I’m a big fan of Junior Boys and, for the most part, remixes.
So after playing Junior Boys’ latest full length album Begone Dull Care on my CD player about 50 billion times it seemed like the perfect time to change it up a bit and revisit the Dead Horse EP based upon its fusion of the aforementioned traits.
These remixes, by Hot Chip, Tensnake, Carl Craig, and Kode 9 all border on the verge of dance but not really to the point of Indian Rain Boogie Foot Stomping. They’d be more at home at the end of a really fast, really loud DJ set when everyone is drenched with sweat and the dance floor smells like PBR, cheap champagne and blown fuses. Any one of these tracks could come on and you’d squeeze in closely with your newly-courted boo and shimmy and sway the rest of the night away in post-party euphoria.
This was one of those records that took me years to actually face and listen to. Just the name Merle carries a lot of baggage with it. I mean seriously, if you were hanging out with some peeps and there was this dude hanging out with one of your somewhat friends and he says, “Hello, my name is Merle, I would like to handle your fine porcelain,” what would you do? First, I would feel personally affronted that someone would feel that it’s proper to ask to see my fine porcelain on the first handshake. Second, I would say, “Wait, this son of a gun’s name is Merle. Merle. What? Merle? Yes, I heard him right. Think. What is proper procedure. Do I need wet knaps? Do I need a zoning permit? Bag it and tag it?” I don’t really know. Rather, I didn’t know. I now know after this album. If you happen to meet a Merle give him a stern look in the eyes to make sure he isn’t a dancing robot from Major Magic’s and then give him a firm but not too firm squeeze to thank him for carrying the flame. I mean shit, it was a Merle, Merle Haggard none the less, that wrote the theme song to the Dukes of Hazzard. What? That as Waylon Jennings? Well, fuck Waylon Jennings–he just lost shotgun. I hope you like sitting bitch, hombre.
I was worried that when I listened to this record that it was going to be what I’m worried what will happen to the legacy of Michael Jackson; which is cheap tribute albums aimed at cashing in on his untimely demise. MJ’s and the King’s story are somewhat similar–two ridiculously popular drug-ravaged stars who, by fabler’s perspective, died too early. However, the rest of us see it’s not too outlandish that either a nightly dose of fried peanut butter, bacon and banana or 10 xanax before beddy-bye will weigh negatively on your overall health.
What I’m glad to hear from this album is that Merle didn’t go all willy nilly silly billy with Elvis’ songs. For the most part they are pretty true to the intentions of the King’s original tracks. They do have a welcome and expected tinge of southern bluegrass/country that only makes sense for a tribute for a boy from outside of Tupelo, Mississippi. Presley always carried his tracks with a voice that cannon blasted deep from a diaphram anchored to a violent whip-hip-orockamus. Merle doesn’t have the luxury of such a bodacious God-given contraption. What he does have is a genuine sense of loss in this record. Losing Elvis must have been a real punch in the stomach for the country/western community in the late 70s, especially for Haggard, who had battled much of the same drug and alcohol addiction.
Here’s the album from top to bottom to enjoy with a fully stocked bar. Track 2 is especially tasty.
