John Gushue . . . Dot Dot Dot

Weekend playlist

Some hype that rings true, a Bowie gem and a rom-com-sparked re-release are among this week's playlist.

Vampire Weekend: Walcott. Vampire Weekend got a remarkable amount of pre-release hype before their debut album was released at the end of January ... and it's deserved. To me, anyway. The comparisons you'll hear about - Paul Simon, Talking Heads, etc. - add up, too.

Badly Drawn Boy: The Time of Times. Out this week, Damon Gough has reworked an album track for the forthcoming romantic comedy Definitely Maybe. Definitely listenable.

Robert Plant & Alison Krauss: Rich Woman. From Raising Sand, a hypnotic romp of an old tune, with a fine, swampy atmosphere.

Neko Case: Deep Red Bells. Last year, Case released Live From Austin TX, an album made from a set for the Austin City Limits TV program. It was recorded in 2003, though, which means, of course, that newer material won't be on it. No loss, though - she sounds amazing.

David Bowie: TVC 15. An evergreen gem from the Seventies. 

I post a playlist here every weekend; click on the links below to see more.

Weekend playlist (recycling edition)

Every other Saturday, I spend a bit of time - as much as an hour, it seems - in the garage area, sorting through recycling, getting garbage bagged up, tidying things up. My iPod never seems more valuable than getting through more tedious chores. Here are some of the songs that have been on that playlist lately.

Dave "Baby" Cortez: The Happy Organ Cortez. Included on a compilation of Fifties and Sixties tunes, this two-minute-long instrumental is both cheesy and exhilarating. It comes in a small dose, and is hard to resist. It apparently is the first single to make commercial use of the electric organ; it went to No. 1 in 1959.

Curtis Lee: Pretty Little Angel Eyes. Another mono-era classic, and hard not to sing along with ... including any or even all of the harmony parts.

Björk: The Dull Flame Of Desire. Some years ago, I remember causing one of those stinkbomb moments at a party when I said I didn't much care for Björk. The others, evidently, did. Oh well. Things haven't much changed over the years. The Q best of 2007 album included this track from Volta, a duet with Antony Hegarty of a plodding song that lifts its lyrics from a Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev poem. Oddly enough, I let it play through.

Deodato: Also Sprach Zarathustra. Speaking of surprises, I've been getting a kick out of this Seventies flashback: the funkified workout of Strauss's Also Sprach Zarathustra, post-2001. My head goes into shades or orange, brown and purple just thinking about it ...

The Submarines: Peace and Hate. The L.A. duo are a bit cute, but are worth checking out. (Their MySpace page is here.) Melodic and very hummable.

I post a list of about five songs here every weekend. Click on the links below to see past entries.

Weekend playlist

I had been trying - pretty hard - to jot a short playlist every Saturday of some of the songs I've been listening to lately. Easier said than done; with the boy's activities, chores, shopping and the rest of it, there just hasn't been as much free time on Saturday to do even such as short job. Sooo ... the weekend playlist is born. And I continue to be very grateful to the suggestions that friends have sent in, and for the gems they've suggested.

The National: Fake Empire. In a more just world, The National's latest album, Boxer, would have made a bigger splash last year, other than some well-deserved critical applause. Click here to see The National perform Fake Empire last summer on David Letterman.

Michael Cera & Ellen Page: Anyone Else But You: We went to see Juno earlier this month, and loved it. I made a beeline for the music store to get a copy of the soundtrack, and learned it had been backordered up the wazoo. I downloaded a copy from iTunes, and have been playing it all a lot. This is the performance that closes the film: sweet, but not saccharine.

Black Kids: I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You. I made a note in November about how I had been playing this song repeatedly; I still play it a lot. I was struck to learn this Florida outfit only formed a couple of years ago. It still sounds like a 45 from a quarter-century ago that just got dusted off.

Eilen Jewell: High Shelf Booze. I picked up this tune by the Boston chanteuse on a Word magazine compilation. Replaying it lately reminds me to go find more.

XTC: Living Through Another Cuba. From Black Sea, a reggae-infused bounce of international-relations paranoia. Which never goes out of style ... the paranoia, that is. Maybe the reggae, too...

Saturday playlist (covers edition)

It's been a while since I posted a list of covers that I like. Here's another.

Boy Least Likely To: Faith. Yes, Faith ... the George Michael song ("Before this river becomes an ocean," and other lame lines), made yummy with a singalong version by Boy Least Like To, with banjo, handclaps and a small orchestra of toy instruments. Irresistable.

Fine Young Cannibals: Suspicious Minds. A reinvention of Elvis, before reinventing Elvis was not only cool, but standard. A great use of Jimmy Somerville on backing vocals, too.

U2: Dancing Barefoot. A B-side from the '80s, with an acoustic strum through the Patti Smith song. I can see why U2 left it off Joshua Tree-era releases ... it doesn't fit ... but it's a compelling performance.

Cassandra Wilson: I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry. Something about the Hank Williams song cries out for reinterpretation (Jean Hewson of St. John's does a lovely version), perhaps because it's such an intimate lyric.

Albert Plá: El Lado Mas Bestia de la Vida. Walk on the Wild Side, ex Lou Reed, but given a sinewy new rhythm, and delivered in Spanish. It appears on (and is a highlight of ) the Putomayo album Cover The World. You can watch the video here.

I post a playlist here most every Saturday. Click on the link below to see more.

Saturday playlist (getting back to normal edition)

Christmas lasts a full 12 days in this house, and then some, but we're in a wind-down mode. Thus, a playlist for the mood.

Hard-Fi: Watch Me Fall Apart. One of the U.K. bands to make a splash this year. This song reminds me of an old tune, and I can't put my finger on it. (Frustrating!)

Rico & The Special AKA: Rasta Call You. A rousing tune I downloaded a few weeks ago from iTunes, from a Specials collection of singles, B-sides and such called Stereo-Typical. I didn't have this one, so it was a treat to get it. Rico Rodrigues always amazes; collecting more will be a priority in the months ahead.

Booker T. Jones and Jolie Holland: What A Wonderful World. Often such a sappy song, but here, it swings gently, with Booker T. on the organ. Picked up via KCRW's podcast. The single was released in November to mark the 40th anniversary of the song's composition; you can read more about the project here.

Elvis Perkins: While You Where Sleeping. The son of Anthony Perkins and Berry Berenson: a trivia note to get you in the door. But his songs are great.

Wings: Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five. From Band on the Run, a favourite piano melody. When a school friend of mine played it, I instantly regretted not trying harder to learn to play myself. And, at that point, 1985 seemed so far away!

Click on the link below to see more tunes posted to the Saturday Playlist queue. And drop a line to suggest a song you like. These ears are open.

The 2007 Christmas playlist

Normally - if I get around to it at all - I post a list of five songs or so that have been in the earbuds lately. This week, something different.

Every year, I made a CD of Christmas music for the family and some close friends. This year was the eighth edition; in 2000, I figured I would soon enough run out of Christmas music, but that has not been a problem; I keep finding new albums every year, and I get plenty of pointers to something else worth listening to.

Here's this year's list.

Vince Guaraldi Trio: Christmas Is Coming. From a Charlie Brown Christmas, one of the many themes that is instantly familiar to millions who grew up watching the special and (if you're like me) get to watch it again through children's eyes.

New Birth Brass Band: Santa's Second Line. From a Putumayo collection.

The Drifters: White Christmas. One of the best-known versions of White Christmas, this one got bumped alojng from year to year.

Aimee Mann: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. Our son's favourite song on this year's list.

James Taylor: Santa Claus Is Coming To Town. Our top version of the behavioural modifier of the pre-Christmas season.

The Spinners: The Twelve Days of Christmas. No, not the familiar R&B Spinners, but instead a British folk group I didn't know about until this year. A funny but full running of the counting song.

The Crickets: Deck the Halls. Yes, the old Buddy Holly Crickets, with a song with "holly" in it. That didn't occur to me until a few days after I added it.

Jack Jones: Sleigh Ride. As discussed here recently, Jack Jones's version is heavy on the schmooze, but I like it anyway, especially the horn arrangement, which reminds me of when I played trumpet.

Ella Fitzgerald: Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer. Ella Fitzgerald has appeared on every year's compilation - which seems appropriate, given she made one of the best Christmas albums ever recorded.

Sufjan Stevens: The Friendly Beasts. Stevens's Songs For Christmas was the find of last year, and will keep me stoked for years to come. We love how this version of the Friendly Beasts builds gradually, with everyone chipping in on vocals, regardless of singing ability. (More Sufjan Stevens Christmas stuff is here.)

Dave Panting: Carol of the Bells. From Dave's excellent Mandolin Christmas album of a few years back.

Anúna: Away in a Manger. Anúna reportedly left a few people breathless at this year's Festival 500. They have a Christmas CD, and it's beautiful.

Maddy Prior & The Carnival Band: The Angel Gabriel. Maddy Prior's voice may be an acquired taste, but I love how she does carols.

Mary Margaret O'Hara: Christmas Evermore. Whatever happened to Mary Margaret O'Hara, anyway?

Stevie Wonder: Someday At Christmas. A Sixties pop chestnut, and still relevant, unfortunately.

Sinéad O'Connor: Silent Night. Lush and gentle.

Willie Nelson: Jingle Bells. A wonderful, spirited version that doesn't take itself too seriously.

Sarah McLachlan: I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day. I was going to use one of the tracks from McLachlan's recent Christmas album, Wintersong, until I heard this, on the new Starbucks compilation, Stockings By the Fire.

Pet Shop Boys: It Doesn't Often Snow At Christmas. A Pet Shops Boys single about the dull reality that Christmas Dad can sometimes be, but still a toe-tapper.

LED vs. Panaphonic: My Favorite Things. An electronica-lite take on the Sound of Music tune, which I always associate with Christmas and the onset of winter.

Blind Boys Of Alabama Feat. Shelby Lynne: The Christmas Song. Chestnuts with a slow roasting feel.

Rufus Wainwright: What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? From the McGarrigle Christmas Hour album.

Van Morrison: Celtic New Year. OK, this doesn't have anything to do with Christmas, or even with regular New Year's ... (it's about Samhain, which was in November) but I like the tone of it all the same.

Saturday playlist (checking a list edition)

Each year, I've made a CD for family (and some good friends) of Christmas music. Those who know me know there's a stack of Christmas music by the stereo - to be truthful, there's a few stacks - and I put more thought into the annual Christmas CD than I would have expected. The newest, the eighth, is pretty well lined up, with dozens of songs left by the side - including two new ones that I can place here. (Later this month, I hope to make a list out of the songs that made the cut this year.)

The Killers: Don't Shoot Me Santa. Brand-new from Brandon Flowers & Co., a wicked tune that delves into Christmas, homicide, the desert and a whack of genres. I'd add it, if I knew small children didn't listen to the compilation. I picked it up as a download from iTunes. (You can watch the video here.)

Herbie Hancock featuring Corinne Bailey Rae: River. This year's Starbucks holiday release, Stockings by the Fire, makes an apt note. Somehow, Joni Mitchell's River has morphed into a Christmas song. Several years ago, Linda Ronstadt recorded it, and last year alone, James Taylor and Sarah McLachlan added it to their respective Christmas albums. This year's turn is Herbie Hancock, with a low-key jazz take, with Corinne Bailey Rae warbling along side. Pleasant, but not stunning.

The Psychedelic Furs: The Ghost In You. Proof that Psychelic Furs were more pop than punk, but who cares? A happy memory from 20-odd years ago.

The Tubes: Talk to Ya Later. Similarly, the Tubes got a lift from branding over what was broadly called new wave, if though it didn't really hit. This is from the era when their theme-show included business suits.

Kate Schutt: Glamorous Life. Yes, the Sheila E. song. No, it doesn't sound at all like Sheila E. Another tune I really like from the guitarist (and cohort of Duane Andrews).

Saturday playlist

A few of the tunes I've been listening to lately:

Carbon/ Silicon: Why Do Men Fight? If there's a camp that divides Clash fans between Joe Strummer and Mick Jones, put me in the Jones camp, even though it's definitely more acceptable (read: fashionable) to pick Strummer. Post-Clash, Jones has often been a disappointment, as Strummer usually was, but he's still working it out. Carbon/Silicon is an unlikely collaboration with Tony James, of all people. Excellent tune to start the day, though.

Jill Cunniff: Lazy Girls. I picked up this tune from the ex-Luscious Jackson singer months ago from a KCRW podcast; it sat stored away for months before I noticed it.

Ron Sexsmith: All in Good Time. Ron Sexsmith = best living songwriter. I tend to think that many days. So many of his songs are so finely crafted, it's hard to knock them. All in Good Time has been a staple for a long, long time, and although it's a bit mawkish to admit it, the song's message gets heeded when I feel a bit run down.

The Beatles: Drive My Car. Speaking of tight songwriting ... From Rubber Soul, an album that is so lean and straight-up, Drive My Car - running all of 2'30" - is among the longer songs on the entire record. (Only one song on Rubber Soul, You Won't See Me, runs over three minutes!) Drive My Car is one of those songs I grew up singing along to, and probably one of the first where I sniffed out innuendo on the radio.

Manny Corchado: Chicken and Booze. From a Mojo compilation, a nice slice of jazzy funk that warms up a walk in mid-November.

I (really, really try to) post five songs from my revolving playlist to a queue on this blog. Click on the label below to see more.

Saturday playlist

It's been a few weeks since I've posted a playlist; this week, some of the tunes that have been flowing through the earbuds or (in the case of the first tune) in the car over the last month or so.

Robert Goulet: If Ever I Would Leave You. Here's another way in which Homer Simpson has enriched our household. Earlier this fall, the Simpsons aired an episode called Homer of Seville, in which Homer discovers he has an operatic voice, but as long as he lies down. One of the songs he sings is this. When Ingrid Fraser played Goulet's version from the original cast recording of Camelot (I'm a bit embarrassed to say I didn't know that's where the song came from!) on Halloween, in tribute to Goulet's passing, my son - in his Superman costume - lowered his seat way back, a la Homer, and sang along. I downloaded this that night.

Pat Carroll: Single Girl. Months ago, my dad told me to keep an eye out for the movie Songcatcher, a fictionalized account of the song collectors of Appalachian tunes in the early 20th century. Not a bad movie, and a much more interesting soundtrack, featuring the likes of Emmylou Harris and Rosanne Cash reviving some very old songs. This is right from the film - one minute of Pat Carroll singing in character.

Aimee Mann: Could've Been Anyone. From Whatever, in 1993. A phrase everyone uses, but at least she got in early on it.

Kevin Devine: Just Stay. I knew zip about Devine, a New Yorker, until I picked up this song amid a Paste magazine sampler. It's one of the reasons I buy Paste; a good find makes up for the cost of the magazine alone, and the rest is gravy. A video of Devine performing the song solo last month at Rutgers University can be seen here.

Sam Roberts: Bridge to Nowhere. This has been one of the tunes I like to have on hand when I walk to or from work; good for keeping a pace.

I post (when I can, or remember!) a set of recently heard tunes on Saturdays. Click below to see more.

Saturday playlist

I picked up some new music recently, some of which makes this week's playlist.

Bruce Springsteen: Livin' In The Future. The Boss reunites with the E Street Band with a sound that would not have been out of place on Darkness on the Edge of Town. Livin' in the Future has all the elements: organ, big crashing drums, chiming guitar chords and - best of all - Clarence Clemons ripping through his sax.

Annie Lennox: Ghosts In My Machine. It's been a looong wait for a new album by Annie Lennox, and it turns out to be pretty sober stuff. Not surprising, I guess, as she was moved to write Songs of Mass Destruction by warfare, AIDS in Africa and pains both international and personal. That said, Ghosts in My Machine is a stomper, albeit with accordion where you would expect to hear synthesizers.

Sam Cooke: That's Where It's At. I dropped all of a Sam Cooke anthology into my Nano a few weeks ago, and I don't tire of hearing the songs when they show up in shuffle mode.

The New Pornographers: Myriad Harbour. Challengers is a very good new album. There's something precious about this song, but I play it a lot anyway.

The Velvet Underground: Pale Blue Eyes. A wonderful, slow, swaying slice of Lou Reed.

Click below to see previous posts to the Saturday Playlist queue.

Saturday playlist (tunes about radio version)

There are lots and lots of songs about the radio; so many, I had no trouble finding a list from what's on my hard drive. I usually put up a list of five; unable to make clean choices, I this week picked 10.

Van Morrison: Caravan. You could make a list alone around Van Morrison songs about radio; an alternate is the Enlightenment track In the Days Before Rock and Roll, one of several about his adolescent obsession with tuning in U.S. R&B ("Fats did not come in/ Without those wireless knobs"). Caravan is about the joy that comes with letting the radio set the scene for a party.

Reunion: Life Is A Rock (But The Radio Rolled Me). A chestnut from the AM era ... about AM-era chestnuts. The lyrics are one namecheck after another, sung at a frenetic pace: "B.B. Bumble and the Stingers, Mott the Hoople, Ray Charles Singers..."  One of my friends at school could actually rattle off these words, even though I'm pretty sure none of us knew much about the names in the song.

Talking Heads: Radio Head. A track from True Stories that may be best known for giving Radiohead its name ... even though the Texan accordion swing sounds nothing like Radiohead at all. And it's fun.

Elvis Costello: Radio, Radio. The other side of the coin to the tributes to radio, Costello ripped into the vapid programming of the late 1970s. It was also, famously, the song Costello played without approval on Saturday Night Live after a false start of another tune; you can watch it here. (It pissed off NBC, although it's been anthologized and taken as a proof of SNL's iconoclastic tone ever since.)

Wilco: Radio Cure. I love the sombre tone of this song, which seems to be about the healing power of radio, even though it is so downbeat.

Donald Fagen: The Nightfly. With Steely Dan, Fagen made FM, which gave the concept of grapefruit wine to the masses. But I like this song, and the fantasy of late-late-night radio that filled Fagen's imagination in the early 1960s.

Everclear: A.M. Radio. I'm not an Everclear fan, but I got a kick out of A.M. Radio, and its attempts to explain things like transistor radios to kids brought up on CDs (which, ironically, are now themselves old-fashioned of kids today).

The Modern Lovers: Roadrunner. Jonathan Richman's breakthrough song is one of the great driving songs of them all, but it's also all about the radio. "Radio on," to be precise. Chant it now.

David Bowie: DJ. A slice of weirdness from the Lodger era. Y

Rush: The Spirit of Radio. On a positive note, a rare love song from a band that is happy to say what fans they were of a radio station, in this case the still-loved CFNY in Toronto.

Saturday playlist (Dino lives version)

A new Dean Martin passed by this month, and of course I thought it was a compilation of old recordings. Well, sort of.

Dean Martin with Big Bad Voodoo Daddy: Who's Got The Action?. The album Forever Cool takes Dino vocals and marries them to newly recorded duets, with vocals from an assortment that includes Joss Stone, Kevin Spacey, Charles Aznavour and Shelby Lynne. This is the track that caught my attention the most: a new backup from retro-minded swingers Big Bad Voodoo Daddy.

Mary Barry: Hurricane Charley. From her new album, Red Eye Tonight. Spot-on lighter jazz for winding down.

Tracey Thorn: Plain Sailing. Twenty-five years old, and still fresh: a song about "meetings arranged" that in this case did work out.

U2: Everlasting Love. From the B-sides album that came out a while back, a cover of a tune that has had many fingerprints over it; in fact, I had to look up who had the first big hit. (I guess it's The Love Affair, which would have been called a boy band, had the phrase existed in 1968.)

Three Dog Night: Black & White. A No. 1 from 1972, with an optimistic take on race relations that seems to fit the time. I didn't know until recently that the song dated from the mid-1950s, when things were very different indeed.

I post a playlist of five tunes each Saturday; click on the link below to see more.

Saturday playlist

Older songs or older singers appear to be an unsuspecting theme in this week's playlist ... unsuspecting, in that I didn't make the connections till I looke at the five of them.

Holly Cole: Waters of March. Antonio Carlos Jobim's song has been sung many ways, including in a bombastic Coke commercial from the Eighties that, fortunately, has all but rinsed out of my head. I like my Waters of March served with a light, crisp swing, but Holly Cole's brand-new, downbeat take seems to serve it well, too.

Lyle Lovett & His Large Band: Up In Indiana. With an album title of It's Not Big It's Large, Lovett is pointing audiences to the band backing him up on this very good album; small wonder he opens up with an instrumental stomp, Tickle Toe. Up In Indiana is as good as anything he's done.

Kelly-Ann Evans and Janet Cull: Hallelujah. Does the world need another rendition of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. Well, sure. Evans and Cull are well-known singers in the St. John's music world (the former has relocated to Toronto, but comes back). Their new album, People Get Ready, produced by themselves, takes some familiar songs and rethreads them accordingly. It's nice.

The O'Jays: Back Stabbers. One of the definitive Philadelphia International singles, with a Seventies sound that is definitely of the period but doesn't weigh it down in glitter, suede and flared jeans. And it actually had something to say.

Paul McCartney: Ever Present Past. McCartney could be forgiven for coasting on royalties, but he's making interesting records. Memory Almost Full offers this tune, which opens with a ringing guitar you don't expect from Mr. Ebony and Ivory, even though it rides on a melody that fits his catalogue.

Click below to see previous lists filed to this queue.

Saturday playlist

The pace of daily life picked up steam, and then some, this week: back to school, work kicked into gear, fall activities launched, etc etc. A few of the tunes keeping up with faster footsteps this week:

Beirut: Nantes.  Zach Condon (aka, Beirut) is half my age, and obviously has energy to burn. Last year, he made a great album, and he has another one out just this week, which I'm liking a lot already. Again, some curious arrangements with instruments not often heard in pop music ... and it works.

Jill Barber: Hard Line. I challenge you not to snap your fingers to this one, which has a catchy rhythm and a singalong chorus. Barber, who's now based in Halifax, has a voice like caramel.

Roxy Music: Same Old Scene. From 1980's Flesh & Blood, a Ferry song that has one foot in the disco and the other in the alley.

The Jam: David Watts. There's usually a few Paul Weller songs of whatever vintage on my iPod at any time, which is a function of being a fan for the better part of three decades, not to mention his output over that time. David Watts is a song that sort of fell off my radar, although I was able to hum along to the chorus again like it was high school.

The Tremeloes: Here Comes My Baby. A late-Invasion hit, and - a trivia favourite - one of the first hit singles penned by Cat Stevens.

I post a list of about five songs I've been listening to lately to this queue; click on the link below to see more.

Saturday playlist (high-heeled sneakers edition)

This week's playlist includes a phrase that stuck with me as a teenager, and a much older tune that referenced it first.

Steely Dan: FM. I found Steely Dan's arrangements were sometimes a bit too meticulous, especially as the scrappy punk and new wave bands were landing. But, they still hold up, and FM becomes more of a time piece every day. After all, the universe it extols - of eclectic, excellent music on FM stations - died not long after the song (and the movie it's from) came out almost 30 years ago. But I love the groove, and of course lyrics like "Hurry the bottle, mama, it's grapefruit wine / Kick off your high-heeled sneakers, it's party time."

James Brown: Out of Sight. "Got your high-heeled sneakers on," James Brown sings to open this bluesy bit of rhythm. I didn't know the song until I bought a compilation, and of course the words leapt out at me. Another example of learning about how James Brown got to many, many things before someone else.

The Puppini Sisters: I Will Survive. Yes, the Gloria Gaynor disco standard, but covered with an Andrews Sister touch, by way of current hipster lounginess. Get out your finger-quotes for the "ironic" bit.

Fujiya and Miyagi: Cassettesingle. Speaking of lounginess ... an instrumental tune I've dropped in a few workaday playlists since picking it up from the KEXP podcast in the spring. A Japanese-sounding name with a German-sounding outfit who happen to be from England. Go figure.

Blair Harvey & The Dregs: Nancy Lost Her Baby. Blair Harvey is a mainstay on the St. John's bar circuit; if you're living away, make the effort to search his stuff out. This is nice rocker, and lyrically is naughty enough that I can only play it in the car when it's a kid-free zone.

I try to post five-song playlists to this queue every Saturday. Click below to see more ...

Saturday playlist

We put a couple of thousand clicks on the vehicle this month, during a family trip that took us west, north and back again. A few months ago, I bought an inexpensive adapter at Canadian Tire that lets us stream my iPod on an FM frequency. Some distortion mars the sound when it's pumped up, but otherwise it may driving on the highway much more pleasant to have a continual stream of good tunes ... without getting tired of CDs. Some of the songs below are from that very, very long playlist.

John Legend: Slow Dance. Apart from a naughty word where I had to hit the volume control, lest my little fella pick up some language I'd rather he not yet have, I really liked the retro-ish groove of this tune, which fit the sweltering feeling of the hotter days.

Flight of the Conchords: The Most Beautiful Girl In the Room (Live). I picked this up last week as a free single from iTunes. I really like the show, and this song - filled with minimally romantic lines ("When you're on the street, depending on the street, I bet you're definitely in the top three") - is a hoot. You can watch the segment from the TV show where this song is performed here.

Mexican Institute of Sound: El Microphono. A pickup from the KEXP song of the day podcast. I have no idea what the song is about (no hablo espanol), but I've been humming to the "ooooh-ooooh" chorus anyway. This song also gets added to my mental list of songs featuring unbeatable cowbells. (I, you know, have a fever for the cowbell.)

Black Eyed Peas: Power to the People. I found Instant Karma - an album of John Lennon covers which benefits Amnesty International's work in Darfur - a bit disappointing, although I've been finding (a bit of a surprise) that I've been playing this more often than others. Perhaps because it sounds contemporary, even though the original is a bit of a timepiece from a very different era.

Aretha Franklin: The House That Jack Built. It's just 2:20 long, but it's as solid a single as anything Aretha ever recorded. Definitely a pick-me-up for long stretches of highway!

Click below to see other notes filed in the Saturday Playlist queue.

Saturday playlist ('I thought they were geezers then' edition)

In the late Seventies, there was a flood of new music going on ... and I was into it. A lot. And while Elvis Costello and Talking Heads and the Police and all that was exciting, I'll cop to being more than a passing fan of bands that had supposedly passed their prime years earlier.

Indeed, my 14-year-old self thought all of these guys were ancient. Ancient. I realize, of course, that I'm a fair bit older now than all of them were then. At that point, Ray Davies was 35; Pete Townshend 34; Robert Plant 31. In any event, Doors nostalgia kicked in a little while later, the "classic rock" radio formula was pretty much invented (and, to its shame, scarcely changed since), and the geezer bands knocked one compilation out after another.

At the time, though, I bought these records, and played them continually.

Led Zeppelin: Hot Dog. In Through the Out Door seems, in retrospect, like the soundtrack of the fall of '79. Didn't think this would be the end of the road. Looking back, with just seven tracks, it doesn't seem like much, but I love running through it, and Hot Dog is still a hoot.

The Kinks: (Wish I Could Fly Like) Superman. The disco groove sounds more obvious with distance, but Superman is not too dated. (The opening riff also sounds like it got nicked a few years later by Survivor for Eye of the Tiger.) More tuneful than anything punk was dishing out, but just as immersed in Seventies malaise.

The Who: Won't Get Fooled Again (Live). From The Kids Are Alright, which I played enough for my parents (at least once) to ask for something else on the stereo I had put together in my room. Punk may have been bitting at bloated rockers, but the Who - and at this point they were arguably at their most bloated - could cut through it in style. Besides, that stuff about "Meet the news boss, same as the old boss" turned out to apply to that trend, too, didn't it?

The Rolling Stones: Shattered. I didn't realize until a few years later (when, to borrow a phrase, the Stones were sucking in the Eighties) that Some Girls is quite a good record, with nods to the discos and to the edgy punks telling them to piss off. Shattered is my favourite Stones tune from the period.

Paul McCartney & Wings: Arrow Through Me. To be truthful, I didn't and still don't much like Back to the Egg, although I can hum along to Arrow Through Me. I read a piece a month or so ago about Wings, and how Back to the Egg was to have been a relaunch of the band, with the musicians filling up on new wave and reggae as recording began, expecting that would be Macca's direction. None of that, of course, wound up on record; pity. Makes you wonder.

A five-song playlist is filed to this blog each Saturday. Click below to see others.

Saturday playlist (July weather edition)

It's been balmy, hot and/or wet this week - sometimes all at once. Some of the music that's fit the mood, and sometimes the forecast, over the last few days is this week's playlist.

Dave Matthews Band: Stay (Wasting Time)  In St. John's, it not so often that it's "so hot ouside, you coul fry an egg," as this song puts it, but we had a few moments this week. "A little taste of the good life" goes with this bop-out of a tune, with a singalong ending that's hard to resist.

Lemon Jelly: Nice Weather For Ducks. When he was two or three, our son loved this song, which took both an arty and poppy approach to a children's tune. Always sounds good when it rains.

Bebel Gilberto: So Nice (Summer Samba). Anything from Bebel Gilberto sounds fine in the summer, particularly in the evening. A nice cover from her dad's era.

Donald Fagen: Tomorrow's Girls. From Kamakiriad, Donald Fagen's hat-tip to B-movies, sci-fi trash, suburbia, patio evenings and more, with a groove, too.

The Motels: Suddenly Last Summer. A song from my university days that holds up pretty well.

I'm always grateful for song tips from friends. Send 'em in. Click below to see other songlists in this queue.

Saturday playlist (misheard lyrics edition)

On Friday, on Radio Noon's Crosstalk Trivia, host Chris O'Neill-Yates and I did a show about misheard lyrics. [Well, part of a show. A network news special on the Conrad Black verdict pre-empted the first half-hour.] To recognize just a few of the doozies that we heard about on-air - or via e-mails solicited via Facebook and this blog - here is a playlist built on lyrics that weren't quite heard correctly:

Deep Purple: Smoke on the Water. If I've counted correctly, six people either misheard the chorus for this FM staple themselves, "knew a friend" who did (a familiar phrase) or were aware of it. Instead of "Smoke on the fire/ Fire in the sky" - easy enough, you'd think - people heard something like "Slow talkin' Walter/ Fire engine guy." A popular variation: "Slow motion Walter." Poor Walter.

The Beach Boys: Help Me, Rhonda. From Peter Cowan - a bright young man working with CBC Radio in Happy Valley-Goose Bay - one of the lines that got a big laugh. The opening line actually is, "Well, since she put me down, I've been out doin' in my head." Peter passed in this variation: "Since you put me down, there's been owls puking in my bed."

The Beatles: Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. A whole bunch of people either misheard this one, or knew someone else who did ... Instead of "a girl with kaleidoscope eyes," the misheard lyric was "a girl with colitis goes by." Makes about as much sense.

Cornershop: Brimful of Asha. Andrew Davidson phoned in all the way from Toronto to chat up the Norman Cook (a.k.a. Fatboy Slim) remix of this English tune, which was a big hit a decade or so ago. The problem? He didn't know the chorus at all, which indeed made it hard while he was teaching it to a group of non-English-speaking kids at an international school in Switzerland. So he improvised, and just sang some gibberish. Years later, Andrew learned the chorus: "Everyone needs a bosom for a pillow." Which, incidentally, Bob Hallett of Great Big Sea has cited as one of his favourite lyrics. (And a trivia point: Ben Ayres, half of Cornershop, was born in St. John's in 1968.)

Steve Miller Band: Jet Airliner. I received two notes about the chorus of Jet Airliner. Heidi Quinn knew a classmate in high school who would sing: "Guido, Jed & Lionel, don't carry me too far away." My colleague Rick Barnes told me he knew of bands that would be asked to play "Big Old Jam in the Line-up."

That's just a sample. We got so many, indeed, I'm inclined to revive the theme in the months to come. Stay tuned. In the meantime, click on the Saturday Playlists link below to see other posts in this queue.

Saturday playlist (gardening edition)

As I type this, it's too wet to seriously think about doing anything in the garden today ... at least without getting drenched. Blech. All the same, I put together a list of tunes that brings gardens to mind.

Hugh Masekela: Grazing In The Grass. One of my favourite summer tunes; one made for mixing gin and tonic together, too. (And ... cowbell!) I played trumpet for a while when I was a kid, and whenever I hear Hugh Masekela, I rap my own knuckles for quitting way too soon.

Talking Heads: (Nothing But) Flowers. After almost 20 years, this song still sounds fresh, with a great blend of guitars via Johnny Marr and Yves N'Djock. With Live Earth on today, it also an environmental theme ... although I side with those who see the song as a satirical poke about what would happen if the reclaim-the-land movement actually succeeded.

Van Morrison: In The Garden/You Send Me/Allegheny. From the live album A Night in San Francisco, a great medley bringing out the best of In The Garden, one of Morrison's best songs about graveyards and that whole circle-of-life thing. He's with a peerless band, with Georgie Fame on organ, Brian Kennedy singing, Candy Dulfer on sax and Kate St. John on oboe, etc., all playing softly and then like a ragin' storm. No wonder the tune - it runs almost 10 minutes - closed out each night on that tour.

Rickie Lee Jones: Gethsemane. From her new(ish) record, The Sermon on Exposition Boulevard, which opens up plenty of religious interpretation.

The Beatles: Octopus's Garden. How could not include a song I've been singing along to for four decades?

I put together a list of five songs every Saturday; click on the link below to see what else I've picked out.

Saturday playlist (and the sun is shining)

The sun's out, I've got a cold drink, my brain is slowing down, and I'm looking for tunes to match. These will do.

Nina Simone: My Baby Just Cares For Me. Much anthologized, and still sweet. Nina Simone could do great things with her voice, but this song gets its greatest zip from the piano.

David Byrne: What A Day That Was. From The Catherine Wheel, one of the songs that actually is a song ... or at least as much as Byrne wrote them. As side projects went, The Catherine Wheel was pretty major.

Keren Ann: Lay Your Head Down. A gift from the KEXP song podcast. A bit melancholy, but it's a refreshing sound for this time of the year.

The Magic Numbers: Mornings Eleven. Poppy and peppy, this song sounds like it came from another era, with layered harmonies and a Brian Wilson-like innocence (and groove).

Medeski, Martin & Wood: I Wanna Ride You. A rather rude title, no? And a great song for sipping beer while the barbecue warms up. Trust me.

Click on the "Saturday Playlists" label below to see what else I've filed under this weekly-updated queue. And be generous with your suggestions ...

Saturday playlist

Some of the songs that have been between the ears this week:

Datarock: Fa-Fa-Fa. With a wink to Talking Heads' Psycho Killer, Datarock lift liberally from David Byrne (more from the Fear of Music era) and others, although it doesn't sound at all derivative. It's my favourite song so far this summer.

The Cadillacs: Speedo. I didn't know this song at all before the GoodFellas soundtrack; every now and again, it goes into heavy rotation around the house. Very hard not to sing along with this one.

Dinah Washington: Is You Or Is You Ain't My Baby? (Rae & Christian Remix). I'm a litle ambivalent about remixes of jazz recordings, but this one - from the first Verve Remixed project - works well.

Electric Soft Parade: Misunderstanding. One of the releases from KCRW's top tune daily podcast this week. Very nice.

Melinda Doolittle: How Can You Mend a Broken Heart. My wife and I will fess up to following American Idol ... or at least recording it and then whipping through it the following night. I downloaded the Melinda Doolittle (yes, of course she should have won, but with that audience, she's, like, ancient) tracks for Martha. I don't even like this Bee Gees tune, but I don't mind her cover at all.

Click on the link below to see other tunes posted to the Saturday Playlist queue.

Saturday playlist

A few of the tunes on this week's playlist:

Taj Mahal: She Caught The Katy And Left Me A Mule To Ride. We heard a lot of Taj Mahal in the house for a while, while our son was hooked on Peep and the Big Wide World, for which he does the great theme tune. That sent me back into the catalogue, and this has become a weekend favourite.

Modest Mouse: Invisible. The last track on the new album, but one definitely worth sticking around for. The Johnny Marr guitar work really helps (and sounds a bit like the tail end of the Smiths), but the rhythm section is what gives the song its hook.

Sinéad O'Connor: You Make Me Feel So Free. This is more of a Van Morrison track, with a guest vocal.  Morrison recruited O'Connor to sing it for the No Prima Donna collection from 1994, and arranged the song with doo-wop-era horns and swing. Far better than Morrison's own original.

Lyle Lovett: Church. I always think of my brother-in-law, Greg, when I play this, because he liked it and the rest of Joshua Judges Ruth so much when it came out. A singalong about being hungry during a long, long church service, this is the only song I can think of that puts you in mind for "some beans and some good cornbread."

UB40: Keep on Moving. A mixtape standby for 20-odd years now. Never grows old, even as I do.

Click on the link below to see other posts in my Saturday Playlists queue.

Saturday playlist

I've been using the shuffle function on my iPod a lot lately; among the songs not getting skipped:

The Bar-Kays: Soul Finger. Is there a song that's a faster pick-me-up? Nope.

Paul Westerberg: Let the Bad Times Roll. Far away on the emotional spectrum, a nice, mopey tune by the former 'Mat, the king of the comedown. Sigh.

Tom Petty: I'll Feel a Whole Lot Better. I took Tom Petty for granted when I was younger. Not so much now, especially since he doesn't release with anything near the frequency that he did. From Full Moon Fever, which holds up as quite the decent bit of songwriting.

Laura Veirs: Ocean Night Song. Man, she's good. It's from Saltbreakers, which has a nice, calming folky feel throughout. I live next to an ocean, not by coincidence, and this song is a fine complement.

Linkin Park: Bleed It Out. I'm not a big Linkin Park fan, but I like how Bleed It Out - from their new album, Minutes to Midnight, is my favourite fingers-tappin'-while-driving tune this year. Who knew.

I file a few songs every week to a list called Saturday Playlists. Click below for the link. (Got a suggestion for a good tune? I'm all ears.)

Saturday playlist (summer wishful thinking edition)

It's been cold in St. John's lately - brass-monkey cold, given the season. Drat. So, my playlist this week are songs that make me think of warmer weather, even if I can't quite have it today. (And, on the bright side, the forecast for mid-week is in the high teens.)

Jeff Dyer: Come Rain or Come Shine. From Days Gone By, one of Dyer's standards. And he's singing again, too, which is a day-brightener.

Cannonbal Adderley & Sergio Mendes: Corcovado (Quiet Nights) ... with a cold drink on the deck as the sun sets. Perfect ... or at least a good prompt to go fetch your martini shaker, put it in the freezer, and rummage around for ingredients.

Simple Minds: Someone Somewhere (In Summertime). Not the coolest, but a good finger-tapper with the car window down.

k.d. lang: The Consequences of Falling. lang's Invincible Summer album is certainly not her best, but the artwork and feel have a nice, languid, late-August blissout feeling to them. (And I like the line about running "with Kennedy flair" on beaches from the Summerfling single.)

The Beach Boys: Do It Again. It's a cliche to list the Beach Boys with summer music, but face it, they nailed it. I got into Do It Again when I sampled the Happy Feet soundtrack.

Click on this link to see other notes filed to my Saturday Playlist queue.