Showing posts with label earworm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label earworm. Show all posts

20 February 2009

Friday Music Break - 02/20/09

So I've been up for three days and I'm already starting with the new features (although I guess, at this point, all features are new....)

For today's musical diversion, we're featuring the performance that jammed itself into my head on the drive in to work this morning, and won't go away. But considering it is the catchiest song in the universe (except perhaps for Lily Allen's "Fuck You"), and a very rare bit of concert footage to boot, I'm willing to give it a pass. And I think we could all use some happy New Wave songs to light a few candles these days, when our throats are hoarse from cursing that ever-loving darkness.

So I'm feeling uncommonly generous to my brain's uninvited guest. XTC, you are hereby welcome to spread out on my couch, put your feet up on my coffee table, light up a stogie and drink all my good scotch.


"Respectable Street," from URGH! A Music War. The greatest concert film of all time.

(PS: And a special Happy Birthday to L.S-A., and to my sister! Let me know when you head back into the studio! ...that last bit of course being directed at my sister.)

19 February 2009

Meat...and an Earworm

I'm something of a fan of LoadingReadyRun, a collective of young British-Columbians who serve up weekly doses of home-grown sketch comedy. One of their quasi-regular features is Man Cooking, which I can only assume is a response to the proliferation of such fleshy horrors as the Bacon Explosion and the ubiquitous Turducken.

Their most recent installment of Man Cooking, which I find myself powerless to stop watching, is the fascinating, troubling Swiss Meat Roll:



Astute viewers might catch a reference to the capture of the Brain Bug in Paul Verhoeven's confusingly kick-ass film adaptation of Heinlein's Starship Troopers (featuring the awesome, awesome Neil Patrick Harris as apparently some sort of telepathic SS officer--did I just Godwin myself?).

This association has, unfortunately, managed to trigger my tendency to get the worst possible song stuck in my head. In this instance:



From meat, to space-bugs, to NPH, to virulently insane ex-wives of Andrew Lloyd Webber. My journey is complete.

...And now I'm craving bacon. Hoist by my own petard.