Last week jefitoblog ran a Pocket Guide to the Hooters, and perusing it took me all the way back to like grade school.

Before the jefitopost, I couldn’t have named a song by the Hooters. So why the time-travel? It’s mostly a trick of how music can get stapled to the extras in the movie of yr life. The grade school association: I could swear they were the favorite band of one of the most popular kids in my class, a dude with the unfortuate last name of Ducharme (you guessed it, “Douche” for short, affectionately mind you, and with no real concept of what the word meant).

Anyway, I realized reading the Pocket Guide that “And We Danced” (1985) was the one Hooters song I definitely knew. Subsequently viewing the video …

… evoked some strong, and as it turned out endlessly referential, reactions for me. So now we have a virtual mix inspired by the video for “And We Danced.”

Beastie Boys “Intergalactic” (Soulwax Remix)/-4:41 to -4:12/buy hello nasty/mp3s
In the intro to the video, some totally fresh-looking dudes sneak their buddy into the drive-in. It’s a little confusing how closely the first-time-around 80s style resembles the retro versions c. like mid-90s to present era. I guess we’ve nailed the retro, or just haven’t bothered to remix it significantly. It almost makes the first-time around feel like the costume play.

This part of the video could be intercut with “Sabotage” or maybe any given Beasties video from the alt-rock heyday. The Hooters video has me stepping into an endlessly referential land-out-of-time–one of those sci-fi psychedelic miasmas where phantom images of Abe Lincoln, the “Dewey Deafeats Truman” headline and Woodstock hippies drift by me. So I figured the best Beasties moment to represent my displacement would be Soulwax’s bastard pop remix of “Intergalactic” that grafts on Herbie Hancock’s electro inclination, INXS pop-funk and AC/DC blasting blooziness.

As an aside, I’m also trying to decode whether the drive-in setting for the “And We Danced” video was nostalgia at the time. My man Forest Whittaker represented for the drive-in during his Oscar acceptance, and I have some vague but formative memories of the days when that’s all the entertainment my folks could afford–top of mind, strange and kind of bittersweet, viewing the 1981 Lone Ranger flop that was supposed to rocket unknown Klinton Spilsbury to stardom. (K-Spil, we hardly knew ye.)

Was the drive-in already dying in 1985? My patented five minutes of Google/Wiki research has proven fruitless, so I dunno. But the zombie movie that’s playing after the Hooters(?) is clearly a tip of the hat to an earlier era of exploitation cinema.

Palace Music “New Partner”/-4:07 to -4:02/buy disc
Les Savy Fav “Wake Up!”/-4:07 to -4:02/buy disc/mp3s
So basically the dude playing the mandolin on the porch looks like the result of Tim Harrington, frontman of NYC spazz-rockers Les Savy Fav, having a baby for Will Oldham, the cracked country songwriter behind the Palace/Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billie omnibus. Witness:

In honor of this fleeting impression, I’ve included maybe my favorite song by each. Palace Music gives us “New Partner,” par for the Oldham course in its slightly sleazy subtext, but totally amiable in a porch-rockin’ sorta way, plus possessing a killer chorus and killer-er bridge that never wear on me. From LSF, the pontlistically biographical screed “Wake Up!” It starts out sinuously sinister then ups the ante to explosive.

Rod Stewart “Maggie May”/-4:07 to -4:02/buy best-of/mp3s
Talking mandolin, for me, naturally brings us back to classic rock’s ultimate mandolin song, Rod the Mod’s tribute to Oedipal lust with a very special cougar barfly.

Actually, please pardon the glib synopsis, as there’s more soul in this one than most anything else I’ve heard by Señor Stewart. The song inspired a pretty damn good short story/aborted novel adaptation by St. Lester and is a box karaoke fave of mine, totally bouyant and just the right kind of repetitive.

(Also, the first words of this song are “Wake up.” See what I did there?)

Bob Dylan “Like A Rolling Stone” (Bootleg)/-4:07 to -4:02/buy discs/mp3s
Now the dude rocking the melodica, he most closely resembles the guy who played Laura Prepon’s dad on That 70s Show (also he was in The Warriors as a lad) if he were hired to play Dylan. You see it, right?

Anyway, to do full justice to a somewhat half-assed comparison that’s holding us up from like even getting to where the song kicks in, here’s an aborted alternate version of “Like A Rolling Stone,” more or less solo Zimmerman on piano.

Bruce Springsteen “Spirit In The Night”/-3:34 to -2:59/buy disc/mp3s
We’re gonna hold aside the “Hard Day’s Night” reference in the lyrics–’cause, c’mon–and just look at how everything from the “Hey!” through the chorus perfectly evokes an archetypial verse from the Boss, if slightly sanitized.

We’re talking idealized small-town teen Americana, with the hard times and experimental sexual fumblings, a little hard-boiled and a lot more sentimental, and all of it just kinda reeled off. It happens that my own collection is a bit Boss-deficient, but I think the verses of jazzy “Spirit In The Night” make my point here. I guess, also c.f. John Cougar/Cougar Mellencamp/Mellencamp and Bryan Adams before Prince of Thieves.

The Replacements “Bastards Of Young”/-3:21 to -3:18/buy disc/mp3s
This is a little bit of a stretch, so please bear with me: the guitar fill that pops in after each line in the verse is the template for a bread-and-butter Goo Goo Dolls move. Un(?)fortunately, it turns out that my entire archive of the Goo catalog consists of a Stones cover and a take on “Don’t Fear The Reaper.”

Since everything else those guys did involved some cross-breeding of Minnesota indie rock gods/bar band fuckups the Replacements with blonde hair-rockers lite Nelson, the Mats get to stand in with one of their many anthems to alienation. Fair to say there’s a distinctly heartland rock theme going here, I guess.

(unknown) “Everybody Have Fun Tonight”/-2:59 to -2:45/buy wang chung music/mp3s
The chorus reminds me of something, but I don’t know what. Despite its rockunroll trappings, it clearly belongs among the lineage of 80s New Wave no-hopers with silly haircuts. Is it Men Without Hats I’m thinking of? Or Mr. Mister?

I’m, again, woefully short on this kinda stuff, and I won’t besmirch “Take On Me,” so I’ve substituted a twee-ish instrumental Wang Chung cover by ? that’s floating around my hard drive.

You get the point.

While we’re at it, other mix choices considered, but not included due to lack of availability and/or perhaps good judgement: REO Speedwagon, since the guitar dude looks like their singer, and the 21 Jump Street theme song because the bassist resembles Peter DeLuise of Depp-sidekick vintage.

The Band “The Weight”/-2:45 to -2:19/buy disc/mp3s
My imagination’s flagging slightly at this point, but I wanted to point out that it’s cool that two different Hooters get turns at lead vox in the one song (and everyone seems to comes in on the chorus).

Sloan “Everything You’ve Done Wrong” (Live)/-1:59 to -1:23/buy discs/mp3s
Gotta love the span from the Captain of Industry trying to help the Proto-Retro Posse jimmy their trunk to rescue their friend through Nervy O’Sodajerk spilling popcorn in shock at the forwardness of a winking Frizzy McBangsworthy. This is pretty much the height of the video’s slice of life plot/non-plot.

It’s also the point where I realized that almost every video by Canadian classic popsters Sloan follows the “And We Danced” template of displaying the band in performance while some other thing, usually involving other people, happens around them. I can give at least one example, so witness:

And with that, I’m spent, all out of po-mo horse-before-the-carriage references. But G-d bless the Hooters.

Sloan “Right Or Wrong” “Someone I Can Be True With”

Some folks have had their hands on it for a while–people north of the 49th parallel or so, those willing to pay those exorbitant Canadian import prices–but this Tuesday my fellow ‘Muricans and I can finally wrap our grimy hands around the new record from Canadian popsters Sloan, Never Hear the End of It.

The roomie hooked me up with a preview a couple months back, and I’m gonna use the term “return to form,” because I’ve been a little disappointed by the band’s last couple joints–the Sloan enterprise veered too much toward well-groomed schmaltz, and I thought we were losing the dudes with the B–tles on their brain, KISS stickers on their gear and a gleam in their eye.

Never Hear the End of It has been filtered through party shuffle listening, but really I like it so far about as much as any of their prime 90s output, holding aside masterpiece Navy Blues. So here’s a couple examples why, back-to-back tracks from the 30-song record’s first third(!).

“Right Or Wrong” is sort of a state of the Sloan address set to a maraca-shakin’ upbeat groove. It’s a pretty forthright statement from a band that’s been playing stadium-oriented rock to a cult following for creeping up on two decades.

There’s an appreciation for the bitter irony–”Ten years ahead of our time/or about one year behind” indeed–and maybe a tinge of bitterness–”sooner or later we’ll be singing for free.” Admittedly, the career complaint jam is a risky endeavor. I mean, these are lucky, talented guys, right? So what I dig is the statement of purpose, the sense that the dudes are weary but they’re gonna keep rolling that boulder up the hill and breaking our hearts in harmony.

In places, End of It feels like Sloan’s (old school) Guided by Voices record. In between yr typical three- or four-minute pop song, there are neat little miniatures like “Someone I Can Be True With.” It’s a peppy little love song that bows out just as it gets rambly and repetitive. I especially appreciate the grumpy/campy pop culture references. Since the song’s about that total love that thrives in the cocoon of comfort, it makes sense to fill it up with the stuff of everyday life.

Then again, the latter half of the song sounds like my typical weekend with the little lady, if you substitute “Road House“ or “CSI: Miami” for “Gremlins 2.” (But then it wouldn’t rhyme, I guess.)

Never Hear the End of It at Newbury Comics. (and at iTunes.)

Sugar “Your Favorite Thing” (fu:el)
My Blood Valentine homage as desperate plea from Bob Mould and his post Hüsker Dü buzzsaw pop outfit. That riff is gigantic, ironically happy sounding.

Sloan “Sugartune” (peppermint)
A veneer of shoegaze on this one too, but even on their first EP, Sloan’s a pop band at heart. In the inspirational vein, this song is ostensibly about itself (”I wrote for you a sugartune”).

The Jesus & Mary Chain “Some Candy Talking” (psychocandy)
The candy here is something a little more dangerous, as danger’s always been JAMC’s stock in trade. Hell, there’s even a “Waiting For The Man” nod (or dozen) in the song, if that’s not too on-the-nose. Genius use of a few minimal elements to give us that hollow, hungry feeling.

The Strangeloves “I Want Candy” (nuggets)
More of a bubblegum bamboozle than a red-blooded ‘Murican garage rock group, the Strangeloves still knew their way around a swingin’ tom groove accented by sax bleats. It’s a jingle, it’s a New Wave hit, it’s the wellspring of many things…

The Push Kings “The Girl Who Only Loves Candy” (far places)
Speaking of bubblegum, the Push Kings first struck me as indie rock’s answer to Wham!–and you know, for me, that’s a good thing. This warning against vice feels more like an ode to the things we gorge ourselves on. I’d pick out a favorite part–the big-riffed chorus, the disco bridge, the overdramatic breakdown, that thing about “beads of sweat on yr turquoise underwear”–but let’s just say the whole thing’s my favorite. Toothache sweet.

Wilco “Candy Floss” (summerteeth)
Wilco in pop production full-throttle, slathering on keyboards and harmonies. It takes Jeff Tweedy to write an homage to early-day Beach Boys that’s about doubt and reservation.

Mike Viola and the Candy Butchers “All I Have” (falling into place)
Straightahead power pop from the Bostonian who, it turns out, is partially responsible for the song from That Thing You Do. Don’t hold it against him though.

Sweet “Teenage Rampage” (best of)
Bubblegum don’t get much tastier than Sweet, and with a surprisingly long chewing life. They’re starting to bridge from their T. Rex-ier times to latterday Queen-iness here. I don’t know why, but the feeling that their revolutionary call to arms is pure hokum–this isn’t actually a live recording, is it?–is a big part of the charm. Too good to be kitsch, but in the neighborhood.

Echo & The Bunnymen “Lips Like Sugar” (s/t)
Somewhere I heard that, as a UVa undergrad, from outside his dorm Pavement prankster Steve Malkmus could regularly be seen in his room lip-synching to Echo & The Bunnymen and prancing around in front of the mirror. I don’t know about sidewalk voyeurs, but I’m pretty sure I’ve done the same to this song.

The Mountain Goats “The Recognition Scene” (sweden)
Lovers on the run! A daring candy heist goes awry! News at 11! (I want to say that the candy is just candy and that the problems–and there are almost always problems between lovers in Mountain Goats songs, especially if they’re on a road trip of any sort–are for an altogether different reason. But that “hot caramel/sticking to our teeth” bit makes me doubt my reading, and I’m not sure why.)

The Spinanes “Halloween Candy” (imp years)
Unsettling and softly seething, this song reminds that “sometimes sweetness is not what it seems.”

Modern Lovers “Dignified And Old”
Sloan “Dignified And Old”

I’m writing this entry from the 15 North fast lane and hoping to actually post it from Vegas. It’s been a pretty busy last couple days, thus the late post. I thought I’d just rattle off a little something about road music.

We’re relying on the little lady’s nano, a Chrismukkah gift from her bro that I helped load up with tunes.

One of the gifts yielded up from this road trip approach was hearing, within an hour, both the original version of “Dignified And Old” by the Modern Lovers and the Sloan cover.

I wish I could remember the exact quote, but there’s something that explains an anomaly like Jonathan Richman. Something about how punks in cities built on a grid, like NYC and L.A., tend to have a very simple us vs. them worldview, while cities with more arcane and circular layouts, like Boston and D.C., breed punkers who can do the rebel thing and be home for dinner with grandma.

Not saying I buy it 100%. I mean, all generalizations are bad, in general. But there’s something attractive about it.

So Jonathan Richman, the frontman for 70s prepunk geek rockers the Modern Lovers, could idolize Lou Reed but channel the art rockismo into his own lovelorn, wonderfully naïve teenage view of the world. He doesn’t buy the rockunroll credo to live fast, die young, etc.—one day he’ll be dignified and old. Pretty damn classic.

The cover by Sloan, Canada’s foremost purveyors of brainy classic pop, is stripped down and faithful. Sorta makes you miss the cool organ line from the Lovers version. It’s taken from their fake live EP, which was packaged, I think, with the 1998 original American pressing of 1996 minor classic One Chord to Another. (Don’t ask.)

Grab a brew and dig it. We’ll see you on the other side of the state line.

[Both the Modern Lovers’ debut album and the 2-CD One Chord to Another are out of print.]