NEW MUSIC FOR OLDS #79
Performative Boomerism sneak attack!
Wait, what’s this—NMFO…on a Saturday?? When I already warned that there probably wouldn’t be a newsletter this week? What have you done to deserve such heavenly grace?
What can I say—there’s just too much good new music. Also, I saw the new Led Zeppelin doc and I need to talk about it.
Here, I brought you a flower.
In today’s NMFO sneak attack:
A sacrifice to the treadmill gods
Your own personal White Lotus
Rock icons, managing to stay married
Breastaurant cover bands
Stolen valor, but for historical significance
And, the perils of Blues Face
Let’s get to it. But first…
Quick reminder to anyone in/around Wilmington DE that I will be headlining Arden Gild Hall THIS VERY EVENING (Sat 4/6).
Please come. I’ll bring jokes. Okay, time’s a-wasting.
GOOD STUFF
Hey look, a Glossary of Terms.
Snapped Ankles, “Smart World”
Listen on Apple Music // Listen on Amazon Music
Album: Hard Times Furious Dancing
Nutshell: Twitchy Dance Rock
Voltage: 7
Thoughts: Snapped Ankles checks a lot of my personal boxes: Farty keyboard sounds? Check. Experimental New Wave vibes, landing somewhere between Devo and The Faint? Check. Silly onstage costumes? Yep, that’s a check. Hard Times Furious Dancing is full of glitchy, grimy grooves that probably kick ass in a live setting. At the very least, “Smart World” should gets lots of play, given that its steady 164 beats per minute fit squarely into my dreaded treadmill mix. Always a bittersweet moment, consigning a new tune to Gym Song status, knowing its perky newness will eventually give way to its blandifying practical function. So I’m going to enjoy this while I can, before it “ascends”. Precious and few are the moments that we share.
Pairing Suggestion: Graceless plodding
Polo & Pan, “Pareidoiles”
Listen on Apple Music // Listen on Amazon Music
Album: 22:22
Nutshell: Airy electronica
Voltage: 4
Thoughts: Urbane, groovy and ever-so-slightly sinister, this cool bit of loungefare evokes a jaded, jetsetting leisure class; rich girls in expensive jewelry being carried away on a cloud of cotton candy scented hookah smoke. That may not sound like a ringing endorsement, but I’m tellin’ ya, there are worse headspaces in which to spend five minutes and forty-six seconds. So fire up your mega yacht, snort your powders and live out your most decadent White Lotus fantasies. If “Pareidoiles” hits you right, you’ll feel like you’re hovering an inch off the ground.
Pairing Suggestion: Easing into doing that thing you promised you’d stop doing
Envy of None, “The Story”
Listen on Apple Music // Listen on Amazon Music
Album: Stygian Wavz
Nutshell: Straightforward alt rock
Voltage: 6
Thoughts: HALT! Listen to this song without reading further or googling the artist. Done yet? What if I told you this band features one of the most influential guitarists in tock history? Would you be able to identify him? Fine, fuck it: it’s Alex Lifeson of Rush. Not that you’d know—rather than the prog epics you might expect, Envy of None specializes in radio friendly 90s alt rock. Think Garbage and the like. There’s barely even a guitar solo! Full disclosure: Had I seen a band photo before clicking play, I might have turned up my nose. Not that I dislike Rush—quite the contrary! But seeing three retirement age Canucks in (relatively) age-appropriate “rock gear” posing next to some hot young goth chick sets off some a few “midlife crisis” alarm bells. “Please,” I thought to myself, “don’t let this sexy lady be Alex Lifeson’s new wife or some shit...” But I’m happy to share that he’s is still with Charlene, his wife of fifty years. Apologies to vocalist Maiah Wynne, who probably has to contend with a-holes like me all the time.
Pairing Suggestion: Managing to distinguish yourself by not being a damn cliche
Out with it!
And now, use your words. Need a prompt? Okay, tell me a song that physical fitness has been ruined for you. Or if you’re truly a weirdo, enhanced?
SOME BULLSHIT
Speaking of midlife crisis alarm bells, this week I paid $30 to see Becoming Led Zeppelin in IMAX. This is the highly anticipated new documentary promising to take you inside the earliest days of the legendary blah blah blah, you get the idea.
I shan’t bury the lede: I kinda hated it.
Like most suburban Whites dudes of my era, Led Zeppelin looms large in my psyche. I know the discography backwards and forwards1, I wore out my VHS dub of The Song Remains the Same, and my copy of Hammer of the Gods was tattered and dog-eared. I know the songs so well, I barely ever feel compelled to hear them anymore. Why would I need to; I couldn’t get the Led out if I tried! Occasionally I do seek out a deep cut2 or two, but never anything you might find on the setlist of a breastaurant cover band.
So after all these years, I was finally ready to put a little Led back in. I made a point of not reading anything about the the documentary in advance, trying to will myself into a second audio virginity. And to be clear, this movie includes some very cool early live footage, restored and remixed to perfection. A chaotic performance of “Communication Breakdown” to a local TV audience of mildly annoyed British housewives is a particular highlight. But overall, as a piece of filmmaking? Becoming Led Zeppelin is a whole lotta who-gives-a-fuck.
Firstly, take the title literally. I understood that a movie titled Becoming Led Zeppelin would likely focus on the early years. But I did not expect the credits to roll abruptly following the release of the band’s sophomore album. Don’t get me wrong, Zeppelin I & II are fine albums. But it’s really only from III on that they became artists worthy of deep analysis. Instead of taking us inside the recording of Houses of the Holy, we get lots of blathering about the Yardbirds. It’s difficult for me to express how little I give a fuck about the Yardbirds. Like, however infinitesimally small an amount you’re imagining, cut it in half.
But my chief complaint with this film is that it’s a glaring example of one of the Streaming Era’s most tedious trends: the overly-authorized biography. By this, I mean a film or miniseries that has look and feel of a capital-D Documentary, but is made with the full cooperation (and, presumably, veto power) of its subjects, resulting in something less like Werner Herzog and more like an electronic press kit. Sports is lousy with these damn things—The Last Dance and Court of Gold, to name but two. But it’s even less satisfying when applied to music, given that you’d expect a degree of vulnerability from creative artists that you wouldn’t from, say, Steph Curry. Surely the guy who wrote “Stairway to Heaven” has more to talk about than his childhood love of skiffle!
The format can be made to work, if the quality of the “unearthed footage” is unearth-y enough. I’d happily watch a thousand hours of Get Back! But if it’s your standard “early gig” shit, which is what this Zep doc has to offer, your subjects need to make up for it in charisma. They need to be so charming that viewers will forgive them for indulging in what is basically an extended humblebrag. It pains me to say, but Page, Plant and Jones just aren’t terribly interesting. Or if they are, this director was likely contractually obligated to hide it.
All of this flimflam, with Jimmy Page’s dating habits just sitting there—to say nothing of the apocryphal "mudshark incident”. Perhaps those anecdotes will included in the sequel, Now They Actually ARE Led Zeppelin. But I wouldn’t count on it. This is documentary filmmaking as envisioned by consultants and shareholders.
Another pet peeve: this film leans way too hard on contemporaneous but completely unrelated historical events. It’s probably my least favorite hack documentary trope. Oh really, was the Vietnam War ALSO taking place in 1969? Thank you, Mr. Documentary Filmmaker! Gee, I wonder what Led Zeppelin were up to on the date of the moon landing. Oh, they were randomly on tour somewhere? How fascinating and also relevant! It’s like stolen valor, but for historical significance.
Things flirted with self-parody when the front page of a newspaper flashed across the screen, shouting the headline: EQUATORIAL GUINEA DECLARES INDEPENDENCE FROM SPAIN! Hell yeah, brother. Rock and roll.
Oh and I’m sorry, your documentary cannot include multiple visual references to Peter Grant, one of the most ruthless (and goofiest-looking) figures in rock history without digging just a little deeper. Like, come on.
One final annoyance. And this one is unquestionably a “me thing”:
The 50-something dud sitting in the row front of me was enjoying himself waaaaaaay too much. Nodding vigorously at each platitude, air drumming, making pained “blues faces” during the guitar solos. And he was clearly doing it for the benefit of those sitting around him—as if to say “You guys may think you enjoy Led Zeppelin, but not like…THIS!” Performative Boomerism is a tragic thing to behold.
Oh and I want to be very clear: unless you’re literally holding a guitar, I would rather see your orgasm face than your blues face.
Alright, this week’s NMFO was meant to be a slapdash affair and, as usual, Substack is telling me it’s too long for email. Being concise is for suckers.
BTW, don’t let me stop you from giving me money.
Ta ta for now!
With the exception of Coda, which stinks
To the extent that any Zeppelin song can be considered a “deep cut”