Mad World Mix Tape

Zebra. The Band. For 99.99% of the listening public, “the band“ modifier must be added to Zebra because even the internet seems lacking in references to this melodic rock band from Louisiana. But for those of us in the know, and lucky enough to experience the 3-man wall of sound live, “Zebra” can be like the password to a secret club where insight into talent and musicality is a basis for lasting respect and friendship. You would think that a band with no particular involvement in ethical animal rights who names itself after one mammal and featured another mammal (bears) in a lead single would be a tad short on pertinence to anyone in the 30 years since their last hit. And if lyrics are the thing that turns your crank, you would probably be right. While in possession of a serviceable lyric catalog, it would be a stretch to convince the uninitiated that they need to blow off the dust on the jacket of a 1982 album for Zebra’s poetic insights on life, love, and heartbreak. And bears.

Note: To fully appreciate this post, read our mix tape crash course entry first In high school, Adam Schmitt was the Lebron James of the Central Illinois music scene. Everyone knew he was going to be huge from the outset. At a ridiculously young age, he was locally successful with his Champaign-based band, the Farmboys . Eventually, he joined an even bigger regional powerhouse, the Elvis Brothers . Adam seemed like the missing piece the Elvis Brothers needed to become the national act that they deserved to be. But listeners suck (except for you, dear MWMT reader), and the Elvis Brothers' ascent stalled. In 1991, the boy-wonder signed a recording contract with Warner Brothers and released the appropriately optimistic  World So Bright . It received the kiss of death; critical accolades. Too poppy for rock, and too much guitar out front for top 40,  World So Bright  never found a mainstream audience in spite of an accessibility and musicality that stood out across nearly every so

The old adage is to write what you know.  If so, somebody needs to give this post’s featured artist, Richard Walters, a hug. Or arrest him. Or at least do some serious investigating of his family and friends.  For the level of first-person dysfunction on display in some of Walters’ best tunes is remarkable.  But if Law & Order SVU (not to be confused with the ill-conceived Subaru sponsorship driven Law & Order SUV ) taught us anything, it's that dysfunction can be fascinating. As long as it's not our own. Drug abuse , spousal abuse , inappropriate sexual encounters and self-loathing are all on display in Richard Walters' work, rendered in an unforgettable falsetto voice. It’s gloriously disturbing and beautiful at the same time. I first heard Richard Walters and this post’s featured tune “Elephant in the Room” in the audition round of So You Think You Can Dance a few seasons back (a program whose over-40 male heterosexual audience undoubtedly numbers in the t

This post’s feature track, “ Normal Life ” by July for Kings, is one of several awesome tunes from their 2002 debut album, Swim .  But don’t just take my word for it. The reviewer at allmusic.com declared July for Kings as Pearl Jam wannabes and Swim as “shallow”, “overly earnest” and “emotions by the numbers” awarding it a full star and a half and encouraging people to “dive in at their own risk”. Oh, wait.  Crap. One and a half stars out of five?  Wow. That’s like Spinal Tap Shark Sandwich territory.  I mean if Swim was a movie, we’re talking Bennifer’s Gigli .  Not even bad Adam Sandler, but Gigli . Damn. Given this dramatic difference in opinion, one is left to conclude one of the following: 1. My musical taste blows. 2. Allmusic.com got it wrong. As allmusic.com is one of the most popular sites of its kind, and MWMT is um, well, not, I accept that I have not earned the benefit of the doubt.  And while I am not willing to cop to my taste blowing (or sucking), I will ce

Photo: Kainet, Flickr (CC by-SA 2.0) As I referenced in our earlier "The Truth About Heaven" post , I’ve always had this thing for death. Musically, that is. (I’m not perving on the Grim Reaper or anything freaky like that). And it goes way back.  My favorite childhood song was that one about that clock that “stopped short, never to run again, when the old man died.” I mean how cool is that? Talk about loyalty. I can only hope that when I go someday, my Vitamix will say “Screw this, I’m done too.” By the way, back in 1878, Henry Work caved to the commercial pressures and penned a sequel to "My Grandfather’s Clock" (thus foreshadowing Queensryche’s Operation Mindcrime II).  In the sequel, G-pa’s clock gets sacked for “that vain stuck-up thing on the wall” and then unceremoniously cremated by the junk dealer’s wife. That sound you just heard was my V-Mix hightailing it the hell out of my kitchen. So much for loyalty. One of my earliest favorite “adult” so

In a previous post , we argued for the music identification service, Shazam , being the second most important invention (behind the washing machine) of the modern era.  In retrospect, we may have been a bit dismissive of other inventions (invoking the ire of penicillin backers in particular) and a bit rash in our pronouncements.  For certainly there are strong arguments to be made for Pandora . For the uninitiated, here’s the scoop on Pandora. You enter a song or artist that you like.  Then, leveraging something called the Music Genome Project, Pandora classifies your selection on the basis of up to 400 different characteristic or “genes” and starts serving up tunes.  By “upthumbing” (or downthumbing) the songs you hear, your station becomes increasingly personalized over time.  It’s like an infinitely more musically enlightened version of yourself, DJing your own station. Photo:  Harry_Nl, Flickr  (CC by-NC-SA 2.0) We at MWMT (not to be confused with MGMT or

It’s been argued that the single most important invention of the industrial era was the washing machine, as the time savings it yielded helped revolutionize the role of women in the western world. If so, the song-identifying service Shazam (not to be confused with the significantly less revolutionary Shaq genie movie -- Kazaam ) would have to be a close second. Anyone who came of age before the new millennium has a white whale music story. That amazing, life-altering song they heard in the mall dressing room or caught the last 45 seconds of in the car but couldn’t identify. Cut to car interior, Chicago suburbs, late summer, 1986.  Our protagonists – your two future MWMT collaborators – are engaged in a highly delusional discussion about how they could’ve been high school cross-country gods if only they had hit puberty sooner. Or their parents had the foresight to hold them back in kindergarten like Texas football kids. The conversation suddenly slackens as they simult