Two more posts – this one, and a very special fan appreciation post wrapping up the new slice voting later this month – and then the KassaNostra goes on his now-traditional summer hiatus. What's that, I hear you ask? Do I dare call it a hiatus after taking off the entire month of May? And February? And all of last autumn? To which I say... suck it, haters! The obscenely cushy life of an obscure music blogger (as of this writing, up to 6,323 on the IceRocket BlogTracker charts... with a bullet!) is why I got into this gig in the first place. For those of you well-versed in the Tolland vernacular, this blog is my solid gold rock-block, for which my leisurely ways are more than well-suited. Besides which, it would hardly be fair for me to continue posting through the summer, unavailable to the thousands of Kinderland campers and staff who rely on me as their primary guru of Tolland-centric pop-culture stylings.
You kids are still hip to that swingin' Ronnie Gilbert chick, right? Molly Picon, maybe?
Anyway, here's a non-musical fact to get us started: the KassaNostra digs nothing more than a good you-got-your-chocolate-in-my-peanut-butter moment. I respect any creative genius with the imagination, resolve, and sheer intestinal fortitude to challenge the status quo by making greatness out of unlikely couplings. People with this inherent talent should all be marriage counselors. Or Middle East peace negotiators. But I'm glad they're not, because then we wouldn't have mashups.
Mashed culture of one kind or another has been around at least eighty years, but only in the last ten has technology aided the proletarian masses by deigning them the means and access necessary to create new pop tapestries from existing material. In retrospect, it's hardly surprising that the first generation raised on sampling grew up to realize that the Beatles could be exquisitely remixed with Jay-Z. It also comes as no great shock that a medium grounded in reshaping other people's creations was birthed by the same culture that idolizes pop icons well into their 60s and 70s. (For context, imagine if, at the original Woodstock festival in 1969, that Rudy Vallée and Maurice Chevalier were held up as iconoclastic godfathers of all modern pop.)
Now, as with all transformative culture, there are those naysayers who deride mashups as a novelty – as something substandard in artistic relevance to the original works being bastardized. Two things to say to that. One, fine. It's all just baubles and gimcracks. It bears no greater relevance to the overall cultural matrix than does American Idol. Or Glee. Or comic book superheroes. Or all of Hollywood that relies on pre-existing source material, which is all of Hollywood. Cultural inspiration is diverse – sometimes it scavenges recyclables for shantytown metropolises, sometimes it builds cities on rock 'n' roll. Either way, it's the same basic concept of four-walls-and-a-roof to go home to at night.
Two, music used to be an activity before Thomas Edison conspired to make it a spectator sport. A song was a basic template: sheet music and lyrics, that individuals were entrusted to perform on their own. It was inevitable that music would eventually become a commodity, but there's an irony to how far we've strayed from the oral tradition that once was (we like to think of rock 'n' roll as revolutionary, but whereas most of rock's antecedents – R&B, C&W, gospel – are grassroots in origin, rock music itself has never not been commodified). I won't pretend that mashup culture is heralding some kind of peasant insurgency, but walls are definitely being broken down. In the last decade, music has gone from something performed by a rarefied few to a medium thrown open to amateur creativity and participation. And if you can't get behind that, then maybe you're going to the wrong summer camp.
Besides which, mashups sound totally awesome. But are they compatible with the Tolland canon, you ask? Think about that for a second. Are they appropriate for a place that effortlessly grafts cultural significance onto routine experiences? Oh baby, hide yer bulbes, 'cause K-Land is down with the mash.
We get this party started with DJ Copycat's 2007 creation, The Tide Is Pata Pata High. Alas, in selecting an appropriate match for Blondie's reggae-cum-pop-via-punk ode to romantic tenacity, the 'cat opted to use Osibisa's cover of Pata Pata over the Miriam Makiba original (although he swears that Makiba's voice is mixed into the background). This tune is a perfect example of two songs blending seamlessly. Note how effortlessly the four-bar intro to Pata Pata flows into Tide's opening horn sequence. That's partly the commonalities in the source material – Osibisa is a British Afro-pop band with strong Caribbean roots, which pairs up nicely with Tide's reggae beat (the original version was a 1967 release by the Paragons, staples of the Kingston rocksteady scene). It's also partly the result of digital manipulation. To get two different songs to synch up usually requires some playing with the tempo. The Tide Is Pata Pata High clocks in at 116 beats per minute (BPM), the mean average between Blondie's Tide (97 BPM) and Osibisa's Pata Pata (133 BPM). The result: literally the cat's pajamas. Check out more of DJ Copycat's work here.
DJ Copycat: The Tide Is Pata Pata High
(Blondie vs. Osibisa)
Next up is ToToM's Blowin' in My Mind, which mashes Bob Dylan's poetry with the sonic surrealism of the Pixies. It's an inspired marriage, even for two artists who both cited Woody Guthrie as an influence. I really love how Dylan's chorus is bracketed here by two distinct Pixies moments: the drop-off in Joey Santiago's lead guitar at the beginning of the chorus, and the fade-in of Black Francis' vocals at the end. Obviously, you don't need me to tell you how poignant Dylan's writing is. But his older folk output is generally lacking in theatricality (intentionally so, I'd imagine); the way ToToM reframes the original words here really underscores the power of an already unforgettable line. Those of you who already associate Where Is My Mind? with the final scene in Fight Club can groove on the parallel responses to a desensitized society. From ToToM's 2009 Dylan Mashed compilation, which can be found here, along with the rest of his excellent body of work.
ToToM: Blowin' in My Mind [2009 version]
(Bob Dylan vs. the Pixies)
Now, I realize that mashups are a very subjective thing, and the KassaNostra is nothing if not accommodating, so here are two separate tunes built around Fever. (Albeit not Little Willie John's version – anybody out there want to set up a lobby to push the Tolland canon on the internet?) For the staunch traditionalists among you, we have Revelation Fever, a mashup by RIAA that sticks a Son House vocal onto a Fever rhythm section. This is from a 2007 compilation album, Foolklegs: Folkloric MashUps, and the liner notes attribute the Fever half of this to Peggy Lee. That's possible, but it's definitely not taken from her 1958 single. Could be a live release maybe? Good thing folk music and apocryphal background info are no strangers to each other. But for our more bohemian faithful, that's definitely Lee's voice, capably anchored by Iggy Pop's brooding solfeggio on Go Home Productions' Passenger Fever, also from 2007. Not much to say about either of these, except that you could probably run anything under either a Peggy Lee or Son House vocal and it would still bust up mountains. RIAA's stuff here, Go Home Productions' here.
RIAA: Revelation Fever
(Son House vs. fake Peggy Lee)
Go Home Productions: Passenger Fever
(real Peggy Lee vs. Iggy Pop)
Lastly, there's this. It's by a dude named FAROFF. He's from Brazil. It's not camp-specific, other than the tangential Klezmer connection. It does more to bridge Jewish-Irish relations than anyone since Denis Leary. It's the mashup I was waiting for my entire life, but didn't know until I heard it.
FAROFF: House of Klezmer
Now, as with all transformative culture, there are those naysayers who deride mashups as a novelty – as something substandard in artistic relevance to the original works being bastardized. Two things to say to that. One, fine. It's all just baubles and gimcracks. It bears no greater relevance to the overall cultural matrix than does American Idol. Or Glee. Or comic book superheroes. Or all of Hollywood that relies on pre-existing source material, which is all of Hollywood. Cultural inspiration is diverse – sometimes it scavenges recyclables for shantytown metropolises, sometimes it builds cities on rock 'n' roll. Either way, it's the same basic concept of four-walls-and-a-roof to go home to at night.
Two, music used to be an activity before Thomas Edison conspired to make it a spectator sport. A song was a basic template: sheet music and lyrics, that individuals were entrusted to perform on their own. It was inevitable that music would eventually become a commodity, but there's an irony to how far we've strayed from the oral tradition that once was (we like to think of rock 'n' roll as revolutionary, but whereas most of rock's antecedents – R&B, C&W, gospel – are grassroots in origin, rock music itself has never not been commodified). I won't pretend that mashup culture is heralding some kind of peasant insurgency, but walls are definitely being broken down. In the last decade, music has gone from something performed by a rarefied few to a medium thrown open to amateur creativity and participation. And if you can't get behind that, then maybe you're going to the wrong summer camp.
Besides which, mashups sound totally awesome. But are they compatible with the Tolland canon, you ask? Think about that for a second. Are they appropriate for a place that effortlessly grafts cultural significance onto routine experiences? Oh baby, hide yer bulbes, 'cause K-Land is down with the mash.
We get this party started with DJ Copycat's 2007 creation, The Tide Is Pata Pata High. Alas, in selecting an appropriate match for Blondie's reggae-cum-pop-via-punk ode to romantic tenacity, the 'cat opted to use Osibisa's cover of Pata Pata over the Miriam Makiba original (although he swears that Makiba's voice is mixed into the background). This tune is a perfect example of two songs blending seamlessly. Note how effortlessly the four-bar intro to Pata Pata flows into Tide's opening horn sequence. That's partly the commonalities in the source material – Osibisa is a British Afro-pop band with strong Caribbean roots, which pairs up nicely with Tide's reggae beat (the original version was a 1967 release by the Paragons, staples of the Kingston rocksteady scene). It's also partly the result of digital manipulation. To get two different songs to synch up usually requires some playing with the tempo. The Tide Is Pata Pata High clocks in at 116 beats per minute (BPM), the mean average between Blondie's Tide (97 BPM) and Osibisa's Pata Pata (133 BPM). The result: literally the cat's pajamas. Check out more of DJ Copycat's work here.DJ Copycat: The Tide Is Pata Pata High
(Blondie vs. Osibisa)
Next up is ToToM's Blowin' in My Mind, which mashes Bob Dylan's poetry with the sonic surrealism of the Pixies. It's an inspired marriage, even for two artists who both cited Woody Guthrie as an influence. I really love how Dylan's chorus is bracketed here by two distinct Pixies moments: the drop-off in Joey Santiago's lead guitar at the beginning of the chorus, and the fade-in of Black Francis' vocals at the end. Obviously, you don't need me to tell you how poignant Dylan's writing is. But his older folk output is generally lacking in theatricality (intentionally so, I'd imagine); the way ToToM reframes the original words here really underscores the power of an already unforgettable line. Those of you who already associate Where Is My Mind? with the final scene in Fight Club can groove on the parallel responses to a desensitized society. From ToToM's 2009 Dylan Mashed compilation, which can be found here, along with the rest of his excellent body of work. ToToM: Blowin' in My Mind [2009 version]
(Bob Dylan vs. the Pixies)
Now, I realize that mashups are a very subjective thing, and the KassaNostra is nothing if not accommodating, so here are two separate tunes built around Fever. (Albeit not Little Willie John's version – anybody out there want to set up a lobby to push the Tolland canon on the internet?) For the staunch traditionalists among you, we have Revelation Fever, a mashup by RIAA that sticks a Son House vocal onto a Fever rhythm section. This is from a 2007 compilation album, Foolklegs: Folkloric MashUps, and the liner notes attribute the Fever half of this to Peggy Lee. That's possible, but it's definitely not taken from her 1958 single. Could be a live release maybe? Good thing folk music and apocryphal background info are no strangers to each other. But for our more bohemian faithful, that's definitely Lee's voice, capably anchored by Iggy Pop's brooding solfeggio on Go Home Productions' Passenger Fever, also from 2007. Not much to say about either of these, except that you could probably run anything under either a Peggy Lee or Son House vocal and it would still bust up mountains. RIAA's stuff here, Go Home Productions' here.RIAA: Revelation Fever
(Son House vs. fake Peggy Lee)
Go Home Productions: Passenger Fever
(real Peggy Lee vs. Iggy Pop)
Lastly, there's this. It's by a dude named FAROFF. He's from Brazil. It's not camp-specific, other than the tangential Klezmer connection. It does more to bridge Jewish-Irish relations than anyone since Denis Leary. It's the mashup I was waiting for my entire life, but didn't know until I heard it.
FAROFF: House of Klezmer
(House of Pain vs. Amsterdam Klezmer Band)
Peace & Vinyl,
The KassaNostra
Peace & Vinyl,
The KassaNostra
