And you know it's alright

Well, I would never have foreseen the Bats having three songs up here on the 'blague. But then, serendipity has always been a big part of the project. This is a driving, feedbacky one from the excellent benefit album for Chris Knox, released in the wake of his tragic stroke. As much as I never believe it when songs tell me "it's alright," I kinda gotta go with them here.

The Bats - Just Do It

I dance like a furry phantom

When it comes to a tight pop song, it's hard to fret over a lack of originality. There's a place for pioneers and a place for craftsmen, and it's good spend quality time with both. These Danish lads bring a lot of spunk to their '90s orthodoxy. And the singer's barely controlled caterwaul helps me keep in touch my inner angsty teen.

Figurines - All Night

None of us have anything

Happy belated MLK Day. Sorry, forgot to mention I'd be observing it. In the spirit of honoring lives, here's a song for the sadly just-departed Trish Keenan, singer of the excellent band Broadcast. They never quite got all the acclaim they deserved, what with simplistic comparisons to Stereolab and the like. But they were brilliant all the same, with both a well-considered aesthetic and a drive to keep evolving it. They only made a few albums, but they're all worth your attention. This track feels appropriate for the occasion — funereal and otherworldly, with Keenan's beautifully blank voice set hauntingly in the foreground.

Broadcast - Until Then

O Captain my captain

Well, what more needs to be said about our dearly departed Captain that hasn't already been mentioned throughout the weekend? I'm happy that so many people have been giving him his due and acknowledging his singular genius. Here's my small contribution.

Picking a tribute-paying track is no easy matter. You could choose from over a dozen gold nuggets from all phases of his career (except maybe this one). Or any random one from Trout Mask Replica. I've decided to offer up a tune that's a little harder to find, from the criminally still-only-available-on-vinyl (or the Internet) Lick My Decals Off Baby, which is a slightly less inspired kid sister to that towering masterpiece. Which is to say, it's still avant-blues-cubist amazing.

What Decals lacks in original brilliance, it more than makes up for in advertising. Check out this excellent commercial that Beefheart made for its release. If would win a Clio if it had been made today.

Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band - Woe-Is-Uh-Me-Bop

Memorial Day

I'm sure you will indulge if I skip the salute to people in uniform and instead honor a musician. Tom Cora was an avant garde improvising cellist who played with just about every experimental musician in New York and beyond throughout the '80s and '90s. The music is all over the map, and a lot of it is excellent and exploratory work. He died of cancer in 1998, and shortly afterward John Zorn released a retrospective of his music. You should own it. I put it on recently for the first time in years and was totally stunned, track after track.

Here's a piece from that comp recorded just after Cora's death. I find it genuinely poignant. Probably not so great for barbecue listening though. See you back Tuesday.

Thierry Azam - The Week Tom Died

I saw you staring out in space

Well, I guess this wouldn't be a proper music blog if I didn't pay a little tribute to Alex Chilton right about now. As far as Big Star goes, I'm in the camp that thinks Sister Lovers is their masterpiece, if only for the fact that it's kinda really hard to turn bitterness and disappointment into art that resonates without it feeling like audio rubbernecking.

This is the kind of song you put on mixtapes to make girls aware of your wounded depths. You might even think enough of it to make it the lead-off track, proudly offering your damage as a key romantic selling point. I'm mean...you know...that's what I'm told. It still sounds like a beautiful collapse.

And, because everything comes at me in the wrong order, here's a cover version that I actually heard before the original. A more stately reading somehow yields a different kind of ghostliness. The strings amplify the song's big breaking heart.

Big Star - Kangaroo
This Mortal Coil - Kangaroo