Alice Cooper: "I'm Eighteen"

Enjoy your Wednesday fill of guest blogger Juke Box Hero!

It had been a while since I last e-strolled the Rolling Stone "500 Greatest Songs of All Time," so Brittany’s reference in her ode to Pink/Mercury yesterday inspired a return visit. Starting from the back, I was slightly yet immediately unnerved. Coming in at #494 is R. Kelly’s "Ignition," narrowly defeating the Stones’ juicy "Brown Sugar" (#495) and Weezer’s hip anthem "Buddy Holly" (#499).

Now obviously Mick, Keith, Rivers, and their respective gangs get more love further up the list, but really? R. Kelly? A "500 Most Epic Fails" list, certainly, but what is there to like about the cheesy elevator music backgrounds and an utter lack of any lyrical or musical creativity – other than those cuddly Duke undernerds whose music video cover became a YouTube sensation back before Facebook had even left the Ivies?

But I digress. We’re here to talk about songs worth listening to, YouTubes worth watching. Like some creepy, kooky, scintillating Alice Cooper. Their (because then it was the band’s name, not just the adopted moniker of Vincent Furnier – interesting trivia, eh? Thanks, Wikipedia) 1971 release "I’m Eighteen" gets on the RS board at a pretty underrated #487.

No matter what kind of adolescence you actually had (mine was relatively anger-free, which I often cite as the leading reason I’ll never be a good rock musician), this song embodies the general youth experience so perfectly: the awkwardness, the insecurity, the raw manifestations of mental and sexual maturity coalescing and superseding one another… It’s chaos and it’s poetry: 'I gotta get outta this place/I go running in outer space.' We’ve all been on those runs.

But for Alice, it’s controlled chaos. They don’t take time for the song to develop; they rock at will, spilling a searing guitar solo from the opening gates and rocking keyboards that somehow find the magical musical balance of being tight yet sounding loose. And though Cooper spends some time sitting onstage (I can’t blame him – those gold-glitter leggings and towering silver platforms would have Gaga drooling and the rest of us trying to find a more comfortable sitting position), all the sudden he gets up, albeit shakily, ascends to the band leader’s position, and reigns in his minions, deftly signaling the close of the anthem as if he were Bernstein tying up Beethoven. A master of his craft.

Whether or not the RS ranking is to be believed -- after all, Johnny Rotten himself chose this as his audition song for the Sex Pistols, and we all know where that got him -- "I’m Eighteen" survives as a punk-rock classicism: a seething declaration of dissatisfaction, futility (‘I get refused every day/Just don’t know what to say’), and ultimately preference for one’s current shitty surroundings (‘I’m 18 and I like it/I ain’t 21’). And it's delivered with more talent and musicianship than Rotten & Co. ever managed. Not that those guys cared. Pass the whiskey.

Pink: "Bohemian Rhapsody"

If you're going to attempt Freddie Mercury, you'd better be ready to pull off Freddie Mercury. The man had a four-octave range, an unimpeachable fashion sense, and what is known as "stage presence." He is an icon, a performer whose personality and flamboyance guaranteed a fascinating live show, beyond the music itself. My generation missed something by not being alive to see him.

And "Bohemian Rhapsody" was not only a huge song when it came out in 1975 -- it has remained one of the most well-known songs in English, appearing in Rolling Stone's list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time. More importantly, "Bohemian Rhapsody" is an anthem celebrated at the climactic moment of every drunken dance party -- because, you know, who doesn't love a chorus of inebriated voices struggling to create harmony before giving up and head-banging themselves into oblivion.

My god, I love this song.

Despite the usual chorus of liquored voices, this is actually an incredibly difficult song to perform. It vacillates between a ballad, an opera, and hard rock. There's a crazy guitar solo. The six-minute epic causes blood pressure to spike at various points, particularly at 4 minutes in, when the song explodes from a chorale into a cymbal-crashing head-banger. And Pink is right there, drumstick in hand, rocking out.

We've come to expect a performer like Pink, whose 2009 Funhouse tour spanned three continents and 151 shows, to hold her own on the singing. After all, she rose from small town Pennsylvanian obscurity to become one of the richest and most popular pop singers of the millennium. She's had eleven Top 10 hits, and her mantle is weighed down by three Grammys, 5 MTV music video awards and two Brit awards -- so far. That mantle is likely in a kickass mansion, too, because in 2010 Forbes named Pink the 27th most powerful celebrity. That kind of meteoric rise requires more than musical talent -- it takes tenacity, risk, and a somewhat oversized personality.

The execution starts with the fashion, in which Pink pays direct homage to Freddie, with the patterned pants and replica yellow jacket. Freddie may not have worn pink pasties on his chest, but I'd venture he would approve of the overall effect:

 

One of Pink's many looks on the Funhouse tour. Left boob = pastie.

 Freddie Mercury

But it's more than the look and the voice. Freddie was all about performance, and Pink seems to be a disciple of the same philosophy. She jumps all over the stage, jamming with the keyboardist and the lead guitarist, smacking the cymbals with borrowed drumsticks, conducting the band. The crazy funhouse set doesn't hurt the mood:

We may have lost Freddie Mercury much too soon, but Pink's performance accomplishes the task of honoring his memory, his role in music history, while also allowing her to show off her own stage chops. It's well-planned and well-performed from start to finish, a mix of old and new, classic and contemporary. In Pink's hands, a legendary song is both safe in its tradition and malleable in its execution.

In other words, I dig it.

What, you thought I was going to spend half the post talking about Freddie Mercury and then NOT give you a video? You're in good hands here, dear reader. Enjoy some classic Freddie (this video is part 1 of 5, from the 1985 Live Aid Festival):

Maroon 5 & Travie McCoy: "Stereo Hearts"

I started this blog earlier this year for the specific purpose of getting a certain Weezer song out of my head. I'd literally listened to it a dozen times a day for a week, and I feared I may grow to hate the song, as tends to happen with radio overplay. By posting it on the blog, I got it out of my system and maintained the integrity of the intrinsic enjoyment it still brings me. That and Sara Bareilles is just so darn cute.

As you may have surmised by this point, I'm hoping to achieve the same success with this radio hit, a collaboration between Adam Levine of Maroon 5 and Travie McCoy of Gym Class Heroes. My love for Levine is no secret -- he's ear and eye candy of the highest caliber -- but Travie McCoy is also fun to watch, spitting rhymes while Adam dances with the mic stand.

Okay fine, so maybe I was watching Adam the entire time. But Travie sounds good, so I assume he's fun to watch too. Crank it up, appreciate when good songs make it to the top of the pop charts, and have a happy and productive Monday.

Dido: "Thank You"

Today in America is a day of thanks. It is spent with friends and family, loved ones, and it's celebrated across races, religions, backgrounds, socioeconomic status, and other identifiers that we often use to divide ourselves as a society. It's a nice holiday with a traditional meal and traditional pastimes like football and drinking. It's sometimes stressful, a revelation of family strife or ineptitude in the kitchen. But hopefully, at the end of the day, we're happy we gathered together. These are the people you're spending your life with, not necessarily every day, but over the stretch of time and throughout life.

"I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life. Ohh, just to be with you is having the best day of my life." Dido's got the right idea. (She's also gorgeous and talented and so natural on stage. This is a relaxing choice if you're having a stressful holiday!)

Give thanks for those you love and those who love you back, make every day the best day of your life, and hey, why not make it someone else's best day ever too? Happy Thanksgiving!

The Hold Steady: "Southtown Girls"

Please welcome Juke Box Hero for his regular Wednesday guest post!

Some songs and artists are good in the studio, but when heard live or in extreme volume, are great. Earlier this month, in honor of 11/11/11, NPR’s tri-monthly music podcast "All Songs Considered" featured songs chosen by the hosts that "go to eleven: songs best heard extra-loud." They kicked off with the iconic clip of Christopher Guest from "This Is Spinal Tap" in which his character, Nigel Tufnel, coolly explains why the band's amps go all the way to volume 11.

Throughout the podcast there were a couple of no-brainers, like Led Zeppelin’s "Kashmir" and The Smiths' "How Soon Is Now?" These songs already stand out as legendary, but blasting them through high-powered drivers still tickles the ear drums. One band that Mr. Boilen & co. didn’t include, but that would’ve been appropriate, is Brooklyn-based indie-rock outfit The Hold Steady. The group’s brand of rough-yet-catchy, guitar-and-keyboard-laden dancehall jams, narrated by Minnesota native Craig Finn’s witty yet vague, raspy lyrics, isn’t something I regularly dial up through the ear buds -- but topping out the stereo or seen live, these guys are incredible.

Theirs is a raw, infectious energy that engages and feeds off a hometown vibe: a large part of their songbook reads as inside jokes, at least to those from Brooklyn or Minneapolis. In this track, Finn references numerous local roads and highways. The overall sound isn’t anything ground-breaking, just solid, heavy pop-rock hooks and seemingly simple structures in the vein of Bruce Springsteen or even Van Halen (or dare I say Billy Joel at times?). "Southtown Girls" sounds like it was bred specifically for local tavern singalongs, with its short chorus, grinding bass and soaring, shimmering organ.

The Hold Steady is the kind of band you’d be proud as hell -- but protective of -- if they were from your hometown. As for the rest of us, we’re just glad those locals decided to share. Crank it up.

They Might Be Giants: "Istanbul"

Structure is important. Structure brings order and a sense of purpose. Right now I'm deep into revisions of a short fiction story, and I'm struggling to keep the structure together, partly because the character experiences a freakout that I want to enhance by playing with syntax, making the structure part of the build-up itself. So structure is on my mind.

This song seems wonderfully free and unstructured. The two singers don't even end their notes together, they slide in and out of starts and stops, and a total meltdown happens about a minute in. And yet they start and end the song together, and what happens in the middle is both entertaining and musically viable.

Every song -- really, everything -- has a predetermined structure. Some just come loaded with accordions and incoherent babbling. Now if I could just find a reason to make my character an accordion player...

Panic! at the Disco: "I Write Sins Not Tragedies"

I love these small radio station performances. The recordings are up-close and well-lit, and of course the sound is clear and gorgeous. Singer Brendan Urie is only 24 years old, but his tone and inflections are flawless here. He also plays every instrument under the sun, from guitar to cello to trumpet, and he writes some of the band's songs. He's a natural performer, and in such a small space, this song -- from the band's 2005 debut album A Fever You Can't Sweat Out -- sounds different from versions I've heard before.

This song was Panic!'s only huge radio hit (so far). They've released two more albums since then, neither of which has gotten nearly as much hype as the first. I hope Panic! doesn't end up a one-hit wonder, and I considered posting one of their lesser-known songs, like their newest single, "The Ballad of Mona Lisa" (also a great song).

But I couldn't take my eyes off this video. It's an example of why I started this blog in the first place: the live version sounds even better than the album version. Enjoy, and consider this a friendly reminder to support your favorite artists by buying their albums!

Ben Folds: "Bitches Ain't Shit"

Piano rocker and eminent musician Ben Folds: the most soft-spoken motherfuckin' gangsta this side of suburbia.

Have a good weekend, friends!

Oops

So I realized today when I went back to the Beastie Boys post from earlier this week that the wrong video was posted. I'd originally planned on posting a video of "Sabotage," but then I found the one from the VH1 Hip Hop Honors and I changed my mind. The "Sabotage" video was not changed, and I feel silly because no one said anything. But that's neither here nor there.

Point is, it's fixed now. Yay! Go watch the awesome Beastie Boys video I intended to post!

Lily Allen: "Friend of Mine"

I just love Lily Allen. She's an odd sight, wearing something related to a prom dress, barefoot, stalking the stage, smoking a cigarette, hair blowing in the Brazilian wind. And then the music starts at 1:25, a sexy, almost funky island beat, with warm horns* in the background. She sings about how much she hates the bully who was mean to her in school. Her voice glides up the chorus, ascending to the middle of the phrase -- "you're no friend of" -- and then lilting down the last two words -- "mine, girl." Even when Allen giggles in the middle of the phrase, around 3:40, she lands the last notes.

And I know smoking hasn't been cool in years, but juggling a neon yellow microphone and a cigarette is still impressive.


* At first I thought the solo at the beginning was played on trombone, and I got excited, because I too play trombone. But my excitement deflated when I caught a glimpse of a flugelhorn. Making up for this aural tease, the slide-a-rific bone solo around 4:10 is pretty satisfying in its rip-roaring simplicity.

Dan Auerbach: "Keep It Hid"

Juke Box Hero is back for another Wednesday jam, and it looks like he's serving up some more hot blues. Take it away!

Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys may be one of the best blues musicians of our time. As a successful touring and recording artist, not to mention happily (much to my girlfriend’s dismay) married father, the 32-year-old Akron, Ohio native is a disciple of Mississippi blues legend Junior Kimbrough. Auerbach may not pass the "I slept in this suit and my woman shot me down" authentic-pathetic test for true blue sentiment, but man can he wail on an ax. Oh, and then there’s his salty tenor, dripping and gushing with raw attitude. As good as the guy has it now, there must be some serious adversity in his past that we don’t know about.

Though Auerbach is probably better known for his half-dozen Black Keys records, performing alongside fellow Akronite and drummer Pat Carney, he did venture off for a solo effort in 2009 titled Keep it Hid. Most of the gritty, lyrical tracks sound and feel like the Black Keys, but the drums are less bombastic (Carney wasn’t involved in this project, though the Bigfoot with maracas is rather imposing) and the instrumentation and layering is more complex (organs? synths? female harmony? oh my). But why change what ain’t baroque?

Though not exactly garage rock anymore, Auerbach’s only taken "a few baby steps up the basement stairs" here, according to Pitchfork’s Stephen M Deusener. Auerbach hadn’t exactly challenged himself to move that far out of the bluesy box, but he obviously took some creative steps forward, as evidenced on 2010’s tightened-up and more conceptual Brothers.

Like Brittany, I’m not generally a fan of the slow jam, but the title track from Auerbach’s solo debut is a beauty. The song is dark, mucky, a murder-robbery dirge ("They’re comin’ for me girl and I ain’t got time" – there can only be a few explanations). The roguish tone and wicked, convulsing solos (seen live, his spasmic playing borders on pornographic) perfectly convey an outlaw’s ballad. No, Carney wasn’t there, but it’s still a hot, black track.

Beastie Boys [and friends]: "Hold It Now, Hit It," "Paul Revere," and "So What'cha Want"

In 2006, VH1 aired its third annual Hip Hop Honors, featuring an opening act from P Diddy, Fabolous and Q-Tip. They arrive in track suits, performing the Beastie Boys' "Hold It Now, Hit it" and "Paul Revere," to seemingly unanimous audience approval. After a short (but really freaking great) DJ set by Mix Master Mike, the Beastie Boys themselves -- Mike D, MCA, and Ad-Rock -- take the stage, performing "So What'cha Want."

The Beastie Boys are infectious. No matter how many times you listen, it still sounds like yelling, but they're just such good writers, rappers, performers that they're entrancing. Verses spill out, one after the other, not rushing but tumbling, in a specific and rehearsed order, until at the five-minute mark Ad-Rock stops so he can "clear his throat." The stage is theirs. When the beat comes back, the audience screams. It's a great moment, and it's the reason the live show will always be better than the studio recording.

Decades after their start in New York as a hardcore punk trio, the Beastie Boys have evolved, still recording music, still performing live, and still making an entire line of MC's -- from Ice Cube to Run himself -- bob their heads. That's staying power, and it's worth a Tuesday tip of the hat.

Jack Johnson: "Do You Remember"

Today my parents celebrate their 12th wedding anniversary. Ten of those years of married bliss have been spent living in Hawaii, so props to them for figuring out a way to prolong the honeymoon indefinitely.

Jack Johnson is a fellow Hawaiian, and this is my favorite of his songs. The song is about a couple who, after being together more than ten years, are still madly in love (get it? just like my parents! d'awwwww). Mr. Johnson is a wonderful storyteller, and he's true to the island philosophy of relaxed delivery -- as a rule, he doesn't wear shoes when he performs (unless he's at the White House). My parents will appreciate that. They'll also appreciate the Ben Stiller cameo at the beginning.

Happy Anniversary, Dan & Kerri!

Beirut: "Nantes"

Today you will be treated to a romantic vision of a man with a confident vibrato singing as he walks down the street alongside an accordion player. And you'll either love this or you'll not. Speaking for myself, the way singer Zach Condon drags out every syllable, vibrating the ends of the notes, sliding from one to the next, makes me melt. He commands the musicians around him, directing them with his arms and his voice, leading the song. His voice holds together the ramshackle street gang (who are themselves wonderful musicians). This is an example of singer as leader.

Aretha Franklin: "Rock Steady"

Let's call this song exactly what it is. Let's call this week exactly what it is.

If you listen close, you can hear Aretha make a false entrance around 2:30. A reminder that we're all human. Don't think too hard today. Just jam out to the still undisputed queen, accidental stingers notwithstanding. If you have some sweet '70s threads to groove in, all the better.

I need to get a trio of backup singers to just follow me around and be sassy.

Jimi Hendrix: "Catfish Blues"

Making his weekly appearance, please welcome our new contributor, Juke Box Hero:

Brittany’s right, winter can be a good time for cozying up and cranking a few blue notes (though it doesn’t get that cold in the South – Muddy Waters was blue enough; who knows what he would’ve done if faced with Chicago winters and Cubs baseball). Still, the soulful singing and heavy rhythms of most blues tracks are fitting for a season that most people try to grind through, turning inward, rather than draw out with increased socializing (see: spring, summer, fall). And Mr. Hendrix knows a thing or two about grinding one out.

Though Jimi’s playing draws heavily from the blues, his more straightforward recordings in that genre have obviously been overshadowed by the trademark psychedelic rock. But the blues recordings that exist are no less remarkable. Over this past summer I happened upon the 1994 release Blues, a posthumous compilation of originals, covers, and previously unreleased material from Jimi. He pays homage to his blues idols, shows off his 12-string acumen, and juices these recordings with heady doses of shimmering, mind-blowing solos – delivering the blues as only ‘The Wild Man of Borneo’ can.

This "Catfish Blues" is no Hendrix original, but it is one grinding, guttural jam, the kind of hot, heavy blues that elicits leaden head bobbing and woeful sentiments from even the most well-off listeners. The embedded cut is apparently from the UK’s famous ‘Radio 1’ program(me) and has a slightly distant-sounding quality. Feeling slightly less connected with the recording only strengthens the piece’s against-the-world grit and, during Hendrix’s face-melting electric arias, utter other-worldliness. If only he was still living in this one.

Foster the People: "Pumped Up Kicks"

There is such thing as too much of a good thing. Decent pop songs often die in this manner. The radio overplays Kelly or Rhianna or whoever else is topping the chart this week, and we love it until the moment we don't anymore.

But maybe all you need to fall in love with an overplayed song is to hear it anew. Such is the case with today's video, an acoustic version of a contender for summer/fall 2011's most overplayed song. "Pumped Up Kicks" was actually released in September 2010, but top 40 stations didn't notice it until a few months ago, at which point it shot to number 3 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 chart. It stayed there for eight weeks, and radio stations obligingly played it approximately 83 times a day for the duration.

It fits the mold of an alternative pop song. It's uptempo,with a playful melody. The lyrics don't really match the mood, describing a school shooting scene. If Marilyn Manson released this song, there would be outrage. But isn't this a lovely, pleasant thing to listen to?

No? You're still sick of it? Fair enough. But give the acoustic version a chance; if you like Mark Foster's voice in this version, you'll like the rest of the album too.

Stars: "Your Ex-Lover is Dead"

I'm not a purveyor of slow jams. As a teenager I was bored by any song slower than 160 beats per minute. No love lost for Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men, but it's just not my style. Thankfully I grew out of my generalized misconception -- there is obviously much to be loved in the largo and adagio tempo families -- but nevertheless I was irreversibly cultured to think of slow music as soothing, no matter what the lyrics said or meant. And so, on this manic Monday, I offer my definition of soothing -- a.k.a. Stars performing "Your Ex-Lover is Dead" live in the studio. Enjoy the three minutes and 15 seconds of quiet, almost delicate chords and harmonies. I do miss the cello and horns from the studio recording of the song, but I'll trade that for the sound quality here. The studio version also features an intro with a creepy old man saying, "If there's nothing left to burn, you must set yourself on fire" -- which pretty much counteracts the otherwise pleasant anti-anxiety effects of the music itself. I assume the creepy old man must not tour with the Canadian band, though I cannot confirm as Stars has no tour dates scheduled. Anyone readers seen them live?

Dead Weather: "I Cut Like a Buffalo"

I hope you enjoyed Juke Box Hero's first post yesterday on First Aid Kit. I spent the afternoon entranced by the Swedish songstresses, so I consider it a success. He'll be back next Wednesday.

Let's keep the Jack White lovin' going this week with a Dead Weather performance of "I Cut Like a Buffalo." This song does not follow a typical format, and I have the feeling some of you will like it and some of you will listen to it for 30 seconds and then turn it off. If nothing else, you have to be intrigued by the title -- are buffalos known for their cutting ability? Or lack thereof? The opening lyrics are, "I look like a woman but I cut like a buffalo." What the fuck, Jack?

In a 2009 Spin interview, White talked about how much this song means to him: "It just feels like I'm being the most truthful I've ever been with myself ... I'm just obsessed with this song, but I'm scared to listen to it at the same time." Considering all the music he's written, that's a huge admission, and so I struggle harder to understand what he means when he sing-shouts, "Wake me up when it's broke, just like a woman, cut a record on my throat, then you break me wide open." The fragmented, analogous phrases and quips ("Is that you choking?" followed by painful choking noises) feels artistic and significant and deep, but I gotta be honest...I don't get it.

But I still love this song. The composition itself is basic, almost gutteral -- hard drum and keyboard hits on quarter notes, with White and lead singer Alison Mosshart practically shouting as the song stews. As you listen, head bobbing may be creep up unexpectedly. You can't help but groove along.

Sadly, the Dead Weather is not touring at the moment, but Mosshart will be in Chicago with her band the Kills in January. In fact, Uptown's Riv Theater is the first stop on their 2012 tour. White is all over behind the scenes, producing and collaborating constantly. He's performing with the Raconteurs in Florida and Georgia next weekend, but otherwise no tour dates are readily available. Jack, come to Chicago!!

First Aid Kit: "It Hurts Me Too" and "I Met Up with a King"

Loyal readers (and anyone wandering the Internets),

I'm excited to introduce a new guest blogger, Juke Box Hero. He's a good friend with great taste in music and a sophisticated -- one might say global -- way about him. His posts will be appearing Wednesdays from now until infinity, or until he picks another day, whichever comes first.

Sir, the floor is yours.

- Brittany

I suppose you've really "made it" when you have Jack White calling you into his studio after a gig. The prolific rocktreprenuer snatched up the Swedish sirens known as First Aid Kit without skipping one high lonesome beat after seeing them perform a Nashville gig last October. The duo got to press this cover of "It Hurts Me Too" into vinyl for White's series of Third Man Records seven-inch one-offs. Theirs is a great success story for Mr. Gore to notch on his Internet belt; if not for MySpace and YouTube, First Aid Kit might still be stuck in the hills of Scandinavia. Fortunately for us, the world now sounds a little prettier.

The Söderberg sisters are the surefire rebuttal to any doubt that American-minded folk (revival) music is alive and well with today’s Swedish youth. Since 2007, the Stockholm-based duo of Johanna, 21, and Klara, 18, has been recording sweet, tight harmonies in the vein of the Carter Family, Gram Parsons, and even Simon & Garfunkel. The exotic novelty of foreigners channeling Americana wears off as soon as they count off a song ‘ett, tva, tre, fyra’ (one to four in Swedish). The girls aren’t just good for a couple of teenage troubadours; they could hold their own with your Partons, your Judds, your Dylans, your Baezeses…

Though the homespun tracks posted to their MySpace page initially drew a bit of attention from the Swedish music community, things really took off when they casually covered kindred spirits the Fleet Foxes’ "Tiger Mountain Peasant Song." They recorded the track in an actual Scandinavian forest, which also served as the setting for the music video. The brisk, pastoral setting coupled with their tinglingly strong vocals and innocent, elfish beauty made the video a quick hit on YouTube, even drawing the attention (and approval) of their heavily bearded honorees. A few acoustic strums later and they’d released two studio records, 2008's LP "Drunken Trees" and 2010’s EP "The Big Black & the Blue." Hence the young Swedish sisters embarked on what’s become a two-year international tour.

Unlike the Bed Intruders and Rebecca Blacks of our insta-stardom world, the mass discovery of First Aid Kit (the name apparently came from a Swedish-English dictionary entry) was fortunate. The girls’ emotional, narrative melodies may not be as genre-splittingly creative as their countrywoman Lykke Li (though they’re touring together now, so maybe some electro-power-pop will rub off?), but there’s an unmistakable genuineness, a raw soul, that consistently pours out through their soaring, intertwining voices.

We’ll leave you with one of my favourite tracks from their EP: "I Met Up with a King." Enjoy the flutey synths (Simon & G-Funk anyone?), that uncanny melding of Klara’s bright twangy mezzo and Johanna’s sultry alto, and the acknowledgment that despite the worldly depth of many of their songs’ lyrics, [their characters] have quite a ways to go yet: ‘Well I don’t know anything at all and we mean nothing to history… well thank God.’

- Juke Box Hero

Tracy Chapman: "Give Me One Reason"

This is my jam today. No explanation available except that it's a damn good song performed by damn good musicians. As we head toward winter -- snow flurries and freezing rain and hiding indoors -- anticipate an increase in bluesy videos. It's how we keep warm here in Chicago. Enjoy.

Sidenote: This video is the 101st to be posted to this blog. Happy arbitrary milestone, Daijams! To celebrate, tomorrow we'll feature a post by a new weekly contributor! Get excited!

Jimmy Fallon: "Whip My Hair"

Happy Halloween!