Posts Tagged ‘United Kingdom’

Unsolicited Career Advice for… Radiohead

You wouldn’t know it by reading the following, but Uncle Donnie is afraid of British people.  Thought the Beatles were going to bring about a counter-Revolutionary War, in which England would attempt to take back the original 13 colonies, by force, if necessary, using the Fab Four as a distraction.  He distrusts anything with a Union Jack on it, including the Def Leppard drummer’s shorts back in the early 80s.  That said, for some reason, he digs Radiohead.  Calls Tom Yorke’s voice “soothing.”  In typical Skwatzenschitzian fashion, he’s got some advice for the band. —RS

TO: Radiohead
FROM: Don Skwatzenschitz
RE: Career advice

You guys went right to my (radio)head (ha-ha) years ago. I saw you open for REM back in ‘95 or so, and you were fantastic. I didn’t know a single damn song (you wouldn’t play “Creep,” regardless of how many times my row shouted for it), and I was blown away. You’ve had your ups and downs—to be honest, I’ve lost track of you these last couple years, since Amnesiac. What has happened to you? What have you done? You were on the cusp of something big—BIG, I tell you—and now … I think Blur might be bigger than you guys, and they’re not even a band anymore.

I can help you out, if you let me. Believe in Skwatzenschitz. I’ll make you stars once again. Here’s what you have to do:

  • Get into food. Pablo Honey barbecue wings. Knives Out frozen meals.  Unborn Chicken Voice chicken tenders. This country loves nothing more than a heaping helping of junk food. Put your name on something breaded and microwaveable, and by God, you will be a household name. Kids will order you at Applebees. What more could a band ask for?
  • Smile in your publicity photos. Tom, nobody likes a sourpuss. You look like a … well, a creep in your publicity glossies. You never crack a smile; none of you do. And what the hell are you doing with that eye? Lighten up, boys. Need an example? Just a little sample? Look at the Osmonds, back in the 70s. Smiled in every fucking picture. Biggest band in Utah. I kid you not—cheerful works!
  • Go country. Duetting with someone hot in country can get you all kinds of sales at Wal-Mart, you know? Heartland honeys like Carrie Underwood or Taylor Swift, or even that chick from Sugarland, the one who did that song with Bon Jovi. While we’re at it, guys, do you think you have a Lost Highway-type album in you? Because if you do, my God, CMT will be all over you.
  • Charge double for your music. This is a crazy idea I had recently, but hear me out. Why do people spend 50 grand for a Cadillac, when a Civic will do? Because of the prestige of owning something special, something precious. Too many bands just give away their music these days. You should charge double—$39.96 list price for the next Radiohead album. And don’t sell it on the Web, or in Wal-Mart. Make it available only at specialty stores—really out-of-the-way places, so people have to find it. It’ll seem more exclusive. You won’t sell as many copies, but the ones you do sell will put a nice extra chunk o’ green (or whatever color you Brits’ currency is) in your pockets.
  • Fake your death. “Radiohead Dies in Bizarre Plane Crash—Wreck Never Found.” Great headline, huh? People will buy your entire catalog again, just to have something more to remember you by. Meanwhile, you guys are up in jolly olde Britain, noshing on Cornish pasties, listening to your Can albums, raking in the quid hand over pale, skeletal fist. How alternative would that be?

All the best,
Don

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Book Review: Robb Walsh, “Sex, Death and Oysters: A Half-Shell Lover’s World Tour”

Robb Walsh – Sex, Death and Oysters: A Half-Shell Lover’s World Tour (2009, Counterpoint)
purchase this book (Amazon)

To say that I’m not a foodie would be an act of extremely polite understatement. I spent much of my 20s subsisting on Top Ramen, corned beef hash, and pasta, and like my colleague Jon Cummings, I probably ate my first salad sometime around the age of 27. As for oysters, well…my only experience with the raw variety came in a Nashville restaurant about 10 years ago, and although it didn’t end as terribly as eating raw seafood in Tennessee probably can, it wasn’t all that pleasant, either — kind of like swallowing phlegm with Tobasco sauce.

As a reader, though, I’m easily persuaded by good writing; I’ve come away from impassioned defenses of music I know I hate (see: Floyd, Pink) feeling like I might actually be able to enjoy the stuff, simply because I enjoyed reading about it. My eighth-grade English teacher would probably disagree — and wave a goddamn sentence diagram at me, too — but I think that kind of contagious enthusiasm for one’s subject might be the most important asset a writer can have.

Robb Walsh, the author of Sex, Death and Oysters: A Half-Shell Lover’s World Tour, has that enthusiasm; simply put, the man loves oysters, and I mean L-O-V-E-S them — enough to spend five years traveling the globe in pursuit of what it is that differentiates one region’s fruits de mer from another’s. Walsh is the restaurant critic for the Houston Press, so he naturally begins his journey by shucking through the oyster bars in and around Galveston Bay (and vigorously fighting the widespread belief that Southern oysters will kill you, especially when eaten in moths without an R). From there, it’s off to Florida, where oystermen still farm their crop with old-fasioned tongs — and from there, Walsh goes all over the world, testing claims to half-shell greatness in the United Kingdom, France, Canada, the American Northwest, and anywhere else oysters are grown, often dragging his teenage daughters and girlfriend (turned fiancee, turned pregnant second wife) along with him. (more…)

CD Review: Lily Allen, “It’s Not Me, It’s You”

Lily Allen - It's Not Me, It's YouLily Allen – It’s Not Me, It’s You (2009, Capitol)
purchase this album (Amazon)

When you weigh Lily Allen’s artistic output with how much tabloid-style press she gets, it’s safe to say that her personality has earned her just as much attention as her music, if not more. Increasingly known for her party-girl ways and her frank, sometimes harsh interviews and commentary, the big-eyed brunette from the UK spent two years as a media darling between the release of her debut, Alright, Still, and her latest album, It’s Not Me, It’s You.

She starts slinging sass from the very beginning with “Everyone’s At It,” about widespread drug use/abuse. “I’m not trying to say that I’m smelling of roses / but when will we tire of putting shit up our noses?” she asks over a power-electro-pop beat. It’s incredibly club friendly, though it’s hard to picture people on a dance floor jamming to a song about their own drug problem.

Lily Allen, “Everyone’s At It” (download)

Kiss-offs to men abound. There’s “Not Fair,” where Allen rides a beat from a western riff while she complains about a guy who’s giving outside of the bedroom, but not giving in it. In “I Could Say” and “Never Gonna Happen,” she flippantly pushes aside relationships with guys who she finds pathetic or boring, but doesn’t pack much of that infamous attitude in either one.

When she does show anger, it feels misplaced. “22″ is an interesting commentary on women devaluing with age, partly because she agrees? Singing about a woman who’s “nearly 30,” she says, “It’s sad but it’s true how society says / her life is already over.” She treks into political territory with “Fuck You,” directed to former US President George W. Bush, but doesn’t have much to add beyond, “Fuck you / fuck you / fuck you very, very much.”

Allen is still an entertainer, though, and her one-liners provide plenty of amusement. In “The Fear,” she claims, “I want to be right and I want lots of money / I don’t care about clever, I don’t care about funny,” but the big joke is her tongue-in-cheek attitude that indicates she so obviously does.

Lily Allen, “The Fear” (download)

It’s fun to see Allen exploring new musical territory, with blooping, sci-fi electronic beats, piano blues riffs, folky tones and even a dash of klezmer. However, the drawback of Greg Kurstin’s unusual production is a lack of anything as instantly sugary as her mega hit, “Smile.”

Allen’s superficial comments on heavy subjects make It’s Not Me, It’s You a featherweight affair, but while her youthful vibrancy hinders her in that way, her version of the life and attitudes of a modern-day 20-something are also part of the appeal. As she’s quick to point out in “I Could Say,” “I’ve got a life ahead of me / I’m only 22.”

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