She ignored me and, as we headed to the bar to order our drinks, I
thought perhaps it was some woman's birthday and her
boyfriend/fiancé/husband had asked for a special dedication and
everyone was singing it because it being a catchy old hit that everyone
knew the words of (like I do those of Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, which I
positively hate). I was wrong, of course. Our drinks came. And the
music changed to The Doors' Roadhouse Blues.
Not only was everyone singing again, they were drowning out the late,
old Jim's melody-free voice. And, mark this, when the verse "Well, I
woke up this morning/And I got myself a beer" came along, I distinctly
remember some chaps actually standing up and chanting those lines with
Republic Day fervour. The Doors wrote and released Roadhouse Blues in 1970. "Was this a retro evening?" I asked the affable bartender.
He looked perplexed. More prodding and he said they play it every
evening and that every one loves it. "Don't you?" "Er, yes," I said
quickly. The music had changed. They were playing Guns N' Roses. No, it wasn't any thing from their new Chinese Democracy (which, incidentally, grows on you) but Sweet Child o' Mine
(circa 1987 or 1988). "Shall we leave?" I asked my companion. The
question was ignored as she'd spotted some friends who'd taken a break
from singing along to exchange hugs and pleasantries.
The music changed again. Oasis came on. Again, nothing from their latest, Dig Out Your Soul (I'd certainly give it a robust 3 out of 5) but it was Some Might Say,
a huge hit but dating back to 1995. We left soon after, with me raving
in the car about how young people were listening to old crap and that
although I had nothing against old hits (with the exception of The Doors, of course and Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da), shouldn't people be listening to new music? Asked to shut up, I popped the new Girl Talk CD in. Girl Talk
isn't a band. It's the stage name of a 27-year-old American, Greg
Gillis, who makes music while studying bio-medical engineering. The
unique thing is that he makes all of his music from samples of other
musicians' work. So, Play Your Part (Pt.1) the first track on his fourth and latest album, Feed The Animals, is entirely made up of samples not only from people like Roy Orbison, The Spencer Davis Group, Pete Townshend, Rage Against the Machine and Sinead O'Connor, but also Aaliyah, Jay-Z, Jurrasic 5 and OutKast.
The entire album is like that. Avril Lavigne (yes!) gets fused in with
musicians as diverse as Rod Stewart and the black humour-laden
alternative rockers, Butthole Surfers; Procul Harum, Beastie Boys, Cat Stevens and Radiohead are digitally blended with 50 Cent and Kanye West?all on one song. It isn't a simple mashup melding two diverse songs into one. Girl Talk,
or Gillis, uses short and completely unauthorised samples of other
people's songs sequentially to create something uniquely new, very
often a product that is difficult to deconstruct or recognise the
samples while you listen to them.
Where's that snatch from? The Band? Jimi Hendrix? The Cure? Smiths? Or even Queen? You'll be left guessing. New York Times Magazine
has called Girl Talk's music "a lawsuit waiting to happen". I think his
is the best tribute you can think of to other musicians. Like rock
music's mega stars, Radiohead, Girl Talk has a pay-what-you-can scheme where you can pick up Feed The Animals
(aim your browser at to check it out). Oh, and if you opt to pay $0.00,
i.e. nothing, you just have to say why (you may not like the band; may
not have the money; or may want to donate later), you still get a
chance to download the album.
See, that's why I like new music and new musicians. Small Spherical Things That Bounce to those hot nightspots where everyone tonight must surely be singing along to L.A. Woman (circa 1971). And no, Small Spherical Objects That Bounce isn't a band.
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