Listening Too Long To One Song: Another Sunny Day "Anorak City"

So I've been DJ-ing on what is becoming an increasingly regular basis for the online station Dublab. It's a station that you should become immediately familiar with if you are not already, and I feel unbelievably honored to be a part of it in any capacity.

My most recent show for the station was a "Sarah Records Tribute Show" with my pal John Girgus formerly of the band Aberdeen who you may recall were one of the few American bands to ever record for the label. He had actually done one of these a few months back, and asked me if I'd be able to help the next time he did one. I assume that this is due to the fact that most of the DJ-ing I do anywhere turns into a Sarah Records Tribute of sorts.

This has led me to spend a great deal of time in the past week going through my records, and itunes library trying to figure out the best combination of pop songs that were either released by, influenced by, or influenced my favorite label. During this process, I've probably listened to "Anorak City" somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty times. It's not a song that improves drastically with every listen, nor does it become any more meaningful, it's just plain and simply a blast to hear and nod your head along to. Written in response to some people (mostly music critics) using the derogatory term "anorak pop" to describe indiepop based on the fact that, well, a lot of the folks that made and listened to jangly pop songs wore anoraks (parkas) on a highly regular basis; this song was kind of a perfect searing mock 50s dance craze hit to poke (sort of) gentle fun at the types who tend to put somewhat ridiculous labels on things. The fanzine that accompanies the single puts it this way, "It's called "Anorak City" because some people are incredibly stupid." This single also does an excellent job to prove the case that Sarah Records was not all sad boys with guitars and drum machines singing sad songs about some girl that would never love them. However, it should be noted that Another Sunny Day DID also record a song called "I'm in Love With a Girl Who Doesn't Know I Exist." And "Anorak City" makes prominent use of a drum machine. The guitars are nice and fuzzy, and the vocals are only about half as loud as the guitars so they are constantly buried beneath them. In a way, it makes it better though as the picking out the lyrics becomes something of an adventure, and most of the discernable ones are pretty great. "Will you be my anorak baby, no no honey please don't say maybe. Say that you'll forever be mine, and stay til the end of time in Anorak City..." In the fanzine this phrase is isolated like so: "Will you be my anorak, baby?" I would never have thought that something as simple as punctuation could make me smile all week, but here we are. And it still makes me smile.

You can find "Anorak City," on my favorite compilation in recent memory (shockingly) titled CD86. It was released in as a tribute to the 20 year anniversary of NME's (in) famous C86 cassette tape. Instead of focusing solely on bands that made an appearance on the tape, they've wisely included other bands that were associated with the genre like Sarah bands Another Sunny Day, the Sea Urchins, and 14 Iced Bears. It should be easy to track down in any record store, or here. You can also find the track on itunes.

You can simply listen to the song here.


~sqg//marion

Listening Too Long To One Song: Talulah Gosh "Talulah Gosh"

So around this time every year, my pal Eric J. Lawrence over at KCRW takes a look back at the best releases of the year that just ended, and the best releases 20 years prior. As 1987 was a pretty good year for indiepop releases (Sarah Records released it's first single that year for example) I thought it would be fun (because I'm just that nerdy) to search for at least one set of (four) songs that whether or not they actually make it on the air would in theory offer a decent look at the year in indiepop. Which led me to Talulah Gosh. Though they began releasing singles in 1986, and disbanded in 1988, 1987 did see Talulah Gosh go through a significant line-up change (founding member and vocalist Elizabeth Price left the band, and was replaced with Eithne Farry,) and it did see them release what is likely their most successful single, also titled "Talulah Gosh." The band apparently took it's name from an interview with Clare Grogan of Altered Images who when asked what she would do after the band responded with something to the effect of becoming an actress and calling herself Tallulah Gosh. Though she already was an actress, and continues to act using the name Clare Grogan or CP Grogan. Therefore the name Talulah Gosh (especially with one less "l") became fair game for a pop band from Oxford. The song itself may or may not be addressing this back story, opening with the line, "Everyday she wakes up, her life will be a movie," and the chorus starting with, "Talulah Gosh was a film star a day." Who knows really? The lyrics are smart and enjoyable either way. And the music, mmm, the music. Guitars, tambourines, and harmonies galore. Not to mention the fact that it starts off with a measured, dreamy pace then builds up to an (almost) frenzy during the chorus. Remember when you would spin around as a little kid until you got so dizzy you had to collapse onto the nearest available flat surface? This song is pretty much the aural equivalent to that in the best possible way. Check out the video for "Talulah Gosh," posted below, and starting this Monday at midnight (or does that make it Tuesday?) you really should tune into KCRW to hear Eric J. Lawrence's take on some of the best songs of 1987 (part one of two.) The guy not only knows more about music than anyone I know, but has pretty excellent taste when it comes to picking favorites as well.

You Have Nothing to Live Up to, You Have Nothing to Live Down

I know that I've mentioned at least once that it's my intention to post some sort of history/tribute to Sarah Records here. Especially with the 20th anniversary of their first release having just passed. While I'm nowhere near prepared for that, I came upon this clever little holiday story on the Sarah/Shinkansen home page. While none of the releases mentioned in the story are current, it is very well written, perfectly enjoyable, and season appropriate. Shinkansen, by the way, was the label that Matt Haynes and Clare Wadd started after the sad demise of Sarah Records. The reasoning for that demise is explained here.
You can hear a few songs from a few Sarah Bands here.

I hope this helps you to get into the holiday spirit, and maybe think about finally starting your Christmas shopping. Oh wait, that's me...