More catch-up with some songs based on your comments and conversations. First, The Johnsons from Philadelphia with their swell cover of the Peter Laughner classic, then Boston's much-maligned Scruffy the Cat with one of their best pop songs. We conclude with the marvelous Flies, also from Boston, who were described as "Bob Dylan meets the Soft Boys" by (I believe) Gerard Cosloy back in the day.

Not your typical Little Hits fare, but pop is, after all, in the eye of the beholder, and we've always had a warm feeling for this chunk of non-MIDI electronica from the instrumental half of Suicide. It evokes lo-tech modern moonlight in much the same way as Love Tractor's version of Kraftwerk's "Neon Lights." The LP from which it comes is underrated and consistently interesting.

Since privileged, white college-educated males need to have their angst articulated just like everybody else, can I just tell you all how much I love, love, love (and some would say rip off, rip off, rip off) the work of Scott Miller? While I admit that his more ambitious experiments sometimes baffle me, he writes the three-minute popsong with a virtually unmatched combination of catchiness and sophistication. Lyrically he is intelligent and empathetic; many times in my late adolescence (which ended last week) I turned to Scott Miller to comment on my minor annoyances and catastrophic heartbreaks with a wit and grace I could never muster myself. It is impossible to pick a favorite from the seemingly bottomless well of Miller tunes that have graced my mix tapes over the years, but here are two I like very much. One from Game Theory, and one from his 90s project The Loud Family.

Before there was Britpop, there was Britpop. Now don't worry, I'm not going to start going on about Diesel Park West, Five-Thirty and the Candy Skins, but in the late 80s/early 90s there were plenty of bands working with sources that the Blur/Oasis/Pulp axis brought to worldwide prominence. And similarly, there were some blips and footnotes, one of which was a ridiculously blonde-dyed quartet of paleskinnies called Birdland. The only defense I can muster in support of this band is that their first two 12" EPs on Lazy are wonderful. Ridiculous, over-the-top buzzsaw bubblegum with giddily simple guitar solos and comical vocal posturings that blow up the sugar rush of their brief compositions. Great in the kind of way that the inevitable major-label debut LP that follows the cool indie releases never is. And, as could have been expected, that major-label debut was a huge disappointment; smoothed out and colorless production, and the best songs were mediocre re-writes of the ones we'd already heard. The overheated, laughable hype that accompanied said LP is amusing today when you consider it was written about a band who were about as dangerous as their labelmates, the Primitives.

Kit and I were nestled in with the Guys re-watching Teenage Kicks: The Story Of the Undertones and a number of things occurred to us.

-The singles from the "Soul Period," near the end of their career are almost as artistically successful as the Jam's, an impressive accomplishment when you consider the latter were doing stuff like "The Bitterest Pill," "Town Called Malice" and "Beat Surrender," which gets our vote as the all-time best final single by any band. But look at the Undertones 45s: "Chain Of Love," "Love Parade," "Got to Have You Back;" these are all really great records.

-I know the first LP is wonderful, I'd never argue that. But really, Positive Touch is the masterpiece, with amazing depth and variety and few, if any, weak songs. Perhaps not quite Revolver-esque in it's sophistication, but getting there, and an amazing display of growth.

-Teenage Kicks: The Story of the Undertones will never be on VH-1. The band members never had any grotesque excesses, and none of them come across as raging assholes. They are all modest, humble, and well-spoken. In fact if this lovely film has any flaw, it's that there really isn't any story here that some of your friends haven't been through: Band forms as school chums, has brief giddy period of success, cannot maintain that success, gets tired or bored, breaks up because "It's not any fun any more."

-The world lost John Peel way too early.

-I found the O'Neils' comments near the end of the film to the effect of "We didn't realize it at the time, but we were great band," to be very moving; I wish that realization for every band I've ever loved.

"When Saturday Comes," from The Positive Touch was released as a single in Holland; there may have been a couple of other oddball 45 releases from Europe besides the ones you are all familiar with from the All Wrapped Up comp (one of the worst, most inappropriate LP covers...EVER).

This moody pop gem was included on the first volume of Diggin' For Gold, one of our favorite compilation LPs. It also appears on the Searchin For Shakes compilation and the Stora Popboken 3 disc set of Swedish pop music, but we've never seen a copy of the latter. Anyhoo, enjoy this extremely moody bit of beat music. The lyrics are curious; oddly phrased but effective in the manner of some of the Dutch bands who used English as a second language.

Typical, but thoroughly enjoyable Bristol UK power pop from 1979, perhaps the peak year of the genre. Not one of the pricier entrees on the menu, this one can be scoreed for under $20 on the eBay. There is a charming overview of the Fried Egg label and the Bristol scene here.

The Lighthouse Keepers could be loosley grouped in with other Australian post-punks like the Triffids and Go-Betweens; this is our favorite of their singles. Singer Juliet Ward's slightly sour vocals contrast nicely with a fairly straightforward folk rock background.

In the past when I have asserted that "The Feelies understand velocity better than any other rock band that has ever existed," I am sometimes met with a rejoinder along the lines of "But (insert name of thrash/hc/noise band here) plays much faster than the Feelies." And sure, in terms of raw BPMs, they're right. What you're missing in those bands is the HEARTBEAT. In the inarticulate blurwhine of whitenoise the PULSE is obliterated. To illustrate what I mean, it might help to think of "Forces At Work" as a car ride.

You're hitchhiking on a beautiful autumn day; cloudless sky, pleasantly warm/cool. You're walking down the road trying to thumb a ride when you see a car in the distance, moving toward you very quickly. That's that E-major tremolo thing at the beginning of the song, right? The volume increases as the car approaches, and then there's that very short pause where you climb into the car. Then, for some reason, the car INSTANTANEOUSLY accelerates to 130 MPH. You can feel your head snap back when Mercer and Million leap into that furiously strummed chord. You're traveling at a thrilling speed, the vocals and edgy guitar bits only add to the nervousness and excitement. Then after awhile, the drone shifts down to D-Major, and there is an instant sense of relaxation; can you feel that? You sense that while you're still traveling at breakneck speed, the engine isn't working as hard. The nervousness dissipates, vocal harmonies replace the rhythmic chants, guitar lines are based more on melodic snippets than stinging bends. Then at the end the song pulls over and lets you off at the exit and zooms out of sight. That's the G-major part at the end.

I will not trouble you with a similar explication of "Raised Eyebrows" from the same LP; suffice to say that there are few moments in pop music (which is to say, in life), more JOYOUS than the release of the tension built up by the stuttering, jerky first half of the song. The racing guitars, the incredibly busy drumming, the rowdy sing-along of "You Get Old, Whoa-oa-oa" (or whatever the hell it is they're actually saying); when I am so old that my heart no longer soars when I hear this, please kill me.

Having mastered completely the use of velocity in pop music on their debut LP, this very strange combo would take a few years off, then come back and show the world a new Feelies that retained the rush of speed, but added a decidedly Velvet-inspired thump and then wove gorgeous harmonic textures around it in a way that has not been matched since. Which is why as much as I love Crazy Rhythms, The Good Earth is my favorite Feelies album. Crazy Rhythms sounds almost like it is being performed by incredibly precise wind-up toys; one is sort of shocked to think that humans are capable of performing this music. The Good Earth retains the precision, but encourages you to "Slow down." "Stop for awhile. Talk about it for awhile." There is a warmth to it that is not often in evidence on the first album, and that's why with all deference to those who rate Crazy Rhythms as one of the finest rock records ever made (Heya, Mark!) It's The Good Earth that gets the slight nod here.

The Sarah Records tend to come out more frequently in autumn, and today was the first day I really noticed the leaves changing on the drive to school. The mood of perfect melancholia is somewhat detracted from by the fact that the temperature will be in the mid-80s today (that's 29.5 degrees Celsius, courtesy of my handy new Conversion Widget). Nevertheless it won't be long before we get those grey but not terribly cold days that are perfect for sighing over lost loves and missed opportunities. The Orchids provided plenty of soundtrack material for such a scenario, but this is probably our favorite.

Sure I love the Beatles and the Byrds and the Velvet Underground, but can there be any doubt that it is actually the Embarrassment who were the greatest band that ever lived? I'd read bits and pieces about this band in the Wichita Eagle-Beacon, and was intrigued by the notion of a band from a city I could actually travel to in an afternoon playing original music. I thought all bands in Kansas played covers, mostly of REO Speedwagon or Van Halen. But it wasn't until I saw a review of "The Embarassment EP" in Stereo Review, of all places, that I decided to send a letter to the address asking how I could get one. Thanks to Jake Euker, it arrived shortly, and I found disconcertingly that after playing it, my Cars and Gary Numan records (the manifestations of "new wave" that were available at the Alco Discount Store) seemed drab and colorless. It was so exciting that after hearing it I had to go out and walk around the neighborhood in an attempt to dissipate the energy and/or try to tell somebody about the epiphany I'd just had. ("Just ignore him and he'll go away," was, I'm sure, the most common reaction.) A few months later my brother would come along with his KJHK cassettes (alluded to in earlier posts) and completely blow my mind. It was an incredibly exciting time, and I've still feel very lucky and grateful to have experienced it.

By the way, although it is currently out of print, Bar None Records was still planning to press more of the Heyday CD the last time we talked to them.

I was going to say something about the underrated Walkabouts, but then I looked at my shelf and saw that I only have a two of their 37 or so albums, so apparently I'm as guilty as anybody. Cataract is a fantastic LP, updating traditional folk changes and topics and then pushing them through overdriven amps, but "Goodbye..." stands out by revving the speed of their open-chord flailing to near-Feelies levels. I saw them at the Bottleneck during the Early Sub Pop years, and they were as likeable in their "aw-shucks" between song patter as they were ferocious in tearing into the next song. Wonderful.

Some may disagree, but of this UK outfit's two 45s, I actually prefer this one to the more often-comped "Go Ahead." There's something in the melody at the end of the verse that reminds me of Crabby Appleton's "Go Back," certainly a pleasant evocation. More jangle than power chording, sort of like "I Don't Wanna Cry" by the Keys.

Friends-

I really wanted to put up a song every day, so that folks could have one to look forward to on a daily basis, but obviously I'm falling behind; between school and work there are some days I just can't find the extra 20-30 minutes to get one done. I will be trying to catch up however, so please keep looking.

Also, thanks to you folks who have contributed to the comments. I truly appreciate all of the corrections, additions, and musings, and I owe some of you a response. Unfortunately I find myself wanting to put off responding until I have enough time to write a decent note, and of course, I never find the time. Everyone's kind words have meant a lot though.

Coming soon: An in-depth response to the Children of Nuggets box set, and a look at coming releases by artists featured on Little Hits.

Best wishes,

Jon

The Hollies had some real strengths besides their lauded harmony blend. They also had one of the most underrated drummers of the British Invasion in Bobby Elliott, and a not insignificant amount of songwriting chops. By 1966 there wasn't much fluff to be found on their albums; I would gladly throw down for a double CD from the Imperial years that contains not only the hits (My favorite is "I'm Alive," What's yours?) but the many great non-45 tracks from their first few years. This one is perhaps my favorite, but there are others from this same album like the oft-covered "You Know He Did," and "We're Through" that cruise past the era standards for "filler." Great cover of "Mickey's Monkey," too.

One of the sleepers from the much-beloved NME C86 compilation that unintentionally gave name to a particular indie-pop sound. This track arrived later than some of the others, but has stuck around for years, and sometimes on sleepless nights still hovers around my dimly-lit living room during the quiet wee hours. Their records aren't terribly easy to find; despite sporadic bouts of intense searching this is the only one I've come up with. Anybody care to comment on the quality of the rest? Brian?

I'm not sure if this is the Penelope Houston's first post-Avengers effort, but it revealed an unapologetic turn into 60s-derived folk which continues to this day. This is the B-side of a charming '86 single which was very popular in my dorm room; both tracks are on the Birddboys LP (Subterranean, 1988) which I enjoyed quite a bit as well.

Does anybody know what's up with George Jones's Musicor catalog? All of his labels (Mercury, UA, Starday, Epic, etc.) are adequately covered by anthologies, except Musicor, for which he did a dozen or so albums starting in 1965. There were a couple of excellent LP comps assembled by Rounder in the early 80s containing classics like "A Good Year For the Roses" and "Things Have Gone To Pieces," but those are long out of print. One's only option is to go find all of the original Musicor LPs, which fortunately, are plentiful and not very expensive. Here is a track from George's album of Dallas Frazier songs.

Couple of obscure Australian 45s here. The Manikins 45 was the 2nd of three by this Perth band. (Thanks to Henry Weld's fine discography at collectorscum.com.) James Baker, later of the Hoodoo Gurus participated. The Lonely Hearts had at least three 45s, this would be the second.

Was there ever a go at a good Waterfront Records anthology? You could probably make an excellent double CD comp of the best stuff they released.

"Wimpy." "Paisleyed twees." "Is that a man singing?" Yes we heard them all back in the early mid-80s, pointless blather from Philistines with their old ways who could never understand THE POINT. The point: Michael Quercio may have written the most indelible hooks of the 80s. And yeah, I think they eventually reached a point where the production was a serious detriment, but that point was certainly not the hit-packed Arrive Without Travelling. The Three O'Clock are still revered in our house where we play their records all the time because our planet is warm and full of life and wonder. Here is a monster 45 from their first LP, and the fan club 45 (flip = "Lucifer Sam") that was appended to the French issue of the "Baroque Hoedown," EP, but didn't turn up on the Frontier 16 Tambourines/Baroque Hoedown CD.

When most people think of "garage bands" from the 60's, they immediately think of a brilliantly moronic Fuzztone riff and a lead singer screaming about "You get outta mah HAY-air, bay-BEH" and all that, but perhaps we are reaching the point where there are very few truly scorching screamers left to be discovered. And maybe that's not such a bad thing, because there was an amazing a variety of cool sounds being served up by the nation's suburban teens that went way beyond genre archetypes like Nobody's Children and Gonn. For a good example check out the Ikon Records Story, an awesome two-record set (or double CD with bonus tracks) devoted to the incredibly rare 45s of a legendary California label.

If you've been following Little Hits for some time, you know we love the jangly garage pop that seemed to a favorite with Midwestern bands (and not just because they tend to be quite a bit cheaper than the gnarly sounds). Here are two good 'uns; the Ricochettes from Milwaukee with primo jangly folk rock on Chicago's well-known Destination label, and the Only Ones from Detroit with a much more crude but similarly-scrubbed effort.

Quick plugs: Erik Meinen's fabulous Beat Behind the Dykes mail order, where I scored the Ricochettes 45, and the mynd-blowingly cool "Searchin For Shakes" 60s comp database on-line at the Ugly Things website, a massively cool and invaluable resource.

Here's a UK power-popper by a very obscure group, a fine example of the genre, but what really sets it apart is the cheeky bottleneck guitar. Another one brought to us by our friends at Low Down Kids.