It Is Becoming Clearer How Little Record Store Clerks, and I, Know
by Dan
Please note: MP3s are only kept online for a short time, and if this entry is from more than a couple of weeks ago, the music probably won't be available to download any more.


Red Pony Clock - "Nothing's Worse Than Being Uncool"

Matthew from Asaurus records connected me with this (and other) marvelous band(s) last week. If we were in 3rd grade, he would be my "new best friend"; instead, he is simply my best new friend. Red Pony Clock's Tunes From Terrace Towers is the best bedroom album I've heard since Bishop Allen, it has that start-to-finish, can't-wait-to-listen-to-it-again quality that you don't get very often. Part Diskettes and Parka 3, part Cake as a mariachi band, and part psychedelic family-fun-times music (thanks to M-tones for that one), with lyrics delivered like Pavement (well, one of the vocalists, they have two), but written like a swearing, clever, Velvet Underground. Whew. I don't usually mention other bands when I review songs, I guess that's been building up for a while. As for this song, it's a peach with no pit. Let's just revel in the great and true words, and bursts where the musical instruments introduce themselves, run waving across the stage. This song overstays its welcome a bit, which just makes it all the bulkier, awkward, uncool, perfect.

Red Pony Clock - "Sir Glorious In Your Insignificance"

The album is a heterogeneous mixture of the mariachi-infused clever bits (represented above) and the psychedelia-chorus-of-rainbowland-creatures parts (represented here). Let it take you to a place where normal people are born as twins, the streets are made of tiles that light up when you walk on them, and everything is five minutes from everything else*. Listen as the flute comes up like a bird beginning to fly just in time before hitting the ground. She had it all the time.

Also, there are like 4 other great songs on this album, but I thought better than to post them all.

[they have a geocities website!]

*either a pretty mediocre Ray Bradbury novel or a kick-ass episode of Sliders

Posted by Dan at October 28, 2005 2:10 AM

I hear some Magnetic Fields, 69 Love Songs, and a little bit of those Love, Forever Changes, trumpets in "nothing's worse than being uncool" - my sentiment's exactly. dareisay, NMH, too?

The next song is definitely something The Unicorns would do, if they were around in the '60s.

[this stuff is *fresh*] = i've gotta get me the album, or something!

Posted by Jerimee at October 29, 2005 1:24 PM

Oh, that is priceless. This is exactly why the downward mobility of hot-shit technology bums me out: the lo-fi stuff is always more unapologetic and gung-ho. It makes me pine for the days when (a) I had a basement, and (b) my 4-track worked.

Posted by Seb at October 29, 2005 9:42 PM

I saw these guys open for local (as in Jacksonville, FL) hip-hop guy Astronautalis in one of his last shows. They came dressed like awkward elementary school children from the 80s with big glasses and plenty of polyster, but once they went onstage thing changed drastically. They had this harmonius element that reminded me of a middle school band; a few members of the band showed immense talent, such as the singer/lead guitar player and another member of the horn section, but by and large it sounded like this chaotic synergy, where everything is so entirely out of order that it finds order, an entropy of sorts. I'm glad to see they showed up here.

Posted by Chris at October 31, 2005 1:19 PM

Jerimme, Seb - yes!

Chris - thanks for that, I'm excited to see a live show now.

Posted by dan at October 31, 2005 2:34 PM

i just posted some of their stuff the other day:

it's great

Posted by julseas at October 31, 2005 3:28 PM

They were awesome in Athens, GA, when they played Popfest.

Posted by Hillary at November 4, 2005 3:40 PM

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Sean Michaels is the founder of Said the Gramophone. He is a writer, critic and author of the theremin novel Us Conductors. Follow him on Twitter or reach him by email here. Click here to browse his posts.

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