Tuesday, September 27, 2005

10 in the swear jar, Mr. Waits.

Track list:

1. 10 in the swear jar - accordion solo! - fort awesome drunk tank/helsabot

Comments: 'fort awesome' is basically spoken word, so, you know, bonus! Helsabot is apparently his name. He's an alcoholic robot, we think. And he wants to know if your pants ever just fall off. I love this. Everyone, I want this album for Christmas. My elderly relatives will LOVE it.

2. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - howl - sympathetic noose

Comments: I enjoy that this band is a big lie. They're a bit sad bastard, with an old-school sounding lazer-rock name. Jonelle says the song is okay. I agree. I think they might get kicked out of the club if they keep this whining up. Jonelle says she'd listen to this in a sunny apartment on a Sunday afternoon. That'll never happen.

3. Giant Drag - hearts and unicorns - high friends in places

Comments: All too real. Hmm. Music to stomp bugs to.

4. Bruce Cockburn - big circumstance - where the death squad lives

Comments: it's a classic, so it would be wrong to criticize. I've got to remember that this isn't a new album though, because that's just embarrassing. Jonelle loves it and is floored. I like the funky guitar.

5. Transparencies - transparencies - I'll quit if I want to

Comments: Ha, they're a Christian band. They're no Danielson Family... but then who is, really. Actually, it's not bad. You just have to try and ignore the no swearing, and focus on how it sounds recorded in a garage. These boys could teach Jessica Simpson a thing or two about how to claim to be religious and not flash your boobs drunkenly. They have the knack.

Important topics covered:
we're trapped in a supply closet, while everyone else is having free food at the AGM. Oh well, it's overrated. We're so alone, and we invite you to visit us. You don't. Coward. A debate on the sexiness of the female form vs. the male form that isn't really a debate. Men are funny when they're naked, not sexy. No, just funny. In fact, put a naked guy in a movie and you don't even need to tell jokes. The new proliferation of yoga makes for unfair standards of flexibility. No, I can't touch my forehead to my knee, jackass. Being a rabid Bruce Cockburn fan is difficult. But the name is undeniably funny.

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