"don't take the candy" || wolf & wolf || 1983

Gosh, where to even begin with today's track?

To say that this song is bizarre would be the litote to end all litotes. It would be like saying that Warheads are "a little sour," or that Brokeback Mountain is "a little gay."

Get it? The song is effing peculiar.

The story is that of a young girl from Idaho who moves to L.A. to become a star, but soon finds herself the victim of a "candy uncle," who's offered her candy that just "ain't sweet." The singer apparently tried to warn the girl about the infamous L.A. Candy Uncles, but said warnings went unheeded and the girl shall never again roam the potato pastures of Idaho.

"Don't take the candy from the uncle in the street." Okay, I can do that. But wait, what uncle are we talking about here? Does she mean bad agents? Bad lawyers? Porno directors? Pedophiles?!

And what became of our young actress? Is she just a failed actress? A waitress? A porn star? (read: A failed actress.) Is she dead?

The thing that makes the song so creepy is its open-endedness. It would appear that not even the singer is sure what happened to the girl.

Believe me, at first listen, this song is ridiculous. But if you give it a chance, it is actually a pretty interesting story, and one that's no doubt happened millions of times to young ladies with Hollywood aspirations. The bizarre way in which the tale is told is what really makes this track unique.

Listen to it here.

"sleigh ride" || bubblyfish || 2006

I've never been a fan of holiday music. But hey, I'm the first to admit it: Throw a synth behind anything and I'll listen.

Bubblyfish did more than just "throw in" a synth though. She composed a full-blown, 8-bit version of this holiday classic, and words simply aren't sufficient to acquiesce its awesomeness.

If you've never found holiday music to be too boring for your ears, give this track a try. Hey, even if you don't like it, it's not even two minutes long, so it's not much to sit through.

I must say, though, that it really doesn't need to be any longer than that. I fear that it would enter the Daft Punk territory of repetitiveness if it were even a minute longer. It's perfect the way it is.

As for Bubblyfish herself, all I really know about her is that she's an electronic artist from Korea who currently lives in New York. This track is by far the most upbeat I've ever heard from her, as her other works that I've played (including the droning "Morph 02" and the overwhelmingly saccharine "Kite") are extremely minimal in nature, which is, of course, not a bad thing at all. She seems quite the talent, and I hope to hear a lot more from her.

Listen to it here.

"goodbye horses" || q. lazzarus || 1991

Umm, so let's talk about obscurity. This song is pretty much the definition thereof.

No one seems to know anything about Q. Lazzarus. The only tidbit of information about her that repeatedly seems to turn up on random websites states that she was, at some point, a cab driver in NYC. I've even tried to contact Ms. Lazzarus through this MySpace profile, which purports to be run by the husky-voiced heroine herself, but to date I've gotten no response.

I'm calling BS: I think she's not real.

Think about it: How could you create the most obscure song of all time? Simple. Invent a fake singer. Milli Vanilli had the right idea, but I think at the last minute Frank Farian decided to throw two German models into the spotlight. Big mistake, Frank; the folks behind Q. Lazzarus had the right idea: Invent a singer, invent a producer ("William J. Garvey"), and slide it into an iconic scene in an iconic film that will no doubt become both a cult and pop favorite. Then take a picture of some random staffer around the office (the Pepsi machine restocking chick, the head of corporate development, and the front-desk receptionist are all good suggestions) wearing a goofy cowboy hat, and throw it on the cover of the 12". Boom! Instant club / cult / college radio sensation, and lots of annoyed folks on the Internet 15 years later, looking for info about your non-existent, illusory singer.

The song itself is, naturally, beautiful. Lazzarus has an encapsulating, velvet voice, and the subject matter itself is quite interesting. The singer of the song is kissing goodbye to reality (which, in some mythology, was represented by horses). The singer has obviously been through something very tragic, and the lyrics indicate that she doesn't see things getting better anytime soon. So rather than trudge on with life and continue to deal with pain, she says, "Screw this, I'm outta here." Could it be a nod to suicide? Maybe, but I don't think so. I think it's about creating a new reality when the one in which you exist ceases to please you.

I hope I'm wrong. I hope Ms. Lazzarus does indeed exist, and I hope that this blog entry alone will inspire her to record more music (or at least shoot me an e-mail). But hey, even if I'm right, wouldn't that be awesome if I uncovered some massive musical sham? Gosh, even if it is a sham, kudos to the Q. Lazzarus team for pulling this off.

Listen to it here.

"i'm not perfect (but i'm perfect for you)" || grace jones || 1986

Sometimes a song's lyrics can be so amazingly poignant that you'd swear you heard them before, but you can't prove it. Thus is the case with today's track.

Miss Jones (along with Bruce Wooley) wrote this very cleverly titled track for her 1986 album Inside Story. The album is smooth as silk, and this track is the perfect kickoff.

For once (in this blog), today's track was chosen based more on its lyrical content than its musical content. The music really isn't anything too special, but the lyrics are simply brilliant.

This song is the perfect way of telling someone, "Sure, I love you, but I am an imperfect being, and I wish to be loved in return as such." It's begging someone to love you in spite of your flaws. It seems like such a simple thought, but no other song has, for me, ever worded it so carefully and precisely as this one.

Listen to it here.

"silver screen shower scene" || felix da housecat || 2001

Leftfield club classic from the earlier part of this decade. While I'm not big on modern dance music, I think this track deserves a round of applause for sheer kitchy-ness.

Hear this one once and you'll remember all the words (it's not too tough -- there are four lines of lyrics that repeat, plus an interlude). More importantly though, you'll be extremely inclined to move around.

This track is a refreshing take from the monotonous, machinist music that prevails in today's clubs. It's creative, exciting, and, just to be repetitive, kitchy!

Listen to it here.

"maggie's last party" || v.i.m. || 1991

The first time I heard this track, I was driving around with an older friend of mine, listening to one of his old club mixtapes from his days as a club kid & barback. After a few pretty basic hi-nrg and techno tracks, Margaret Thatcher was suddenly telling me that I was invited to an acid party. "Rave, rave, rave, MURDER," she cooed, and then proceeded to tell me about "love," "peace," and how "this party is BEST."

I smiled, but I had no idea that I was hearing an underground club classic.

This track hit the acid scene in 1991, when ravers were looking beyond acid house music for the next thing to listen to while tripping. To my knowledge, it's the only track ever recorded by V.I.M., and really, it's all they needed. The track is simply unforgettable; hear it once and the rest of the day you'll be chortling "acid party" as you march about your routines.

It's one of those club songs that sticks out like a sore thumb, but not at all in a bad way. It's the kind of track that sends people running to the DJ booth, demanding to know title and artist.

I'm terrified that this song will get lost in the annals of time, so I'm going my part to keep it alive. Pass this one on to your friends! Spread Maggie's love!

Listen to it here.

"gratitude" || danny elfman || 1984

I'm convinced that everything Danny Elfman touches with his voice turns into musical gold. One of new wave's most distinctive voices, Danny fronted Oingo Boingo until the mid-80's, when he split and put out a solo album called, well, So-Lo. He then went on to score numerous Tim Burton films (OK, so he's done others, but who cares about those?), including Beetlejuice, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and The Corpse Bride.

While Elfman's movie scores are cool and all, we can't hear his totally rad voice!

That's where today's track comes in. This was his first solo release, and it probably only gained the notoriety it did because it landed on the Beverly Hills Cop soundtrack. If it hadn't, college radio would have been all over it and it would have become a lost radio classic. Thankfully though, many 80's connoisseurs remember this track quite well, and some radio stations are cool enough to still spin it (like mine).

Definitely one of Elfman's finer lyrical pieces as well. A simple reflection on life, but done in a manner that is simultaneously condescending, self-deprecating, boastful and demanding. It's not bad to dance to, but this jam is more suited for playing very loudly in your car if you're driving around in an angered state because someone just let you down. A "steering-wheel pounder," if you will.

Listen to it here.