SONG OF THE WEEK: “Two Shots Of Happy, One Shot Of Sad”- Nancy Sinatra

Take last night, for instance. Bored and left with the ravaged aftermath of a particularly brutal house party, I decided to stroll on up to my local for a quick one and the comforting company of some almost-strangers. As I left the house, the skies began to light up with hot streaks of white lightning, thunder rolled ominously, and tiny pitter patters of rain lit upon my leather jacket. I considered chucking the idea and just stayin’ home with the three brews I had stashed in the vegetable drawer of my fridge, but decided to brave the elements and sally forth.

I was just over a block away from the bar when the loudest, most sinister thunder strike I’d ever heard cracked the night sky with an almost sonic boom. Lightning began flashing all around me, and the skies opened up and poured down their sooty, poisoned cargo. For a moment, I thought about ducking under a nearby tree and waiting out the downpour, but a strange feeling came over me and I did exactly the opposite. I threw back my head, opened my jacket, and took that rain straight in the face. I dared the lightning to burn me alive, laughed at the thunder as it roared its fury and frustration, and slowed my pace to a near crawl. When I dripped my way through the door of the pub, nobody seemed to notice just another thirsty, half-drowned street rat in black leather elbowing his way through the crowd. I bought a drink, filled the juke (all sad songs) with filthy lucre, and sat watching the rain, randomly blinking away my own pointless, unbidden tears in time with those fat, lonely droplets.

When I woke up this morning, I had an e-mail in my box from a good friend who lives near St. Paul. He’d just written to say hi, thank me for some shit I’d done a few weeks back, and give me his usual good-natured razzing. None of this would seem too out of the ordinary, but this time out, considering the night I’d just experienced, my buddy had the oddest suggestion for me.

Knowing that I’d been DJ’ing a few nights a week at a local club, he had come up with the following plan for me: “I saw this program about storm chasers on TV, down in Tornado-Ville, right where you live. I think you should get a truck, a new turntable, some albums with songs about storms, drive right into a tornado while playing your favorite storm songs, and see what happens. I bet you could find hidden songs that were never even put on the albums. I know if your intent was good (i.e. heart in the right place), you wouldn’t get a scratch- and you would be inspired by nature’s power and the glory of it all. Well, just a thought. I see you being the next great musical storm chaser, and after you drive into that tornado, who knows what Midwestern town you would land in? You would be like a mix of David Bowie and Dorothy from The Wizard Of Oz- just a completely new approach to music and the forces of nature. Just think about it, Tommy ... dreaming is free, and so is the weather. And a tornado’s force could spin records really fast ...”

Well, I’m taking that advice to heart tonight, bro. The wind is raging, tornadoes are tearing across the Midwest like the wrath of some ancient Native American gods, the gutters are full and engorged with the spat-out refuse of our used up world, and it looks like a great fucking night to run an extension cord out to the porch, plug in my extra turntable, throw on some kickass albums, and laugh once again in the face of nature’s fury. And as the press kit for the band I’m reviewing this week suggests, I won’t cry- I’ll roar. Thanks, Danny. The first song will be for you, brother ...

Middlepicker
Middlepicker Brings The Nasty
2006
Royalty, Etc. Records

I was always a bit taken aback that Middlepicker axeman Kyle Kosieracki’s first big local project- the skronk-a-riffic Grickle-Grass- never quite caught the fancy of other local writers. I mean, hell, they wrote probably the best song ever commenting on the evil Telecommunications Act that effectively destroyed radio in America, “Disney On Ice.” I’ll never forget that damning, oh-so-true line: “And I know that everybody’s got their vices/ Some people buy clothes at ridiculous prices/ But I’ve got a feeling that if Walt was still alive/ We’d still have our good old REV 105 ...”

Well, thankfully, KK is back with Middlepicker, a project he started a few years back in cahoots with producer/rocker extraordinaire Mike Wisti, and this time he’s brought that snarling, righteous fury to a whole batch of killer new tracks. Middlepicker (KK and Bill Zastera on guitars, Kristen Anderson on bass and Justin Lawson on drums) spouts the same anti-asshole sentiment that GG did, but with five years or so more pain, frustration, and hard-won wisdom behind their wall of buzzing, howling guitars.

Kicking off with the driving, insanely catchy riff of “Subtle Sway,” ... Brings The Nasty immediately stakes its musical ground- songs that rage, roar and rant with such a palpable sense of loss and sorrow that you don’t know whether to raise your fists to the heavens (like that old duffer in Caddyshack- what a way to go!!) and dare the gods to fuck with you or bow your head in abject defeat and just let the whole fucking mess that is life today slosh over you and carry you away.

Ultimately, though, Middlepicker manages to rouse not only their own inherent, soul-deep rebellion, but yours. “Last Of The True Detectives” slams out of the gate like a cross between a lost Fugazi track and the best fucking live Superchunk performance ever captured on tape. Wisti’s magic touch is all over this album- the sonic blast of guitars, solid bottom ends, and urgent vocals are mixed to perfection, bringing live faves like “The Nasty” to splendid, nearly overwhelming clarity. Besides, how could I resist a song that urges, “Keep your finger on the Pulse ...?”

There simply isn’t a bad cut on this record, but my standout fave is the angst-ridden, fuck-it-all, visceral gut-punch of “Hark!” Listening to lines like, “Hark! Moving at the speed of Dark/ Backwards from the point of the start/ Remember when you gave it the spark/ Said that you’d never part ... is it just a bad dream?” makes me realize just how deep KK and the gang have taken me inside of their own dream- and how closely it resembles my own. This album is destined to find ears not only outside the Midwest, but across the universe. Me? My only regret is that I don’t have it on vinyl, because it would make the perfect soundtrack to the storm raging outside my window and in the darkest depths of my soul. Oh well, who said I couldn’t play one CD? Crank this one up, way up ...

That’s it for this week, folks. Tune in again for more of the same next time out. Until then- make yer own damn weather- and news.

If you have local music news/gigs/events you’d like to see mentioned in this space, or you’d just like to encourage me to hold a long metal pole above my head during the next lightning storm, send replies to: Tmygunn777@peoplepc.com.