Archive for Tongue and Groove

He turned that corner all alone

About 1970, P. F. Sloan disappeared and was never heard from again.

Okay, not never, but certainly seldom. It was enough to motivate Jimmy Webb to write a song about him:

I have been seeking P. F. Sloan
But no one knows where he has gone
No one ever heard the song
That boy sent winging

A few hardy folks covered it, most notably Jennifer Warnes in 1972. I thought it was wonderful. Then again, I’d been following Sloan since I’d discovered that he, and not Dean Torrence, sang the falsetto part on Jan and Dean’s “The Little Old Lady from Pasadena,” who, you may remember, had a brand-new, shiny red, Super Stock Dodge in her rickety old garage. Sloan also wrote, usually in partnership with Steve Barri, and became a member of the Wrecking Crew, the Los Angeles studio pros who played on literally thousands of tracks back then. Although Sloan is probably best known now for “Eve of Destruction,” the terribly, terribly topical tune cut by ex-Christy Minstrel Barry McGuire in 1965, this 1967 Grass Roots single is, I think, more typical of what Sloan and Barri were doing:

Then: nothing. Sloan cut a solo album, from which one flop single was released, and he stayed gone until the turn of the century. In 2015, Sloan’s book What’s Exactly The Matter With Me? — almost the title of the B-side of “Eve of Destruction” — explained some of what had been the matter with him.

And all the while, people continued to seek P. F. Sloan. In 2014, singer Rumer, who had covered that Jimmy Webb song two years earlier, actually found him:

I’d like to think he continued singing right up to the end — which was, alas, just this month. Pancreatic cancer, which spares no one.

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Woman with a horn

Cynthia Robinson back in the dayI don’t think I can possibly say it any better than Questlove did on his Instagram yesterday, so while we listen to Sly and the Family Stone take on the blues classic “St James Infirmary,” I’ll just tell you what he said about the late, great Cynthia Robinson, who left us this week:

All The Squares Go Home. Goodbye to Cynthia Robinson. Music’s original “hypeman” 20 years before Public Enemy pioneered the “Vice President” position. But she wasn’t just a screaming cheerleading foil to Sly & Freddie’s gospel vocals. She was a KICK ASS trumpet player. A crucial intricate part of Sly Stone’s utopian vision of MLK’s America: Sly & The Family Stone were brothers & cousins. friends & enemies. black & white. male & female. saint & sinner. common man & superheroes. guarded & vulnerable. poets & punks. hip & square. She was so cool to us the day we opened up for #SlyAndTheFamilyStone she never ever lost a step or a beat. Even when we weren’t so sure if Sly was coming or going during that “comeback” tour (he’d play 20 mins, come onstage and cameo w em for 2 songs, leave, watch them then come back 30 mins later) Cynthia Robinson held that band down. Until her passing The Family Stone was one of the last few #RRHOF groups from the 60s in which ALL original members were still present & accounted for. part of me held hope that #LarryGraham would bury the hatchet & return to the fold just one more time (could you imagine HOW powerful a Sly #GCS combo coulda been? Even if Sly pulled that 6 song ish you know and I know #Prince would be in the wings as pinch hitter and we’d all be the more wiser for it. Cynthia’s role in music history isn’t celebrated enough. Her & sister Rose weren’t just pretty accessories there to “coo” & “shoo wop shoo bob” while the boys got the glory. Naw. They took names and kicked ass while you were dancing in the aisle. Much respect to amazing #CynthiaRobinson

I’m just imagining the impact of a Family Stone/Graham Central Station combination. But damn, that Sly track we just heard, with Cynthia working it? Miles would have dug it. Play it again. We won’t mind.


That register over there

Roberta X is a contralto, a range not often called for: “In musical theatre, contraltos are generally limited to playing “witches, britches and bitches.”

It took me a minute to remember a “britches” part, but they’re definitely out there in the Basic Repertoire. The title role in Rossini’s Tancredi (1813), a banished soldier from Syracuse, was written for a contralto, and sometimes is even sung by a mezzo-soprano, perhaps because mezzos are easier to find.

This is Marie-Nicole Lemieux in “Di tanti palpiti, di tante pene” (“For all these heartbeats, for all this pain”), from the second scene of the first act of Tancredi, in which he contemplates the fate of a lost love who has been promised to another. Spoils of war, doncha know.

Few singers of popular music can be found in this range: perhaps the best-known in recent years was the late Karen Carpenter. Come to think of it, she looked pretty good in britches.

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Definitely not less

This came up on the shuffle as I was leaving the supermarket yesterday, and it stayed on my mind long enough to justify doing some poking around in the Intertubes:

Now I never saw Mondo Cane, the 1962 Italian film (not released in the States until 1963) whence this song came; I seem to remember that the Church had placed it on the Index, and anyway I was too young for that sort of exploitation film. But this one record enchanted me, at least partially because it didn’t sound like anything else.

It was later that I found out that Kai Winding, a serious jazzman — hence his appearance on Verve, then mostly a jazz label — played the trombone, and this high-pitched electrothingy was not in the least bit trombone-like. The Ondioline, to give it its proper name, was a proto-synthesizer invented in 1941 by Georges Jenny; it was sort of portable and was capable of a wide range of tones, and its acknowledged virtuoso and chief exponent was the French musician Jean-Jacques Perrey, who actually played it on Winding’s recording, uncredited.

Whatever its provenance, “More” was a hit, reaching #8 in Billboard, Verve’s biggest record on the Hot 100 up to that point. (An early Ricky Nelson single, “I’m Walkin'” b/w “A Teenager’s Romance,” charted higher, but the chart rules were different in 1957.) Mondo Cane spawned several sequels, and Winding cut “Mondo Cane 2” the next year, as much like the original as possible without actually inviting lawsuits.

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In the jungle, the mighty jungle

Possibly the greatest, and almost certainly the most eccentric, Guns N’ Roses cover ever:

For the record, this is the next most serious contender, for some values of “serious.”

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A full-fledged river

And now, boys and girls, the single most-often streamed song in the entire history of streamed songs, at least on Spotify:

Yep. Five hundred twenty-six million streams since its release in March. Must have made the creators at least fifty bucks by now.

At first, I was wondering if “Lean On” got so many streams because it was catchy enough to listen to but not enough to buy, but its #4 charting in Billboard suggests otherwise. And the video, which has something like 750 million views, has Turkish subtitles, which fascinates me, given that this is an American group with a French DJ, the singer is Danish, and most of the exterior photography was shot in India. (This is positive multiculturalism, dammit.)

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For many a Southern night

The late Ernest Kador, Jr., known forevermore as Ernie K-Doe, would tell you that he found his big hit, “Mother-in-Law,” in Allen Toussaint’s trash can. This is almost true: actually, K-Doe was already trying to record the song, several takes had gone awry, and Toussaint, frustrated, wadded up the sheet music and tossed it. Background singer Willie Hopper actually fished the song out of the trash, and they did one more take, which was the keeper.

Nobody’s really sure how many records out of New Orleans Toussaint wrote, or produced, or both; it’s got to be several hundred at least. In the 1970s, he started recording under his own name; his 1975 single “Southern Nights” proved to be highly influential.

Glen Campbell got a hit in 1977 with a steam-cleaned version, which I thought was pretty spiffy, but it’s not a patch on Toussaint’s original. And this was hardly the first time Toussaint’s music had crossed over to the pop market. Consider this Herb Alpert number, written by “Naomi Neville” (Toussaint’s mother’s name):

Allen Toussaint kept playing up to the very end of his life; a heart attack felled him Tuesday morning after a Monday-night concert in Madrid. A Spanish-language newspaper has video from the show, and he sounded fine; I’m guessing they needed a sideman in R&B Heaven.


Meanwhile in the dungeon

I know from nothing about the Final Fantasy game series, other than that it’s been around forever and the 15th (!) installment is due out next year. But a stray remark from a gamer got my attention:

Snowcloak’s music is so peaceful. I had forgotten it until now.

I took her at her word, went poking around, and turned up this:

From the description posted:

Oh what a soothing track. First run through of Snowcloak with all but the BGM muted. Such easy listening, oooye.

BGM, of course, stands for “Background Music.” The actual track is titled “The Warrens,” but it apparently never made it to the officially-released soundtrack albums. As a big fan of that slowly-shifting ambient stuff, I found it utterly wondrous.

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Bergamasque, sweetened

This is the one piano piece my mother remembered from the days when she took lessons, and she played it just about the way that Fluttershy Andrea Libman plays it here:

Debussy, I am told, wrote the Suite bergamasque (of which this is the third movement) in his twenties, grew to hate it, and stashed it away for about twenty-five years, when a plea from a publisher persuaded him to blow the dust off of it and revise it. Millions of us are glad he did.


It’s cool for cats

David Teie’s Kickstarter is rather more fascinating than the usual:

I’ve been a cellist in the National Symphony Orchestra for more than 20 years. In 2003, amidst my career as a classical musician, I developed a universal theory of music. I set out to discover why humans have an emotional response to music and found that it’s tied to the sounds we heard when our brains are developing. For example, it’s because we heard our mother’s pulse in the womb that we like drums in our music; the sound intrigues us because it evokes heartbeats. It’s no coincidence that our mother’s resting heart rate is almost exactly the same pace as music we find relaxing.

Hmmmm. Meanwhile, your cat could not possibly care less about what you’re listening to. However:

Unlike humans, felines establish their sense of music outside of the womb, through sounds heard after they’re born, like the chirping of birds, the sucking of milk, or the purring of their mother. Using only musical instruments, I incorporated those sounds and their natural vocalizations into music and matched it to the frequency range they use to communicate.

Teie’s raised about three times his original $20,000 goal, perhaps simply because we’d like to indulge our cats. (Or the cats insist on it, which is almost the same.)

(Via HelloGiggles.)

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Feel-bad songs

You know, when someone starts talking about “feel-good” songs, well, I’ve always been something of a contrarian.

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It’s where you are

The importance of keeping your eyes on the stars:

The chap in the tribal gear is dancer Skye McMichael.


Not just standing

When Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song” hit it big earlier this year, I assumed I was dealing with yet another twentysomething thrush who’d somehow managed to get heard above the crowd noise. (The first time, actually, I thought it was Natasha Bedingfield, reusing a bit from “Strip Me.”) As usual, I was wrong: Platten’s thirty-four, and put out her first album way back in 2003, her second in 2011.

Rachel Platten in 2010

But by the time I’d figured all this out, she’d been nominated for a couple of Teen Choice Awards, and apparently injured her ankle.

Rachel Platten at the Teen Choice Awards 2015

Still, I was ready to shrug, until I heard this: “If your wings are broken, borrow mine, so yours can open too.” “Stand By You” is the current single, and the title song of her next album. It goes something like this:

And the noise from the crowd falls away a little bit more.


So many years later

We know that Celestia and Luna are over a thousand years old: Luna spent a thousand years in exile, and she’s the younger sibling. What canon doesn’t say is how long they can live; fanfic writers generally work from the premise that there is no upper limit, but tend to shy away from the word “immortal.” Then again, some try to subvert the trope:

“Well, I was wondering. Just how immortal, if that’s the word, are you and your sister anyway?”

Celestia shook her mane, and he imagined he saw a map of the sky just beyond her head. “Having reached physical maturity, Luna and I do not age in the usual sense. But we know that there are forces in the Universe capable of taking us down.”

He nodded, remembering an incident at a previous Canterlot wedding.

“Which is why we shy away from the word ‘immortal’; it implies that we can survive anything, an implication that has some basis in reality, but one I would not like to put to the test.”

At the end of the third season, Twilight Sparkle ascended to alicornhood: she may not have the sheer size of the sisters, but she is presumed to have the same physical attributes, to include, though canon doesn’t say so, that indefinite lease on life.

Which creates a problem: what happens when she inevitably outlives all her friends?

I tucked a link to this in an earlier post, but inasmuch as this scenario is still haunting me, I’m going full Captain Obvious here:

I wept for rather a long time.

Eventually I did regain my composure. I sought out, and purchased, the two musical selections, both composed by Thomas J. Bergersen, before I realized that owning copies of these tracks meant I get to remind myself of this story, to relive my sorrow, that much more often.

In some ways, this is the most “me” thing I’ve ever done.

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A bad sign up there

William Bell came up with the classic lyric:

Born under a bad sign, been down since I began to crawl
If it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have no luck at all

The late Albert King cut it first, for Stax; it’s since become a blues standard. (The tune, by Booker T. Jones, is notable for, among other things, not being the standard twelve-bar blues.) Since we brought it up, here’s King with someone else very much missed, Stevie Ray Vaughan:

What triggered this thought? Yet another Jack Baruth musing:

I’m just unlucky, in tolerable but frustrating ways. In the past thirty years I’ve found a way to break about half the bones in my body and crash motorcycles and bend the unibody on a race car and blow a $14,600 Mugen-R engine and lose my chance at getting my doctorate and have someone knock my brand-new CB1100 over in the parking lot and drop things and lose amazingly valuable things and so on and so forth to the point where, whenever I find myself enjoying something too much, I feel compelled to ask of myself, “When will the bad thing happen?”

Been there, thought that. Constantly. The other day, I noted that for some inscrutable reason, the premium on my homeowner’s insurance went down a few percentage points; about half an hour after I posted that, I was poking around the County Assessor’s place trying to see how much the property tax would be going up, since usually the new tax rates come out in October. “November,” they’re saying. Somehow that sounds ominous.

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Presumably no one will use jelly

And it won’t be happening in this town, you may be reasonably certain:

Miley Cyrus and the Flaming Lips are hitting the road next month and — according to an Instagram post by Lips frontman Wayne Coyne — they’re planning one show with the performers and audience appearing completely in the nude.

Doffing the duds is old news for both Cyrus and Coyne, but audience participation has been nonexistent so far.

And this appears to be Miley’s idea:

According to his post on Thursday, Cyrus is planning a show where she, the Flaming Lips and the audience are all completely naked and where “white stuff that looks like milk” will be “spewed” everywhere. The concept is for a video, he continued, for the song “Milky Milky Milk.”

Can I get an “Ew”?

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An Equestria Girl at heart

Lindsey Stirling IS Sunset Shimmer:

Comparison of Lindsey Stirling and Sunset Shimmer

Didn’t see a rainboom in the video, but what the heck.


Weird sounds above your head

This is indeed a “strange collection”:

In the late 1980’s and early 1990’s, I worked for Kmart behind the service desk and the store played specific pre-recorded cassettes issued by corporate. This was background music, or perhaps you could call it elevator music. Anyways, I saved these tapes from the trash during this period and this video shows you my extensive, odd collection.

The one tape I listened to, dated October 1989, contained music far too perky for the old “beautiful music” FM-radio format but too soporific for “adult contemporary,” plus plenty of invocations of the holy name of Martha Stewart and the occasional all-purpose public-service announcement.

The sound is definitely lacking in high end, though I couldn’t tell you whether this was intentional or a by-product of being played to death for a month:

[T]hey ran for 14 hours a day, 7 days a week on auto-reverse. If you do the math assuming that each tape is 30 minutes per side, that’s over 800 passes over a tape head each month.

And not all stores, it appears, got the same quality audio equipment.

In 1993, Kmart switched to satellite delivery, creating the possibility for more variety and reducing the possibility of some guy taking the stuff home for archival purposes.

(Via Chart Attack.)

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Employee number one

Al Abrams, who died last week at 74, was just a kid, and a white kid at that, when Berry Gordy Jr. hired him for the nascent Motown machine, and the circumstances are so, so Motownish:

A big fan of the R&B records of the day, Abrams pestered Gordy for a job promoting his music before Motown was even formed. Gordy said he would hire him if he could get a record on Zelman, a vanity label that pressed records for anyone who would pay them $100, played on the radio. Abrams took the challenge, taking the record to a remote by station WCHB and pestering the DJ until he relented and played it on his show. Gordy heard the record being played and made good on his word, hiring Abrams.

And WCHB, despite being a 1-kw daytimer in those days, had clout: it was the major black-owned radio outlet in metro Detroit. So Gordy wasn’t about to try to blow the kid off.

Abrams also apparently invented the slogan “The Sound of Young America,” and manufactured a bogus Dylan quote about Smokey Robinson being “America’s greatest living poet.” Even if Dylan didn’t say it, though, Abrams may well have believed it:

During a Motown tour through the Southern United States, [Nancy Abrams] said, Smokey Robinson of the Miracles came to visit Mr. Abrams at a hotel where blacks were not allowed to stay.

The hotel manager was tipped off, came to Mr. Abrams’s door and asked if a black person was in his room, Nancy Abrams recalled. He replied that it wasn’t “a black person,” it was Smokey Robinson, and both men were kicked out.

“Al went back with Smokey and stayed in the black boardinghouse,” she said. “After that, he never stayed in a hotel again.”

Abrams moved on in the late Sixties, working briefly with Motown expats Holland-Dozier-Holland, and setting up his own PR firm. He was diagnosed with cancer in September; by then, unfortunately, it was too late.


Beyond that early hype

At least some of Yuja Wang’s early fame derived from sartorial as well as musical choices. By now, the flap over what she might be wearing has given way to more serious concerns: what she might be playing. Which is not to say that she shuns the limelight or anything:

Yuja Wang on the cover of Tatler 10-15

This cover photo fascinates me, perhaps because of her enigmatic facial expression: I can’t tell if she’s truly relaxed, or if she’s feigning it just to get the photoshoot over with. (Then again, my ability to read women’s faces and/or body language is decidedly below average.) I’ve always suspected that, for her anyway, periods of relaxation and periods of ferocity tend to be interspersed at irregular intervals:

Yuja Wang kicks back in a Calgary park

Yuja Wang versus the piano

Yuja Wang’s most recent recording, being chased out the door even as we speak, is a pairing of the two piano concertos by Maurice Ravel, the jazzy G Major and the slightly more sombre D Major, written for the left hand only. Deutsche Grammophon is promoting it thusly:

I shall have this recording shortly.

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Not available on tape

Big Black Delta is a solo project by Jonathan Bates of Mellowdrone. I admit I don’t quite understand BBD’s “Betamax,” but it’s compulsively listenable:

Coming up in the spring is a new BBD album called Tragame Tierra — I don’t get that either — and to get you in the proper mindset, Stereogum has posted the song “RCVR” (rhymes with, among other things, “BLVR”), featuring, and somewhat inspired by, Debbie Gibson. It’s terribly good. Really.


Oh, and Hernando says hello

Debelah Morgan, thirty-eight this week, long ago faded from public view. She started out in gospel — she was teaching gospel choir at the college level while still a teenager — and the last we heard from her was the Let the Worship In/Champions Live 2 set five years ago. In between, though, a lot of things happened to her, including bouncing from Atlantic to Motown and back to Atlantic again.

Debelah Morgan photo by Roy Zipstein circa 2000

Debelah Morgan album art

That second stay at Atlantic produced this nifty dance number, based rather blatantly on “Hernando’s Hideaway” from The Pajama Game. (TPG composer Jerry Ross and lyricist Richard Adler are duly credited on the label.) It doesn’t use anywhere near all of Debelah’s reputed five-octave range, but damn if it isn’t catchy.

There are dozens of songs called “Dance With Me”; Debelah got hers to #8 in Billboard towards the end of 2000.

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The lark at break of day

Fortune and Men's Eyes by Jennifer HallI’ve had this particular album since it came out; I played it a couple of times, forgot about it for several years, but now and again something will happen to remind me about it and spur me to dig it out of the stacks. Yesterday another of those somethings took place, and I decided to follow up, since so far as I knew she never made another album.

Fortune and Men’s Eyes, a title borrowed from a Shakespeare sonnet, came out in 1987, produced by the reliable Alan Tarney; two singles were issued, one of which, “Ice Cream Days,” showed up in the soundtrack to Bright Lights, Big City in 1988. It’s a period piece in the best sense of the word:

Jennifer Hall, it turns out, is the daughter of British film director Sir Peter Hall and French actress/dancer Leslie Caron; she’s 57 now, and goes by Jenny Caron Hall — at least, for her artistic ventures: she’s done a fair amount of freelance writing for various English publications under the name Jenny Wilhide, the surname she shares with TV writer/producer Glenn Wilhide.

Really tangential: Wilhide’s grandfather Glenn Calvin Wilhide was director of design for Black & Decker.

Note: There exists a 1989 Eurodance number called “Don’t Say Goodbye,” credited simply to “Jennifer,” which sounds enough like JCH to justify its mention here.

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Can I get an Amen?

I’ve got to say it’s all right:

The Songwriters Hall of Fame is adding a new honor to its annual Induction & Awards Gala. Beginning in 2016, the Curtis Mayfield Award will be included in the organization’s scholarship program. The first presentation will take place next June in New York City.

As announced by Hall of Fame president/CEO Linda Moran, the Curtis Mayfield Award will recognize a promising singer/songwriter “whose work reflects the inspiration, spirit and soul” of the late R&B/soul pioneer. Mayfield, inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2000, wrote more than 1,700 songs during the course of his career. The singer/songwriter/musician’s catalog includes such iconic songs as “People Get Ready,” “Keep on Pushing” and “Superfly.”

“It’s time to celebrate and re-evaluate Curtis’ legacy,” says his widow Altheida in a statement. “He was a genius who always stood on his own.”

To celebrate, one of the lesser-known Impressions tracks, always a favorite around here:

Sandwiched between “People Get Ready” and “Amen,” “You Must Believe Me” didn’t chart as high as either (#15 in Billboard), but it stood out pretty well from the flood of British Invasion stuff in that happy year of 1964.

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A man with a horn

One of my favorite soul singles from 1967:

The year ended in tragedy: the Bar-Kays were headed to Madison, Wisconsin with Otis Redding, when Otis’s little Beechcraft plane plunged into Lake Monona. The luckiest men on the face of the earth at that time: trumpeter Ben Cauley, who somehow survived the crash, and bassist James Alexander, who was taking other transportation because there was no room for the whole band plus Otis and his manager.

Alexander still leads the current version of the Bar-Kays, but Ben Cauley, who gave up the road to spend more time with his family, has just left us for good.

Oh, the white guy on the organ? Ronnie Caldwell. In Memphis in those days, this was no big deal.

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On being yakety

Lesson One: It does not require an actual sax.

Tangential: Ray Stevens’ infamous Gitarzan “ordered Chet’s guitar course, C.O.D.,” suggesting that Chester B.’s influence reaches as least as far as the jungle.

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No royalties due, no royalties due

You can sing “Happy Birthday,” no royalties due:

In a stunning reversal of decades of copyright claims, a federal judge in Los Angeles has ruled that Warner/Chappell Music does not hold a valid copyright claim to the “Happy Birthday To You” song.

Warner had been enforcing its copyright claim since it paid $15 million to buy Birch Tree Group, the successor to Clayton F. Summy Co., which owned the original copyright. The song brings in about $2 million a year in royalties for Warner, according to some estimates.

Judge George H. King ruled Tuesday afternoon that a copyright filed by the Summy Co. in 1935 granted only the rights to specific arrangements of the music, not the actual song.

“Because Summy Co. never acquired the rights to the Happy Birthday lyrics,” wrote King, “Defendants, as Summy Co.’s purported successors-in-interest, do not own a valid copyright in the Happy Birthday lyrics.”

(Via Roger Green. Previous “Happy Birthday” coverage here.)

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Tin whistles are made of tin

“Svatební průvod” means something like “wedding march” in Czech, but this song somehow doesn’t sound particularly matrimonial, if you know what I mean, and I think you do:

The lyric, by Czech composer Jiří Grossmann (1941-1971), is set to a possibly recognizable tune. I include the 45 sleeve of the single for reasons of Cute Overload.

Naďa Urbánková - Svatební průvod 45 sleeve

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One true musical pairing

Kate Micucci and Riki Lindhome are Garfunkel and Oates, though not in that order; as a comedy-folk duo with slightly foul mouths, they are nonpareil. Besides, they’re freaking gorgeous:

Garfunkel and Oates on the sofa

Really, they are:

Garfunkel and Oates standing tall

For some reason, their current album (released yesterday on the No One Buys Records label) is called Secretions:

Secretions by Garfunkel and Oates

A marginally more polished version of this song is included, which may explain the title:

You might not want to play this in front of the Overly Sensitive.

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Over the weekend there was a competition called Mixathon48, and these were the rules:

We will provide 5 sound files or stems. Once the event begins, contestants will have the ability to download the sound files and begin working on music production projects. Tracks must include AT LEAST one of the stems.

Contestants will only have 48 hours to complete a fully-mastered and completed track. All tracks must be submitted before the deadline in order to be considered for prizes. You are allowed to edit the stems as much as you like.

All genres are encouraged. We are looking for creative, innovative, and different music. We will also take into consideration the popularity reached on the web by your remix. The more you promote it, the more it will catch the attention of the judges.

One of the entrants was someone whom I knew under a different pseudonym, and this is how she described her effort:

Made the deadline by 2 minutes! I seem to work better than expected under pressure and sleep deprivation…

I was going for a scene similar to Paradise Falls from Up, with some South American jungle flare thrown into the percussion.

Hold on, isn’t Paradise Falls supposedly in South America anyway?

Well, that works out nicely!

And actually, the version she posted on YouTube was the result of four hours of cleaning up and tweaking her original, which you can find on SoundCloud.

I, of course, marvel at people who can create under pressure, like those folks who write a 50,000-word novel in 30 days.

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