St. Vincent checks in with a fascinating review of Arcade Fire’s new one at The Talkhouse.
This crazy review starts like this:
Google search #1: Madonna “Like a Virgin” bass sound.
(The bass sound on “We Exist” vaguely reminded me of Madonna’s 1984 classic Like a Virgin.) Result: Sequential Circuits Prophet 5
(Unconfirmed and will likely need to follow Nile Rodgers on Twitter and hope he @replies to my query directly.)
Unsatisfied, I contacted Jeremy Gara (Arcade Fire drummer) and asked what they’d used for the bass. Turns out it was NOT a Prophet but a Korg MS-20 — the vintage kind, not a new one or Reason, nerds! He even sent me a picture of the exact one! I was glad to have one pressing matter settled, but I continued down a Madonna rabbit hole and downloaded The Immaculate Collection. No “Oh Father”?????? Grievous oversight, Sire Records.
Related search: Is Seymour Stein still alive? Result: Yes.
“FLASHBULB EYES” IS SUPER SICK AND DUBBY! KING TUBBY?! KING DUBBY?! AM I THE ONLY NON-STONED PERSON TO EVER MAKE THAT PUN?
This past Saturday an essay by Josephine Wiggs of the Breeders on group reunions, and the Breeders’ current reunion tour to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Last Splash, went online at The Talkhouse, a music site I check out with some frequency.
If you’re a Breeders’ fan, you’ll want to read the essay.
Prior to unexpectedly finding myself taking part in one, I have to admit to ambivalence — yes, even negative feelings — about the reunion tour phenomenon. After some thought I realized that this is because the word “reunion” is tainted by many unfortunate associations, perhaps especially when conjoined with the words “high school.” Anyone who knows me will not be surprised to learn that I have never been to a reunion of any kind, but their primary feature seems to be the stress of being judged by people you haven’t seen in, let’s say, 20 years, and with whom all you had in common was a) going to the same school and b) being a teenager. Worse still, when “reunion” is paired with “tour,” the Beach Boys unavoidably come to mind: a stage spectacle featuring pre-recorded vocal tracks and film footage to stand in for several now-deceased Beach Boys and an eight-piece band comprised entirely of the musician offspring of said Boys. Needless to say, all this leaves an unpleasant taste.