Why more people don’t sing nonsense syllables is beyond me. I was just listening earlier this afternoon to Lizzy Mercier Descloux’s “Sports Spootnicks,” which you can preview in its entirety here and as before (it’s the second time it’s come on via shuffle in a week) I remarked to myself that she sounds like she’s having so much fun singing whatever comes to mind over these great lumpy, oozy swaybacked grooves. It’s definitely bouncy-palace music.
Another one with the nonsense is the critically acclaimed Ponytail, whose Ice Cream Spiritual you can find on emusic. Ponytail is a little more loud, a little more of a crude sound, a little more toward the thrashy end of the post-punk spectrum, but you can judge for yourself here.
Meanwhile, I took the afternoon off from biking because of the frigid weather and limited visibility. The afternoon sun looked like a brightly burning ball on a white bedsheet, which is always a problem. I was afraid I would ride off at the wrong angle and end up tangled up in a pile of concertina wire or something. Right now is the time for a little restorative coffee while I wait for M. to wake up in her secret city and for movie night to get started: I think tonight is either Mel Brooks’ History of the World Part I or Enemies, A Love Story with the scenery-chewing Lena Olin and the cucumber-cool Anjelica Huston playing two of Ron Silver’s three wives.