DJ Shaxx Presents: Planet Mixtape

Take early 80s Genesis, add a tad more new wave to the sauce, drop 'em in the middle of a crocodile infested continent and you've got The Sherbs -- another great example of a late 70s band with proggy tendencies transitioning into early 80s pop. The herky-jerky rhythm and loving dose of synthesizers in this tune is what stands out to me. I love the little arpeggios the dude throws in on the synths. It's just a smidge more prog than your typical new wave hit of '81. "I Have The Skill" hit 61 on the U.S. pop charts. Did you ever hear it on your FM station back in the day? Me neither. Why not, dude? Singer, Daryl Braithwaite, throws in some great middle school metaphors throughout the tune. My favorite is "I am the shoreline, you are a breaker." So Aussie! But, when he gets to the end of the verse, he casts aside figurative language and gets starkly realistic with the line, "All I can say is this life that we're living is a death defyi

It's become undeniably evident that the president of the United States had a sexual fling with a porn star while his wife was pregnant. Right before the 2016 election, his lawyer paid Stormy Daniels off with $130,000. POTUS denies the whole thing. I'm so sick of money and the terrible things that it enables. It's pretty obvious no one in the GOP or Trump's base is going to bat an eye at this little hush money cover up. What it reveals about the soul of America is no surprise, but still troubling. Yeah, money changes everything. Even the core values of religious zealots and fiscally conservative nut jobs. But, we should have known that. The Brains called it back in '80. "You think you know what we're doing. We don't pull the strings. It's all in the past now. Money changes everything." The Brains were a hard rocking quartet from Atlanta, Georgia. For their 1980 debut, Steve Lillywhite stepped in to the production role, added a littl

Jules & The Polar Bears is one of those bands that you want to like, but continue to remain on the fence about even after a decade of failed listens. Recently, I've been sampling bands from the late 70s and early 80s who released fake new wave albums -- major label acts who played middle of the road rock, but disguised it in skinny ties, brightly colored sweaters and catchy, Cars-y keyboard riffs. Jules & The Polar Bears are a good example. Their first record, 1978's Got No Breeding, was compared to Dylan, The Kinks and Springsteen. Personally, I hear a quirky Jackson Browne in the songwriting. Everything sounds bearded and mid-tempo, except Jules Shear, the singer. He gives the band a distinct sound with his "singing at the top of my range" yelp. But even with Shears' interesting squelch, the songs never break out of 70s rock conformity. The guitarist's resemblance to a member of Orleans or Doobie Brothers is telling. Enter 1979's "Fenêt

April Wine. There. I said it. Lately, when no one's looking (or listening) I like to take a quick swig of their intoxicating (or adrenalizing?) mid-70s Canadian adventure rock... especially when I'm washing dishes. It's my guilty pleasure . But it shouldn't be and I want to be upfront about this. Recently I was reading some Chuck Kosterman. The way he framed things really struck a chord with me. "The term 'guilty pleasure' is simply ridiculous; there is simply no band or artist (or movie or hobby or…) that exists that one should feel guilty for liking; to say otherwise implies that a) allowing “insecure” people to dictate your likes and dislikes is alright and b) being involved with certain aspects of life is somehow unacceptable, based on an unreliable, and often times bizarre, scale that you are keen on following." I first heard about April Wine while reading "Trouble Boys," the recent Replacements biography. Turns out Bob Stinson

Tom Robinson was Sector 27. Or perhaps Sector 27 was Tom Robinson's band. Maybe Sector 27 was Tom Robinson's first album. It's unclear. The Internet people haven't come to a consensus on what should be an axiomatic concept and I've spent five minutes too long researching this shit. What is clear? Steve Lillywhite produced the record in 1980. The guitars are angular and sharp like The Edge's, especially on this track. There's even this kind of Electric Co. phase distortion happening in the verses. Then there's the solo thing after the second chorus that is pure proto-Boy U2. By the way, this was released the same year as U2's debut. It shows just how influential Steve Lillywhite, the producer, might have been on the Irish band's sound. Another thing that stood out to me: Tom Robinson (born in 1950) was thirty when he recorded this. His voice lacks your typical new wave gloss. Instead, he's got this barking, nicotine stained, strep throaty

Imagine if the Beach Boys grew up in Vancouver and had a love affair with Hall & Oates at a Pablo Cruise party in Malibu. That's what Chilliwack sounds like to me. This is their biggest single, My Girl . According to my friend, Aaron from Toronto, this is a "classic from (his) youth." I picture Canadian kids in the early 80s cruising around at malls, eating poutine and wearing Chilliwack shirts. I know this is a total fabrication of my non-existent memory that is mostly rooted in watching Rush's video for Subdivisions one too many times. C'mon, let me have my dream. Meanwhile, you get your dose of Chilliwack. Are you hooked on Chilliwack? Go behind the scenes with them in this "decent" interview on American Bandstand. Why is Dick Clark giving Brian MacLeod such a hard time? Plus, the band records their albums on boats!!!!

I am going down an ultra odd time signature, prog rock hole right now. Like, fast! I know that in a week or two I will crave nothing more than some Nick Drake or Flying Burrito Brothers. For the moment, however, when I get a free moment to enjoy music, I've found myself digging into the obscure solo discography of Yes, Genesis and King Crimson members. Today, I discovered this song while listening to Spotify in my classroom on my prep period. I paused it and listened to the intro four times in a row. As the students entered the next period, I cued the tune. They looked at me like I was listening to extraterrestrial jazz. That's because I basically was. Here is a cut from drummer, Bill Bruford's (Yes, Genesis, King Crimson, U.K.) second album, "One of A Kind." It's like Daft Punk meets George Duke at a Scientology dance party with members of Return To Forever.... only better! My research tells me (because I couldn't figure this stuff out with my own mor