From ROY IVY: And here we reach the end of Sandman’s short-lived tenure in Beauts, moments before he handed the keys to this drunk driver.  In this episode, Sandman reverently tips his cowboy hat to the songwriting prowess of Calvin Johnson, putting him in the parthenon of heroes such as Dylan and Prince, and gives a nod to my luscious, from-the-hips dance moves, which I think resemble Michael Stipe and Ian Curtis drowning.

For the last question and last song, Bente sincerely asks “What’s the future of music?”

It’s a loaded question that’s tough to answer, as time changes tastes, the human condition that steers melody and poetry adjusts to a wily world that grows ever disconnected by technology, and the rise of those goddamn robots.

Beautes take on the Beat Happening rocker, “Teenage Caveman,” gives a goldmine of answers. In short, it’s all about doin’ it. That’s what the song’s about, that’s what rock and roll is about, and it’s something robots can’t do. Raw primal horniness. It rules. It could save us all. Trade spit ‘til it hurts.

And perhaps the Oracle implies that, for better or worse (and often worse), we modern lovers have more tools for making music than ever before, and ways to make the robots works for us. We can make the music we want to dance to, cry alone to, fornicate to, and it’s not so hard anymore to actually make it sound good (although all youngsters should be forced to learn the joys and pains of a cheap Tascam 4-track). We can be our own Beatles, our own Beat Happenings, and our own Beautes.

It feels hackneyed to say, “The future of music is you,” but what the hell, it very well may be. I can’t predict anything anymore. I just fell ass backwards into this band you’re hearing, and I hope you like what you hear the next go round. I also fell ass backwards into meeting the mystical (in a good way, I mean it) Andras Jones, who foolishly asked me to commandeer this blog and knows to never do it again.

But I hope this podcast, and my slipshop story, makes you feel that pure synchronicity is a thing, and not just that Police song with that “humiliating kick in the crotch” line. In a world that’s just getting shittier and stupider, it’s easy to stay estranged. Yet these episodes of Radio8Ball contain connections that can’t be mere coincidence; reminders of the magic hiding beneath mankind; and proof that some things are fated.

That’s some treacly stuff, but I mean it. You’re connected to me, whether we like it or not.

From ANDRAS JONES: Thanks Roy for all the good words. I wish more of our guests would take this on. My point of view is so over-represented on Radio8Ball that I always welcome another voice or point of view. You wouldn’t know it from the 24 days of podcasts we generated at Black National Recording in Missoula, but my visit there was very brief. Just three days plus travel. And yet, the impact on me was profound. If you’ve been following the show you know my sessions in Olympia in December led to same painful interactions, first when they were recorded and then again, when they were released in February. These sessions in Missoula with Chris Sand and his friends fell in between and you can hear me working through the situation in my questions and interpretations. I’m happy to say the episodes that follow this one reflect a happier and less besieged version of myself as I travel to LA and NYC to record sessions with some really great songwriters and their famous friends. They say “home is where the heart is” which I suppose could be seen as a good or a bad thing, depending upon the resilience of ones heart and the compassion of one’s neighbors. Or, as today’s Pop Oracle song from the R8B app suggests, perhaps the old adage is simply a “fallacy”. Today my heart is in Missoula.

POP ORACLE Song of The Day (April 22, 2019): RAINA ROSE “Fallacy”

TEENAGE CAVEMAN

his tires start spinning, rock and roll starts winning
we rise to the top, we’re the cream of the crop
we make with the hair cuts straight outta the past
we blast first, we blast last
teenage caveman rock with skin and bone
it’s the cry of the wild, we cry alone
we cry alone, we cry alone
we cry alone, we cry alone
got a strand of barbed wire stwied around my throat
teenage caveman blind and without any hope
let’s get primitive right now, down with the rocks and the dirt
let’s bang our heads girl, trade spit ’til it hurts
teenage caveman rock with skin and bone
it’s the cry of the wild, we cry alone
we cry alone, we cry alone
woke to the sound of an angel, rolling close to the door
i can hear the flowers bloom the dust and something roar
teenage caveman rock with skin and bone
it’s the cry of the wild, we cry alone
we cry alone, we cry alone

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