Brian Noyes – Dollhouse Man
Where do all the pop songwriters go? If they can swing it, they go to the studio of the big pop stars of the day. They ask if they can write them songs. And if it’s an important writing session, they get paired up with two to six other writers and told to produce a hit.
You have to feel sorry for these people. And you need to assume that it is, at least in part, their stories that discourage other musicians from coming up with pop tunes. This kind of disappointment is enough to make someone dress up in black leather and play death metal.
But it didn’t always need to be this way. Pop songwriters like Ray Davies were the smartest in the game. They wrote gigantic hits. And those hits were clever, bizarre and filled with enough tricks and strange imagery to keep listeners interested for decades.
Brian Noyes is a pop songwriter who starts songs with the sense of wonder becoming of a child and ends them with the cynicism of a smart adult. The Kinks-inspired “Dollhouse Man” plays wonderfully with 60s psych-pop motifs. It’s a song constructed partly as an example of Noyes’ strengths and partly as a great novelty. We need more of these. And with these kinds of examples, few will go running to the pop star studios quite as quickly.
TheFleok – i’m not invited
You’ve all read the books. Punk-rock happened in the late 1970s in New York. Suddenly, there was a glimmer of hope and a reason to move to a city that looked like the set of an apocalyptic thriller. Suddenly, there was a reason to move there. Just learn three chords and start a band, and you’ll end up hanging with Ramones and Television. Just throw some art supplies on a canvas, and you’ll be out at Max’s with Andy Warhol’s crowd every night.
But the people who did, except for Misfits and The Cramps, were suckers of a future real estate empire. Furthermore, Ramones and Television didn’t want to hang out with anyone. The clubs they played were shut down because not enough people attended gigs. And Andy Warhol would ever really be interested provided he could shake a buck off of you. As for all the great parties of the rich and powerful, you never heard back.
TheFleok is melancholy-filled yet strong enough to crack a smile. “i’m not invited” sounds like Morrissey recording a dream pop tune for modern outcasts. TheFleok’s tender singing describes a world that is all glamour, romance and closed doors. It’s not just the story of the songwriter. It’s the story of all large, overhyped cities that promise so much and offer it, usually to a select few. Think you’re on the list? You’re not invited, either.
