Everyday is Like Sunday, Except for Blue Monday and Ruby Tuesday, and…Well, Friday I’m in Love: Weekly Mix #79

Rock Band

I realize that my blog is called Condemned to Rock ‘n Roll, and that this fact has sometimes led to misconceptions and misplaced expectations. I’m not sure I ever feature “rock ‘n roll” as such, and most definitely never “rawk.” I ply the trade of punk, post-punk/new wave, glam, goth, electro, disco, chamber pop, funk, twee, ambient, shoegaze, Britpop, psychedelic, folk, acid house, synthpop, Motown, experimental, ska, and all sorts indie, but the all-out rock that partly inspired my musical heroes, the Manic Street Preachers, and thus inspired this blog’s title, isn’t a common sound on these posts.

I do very much love a good guitar solo, especially of the James Dean Bradfield variety; however, at the same time, a lot of guitar virtuosity leaves me cold (people like Eric Clapton, and the macho posture of genres like metal and grunge don’t really interest me – okay, Kurt Cobain was a bit androgynous, but he was an exception, and I still can’t really connect with Nirvana). So, even as I tried to create a rock mix, I found myself inevitably shifting to punk and indie for a portion of it. And it sort of ended up as more of a guitar-based mix, which explains why Purple Rain is in here (brilliant guitar solo, but not really something to rock out to). This gap in my music collection and expertise explains why, as much as I love playing games like Guitar Hero and Rock Band, I end up being puzzled by a lot of the songs. Nevertheless, having never been much of a video game player to begin with, games like Guitar Hero and Rock Band are finally my type of game – I can play them for days, especially since these are the only ones that I can play without sucking (I don’t actually own any game systems, so I rely on the whims of friends – ultimately, it’s probably a good thing since I could see myself practicing Sweet Child O’ Mine into the wee hours until I actually looked like Slash and developed bad, swaying ankles like Axl Rose). I own an actual guitar, but have not had the patience to learn much on it – perhaps I need a few lessons to get me going. It just seems my unnaturally small baby hands don’t stretch across the fretboard very well (clarinet and trumpet didn’t involve that kind of positioning and coordination).

This one is called Rock ‘n Roll is Our Only Culture.

Welcome to the Jungle – Guns ‘n Roses

Pink Flower – Daisy Chainsaw

You Shook Me All Night Long – AC/DC

Rock ‘n Roll All Nite – Kiss

Whole Lotta Love – Led Zeppelin

Woman – Wolfmother

Little Girl – Death From Above 1979

Everything’s Ruined – Faith No More

Slither – Velvet Revolver

Plug In Baby – Muse

Icky Thump – The White Stripes

My Generation – The Who

Jumpin’ Jack Flash – The Rolling Stones

You Really Got Me – The Kinks

Clash City Rockers – The Clash

Imperial Bodybags – Manic Street Preachers

Killer Queen – Queen

Seasons – Jeff Beck

Voodoo Child – Jimi Hendrix

Purple Rain – Prince

7 Responses to “Everyday is Like Sunday, Except for Blue Monday and Ruby Tuesday, and…Well, Friday I’m in Love: Weekly Mix #79”

  1. 1 Rol
    August 20, 2009 at 3:59 am

    I always think of myself as an indie kid first (with a couple of obvious exceptions)… should I be embarrassed by how many of these I own?

    Should I hell.

  2. 2 Mickenzy
    August 20, 2009 at 7:17 am

    This is probably the first mix you’ve put up that I already had most of lol. Interesting combinations there. I guess I realize now that I delve a bit more into rock than you do, but I don’t by any means consider myself “well-versed” on the genre. If for any reason whatsoever you would like to incorporate more rock into your collection, give me a shout and I’ll send some over. :)

  3. 3 jc
    August 22, 2009 at 4:45 am

    I just never got the AC/DC/, Kiss, Led Zep thing at all. It was probably all down to the fact that the folk at school who liked that sort of stuff were just so cocksure of themselves and totally dismissive of punk and new wave. I was always arguing with them….

  4. 4 Destroyer
    August 27, 2009 at 8:51 am

    What a misleading name for your blog you have here! I was somewhat insulted when I read this, first at being mislead to believe this was about rock and roll, then to find out you’re not even a fan of the genre your blog champions? What’s going on here? I have no idea what kind of school you went to, and in your circumstance it may be true, but to say that fans of bands like AC/DC were dismissive of punk rock is ludicrous and misinformed. Clearly you have not researched the band at all, but it’ll be okay to overlook ignorance where it’s become so commonplace won’t it? It seems I should give you a little history lesson and let you in on the fact that when AC/DC embarked on their early tours of the UK, they were confused for a punk rock band due to their intensity, energy, and limited sound. AC/DC were grouped into that category of music and enjoyed by the same fans. However, you did a fantastic job redeeming your rock credibility by digging through the Guitar Hero games for gems of rock music. Surely you’d say these games are a fantastic way to discover new and exciting bands far out of the mainstream! You’ve got to be kidding.

    Let’s clear something up. There is very little “rock” involved with indie rock. It’s as appropriately named as nu-metal is to heavy metal (another genre you pass judgment on with absolutely no understanding of whatsoever, so that was a complete waste of an analogy). Indie rock is a spineless, watered down and poppy attempt at elitist rock and roll (quite a contradiction there, isn’t it?) Today’s indie rock is (generally speaking, which is always dangerous as you’ve made some fine examples of insulting generalizations in this post) not dangerous, it makes no attempt at making a point or causing a change, and was strictly designed to give the self-absorbed the chance to make art where there is no artistic talent to be found. The latest generation of indie rock is defying its original code of ethics. It is no longer about opposition to the music industry and society as a whole. Indie is nothing more than a label stuck on every band whose lone goal is to take advantage of art school rockers and coffee shop intellectuals. In this way it’s almost an exact copy of today’s punk rock, only with a different stereotype for a fan base. Indie fans are people convinced of their own moral, political, social, artistic and hygienic superiority. See what I did there? I characterized indie fans the same way you described rock fans as being totally convinced they’d need a yardstick to measure the bulge in their pants. Indie rock is not the open-minded genre designed to put everyone on equal footing musically, it is no way to rebel against big business. It’s as close-minded and vapid as every other music genre, if not more because the artists have reached the point where they are taking advantage of the fans willingness to buy anything with the indie label attached. Indie rock (and rock as a whole) is a joke, and the fans are the butt of the joke. To say there is any genuine emotion or aspiration to a greater musical good in any genre borders on the absurd and ridiculous, but indie rock may be the worst of the lot. There is nothing real about it. There is no grit and world-weariness of rock and roll. There is no anger (real or contrived) of punk rock. There is no style and flair of new wave. There’s not even the theatrics and showmanship of heavy metal. Indie rock is soulless and boring. The only thing that separates this sham from other genres is that the fans haven’t caught on that the music is mocking them. The average rock and metal fan can (let’s hope!) decipher the childish vulgarities of their genres as nothing more than a playful taste of everything evil and unclean without having to experience the discomfort firsthand. Punk rock fans, while delusional to a degree, have always recognized a complete lack of musical ability and known that their music is escapism for a tender and difficult age. If any genre of music has caused a revolution (more absurdity), it’s an imagined revolution in the heads of the fans. Yet even here indie rock fails. There is no imagined revolution. No desire to change. And why should you? Indie rock fans are supreme, with a taste in music unrivaled by any other type of fan. They are God’s gift to the world, except for the fact that to the average indie rock fan, praying to God is as embarrassing as a grown man writing a letter to Santa Claus. And that’s why you’ll almost certainly dismiss my thoughts as troglodytic, much the same as you would my politics and every other aspect of my life (Here I’m not speaking to you specifically at all, so I apologize if you see it as an attack on yourself. I’m talking to the average indie rock fan as I imagine them, much the same way your mind skews your perception of rock fans in your blog.) Music’s purpose is only to entertain, and indie rock achieves this only by entertaining the beliefs of an imagined “high class” rock fan, thousands of evolutions ahead of the Neanderthals listening to such drivel as Led Zeppelin. On a side note, I’m curious to know how you came to the conclusion that Kurt Cobain is androgynous, yet Robert Plant who bleeds femininity from every pore is a purveyor of cock rock. In fact I’m curious to know if you think about anything at all before it spews off your keyboard. Certainly not the name of the blog. I’ll politely request you change it to avoid any further confusion from rock fans like myself who come here looking to sweat, kill, rape and destroy while flaunting our masculinity in front of every weakling who is unfortunate enough to cross our paths.

    Liam Gallagher of Oasis said it best: “I hate all these new bands, I catch them on TV and not that many of them are that good. Very few I think. For me personally the music’s not that fucking clever, the songs aren’t that clever, and I think people just want to be small. No one’s fucking going for it. No one wants to be big. No one wants to be Elvis. No one wants to be John Lennon. They all just want to be little fucking indie shitheads, and I haven’t got the time for that.”

    Now having taken the time to read through my rant, I apologize if I seem like an ass. I’m not going to deny it, but I am sorry for it. I just wanted to try to evoke the same emotions of disgust that your blog inspired in me. If you ever want me to lead you in the direction of some worthwhile rock and roll besides the overplayed, commercialized garbage in your playlist, I’d be happy to. Not saying those aren’t some decent groups you’ve got there, but far from their best songs.

    One last thought, I’ve got baby hands too but it hasn’t stopped me from learning guitar. And I guarantee with about two weeks’ practice you’ll have exceeded every punk and indie rocker’s musical ability hundredfold. Hell just by looking at the thing you’ve got Sid Vicious and The Adverts beat, along with countless others.

    Now that we’re all hot and bothered and spoiling for a fight, let’s go make us some damn fine rock and roll!

  5. 5 Destroyer
    August 27, 2009 at 8:55 am

    Wow I apologize for having attacked your blog for AC/DC ignorance, that was a comment…turns out the bulk of my rant was directed at jc! Now there’s some real ignorance for you!

  6. 6 jc
    August 31, 2009 at 1:15 pm

    oh dear.

    I make a wee comment about things at school that happened 30 years ago as an explanation for my adversity to rock music and….pow…….I’m labelled as an indie snob.

    Cant please everyone I suppose.

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The only certain thing that is left about me

There is no part of my body that has not been used

Pity or pain, to show displeasure's shame

Everyone I've loved or hated always seems to leave


So I turned myself to face me

But I've never caught a glimpse

Of how the others must see the faker

I'm much too fast to take that test

The Smiths Queen is Dead

A dreaded sunny day

So let's go where we're happy

And I meet you at the cemetry gates

Oh, Keats and Yeats are on your side

A dreaded sunny day

So let's go where we're wanted

And I meet you at the cemetry gates

Keats and Yeats are on your side

But you lose 'cause weird lover Wilde is on mine

The Clash London Calling

When they kick at your front door

How you gonna come?

With your hands on your head

Or on the trigger of your gun


Charles Windsor, who's at the door

At such an hour, who's at the door

In the back of an old green Cortina

You're on your way to the guillotine

Here the rabble comes

The kind you hoped were dead

They've come to chop, to chop off your head


Then you came with your breezeblocks

Smashing up my face like a bus-stop

You think you're giving

But you're taking my life away


Won't someone give me more fun?

(and the skin flies all around us)

We kiss in his room to a popular tune

Oh, real drowners


Don't walk away

In silence

See the danger

Always danger

Endless talking

Life rebuilding

Don't walk away

Walk in silence

Don't turn away in silence

Your confusion

My illusion

Worn like a mask of self-hate

Confronts and then dies

Don't walk away


You don't want to hurt me

But see how deep the bullet lies

Unaware I'm tearing you asunder

Oh there is thunder in our hearts

Is there so much hate for the ones we love

Tell me we both matter don't we

The Associates Affectionate

I don't know whether

To over or under estimate you

Whether to over or under estimate you

For when I come over

You then put me under

Personal taste is a matter of gender


I wake at dusk to go alone without a light

To the unknown

I want this night inside of me

I want to feel

I want this speeding

I want that speeding


You'll never live like common people

You'll never do what common people do

You'll never fail like common people

You'll never watch your life slide out of view

And dance and drink and screw

Because there's nothing else to do

Vanilla Swingers

All I have is words, words that don't obtain

And I feel I'm a stain on your horizon

So I stay away - it's easier that way

And there won't be no-one I need to rely on

Is it him, is it me

Or is there something only I can see

How did I get here, why do we blow around like straw dogs on the breeze

I'm a special one, what they used to say

But I've to stay on, finish levels-A

You don't need exams when you've read John Gray

The Indelicates American Demo

And nobody ever comes alive

And the journalists clamour round glamour like flies

And boys who should know better grin and get high

With fat men who once met the MC5

And no one discusses what they don't understand

And no one does anything to harm the brand

And this gift is an illusion, this isn't hard

Absolutely anyone can play the fucking guitar

JAMC Darklands

And we tried so hard

And we looked so good

And we lived our lives in black


Plucked her eyebrows on the way

Shaved her leg and then he was a she

She says, hey babe,

Take a walk on the wild side

Said, hey honey, take a walk on the wild side


Hide on the promenade

Etch a postcard:

How I dearly wish I was not here

In the seaside town...that they forgot to bomb

Come, come, come - nuclear bomb


Back when we were kids

We would always know when to stop

And now all the good kids are messing up

Nobody has gained or accomplished anything

Wire Pink Flag

Prices have risen since the government fell

Casualties increase as the enemy shell

The climate's unhealthy, flies and rats thrive

And sooner or later the end will arrive

This is your correspondent, running out of tape

Gunfire's increasing, looting, burning, rape


Well, maybe there's a god above

But all I've ever learned from love

Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you

It's not a cry that you hear at night

It's not somebody who's seen the light

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah


And what costume shall the poor girl wear

To all tomorrow's parties

For Thursday's child is Sunday's clown

For whom none will go mourning


My body is your body

I won't tell anybody

If you want to use my body

Go for it


Oh it's opening time

Down on Fascination Street

So let's cut the conversation

And get out for a bit

Because I feel it all fading and paling

And I'm begging

To drag you down with me

Mansun Six

And you see, I kind of shivered to conformity

Did you see the way I cowered to authority

You see, my life, it's a series of compromises anyway

It's a sham, and I'm conditioned to accept it all, you see

Japan Gentlemen

Take in the country air, you'll never win

Gentlemen take polaroids

They fall in love, they fall in love


We just want to emote til we're dead

I know we suffer for fashion

Or whatever

We don't want these days to ever end

We just want to emasculate them forever

Forever, forever

Pretty sirens don't go flat

It's not supposed to happen like that

Longpigs The Sun

There's no perfume I can buy

Make me smell like myself

So I put on perfume

To make me smell like someone else

In bed

Calvin Harris I Created Disco

I got love for you if you were born in the 80's, the 80's

I've got hugs for you if you were born in the 80's, the 80's


Does his makeup in his room

Douse himself with cheap perfume

Eyeholes in a paper bag

Greatest lay I ever had

Kind of guy who mates for life

Gotta help him find a wife

We're a couple, when our bodies double

Simple Minds Sons and Fascination

Summer rains are here

Savaged beauty life

Falling here from grace

Sister feeling call

Cruising land to land

No faith no creed no soul

Half a world away

Beauty sleeps in time

Sound and fury play

Bloc Party Silent Alarm

North to south


Running on


As if to say, as if to say

He doesn't like chocolate

He's born a liar, he'll die a liar

Some things will never be different


LCD Soundsystem

Well Daft Punk is playing at my house, my house

I've waited 7 years and 15 days

There's every kid for miles at my house, my house

And the neighbors can't...call the police

There's a fist fight brewin' at my house, my house

Because the jocks can't...get in the door

Johnny Boy

I just can't help believing

Though believing sees me cursed

Stars Set Yourself

I am trying to say

What I want to say

Without having to say "I love you"

Josef K Entomology

It took 10 years to realise why the angels start to cry

When you go home down the main

Your happy smile

Your funny name

Cocteau Twins Bluebell


Doesn't she look a million with her hairagami set

Hair kisses 'n' hair architecture

Yes, she's a beautiful brunette angel from heaven with her hairagami set

Hair kisses 'n' hair architecture

Augment a beautiful brunette

New Order Power Corruption

How does it feel

To treat me like you do

When you've laid your hands upon me

And told me who you are


You must let her go

She's not crying



Feeling like I'm waiting

Modern times



Hating to distraction

Just leave them alone


Girls in the back

Girls in the back

Puressence Don't Forget

They say come back to earth and start getting real, yeah

I say come back to earth and start getting real

I know I can't


So I walk right up to you

And you walk all over me

And I ask you what you want

And you tell me what you need


The problem of leisure

What to do for pleasure

Ideal love a new purchase

A market of the senses

Dream of the perfect life

Economic circumstances

The body is good business

Sell out, maintain the interest


Sitting in my armchair thinking again and again and again

Going round in a circle I can't get out

Then I look around thinking day and night and day

Then you look around - there must be some explanation

And the tension builds

Psychdedelic Furs

India, India

You're my love song

India, you're my love song

In the flowers

You can have me in the flowers

We will dance alone

And live our useless lives

Ladytron Light Magic

They only want you when you're seventeen

When you're twenty-one

You're no fun

They take a polaroid and let you go

Say they'll let you know


No consolation prizes

Spit out your lies and chewing gum

Cut off your hair yeah that's it!

If you look like that I swear I'm gonna love you more


All the neighbors are startin' up a fire

Burning all the old folks, the witches and the liars.

My eyes are covered by the hands of my unborn kids

But my heart keeps watchin' through the skin of my eyelids


Prince charming

Prince charming

Ridicule is nothing to be scared of

Don't you ever, don't you ever

Stop being dandy, showing me you're handsome

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