Word: singings
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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They don't sing, and they're not instrumental virtuosos either. Yet it's clear that the Chemical Brothers have made one of the finest albums this year, pushing their creativity to the limits, showing that they can do more than make you jump. The pounding French-house-style opening track, "Music: Response" has as its main refrain an electronic voice proclaiming that "music should trigger some kind of response," and elicit a response this album certainly will. In its most manic parts, it can (and will) send dance-floors through the roof, but the sheer sonic range...
...here's a salute to the Americans who make waitresses laugh and to the ones who pick up litter on the beach, the ones who stop to help the ones who have flat tires, the ones who return wallets, the ones who pick and sing for fun and the ones who run the Fritos pie booth at the PTA school fair. Here's to the clerks who say, "Now you have a nice day, hear?" and mean it, and to the ones who say wryly, "If it was a snake, it would've bit you." Here's to whale savers...
...back in a unified Berlin, the Boss marched across the stage like a peacemaking Patton surveying the troops after the liberation of Europe. Judging by their ability to sing along (in English) with every song, the Germans appeared only slightly less familiar with the geography of the Jersey shore than the average Asbury Park gas-station attendant. On the second night, when the band finished up Badlands, the audience kept the song going. Springsteen gave the signal, and the musicians crashed back into the song, with band members smiling and laughing as they played...
...were scheduled to give two large performances in Shanghai, the proceeds from which were going to finance part of our tour," Krokodiloes Tour Manager Thomas W. Chalberg '99 wrote in an email message. "In Beijing we were supposed to sing in exchange for our accommodations at the Shangri-La Hotel...
...Boston accent and I'm droppin' the g's off of most'-ing' words these days. I'm walking to the grocery store and writing a check every time, and they never ask me for ID. My alarm clock is tuned to the local country music station, and I sing along in the shower to those twangy melodies I scorned in high school because I just couldn't wait to get off to the big city...