FIIF#17: Feck It, Im Fifty: KLAATU. Erm; mememe. 1976. Peasant farmland peeA. A basement, a stereo system, Siamese cat, creamcoloured tabbycat, me, blanketed before a space heater. Me, just pubescent and reconnecting to my rock and roll/bubblegumpop roots, loving my elderbrothers Beatles records ... and suddenly, rumours swirl that The Beatles recorded a reunion album secretly in Canada, of all places. I WANTED TO BELIEVE. And listening to the record by ... the Philly FM raydjo station called them ... Kla .. Clap Two? Klaatu? Zerns Farmers Markets record stall actually had it, blessem (an essay on how that peasant stall saved my life might be in some order). I listened. I wanted so hard to believe .. but .. buuuut ... no. Brokamyhart. Still; Klaatu had a few shining moments. This one, for example. A perfect perfect PERFECT 70s keep-the-worlds-heart-beating pop ditty. By their 2nd album it was obvious even to pubescentdesperate Me that no, this could never have been The Beatles (though Hope was a brilliant pop song too). But To This Day I treasure this song as a last bastion of glee against the approach of awfulness that was everything after what certain point I will always declare was the start of More Bad Than Was Previously Bad. SUB ROSA SUBWAY BY KLAATU, ya bastids. Perfect, PERFECT pop. Play it at a decently loud level and enjoy as you havent enjoyed what was later not so disposably good. KLAATU. O Canada. O me. O what was. O peeA wintershivers wishing futurejoy and getting it (O Nick! O Australia!) minus such joymusic.
Posted on: Sun, 17 Aug 2014 11:40:34 +0000