It’s with tremendous pleasure and remarkable aplomb that I announce the very first A Limerick Ox CD giveaway!

You read that one correctly: I am offering you, lucky readers of this great slice of bandwidth, the chance to make off with a copy of Old Man Luedecke’s newest album Proof Of Love. It’s the most perfect opportunity you will ever have (no hyperbole!) to enjoy the pride of Chester, Nova Scotia and his faithful banjo, courtesy of the fine folks at Killbeat Music and the equally fine folks at Black Hen Music.

Entering the contest is easy: simply post a comment to this article right here. That’s it. Just drop a comment on this post right here and you are automatically entered into the raffle. If you win, your very own copy of Proof of Love will arrive at your doorstep.

Remember when posting your comment to provide a valid email address so we can contact if you win (your email will not be made public) and please do not provide any personal information in the post. If you do win, I will contact you to acquire your shipping details.

You have until Sunday April 6 at 11:59 PM EST to enter! So go! Do it! And good luck!

Mints aren’t typically something I would say I feel passionately about. Then, a year or two ago (memory’s shoddy on this one), I saw Gary Baseman had provided artwork on some tins for the Hint Mint company. Fully conscious of the fact that I was being drawn in, hook fully lodged in my jowls, the Baseman lover in me prodded me mercilessly to buy a small tin of their peppermint flavour mints. Then, a couple of weeks later, I purchased. the cinnamon one. And after that, the chocolate container. I had all this great Baseman art and I was enjoying these mints. These great mints. I feel passionate about these mints. So whenever asks me if I know of any good mints, I tell them I enjoy a Hint Mint. I am passionate about Hint Mints.

I’m also passionate about good music. Which is why I have this blog-thing. Which is also why, today, I speak of the Murdocks. They’re a trio of Austinites who power out loud, gritty, straight-up, guitar-heavy power-pop (three hyphenated words in a row: RECORD!) accompanied by blistering vocals and an implacable disposition which cries out to our primal rock-out nerves, dripping with confidence and nervy goodness. If you like your Afghan Whigs well-done and 1990s style, you’ll no doubt find yourself at home with the Murdocks, despite the lead singer not being as fat as Greg Dulli.

MP3: Murdocks - Die Together

www.the-murdocks.com
myspace.com/murdocks

We all get these days where we’re a little more sensitive, don’t we? You know, where seemingly insignificant stuff suddenly gets us bent out of shape? Maybe it’s the overcast sky that’s getting you down. Maybe it’s some jerk in the street who bumped into you and didn’t turn around to apologise. Maybe you really, really wanted to have stir fry but they were out of bok choy at the market. Then bang, wham: anxiety ripples over your entire self and you can’t shake it.

Small events like these, on any another day, wouldn’t even remotely faze you; but today, they just crawl under your skin and settle themselves in like a cold fog. Your perspective gets skewered.

That’s when you develop a dependence to musical acts like pensive post-rockers Windsor For The Derby who make delicate, airy arrangements of music rooted in both wistfulness and hope. For instance, there’s a definite undercurrent of loss which purveys a song like Hold On, yet it maintains a sense of hope, of the setting loose of abandoned regrets, of the release from the past, regardless of how tortuously it clings to us. The song’s deeply intimate feel seems performed in complete confidence, whispered in boundless complicity, and glimmers in its glorious, yet humble, promises of better times.

And you sometimes need that kind of elevation to remind yourself at how insignificant your little troubles are.

MP3: Windsor For The Derby - Hold On

www.windsorforthederby.com
myspace.com/windsorforthederby

I was informed by the folks at Blogged that A Limerick Ox, after being reviewed by a set of crack editors, has been awarded a rating of 8.2 out of 10, qualifying it as a “Great” blog. Keen.

You know what I miss from when I was a kid? Staying home from school. Yeah, sure, I’ve occasionally stayed home from work during the course of the numerous jobs I’ve held in my adult life, but it’s completely different from staying home from school. Being away from school as a kid, because of illness or a snow day or whatever, had this whimsical aspect to it you just can’t recreate as an adult. You’d get to have a completely quiet day, you’d get to watch those afterschool cartoons which started too early for you to catch, you’d get to have a home-fresh lunch, you’d even get to peek behind the veil of what happens at home when you’re in school. A day away from school just brilliantly broke your routine into sparkling little morsels of fun which made every second of it all the more worthwhile.

So yeah, it’s pretty hard when adulthood comes around to have such magical moments of routine-wrecking joy. But sometimes music can provide the means for such brief moments of escape, and it’s nice to know we can count on a guy like Benji Cossa to help us along. Cossa’s Landscape is an extraordinary lo-fi, 1950’s folk-pop fusion tune which fully belongs on the AM dial or as ironic support in a Tarantino movie. Full of jaunty guitar jangles and jocular synth punches, with a true-to form whistling refrain striding alongside, there’s an inherent sense of breezy innocence that comes together, further driven by Cossa’s sweet, heartfelt voice. It’s a melodious, foot-tapping moment which will compel you to hum a few bars to get you out of the humdrum of your day.

MP3: Benji Cossa - Landscape

www.benjicossa.com
myspace.com/benjicossa

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I got a copy of Sharp Teeth, other that I was in for a modern-day werewolf story. Opening it up and realising that it was written in free verse admittedly surprised me, and my first reflex was something to the effect of “Hm, gimmicky.” Doing proper, compelling free verse is hard, so the little cynic inside me relegated Toby Barlow’s choice of narrative flow to the realm of cheap trickery.

But, while the writing style does feel a little tacked on at times, Barlow was successful overall in creating a story which uses free verse to establish rhythm, creating both moments of reflective introspection and deliberate expediency. When it’s quick, the lines fall into each other at fiery tempo, only to enter contemplative, psychological moments with measured, searching stride. Then it dawns that the novel is intended as a homage to the oral tradition, in which great tales of heroism, deception and passion were passed down throughout generations.

Yet it’s a difficult experience to immerse oneself into, as the novel isn’t quite capable to deliver a protagonist to latch on to. There is a vast cast of front-and-center characters which all vie for our heartstrings, spreading ourselves out too thin to really care for any one of them for real. However, Sharp Teeth’s mystery-shrouded plot makes it satisfying enough to keep the pages turning.

Book: Sharp Teeth

Author: Toby Barlow

Publisher: HarperCollins

Next: Clumsy

When researching baby names (as I did last year, expecting my new baby girl) and checking out books which establish current and/or historical naming trends for individual names, I found myself realising that some names, that is well-known, established names, were glaringly absent. Like Elvis, for instance. Elvis is a name that seldom pops up any more. Or Genghis. I was hard pressed to find a single Genghis in any of my baby name books! It’s a good name to give a kid if you want him to be successful!

Of course, names like Elvis and Genghis are so readily associated with their historical icons people really don’t want to give them to their children. The names are so charged with impressions, ideologies and events associated with those who became these stately figures that their monickers have become burned, forcing people to look elsewhere to find a suitable sobriquet.

With that in mind, I believe that, if the current path is any indication of the future, all pharmacies will have to be renamed because the term “great music” will be unequivocally be associated with Seattle’s The Pharmacy. I mean, if The Pharmacy (the band) keeps giving us songs like Mirror, no longer will pharmacies be known as the place where you acquire prescription drugs and other useful necessities. A “pharmacy” will instead evoke strong, polished, tempo-wavering melodies, creeping up to catch you through hook-laden guitars and delightfully varied keys. Seriously! It’s best you start forgetting about a “pharmacy” as a haven of personal hygiene products, because it will instead refer to a song where pop-rock elements join in with a subtle punk undercurrent cohesively, with nothing feeling tacked on.

Therefore, I propose we start referring to pharmacies as “sebastians,” because pharmacies are going to have to steal their new name to feel vindicated, you know.

MP3: The Pharmacy - Mirror

myspace.com/thepharmacyofficial

Come on. I know what you’re up to. I know why you’re here. I’m even betting that you aren’t even reading this.

More than likely, you’re making the rounds of the MP3 blogs, looking for some links to free music. Kind of like a fanboy at a comic convention. You bounce around from kiosk to kiosk, giving quick glances over the stuff on display, but you’re exclusively interested in whatever free swag is available at the current table. You hoard as much as you can, blindly accumulating buttons, stickers, pens, notepads, magnets, and countless other promotion knickknacks, completely indiscriminate about their provenance or what the brand is all about. Then you head home and spread out all your stuff on your couch to photograph it, taking both wide and close up shots, to show off the size of your stash on your Flickr account.

But, hey, rabid MP3 enthusiast, at least I can console myself that you’re going to end up with an Adam Green track. You’ll get to enjoy the distinctly catchy pop concoction of Morning After Midnight as Green breaks into a kitschy 1970s soulful swash, brass blaring and gospel backup vocals acclaiming. The whole thing is swarthed in Green’s deep masterful voice, which makes you feel sophisticated by association, and his aura of irony, which keeps the ridiculous, pointless lyrics wholly relevant throughout this cheese saturated AM-era powerhouse.

You’ll enjoy it; if you ever really do listen to it.

MP3: Adam Green - Morning After Midnight

www.adamgreen.net
myspace.com/adamgreen1

Drinking coffee is a tricky thing, because one needs to have a certain capacity for caffeine rush management. A substantial number of coffee drinkers consume the stuff for the buzz it generates, but as you’re probably well aware, said buzz can have immediate disadvantageous effects if precautions are not taken.

Too much intake will most definitely cause a hefty crash which goes completely against the point of drinking the stuff in the first place. Getting a case of “the shakes” due to coffee surplus is highly unattractive when meeting clients or your in-laws. Cold sweat is not fun; not that sweating is ever “fun,” but that’s the whole point. It’s even less fun than regular sweating.

But with controlled consumption it’s entirely possible to generate the frenzied, gonzo state you hoped would be possible to achieve. It’s a strategy which I’m certain was employed by noise rockers Boo and Boo Too on their first EP. The corybantic playing is burning, intense, and nervous, like a song David Turns A Mystic can testify to. It’s the turbulence from which the guitars howl their feedback squeals, it’s the piano slamming out its notes like they’re being trampled on, it’s the jittery need for out-of-place breaks and segues, and it’s the volatile yelps of the vocals which give it nervous, enthused vibrations. It’s a sonic, wired, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, surprisingly catchy tune which will get you in a java surge without ever lifting a cup.

MP3: Boo and Boo Too - David Turns A Mystic

www.booandbootoo.com
myspace.com/booandbootoo

When in season, a garlic bud can sometimes contain a sprout. It may seem inoffensive at a glance, but if you’re adding the bulbous flavour-generator to a recipe and you come across a sprout, it’s best to remove it, as the sprout is difficult to digest. Not to mention that its taste is quite bitter, so it takes away from that authentic garlic taste. So what’s the point of keeping it when all you want is that hearty garlic aroma without the aftermeal fuss?

Kind of like rock music, wouldn’t you say? If most bands took out the siren song of self-indulgence, which germinates when they start making their own music, the end result would most likely be more extraordinary songs from bands like We Were The States. The raucous Up Your Sleeve has all the twists and stitches of an excellent cheeky bang-on romp, complete with rowdy 60s harmonizing, swaggering smarmy vocals, and a glammy guitar solo which will have you to rocking out like you’d forgotten how. It’s a song of pure love, love of the genre, a testament to what rock is and where it’s from; a bristling homage from a chorus of six-strings which succeeds in being unequivocally relevant and spirited. And with no strong aftertaste in your mouth, either.

MP3: We Were The States - Up Your Sleeve

www.wewerethestates.com
myspace.com/thestates