Listen to Episode 68, “Stop Rapping, Son or, Little Stipe and Big Boobs”

Gobbledygeek episode 68, “Stop Rapping, Son or, Little Stipe and Big Boobs,” is available for listening or download right here.

It’s a veritable cornucopia of conversation as Paul and AJ let it roll with another fast-and-loose episode. Netflix’s questionable new business strategy is discussed (tweets are read aloud!), some of the new/returning fall TV shows are subject to the boys’ discerning gaze (planking is dissed!), R.E.M.’s break-up is mourned (Michael Stipe’s penis!), and more. Paul offers up his review of Drive, while AJ raves about Girls’ new album Father, Son, Holy Ghost. If you like your Gobbledygeek served raw and rambly, this one’s for you! Whatever that means. Forget I said anything.

(Show notes for “Stop Rapping, Son or, Little Stipe and Big Boobs.”)

Hey, Mr. AJ: Tame Impala, True Blood, Dum Dum Girls, Wild Nothing, Twilight, Robyn

Hey, Mr. AJ is a new column in which I plan on writing some things about the new music I hear. They’ll be brief reviews, divided into sections: MAXIMUM GOBBLING for the masterpieces; GOBBLE IT for the merely great; WORTH GOBBLING for other good releases; GOBBLE? for those albums which aren’t really good or bad, just sort of okay; DO NOT GOBBLE for the shitty; and RUN, DON’T GOBBLE! for the awful. Got it? Now, don’t ask me again.

INNERSPEAKER
by Tame Impala

I’m a Beatlemaniac, so I see the Beatles everywhere. Bear with me. On their debut album Innerspeaker, Australian psych-rock band Tame Impala manage to do what the Olivia Tremor Control did on 1996′s masterful Music from the Unrealized Film Script, Dusk at Cubist Castle; without compromising their creativity or their own unique vision, they capture the spirit of the post-Sgt. Pepper, pre-Abbey Road Beatles. Specifically, both albums remind me of the more freewheeling psychedelic cuts on Yellow Submarine, like George Harrison’s “It’s All Too Much.” Indeed, lead singer Kevin Parker’s voice reminds me of Harrison’s in that soaring, nasally way, which also makes it at times resemble John Lennon’s. But as I said, this is no rip-off, and Tame Impala sound like their own band, embracing the hazier realms of psychedelia that the Fab Four rarely did. It’s misty, delightful music that lulls you into another world with its spiraling distorted guitars, insistent drums, and far out yet pleasingly retro production techniques. Innerspeaker hasn’t made its way to the States yet, but whenever you get the chance, take a listen. You’ll be glad you did.

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