796. "c30, c60, c90, go"
bow wow wow
1980
"i want candy," i know, i know, i know. and, yeah, exploitation all around and upside down. they weren't merely influenced by african music, they plagiarized and stole. machiavellian svengali scumbag douchebag malcolm mclaren didn't merely encourage the future members of bow wow wow to leave poor old adam ant, he forced them. did you know that frontgirl annabella lwin was only fourteen when all this going on? did you know that mclaren made her pose nude for an album cover? all right, all right. but this is the beginnings of the global agit-pop popularized by m.i.a. and her imitators. making mixtapes was the contemporary equivalent to illegally downloading music and this track is a big bony, protruding middle finger to record companies everywhere. copy, share, distribute, re-copy; what's the point in paying for music? and those amphetamine drums - ripped from recordings from burundi or not - threaten to bore a hole into your brain.
797. "kill for peace"
the fugs
1966
listen up hippie apologists and wannabes. take your flowers, take your lysergic acid diethylamide, take your free love, take your patchouli, take your beards and beads and bikes, take your acoustic guitars and drum circles. it's all meaningless without satire, self-deprecation, self-awareness, art. these guys epitomized the real counterculture of the 1960s. yeah, they did drugs, they grew beards, they played folk clubs and strummed guitars. but they didn't do it because it was fashionable, because it was cool, or to rebel against their parents. no, they did it because they didn't buy into the mass hypocrisy and rampant stupidity of western values and western society. "kill for peace" mocks and taunts and tears apart the contradictory ideologies that led to the vietnam war in particular, but could easily be applied to any conflict between nations that threaten lives., of course the phrasing is awkward, of course it's ramshackle and clunky. but it's hilarious ("the only gook an american can trust/is a gook that got his yellow head bust") and sharp as whittled twig. a spoonful of the funny helps the political go down in the most delightful way.
798. "come into my world" (fischerspooner remix)
kylie minogue
2002
kylie knows how to pick her remixers. this was 2002, when electro-clash was the NEXT BIG THING and goofy, goopy geared fischerspooner were the icons, the eyeliner-ed faces, the big league. they add squelched out, heavy bass and spray reverb and echo all over kylie's vocals, transforming her into a spacey, icy, distant, sex and x fueled siren to the bleary-eyed rhythm machines thrusting violently on the dancefloor. the innuendo wasn't very subtle anyway, but the boys add some "uh, uh, uh, uh, uh" repetitions just slam the point into your dopamine-addled cerebrum. this is raunch for the digital age; groping, gyrating, grinding. it's meaningless, it's self-destructive, it makes you feel awful afterwards, but it's fun while it lasts. right?
799. "je t'aime... moi non plus" (feat. jane birkin)
serge gainsbourg
1969
this is the only song covered by both donna summer and einsturzende neubaten, fo' sho. it attempts to replicate pillow talk between lovers, but this ain't sweet, this ain't no love story, this ain't no monogamy, this ain't no boyfriend/girlfriend. despite all the "i love you"s, this is no-strings-attached, casual, animalistic coitus. thrilling, disgusting, amazing, unsatisfying, soulless, gratifying. pervy ol' sergy captures all the mixed, conflicted emotions that come with that type of interaction. the strings and soft organ complement the melancholy of the melody. jane birkin's moans and gasps aren't sexy, they're desperate and hollow. the thrill of sex is replaced by pangs of regret and self-disgust. the french thought this was scandalous, i find it depressing and bittersweet.
800. "assassins"
lightning bolt
2003
i admit to caring little about noise-rock. i admit to be a pansy who usually doesn't like to be constantly pummeled, pulverized and punished by what i'm subjecting my ears to. i admit to succumbing to belief in the probable misnomer that most noise-rock is aimless, repetitive, masturbatory "noodling." but i can also admit that everything time i play this track, i need to max out my volume. i need to feel the rumble, the chaos, the fervor, the NOISE. "assassins" may work for me due to the elements that least conform to the restrictions of the genre - brevity, rhythmic variation - but it's ultimately the brain-splattering build-up and the full utilization of the power, passion and potential of volume that keeps my eardrums red and my neck sore.
lightning bolt - assassins
lightning bolt - assassins
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