I’m sure this video does these die hards a disservice, but it also defines the problem of rocking but maybe not being all that original.
The Senders were considered New York’s best bar band. At some point. That’s not a bad thing, especially when the PBR and Cosmos are flowing.
And it doesn’t mean they didn’t rock in their day, though this is weak.
So, Radar Love. By the Senders.
UPDATE: This is not the New York City band called the Senders. This is a Rhode Island band called The Senders, who have been playing out and around for more than 25 years, which is pretty cool. But they’re not the best bar band in the world. Or New York City.
A writer and photographer for the NY news site Gothamist are in Havana, and reported today on the city’s metal scene. Good reading, and turn it up for way music seeps in everywhere. Hair flipping, too.
And dig Combat Noise, Solidiers Must Like to Kill:
This one is in honor of Mad Max Fury Road, another Australian export. There is great tension in the buildup here, and after the dance starts it goes away. Nice.
This seems to be a thing.
This one is called insane, but it seems a little sad.
He’s the guy who signed Guns N’ Roses way back when. Our friend Joe Pisapia posted this video on Facebook along with a nostalgic story about the first time he heard the band, which is a nice story. For my part, I learned about the band through MTV too, and while I liked the hits and was happy to hear them, I was older than Joe and to me they represented an image-conscious commercialism that was a turn off. In this segment of what is a larger video, Zutaut tells the story about signing the band and the problems with breaking them as stars, a segment notable for not having any GNR music, and for Zutaut’s voice, which expresses something about the rock life in its tone that goes far beyond the actual words.
As for his final question, I have two words: Hans Condor.
UPDATE: Tech issues made posting last night a nightmare. Here are a few quick notes this morning before work.
Went out to dinner with Mrs. Rotoman and two friends, Lisa and Terry, at a tasty and crazy Bengladeshi place off Sixth Street. Good food, good fun.
Walked over to Bowery Electric in the cold, and got hands stamped (always fun). As showtime approached we met another friend, Walker, and headed into the charming room downstairs. The crowd was mostly middle-aged rockers, probably 150 or so souls. I didn’t feel old, for instance, but I did feel preppy.
The UC emerged at 10:47, two minutes late. Count Bassie kept his pinkie extended, politely. The crowd cheered. The band plugged in, Lord Bendover said, “we are here to roq-cue you,” and they played Let Them Eat Rock.
Another early fave was “Little Lord Fauntleroy.” Bendover introduced “Badminton” by saying it light of the impending summer they would play a song they rarely played live. It was a rare song in which the vocals weren’t crisp and clear, which was too bad, since they’re delightful.
Other highlights were the Duc d’Stortion-sung I Shall Winter Elsewhere, a lively ode to winter holidays set to a Chuck Berry riff, and Count Bassie on vocals for the Small Faces’ like Come Hither Fair Youth, followed by the stomper I’ve Got Class Up the Ass.
Yet another friend, another Lisa, had arrived a bit late. I found her upstairs on the mezzanine. The show wound down at midnight, with one encore that came after they took off guitars but didn’t leave the stage. “We must conserve our energy,” Bendover said while remounting.
It was a great fun show by a most unusual band. Who knows why they keep doing it, playing smallish clubs has to be a hassle and not that remunerative. But they are a tight rock band playing songs in a variety of hard rock styles with truly clever and funny lyrics and stage patter. That never gets old.
Here’s a bad clip (and big file that will take some time to load) to give just a taste. I’ll find more on the rocking web and post later.
OK, my love for Family Guy is widely known. I know, too much barf, too many farts, and sometimes there are routines and the producers simply cannot let go (Syrup of Ipecac barfing, Peter fighting the chicken, eg), but when they nail it, Family Guy nails it better than anyone. As in up there with Mad Magazine, The National Lampoon, Monty Python, SNL, you name it.
This particular selection is Stewie’s love video for Susie Swanson.
It’s awful (so is the song).
OTOH, these guys so nail sappy crappy MTV songs and videos in animated form, that what can I say?
Judge for yourself (keep the Syrup of Ipecac hand, however).
I clicked through to some bait on the web promising to tell me the Eight greatest rock albums of all time. No. 1 was Born To Run, Abbey Road was No. something or other. The most interesting choice until the last one was the album by the Clash: Combat Rock, which the inept compiler called the band’s third album. But No. 8, as you might have guessed was Machine Head by Deep Purple, which is not an obvious choice. Except for a mention of riffage, it doesn’t look like we’ve dipped our toes into this at all, here at rock remnants, so it’s about time.
In any case, here is the low-hanging one. It’s one of the rare classic rock songs that still bleeds, at least just a little. Thanks to the riff, sure, but it all hangs together very nicely.
