. I just don’t think every song on the album is meant for every Zevonite. We might have to split into separate congregations over this album.

What drink to pair it with?

Skip the drink, pair it with your favorite sandwich, and enjoy the hell out of it.

Favorite song?
Numb as a Statue to me is the cream of the crop, though Dirty life and times is also amazing beyond reason.

Now this is an album. My ratings for individual songs are all over the board. From one to five stars, one song will cause me to erupt into impromptu dance and another will send me spinning into a rage. And yet it seems like once a month I think that I ought to listen to Graceland again.

Paul Simon’s lyrics are freaking gorgeous. Many of his songs are pure poetry. But add music and instantly I’m bored. I think it’s the generic 1980s music accompanying so many of the songs. Take, for example, “I Know What I Know”. The music is boring. It’s straight up tired. The Gaza Sisters add interest, and draw me back into the song, but then they go away and I’m lost again. Half the music on this album just sounds like a pre-programmed track on a keyboard.

The funny thing is that there is something undeniable about this album. I’m not crazy about it, start to finish, but I’m drawn to it.

“The Boy in the Bubble” is a particularly good entrance into the album.

The accordion kick-off amuses me every time. A South African inspired pop album, complete with accordion.

As is often the case with Paul Simon, this song sounds upbeat and happy. Well, except for that accordion. It sounds kind of…salty. And the synth guitars (I’m assuming they’re synth guitar sounds, anyway) that screech in remind me of weapons. So maybe the song doesn’t sound that happy.

Then Graceland, despite the utter brilliance that is the lyrics, starts off and loses me. The music is just so boring!

Perhaps in seven years this album will hit me like a train. I mean, I was born in the same year this album was made. Perhaps 24 years just isn’t quite old enough to appreciate the greatness. I do love the poetry of his lyrics, though, and trying to tease apart meanings from the songs is interesting. There are some particularly good notes about “You Can Call Me Al”.

I also greatly enjoy Lady Smith Black Mombazo, Los Lobos, and Good Rockin’ Dopsie and the Twisters when they make appearances.

What to Expect?
Paul Simon. World Music. Synthesizers in an overabundance, totally killing the awesomeness that is Paul Simon and said World Music.

What to Take Away?
Leslie doesn’t like synthesizers half as much as she thought.

What Drink to Pair it With?
This is a tricky one. It seems to depend on the song. The differences from “Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes” and “You Can Call me Al” are pretty steep. I’d hazard a guess that a bottle of dry red wine would pair nicely. You pick the type.

Favorite Song?
Call me shallow, but I only bought the album because of “You Can Call Me Al”. For weeks I would bike to work belting this song out as I rode, headphone free, through the blustery and cold Wisconsin fall. It’s just a flawless song, and the music is far from generic.

The lyrics: consistently cryptic. After much sleuthing, here are several purported meanings of this song:

1) It’s about a man having a mid-life crisis. Seems pretty reasonable, though doesn’t explain that “body guard” quip.

2) It’s all about Paul Simon. The beginning is Paul Simon worrying about his music career. The middle is Paul Simon worrying about his freshly broken family. The end is Paul in South Africa, realizing life will go on. Still no explanation for that “body guard” line.

3) It’s all about Dante’s Inferno. This one’s my favorite. A genius on Songmeanings.com put this one forward. Alighieri shortened is Al, Beatrice (Dante’s lost love) is shortened to Betty. He goes through Hell and purgatory to find her, and ends up in heaven. Betty is is body guard, because, well, she’s dead. She can rock the afterlife world better than him. Who cares if this is or isn’t what Paul Simon’s thinking. It’s brilliant.

4) It’s about apartheid. Black man in Johannesburg, shit sucks. Still nothing about Betty as a bodyguard.

5) It’s about alcohol. Al, as in alcohol. Betty, as in the Betty Ford clinic. Amusing. Apparently Paul Simon met Chevy Chase at said Betty Ford Clinic. And since Chevy Chase was in the music video…

6) Of course I know the story of Paul Simon at a party where the host supposedly consistently (and accidentally) called Paul Simon and his wife by “Al” and “Betty”, but, well. that’s boring. And still doesn’t explain the verses.

This song is clearly dated. The synthesizers are overwhelming. But they’re played with such promise. They’re not tired old synthesizers, they’re bursting with emotion and energy. When there wasn’t a million feet of snow outside, I would belt this song as I biked to work in the morning. It was good.

Um. What?

I let my entire library shuffle, and this was the first thing that came up.

It really sounds like a movie soundtrack. I have taken it upon myself to write a corresponding movie:

(If you would be so kind as to pull up the song on youtube and listen to it as you scroll, you’d get a better feel for my images.)

The scene open upon a lovely girl, locked away from the world by her evil captor. She sings of her woes.

(See full article for awesome art.)

Cut to the evil captor, who is laughing maniacally as lightning flashes behind him. The girl’s singing still in th background, highlighting his cruelty.

Then, flashback. The lovely girl is really just an Indie Boy with a high pitched voice. He’s skipping along in an Indie Wonderland on the moon, unaware of the trouble that is to befall him. (Any real Indie Kid has a Bento Box and has a total hard-on for Octopi. though they might refer to images of Octopi as Kraken instead. Because it’s cooler sounding.)

But, alas, he stumbles onto an oddly placed trail of sushi. He can fill his Bento box! Rejoice!

As the music ticks by, he follows the sushi closer and closer to danger.

Look out! Look behind you! HE’S RIGHT THERE!!!!

Epic Fight Scene where an Indie kid pretends he knows how to fight.

It’s a close call. The virtue of the Indie Kid almost overwhelming the evil captor.

Alas! The evil captor plays dirty.

The evil captor wins.

Flash forward, and the Indie Kid is out of his tower!

He vanquishes the evil captor!

The world is safe for democracy!!

You know, since I have a little story to go with this song, I upped my liking of it quite a bit. I’m thinking four star material.

Update: Art is here. And I love it.
Art will be coming soon. And it’s awesome. I promise -fo-shizzle.

If you ever wanted a John Steinbeck character to crawl from his novel and take up the life of a travelling musician, then Jack Klatt is your man.

I’m honestly at a loss. This man is amazing. His growling baritone. His amazing writing. His ability to remake old songs. The expert of the musicians. The growling trumpet so aptly placed in most of the songs. It’s all perfection.

It’s been ages since I’ve been so smitten with a new musician. Every couple months I look to see if he has a new album, and when he doesn’t I swear and hope for next time. I can only hope others catch onto his brilliance, because I want him to be able to dedicate his life to making amazing music, and making it available for me to purchase! He could be my next Warren Zevon, my next Mountain Goats. I just need more than 10 songs! Please Jack Klatt?

This album really has it all. Alt-country, folk, blues. From up tempo songs about losing it on wall street to tender songs of love and life. I’d highlight my favorite songs if every song wasn’t my favorite. If you like folk, any kind of folk, go listen to Jack Klatt. Right now.

What to Expect?

The best damn folk/blues you’ve ever experienced. Why haven’t you bought his album yet?

What to Take Away?

Jack Klatt and the Cat Swingers is an amazing band. It’s pure bliss.

What Drink to Pair it With?

Best would be some homemade wine or moonshine, but I don’t have any of that around. In lieu of that I’d have to say bourbon, straight up.

Favorite Song?

Oh man. This could turn into a bloody death match. There’s something about “Ruckus on Wallstreet” that’s just so seductive. Once that song starts I just have to listen to the whole album. “Sweet Maureen” is also amazing, and the line “she screws like a bullet coming out of a gun” is among the best I’ve ever heard. “Anywhere I Go” is slow, sentimental, soulful, and generally not the type of song I’d lose it for. And yet it’s one of my favorites from the album. It’s just so beautiful. The other seven songs on the album tie for second place.

I’m sure you, like myself, have occasionally looked back at a song, band, or haircut from your teens and thought “Oh god. What was I thinking?”

This is not one of those times, though I thought it would be. The band: The Distorted Penguins. The Song: Anarchy Waltz. This track, thought to be long dead, was resurrected by a mythical mix CD that suddenly came to light in the shuffle of shlepping off to Wisconsin.

I’m not sure how I know of The Distorted Penguins. I’m debating whether or not they hit the tiny little venue in Butler, Pennsylvania that was once called Apparitions Food Court (and is now called a denture office). Apparitions was a little food court with a party room that quickly became the punk hang out for the under 18 crowd. Those were heady days, however, and the haze of watermelon and whipped cream somehow prevents me from recalling with any certainty who I did or did not see there. Alas, my connection to the Distorted Penguins will forever be a mystery.

That does not mean it should be a mystery to you. Go to their Myspace here, listen to Anarchy Waltz, and pretend you’re 15. It’ll be awesome, I promise.

This might be the quintessential simple local band song ever. The saxophone is simple; i could probably break out my sax from the 3rd grade and figure it out by the end of the evening. The way they use the sax to punctuate the beat, though, is captivating.

The Hey Hey’s and Oi Oi’s, of course, get me going every time I hear the song, and I almost seem to remember being crammed into a small foul smelling room, pumping my fist along with the song, until my memory falls away to reveal I’m just in my apartment.

The lyrics are great too. “What you call expression they call moral decay”? Brilliant, and not in an angsty 15 year old sort of way. It’s simple, applicable, and non-drammaticised. I could probably break it out in an argument and get away with it.

The song is a simple style of pop punk and ska, but it doesn’t have that generic fell I’m used to when it comes to local punk bands.

Another fun aspect of this song is that you can replace “Waltz” with just about any one syllable word. Driving home from work, we spotted a shopping cart turned over on the side of the road. Dave goes “Anarchy Cart! Oi oi oi oi” and now it applies to almost every cart we see. Also cropped up: “Anarchy Dog”, “Anarchy Stove” and by far the scariest, “Anarchy Car”.

It falls in line with an illustrious list of songs I alter consistently for shits and giggles, but the rest of the list will have to wait until later.

What to drink with Anarchy Waltz?
Lemonade with Rum. Have strong enough lemonade, and no one will realize you’re drinking underage…until you pass out under a table. Which never happened to me. Honest.

Within the past few months, I found myself graduating from college, moving across country, and adopting a dog. While the last one is arguably the most awesome of the three, all of them left me scrambling for free time and internet access, in that order.

Things are settling down, though, which leaves me time to go back to resurrecting music. See, my anthropology degree is coming in handy already.

First on the block is a little ditty that has seriously ensnared my soul. Paul Simon’s You Can Call Me Al. It’s probably the combination of those fake synthesizer horns and the back up humming/chanting that emphasizes certain words and phrases throughout the verses that really does it. Regardless of the reasons, this song snatched a large portion of my attention span and whisked it away. The lyrics, while doubtlessly cryptic, are entertaining, and I now find myself occasionally mumbling “don’t want to end up a cartoon in a cartoon graveyard”.

The music video only further cemented my love of this song. The concept is so simple, but well executed. Chevy Chase joins Paul Simon in a room, and starts singing at the beginning of the song, confusing Paul Simon, who spends the rest of the music video looking bored and sullen. Chevy Chase, of course, nails his performance. Go watch it.

Eddie Money with Take Me Home Tonight comes in second place for soul stealing. The way the synthesizer tiptoes through the verses and then falls away to let the chorus erupt is perfect. It really makes you want to jump around and dance, which works out well for me, since I live on the first floor of my apartment complex. At least now all my neighbors question my sanity, which might come in handy later. Being a fan of my Complete Top Billboard Hits of the 1960s set makes me enjoy Ronnie’s vocals in the song, too. She’s amazing.

This is another dynamite music video. Also simple, but way more rock n’ roll. You can tell Eddie is having a great time rocking out by himself on that stadium stage, and Ronnie, despite however old she may have been when this was filmed, embodies bad girl femininity. I love it.

Next up to the chopping block is a song that has stolen my soul a couple times over the years, but it can get so infuriatingly stuck in my head that I always go to great lengths to oust it, despite potential psychiatric of physical pain involved. Then, like an Alzheimer’s patient, four months later, I say, why haven’t I heard that song lately? I really like that song. And the cycle of pain continues.

Patty Smyth/Scandal’s The Warrior is the song in question. You’re right, the song makes no sense. At all. No matter who I consult, no one can help me piece together the right pieces that would make this song make sense. Regardless, the beat is alluring, and being able to scream both “I am the warrior” and “Bang Bang!” while doing 70 miles per hour down the highway, without looking like you pose a danger to those around you, is pretty amazing.

This music video gets credit for creativity, but I really want to know what’s up with the complex theatrical and stupid 80s music videos. I thought the Bonnie Tyler music video took the cake, but this one might come out on top. At the beginning of Patty Smyth’s music video I think “Oh, warrior, I get it. She’s the heroine, he’s the bad heart breaker guy.” That image fits just up until 6 seconds into the song when those two people dressed up in blue fairy/bird/fish suits make an entrance. Then all hell breaks loose. I know when I ballet fight someone, I generally wear fishing nets all over me.

One super plus in this video is that Patty Smyth is adorable. The way she struts and dances makes me want to give her a hug. Her face paint looks good, too. I think it blows Ziggy Stardust out of the water, but that might be because she doesn’t look like a corpse.

What to pair these songs with alcoholically speaking?
A root beer shot. Fill a shot glass with root beer schnapps, light it on fire, and drop it into a mug of beer. drink heartily and quickly, lest the beverage end up everywhere except in your stomach.

Some sort of comparison to my sanity could probably be made here, but I think I’ll refrain.