It’s the middle of February, and you know what that means: Valentine’s Day, one of the year’s most controversial holidays, is upon us. Similarly celebrated and hated, fussed over or made fun of, this all-sorts saint’s day is nonetheless an inexorability of our buy-or-die culture. Everywhere, from the corner grocery store to the gas station down the street, everything is decked out in a dazzling display of red, white, and chocolate, while everyone seems to be selling confections, carnations, and cards, taunting lovers either to embrace Cupid or grab him by the throat. It’s a difficult dilemma, especially for even the sincerest romantics.

Our hearts are listening.

We mean you, of course, dear readers. We at Scribbleskiff understand your pain. We have even felt it and dealt with it ourselves. And we are here to help (or hinder) you in your efforts to make sense of all this senseless sensuality by offering a bouquet of the best love songs from the past year – that is, songs that in one way or another invoke “love” and its many-splendored-thinginess. There are happy tunes and sad ballads, songs of wonderment and worry, written by nice guys and bad girls, confident lovers and confused losers — “and then there are folks like you and me,” as Camper Van Beethoven once wryly observed. Whether you are in a relationship, or simply “in between,” we hope you will find something here to sing about. Enjoy!

“Lucky Now,” Ryan Adams. Alt-country crooner Adams returned last year with Ashes & Fire, a quieter, more introspective release than his more rocked-out recent efforts. And if that’s your sweet spot (and it should be), then it’s your lucky day.

“Any Way You Want It,” Clem Snide. One of the best covers of last year, this stripped-down track from an EP of deftly ticklish lo-fi reinterpretations, will make even the most jaded indie rock-lover fall for this Journey chestnut.

“Little Talks,” Of Monsters and Men. The collective sound of this new (well, new to us in the US, at least) Icelandic folk-rock collective may remind you of others you once desired — think Edward Sharpe meets Bjork — but they will win you over on their own accord(ion).

“Bedroom Eyes,” Dum Dum Girls. Despite their name, this winsome foursome from LA craft smart post-pop songs that offer a seductive mix of surfer licks and shoegazer swirl. You’ll swoon, fer sure.

“Romance,” Wild Flag. As changeable as its subject, this first single from the self-titled debut from Wild Flag — the quote it-”grrl” super-band unquote — will keep you guessing as it slips effortlessly into and out of its many-layered garments, from punk to power-pop to ’60s doo-wop, and back again.

So, there you have it, a musical medicament meant to make you feel good (or bad) about the person you want to share that loving (or loathing) feeling with. It’s what we do.

As always, tell us what you think. Do you have a favorite love song from this past year? Is there a new song or band you’ve discovered and want to tell others about? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

Because the month of January (named for the two-headed ancient god, Janus) teeters on the fence between the old year and the new, it offers a distinct vantage point for glancing backward at what has been, as a way to predict what may be lurking up ahead. In other words, it’s a time for deciding whether “been there, done that” should become “go back there, do it again” or “don’t go back to Rockville and waste another year.”

Were they saying "so long" all along? Oh my heart.

So that’s what we’ve been doing these past few days and will try to convey in the coming weeks (or for as long as we can sustain it): Looking over the catalog of our favorite things from 2011 in order to get excited about what lies ahead. There’s no rhyme or reason to the order of this list-making, really; it’s just a jumble of ideas and items, provided to distract you from whatever it is you need to be distracted from. Ain’t that just like Scribbleskiff?

In terms of music, or at least in terms of the music and musicians we at Scribbleskiff adore, 2011 was a love-in. So many singles, EPs, and LPs, from start-ups and stalwarts alike, were just too tempting to resist. So we didn’t, and over the next few postings we’ll offer a few selections, along with some suggestive excuses, why that we think you should succumb too.

And, speaking of stalwarts, what better way to start our sort-of “best of” list than with “All the Best” from Collapse Into Now, the newest (and, as it turned out, final) collection of new material from R.E.M. The second cut on the LP, “All the Best” explodes from your speakers, bursting with the band’s trademark tricks of the trade: jangly, crashing guitars, Stipe’s familiar speak-crooning, and a kick-slapping drum and bass line. Despite its placement on their 15th studio recording, “All the Best” could easily fall in line with R.E.M.’s earlier raucous rockers, like “Begin the Begin,” “What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?” or “The One I Love,” which it echoes in a number of ways.

Watch All the Best:

Now, as any faithful reader knows, we hold a sacred place in our Scribbleskiffing heart for the Athens foursome. So it’s understandable that we felt like sad tomatoes when the band called it quits last fall, seemingly suddenly and on the heels of a strong new record. Turns out, though, they had been plotting their exit for awhile, and we should have seen it coming. From the title of the record to the song titles (“Oh My Heart” and “Blue,” for example) and the lyrics (like, “let’s give it one more time” or “isn’t it just like me to overstay my welcome”), and even the hand-wave on the cover, everything says “good-bye.”

Too bad. We weren’t ready to see them go and were looking forward to more murmuring. Because, despite the distortion from all the qualifiers (“not as good as [insert favorite record title]”) and decriers (“they should have quit after [insert least favorite title]”), we enjoyed Collapse Into Now as much as anything in the R.E.M. catalog, and we turned to it as often as the other 2011 releases by quote-new-unquote bands that we flipped for, like Yuck and Wild Flag.

But don’t despair. R.E.M. may be gone, but we’ll be back soon to talk about more of “all the best” from 2011 — in beers and books, too. As well as what we are looking forward to in 2012, so stay tuned.

As always, tell us what you think. Do you have a favorite song or record from this past year? Is there a new band you’ve discovered and want to tell others about? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

Scribbleskiff is sitting in dry-dock for a spell. We’re taking some time away from the business of busyness to rest and clear out the scuppers, so to speak, to restock our supplies, chart new courses, and ready ourselves for the next adventure.

A few of our favorite new seasonals

For instance, we’re keeping our weather eye trained on the approaching, unusually large waves of seasonal drafts — both autumnal and Yultidal. Also, the alluring siren songs of bands both familiar and foreign have been calling to us from the far shore. And we have been receiving reports of new book launches, as well as sitings of old tomes worth rediscovering and re-examining. And much, much more.

So, we’ll be back soon with a fresh store of aimless writing intended to distract you from your daily routine. Until then, here are a few of our (and others’) favorite posts, in each category, from the past year or so. If you are a faithful reader, then you may enjoy having the chance to riffle through them again. If you have never read Scribbleskiff, then these will be new to you. Enjoy!

Beery Scribblings
Not Near Enough: In Search of the Elusive, Authentic German Radler
Sacre Bleu! The Best French Beers for Thanksgiving May Be Made in America
How to Host Your Own ‘Mencktoberfest’

Bookish Babble
Of Poems and Promises, Meatloaf, Memories, and the Pleasures of Failure
It’s No Myth: Fathers and Sons Who Read (and Write) Together Can Grow Together
Finding the ‘Wit’ in Twitter

Musical Musings
Musically Speaking, My Kids Are All Right
It’s a ‘70s Thing: Learning to Fall in Love Again With the Songs of Alex Chilton
When It Comes to Some Tribute Records, Mature Imitation May Be Most Flattering

So, there you have it, a Scribbleskiff sampler — a triple trifecta of trivial treats. As always, tell us what you think. Do you have a favorite post from this past year? Or is there something new you want to learn more about — a seasonal craft beer, for instance, a song by an unknown band, or a recently published poetry collection? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

January is named for Janus, the Roman god of gates and doors, beginnings and endings. Often depicted with two heads — or, more unnervingly, with one head and two faces — Janus had the ability to look forward and backward at the same time.

Just a few of our favorite things in 2010.

Which seems a fitting namesake for a month that straddles the twelvemonth fence, endlessly putting the old year out to pasture and ushering in the new. And having such an origin may explain why so many of us citizens are inclined to spend a portion of January glancing over our shoulders, cataloging our accomplishments (and, ah-hem, failures) from the year gone by, and peering out toward the horizon, hopefully compiling lists of things to do.

We at Scribbleskiff are not above summational list-making, either. Although not fans of the art of compiling “top” lists — picking the most favorite among our favorite beers, books, or bands equates to a Sophie’s Choice, and miserable failure is inevitable. For example, we set out to create an iTunes playlist of the top 10 tunes of 2010 (clever, huh?) and wound up with a scroll 37 songs long that couldn’t be pared down. So it goes.

Nonetheless, we like to be categorical on occasion, picking out some “songs for a quiet moment,” for instance, or “six beers for a summer solstice,” etc. Doing so makes us feel less disorganized than normal and, perhaps, a bit more purposeful. More important, we recently received some pointed requests to “tally things up” and “entertain us” — Nostradamus-like — with predictions for next year’s bests. So we are caving in to both our whims and the peer pressure. (This one’s for you, Otto! Not [necessarily] to be confused with this Otto.)

Falling on the heels of the recently launched series “year-end wrap-up for holiday wrapping,” for which we attempted to take stock of and draw some conclusions about our favorite attainments from 2010 — the books read, beers tasted, bands discovered, etc. — we now bring you our “list of lists.” None of the following is definitive or even all that enlightening, but compiling these compilations has amused us muchly these past few weeks and distracted us from many mid-winter mundanities, and isn’t that the point? Enjoy!

The Seven Most Played Songs of 2010 (According to Our iTunes Library, as of December 31, 2010) That We Didn’t Review
Yes, this is clunky and far from gutsy, but there were more than 415 songs in the 2010 playlist, and it ain’t easy picking ponies. These aren’t necessarily “the best” or “the most [insert superlative]” anything. Apparently, we just liked and played them a lot but didn’t get around to commenting on them, as we did with others here and here.

“Boy,” The Orchard, Ra Ra Riot. Although the fluttery bass line and hooky chamber-pop melodies continually reel me in, it’s singer Wes Miles’ gliding glissando vocals that are the real catch here.
Listen to “Boy” (mp3):

“Wait Up (Boots of Danger),” Champ, Tokyo Police Club. This (non-Asian, non-law-enforcement) Toronto-based four-piece returned last year with a follow-up to their 2008 debut that was energetic, irresistible, and worth the wait.
Listen to “Wait Up (Boots of Danger)” (mp3):

“Big Wave,” I’m Having Fun Now, Jenny & Johnny. Neither half of this duo of indie-rock darlings (Jenny Lewis and Jonathan Rice) has ever sounded as captivating or fun-loving apart as they did together on this single.

Listen to “Big Wave” (mp3):

“Airplanes,” Gorilla Manor, Local Natives. Not locals nor natives (unless you reside in Silver Lake, CA), these guys have fashioned a unique mix of Afro-pop rhythms and laid-back folk lyricism (think Vampire Weekend meets Fleet Foxes) that would seem at home anywhere.
Listen to “Airplanes” (mp3):

“Bloodbuzz Ohio,” High Violet, The National. If there is a such a mellifluously named town in Ohio — and even if there isn’t — this song makes me wish I could be carried there, in a swarm of bees. It also boasts the line most evocative of 2010’s national predicament: “I still owe money to the money I owe.”
Listen to “Bloodbuzz Ohio” (mp3):

“Sad Smile,” A Storm, A Tree, My Mother’s Head, Bobby Bare Jr. With a knack for crafting catchy countrified pop songs (think John Hiatt) tempered with a rock-’n-roll gallows wit (akin to Paul Westerberg’s), Bobby Bare always make me smile, in a not-so-sad way.
Listen to “Sad Smile” (mp3):

“The Book of Love,” Scratch My Back, Peter Gabriel. As an elder statesman of rock, Gabriel can cover just about any band’s song and make it his own. Here he lends an appropriate air of maturity and wistfulness to this song of youthful wonderment by The Magnetic Fields.
Listen to “The Book of Love” (mp3):

(If you are receiving this via email or Facebook and do not see the flash music players below each song, click here to listen in full on the blog site.)

The Three Beers We Wanted to Taste More than Once
Like gluttonous Goldilocks, we tried a lot of different beers last year, in a variety of styles, from amber ales to wheat beers. Most were delicious and provided great accompaniment (and, in some cases, a helping hand) to many good meals. But there were three in particular that we enjoyed and, once we had shared, wished we had not.

San Diego Session Ale, Stone Brewing, Ballast Point Brewing Co., Kelsey McNair. The latest in Stone’s ongoing series of collaboration beers (I reviewed another joint-venture byproduct here), this was not only one of my favorite brews from 2010 it is also one of the best I’ve ever had. Truth. It offers a pucker-making mix of hops bitterness, tangy citrus aromas, and a slightly sweet malt flavor, with plenty of carbonation. It comports well with both appetizers (a nutty Asiago cheese on wheat crackers, for instance) and main dishes, like herb-roasted chicken. Best of all, it’s light in alcohol (4.6%) and clearly designed to be the one beer to have when you’re having more than one.

A Saison Darkly, Stillwater Artisanal Ales. Another collaboration, this time a limited-release black ale flavored with hibiscus and rose hips brewed by Baltimorean Brian Strumke at the Huisbrouwerij Sint Canarus in Deinze-Gottem, Belgium. Strumke, a self-proclaimed “gypsy brewer” and the man behind the curtain at Stillwater (I’ve written about Strumke’s rise from homebrewer to big-leaguer here and elsewhere), has produced several variations on the Saison theme in the past year or so, and this was by far the most complex and delicious. A mix of chocolatey dunkel sweetness and standard Belgian floral aromatics, the flavor combinations were contrasts in character — peppery and citrusy, roasted caramel and fruit (berries), creamy and dry, etc. — and anything but expected. A dark horse, for sure.

Bitches Brew, Dogfish Head Craft Brewery. Speaking of collaboration, this match-up was inspired not by zymurgy but by musicology. Created to coincide with the 40th anniversary release of Miles Davis’ eponymous breakthrough jazz-rock album, the beer fuses an Imperial stout with an African honey beer, creating a dark, rich concoction with sweet overtones. It was surprisingly smooth and delicious, enjoyed as the label suggested, as “the ultimate partner for chili or spicy curry chicken,” or alone, sipped cool — like Davis’ music.

Our Favorite Non-Poetry Reads
As any Scribbleskiff reader knows, our preferred choice for poolside perusing is a slim volume of poetry. We read and recommended several fantastic titles last year, including these. However, we also managed to find time to be delighted by and devour several non-prosodic tomes worthy of mention.

The Ask, by Sam Lipsyte (Farrar, Straus and Giroux), and Super Sad True Love Story, by Gary Shteyngart (Random House). Not much for novel reading, mainly because I have a short attention span, I nonetheless found both of these to be a cut above the usual tiresome and bathetic best-sellers. In fact, they were two of the funniest and most frightening books I’ve ever read. Sad but true — but don’t ask.

Hint Fiction, Robert Swartwood, Ed. (W.W. Norton). What if a haiku were like a novel? Or vice-versa? The entries in this pocket-sized collection, subtitled An Anthology of Stories in 25 Words or Fewer, attempt to answer (or refute) such a hypothesis. Spare and evocative, these 125 “stories,” written by writers both famous (Joyce Carol Oates, Peter Straub) and unknown, illustrate that length doesn’t always ensure complexity in fiction.

Drinkology: The Art and Science of the Cocktail, James Waller (Stewart, Tabori & Chang). I know what you’re thinking: Why didn’t I take that course in college? Well, now you can. Waller’s book, a revised and updated version of the 2003 edition, offers everything any budding bartender or mature mixologist needs to know — from instructions on how to set up and stock a home bar to more than 400 recipes for classic and novel drinks. Best of all, Waller’s writing is as entertaining as it is informative.

Esopus Magazine, The Esopus Foundation. Calling this twice-yearly collection of artists’ projects, critical writing, fiction, poetry, visual essays, interviews, and a themed CD of new music a “magazine” is a little like saying the Grand Canyon is a nice place for a picnic. It just doesn’t cover it. Nonetheless, I look forward to receiving each indescribable issue and savor it with desert-island devotion.

So, there you have it. A sampling of who and what carried us away last year. And now, in Janus-like fashion, as we say goodbye to January, we say hello to what’s in store for Scribbleskiffers in 2011:

• For instance, we are looking forward to over-indulging ourselves on new-music releases from The Decemberists, R.E.M., Cold War Kids, Peter Bjorn & John, among others.
• We’re getting foamy over some new beers we’ve been hearing about, including “Le Terroir,” a dry-hopped sour ale from New Belgium; a new, as-yet unnamed joint brew from Cambridge, Stone, and Victory; “Hoptimum,” an extremely hop-heavy IPA from Sierra Nevada; and “Black Cannon,” a black India pale ale from Heavy Seas.
• And we are making room on the shelf for a slew of new books, including Money Shot, by Rae Armantrout (Wesleyan); Poems, by Elizabeth Bishop (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux); Sky Burial, by Dana Levin (Copper Canyon); How Long, Ron Padgett (Coffee House); and Your Father on the Train of Ghosts, a poetic exchange between G.C. Waldrep and John Gallaher (BOA Editions).

As always, tell us what you think. Did you read/listen to/taste any of these 2010 new releases? Are there others that you think everyone should try? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

If you live life according to Gregory’s calendar, as we do in our little corner of the world, then you’ve likely noticed by now that we’ve reached December, the final (and, at this moment, coldest) month of the year.

As such, December ushers in a season of conclusions, a time for tallying, wrapping-up, and tying-off. Most of us spend these last few weeks tidying for tax filing (and feeling taxed), for instance, compiling lists of accomplishments and comparing them to (the much longer) to-do lists, cleaning out cluttered closets and organizing kitchen drawers, and so on. It’s also a time for reflection and introspection, for looking back on all that’s come before you in the 330-odd days already passed, remembering the good times (while revising your memories of the bad), and wondering if you’re ready for what’s coming next. And, for those of us who are filed under the world’s major religious categories, December has become an excuse for wrapping-up and giving gifts.

New Wave beach party music.

So, for the next 2-3 weeks, we at Scribbleskiff will be trying to accomplish all of the above tasks, taking stock of and drawing conclusions about our favorite attainments from this past year — the books read, beers tasted, bands discovered — posting brief reviews and/or some rumination, in the attempt to distract you with useless information (as you’ve come to expect) and to offer some ideas for items to give your loved ones and friends (I know it sounds better to write that phrase the other way round, but it’s never made sense to me to do so). Let’s call it our year-end wrap-up rapping for holiday wrapping series.

Some of this you may have encountered before, whether here or elsewhere, but we suspect most of it you may not have heard about at all. In either case, we’ll be posting as often as we can, so keep checking back. Enjoy!

First up is a little dose of nouveau-nostalgia, because nowadays, it seems, if you want to find out what’s happening around you, just look to yesterday. It’s the new today.

In fact, so much of what’s making headlines right now is, for all intents and purposes, old news. Everything, from bank failures (remember the S&L crisis?) and rising unemployment (get in line again, brother), to natural disasters (like good ol’ what’s-her-name), global conflicts (same desert, different decade), and public celebrity meltdowns (this is one of our faves), everything has been — yawn! — done before.

Even among the ephemera of pop culture, what’s new and hip right now often turns out to be old-fashioned. Take the resurgence in cocktails, for instance. Some of the hottest drinks for fall, according to an article in Esquire, involve some of the oldest and simplest of ingredients: rye, sweet vermouth, and bitters. Of course, no one makes Old Fashioneds the way “dear old Dad used to.”

Not there’s anything wrong with it, as they said on Seinfeld. Quite the contrary, actually. I often like it when we repeat the past, on purpose. A lot of what went on before was good and bears repeating. And, yes, things were simpler back then. I suppose that’s true because we were younger (and, in some cases, youngsters), and people were doing things for us, taking care of us and the stuff that needed taking care of. I miss that. I’m not always fond of being responsible and having to be in charge. Sometimes, I don’t want to be a pirate.

Two new records by relatively young bands have recently caught my attention and wound up on continuous repeat, simply because they sound like — and, let’s be honest, make me wish for — the way things were.

(If you are reading this via email or Facebook and do not see the flash music players below each song, click here to listen in full on the blog site.)

The Drums, The Drums. Island Records. I’m a sucker for the incongruity of a debut that sounds dated, that evokes an “I’ve-heard-it-all-before-but-never-like-this” feeling. But I wonder if it was ever quite like this. Imagine if Brian Wilson and New Order had a baby. That spawn would be called The Drums, a band from Brooklyn whose sound is both sunny and goofy, hip and nerdy, techno and swinging. An undeniable ’80s odor permeates the disc — from the opening cut, “Best Friend,” with its danceable, collar-turned-up INXS swagger that would be at home on any John Hughes soundtrack, to the last track — and it smells like an old-time beach party. The Furs are here, along with The Cars, Yazoo, and A Flock of Seagulls (and their cresting hairdos). And so are Dick Dale, the Surfaris, The Ventures, and other beachcombers. The first single, “Let’s Go Surfing,” with its Devo-meets-Jan-and-Dean quality, is the strongest cut and it nearly overshadows the others. But, like the bravest big-wave rider, it’s so outstanding that the others follow along, holding their own in its wake.

Listen to “Let’s Go Surfing” (mp3)

A heavy metal time machine?

Phosphene Dream, The Black Angels, Blue Horizon. If The Drums is a throwback, then this record is a catapult. A one-way trip in Doc Brown’s heavy-metal time machine. In other words, the future is all in the past for The Black Angels, who have been digging their 1960s psych-pop roots for a few LPs and now have finally hit peyote dirt. From the song titles (like “Yellow Elevator #2” and “Bad Vibrations”) to the spacey album art, everything on Phosphene Dream says, “we’re not in the 21st century anymore.” But this is not mood music for a wax museum. No, these folks have done their homework (and their share of psychotropic drugs, too) to create a set of original, lively songs that feels both “of an era” and of any era. They take handfuls of The Zombies, early Pink Floyd, Iron Butterfly, and The Doors, down them with some bluesy vibes from The Yardbirds and Led Zeppelin, and create dark, moody, lyrical, raucous rock music that’s as full of drama as it is fun to dance to. Amid the halting, reverb-swallowing vocals, haunting Hammond runs, crashing cymbals, and droning guitars beats the heart of a straight-ahead garage band. Watch this clip and tell me if you think I’m dreaming.

Listen to “Bad Vibrations” (mp3)

So there you have it, two new CDs from this past year to box up and bestow upon a rocking loved one. As always, tell us what you think. Have you heard the new LPs by The Drums or The Black Angels? Are there any other new seasonal offerings that you think everyone should try? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

This week’s posting on Scribbleskiff is part treat, part trick. It’s our way of honoring Halloween and, at the same time, shirking our responsibilities. Typical? Exactly!

Boo-ya! Or boo-hoo?

Well, for several reasons, we just can’t be aimless and informative right now, but we didn’t want to let one of our favorite holidays slip by without some sort of nod. So we are handing out a few novelties, including some seasonal songs, spirited books, and sinister beverages, and offering a little tomfoolery, too — namely, a repeat of some popular past postings. If you’ve never read any of the following words before, then this entry will be sweet music to your eyes and ears. If, on the other hand, you feel like you have previously encountered some of these specters, well, then, boo!

Treats: For starters, we recently uploaded a new Halloween-themed playlist at 8tracks.com. All 18 songs, by everyone from The Acorn to Wolf Parade, have some type of seasonal tie-in to put you in an All-Souls-Day state of mind. And all were released in 2010. Click here to hear them.

Trick: We recently invoked the magic in the relatively new search function on this site (floating in the upper right-hand corner). We typed in “Halloween” and, surprise-surprise, more than a dozen entries appeared that either featured or were related to this most un-hallowed holiday. One of our top picks was this one (click here to read it), which involved the search for an adult-strength beverage appropriate for sipping while handing out (and sneaking) Halloween candy.

Treat: Sometimes, reading a good book can be a spiritual experience — especially if said book is about alcoholic beverages. Such is the case with Beer Is Proof That God Loves Us, a frothy and refreshing look at “the soul of beer and brewing.” Author Charles W. Bamforth, a British ex-pat and a 32-year brewing industry veteran, offers a personal look at everything from the rebirth in a “beer ethos” to the reasons why a few simple ingredients (water, grains, hops, and yeast) are simply divine. Buy your copy of it here.

Trick: Here’s another of our favorite reruns (here, actually), in which we once again enjoy being visited by a palpable, menacing specter that haunts (and, in so many ways, delights) us all.

Treats: And speaking of spiritual (and spirited) visitations, lately our inbox has been a virtual medium for a slew of seasonal cocktail recipes that we are just dying to try. Here are a few:

Corpse Reviver
2 oz Kanon Organic Vodka
¾ oz Fresh Lemon Juice
¾ oz Orange Curacao (or Triple Sec)
¼ oz Absinthe (or any Pastis)

Combine all ingredients in a mixing glass, add a few ice cubes, and shake.  Strain the mixture into a Martini glass.

Fake Blood
1 1/2 oz. Riazul Silver Tequila
1 oz. cranberry juice
Lime wedge
1/2 oz. simple sugar
1 splash ginger ale

Combine tequila, cranberry juice, squeezed lime juice, and simple sugar with ice. Shake and strain into a chilled glass. Fill with a splash of ginger ale.

Jack-o’-Lantern Punch
2 oz. Flor de Caña rum
4 Sugar cubes
3 oz. Club soda
1 oz. Lemon juice
1 ½  oz. Pumpkin puree
Dash of allspice

Muddle four sugar cubes with lemon juice. Add Flor de Caña rum, pumpkin puree, and a dash of all spice and a cinnamon stick. Top with club soda. Garnish with an apple slice.

Trick: We’ve saved the best (and bloatedest) Scribbleskiff replay for last. In it (click here to read it) we offer a half-dozen recommendations that, though they may not help explain why we celebrate this ancientest of holidays, they should make Halloween more spirited if you do.

But don’t let these lazy bones scare you away. We’ll be back soon with new postings that feature the same aimless nothingness that you’ve come to expect (and, we hope, enjoy) at Scribbleskiff. In the meantime, tell us what you think. How do you celebrate Halloween? Are there any other new seasonal offererings that you think everyone should try? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

As I’m sure you have heard by now, this week marks the fifth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. And, as I’m sure you remember, August 29, 2005, was an awfully stormy Monday, a supernatural event that has given rise to more than a few superlatives over the years. From the sounds of things, there will be no lack of handwringing, fingerpointing, and pontificating this go-round.

I’m not sure why we as a people make a fuss over events at five- and 10-year intervals, since my guess is that at any other point, like the third or sixth anniversaries, the emotions are no less acute. Nonetheless, for better or worse, we do. And this week my mind has been occupied by recollections of New Orleans, too.

Listening to jazz is one form of self-preservation

But, perhaps in reaction to the general overreaction, I’m trying to conjure up memories of an antediluvian world, if you will, a happier, drier version of the Big Easy that I had the pleasure of visiting several times prior to 2005. Escapist? Of course! (Need I remind you of what you are reading?) But as John Ashbery once quipped, “we need all the escapism we can get.” Now more than ever.

So, while woolgathering during the woeful newscasts these past few days, my self-reflections kept returning to the three activities I always indulged in once I reached the Crescent City, no matter how brief or over-programmed my stay: having a native cocktail and an authentic creole meal in the French Quarter, catching at least one set at a jazz club, and nosing through the stacks in a used bookstore. Alas, it doesn’t appear that I will be getting back there any time soon (despite a very tempting invitation to join a group of dear friends heading there to mark a 40th birthday). So, I’ve prepared a to-do list for a staycation to the New Orleans in my mind. I’m posting the following, typically Scribbleskiffian useless bits of info in case you want to come along, too (and I hope that you do).

On my very first trip to NOLA (that’s “New Orleans, Louisiana,” BTW), I met the Sazerac, a beguiling whiskey-based elixir that is reportedly the first cocktail invented in America. I’d had plenty of bourbon drinks at that point, including my fair share of Old Fashioneds, but what made this homegrown concoction so intriguing was that its main ingredients, absinthe (or Pernod, both of which taste like licorice) and rye, were so “flavor-forward,” as the foodies say. I’m sure I’d had rye by then, too — my dad, a loyal Marylander, always had a handle of Pikesville Rye on hand — but I doubt if I had ever noticed its uniquely dry and spicy bite. The Sazerac (and my generous waiter on that fateful night, who was pleased to see my eyebrows rise after the first sip) brought that sensation to my attention. Now, whenever I want a “taste” of New Orleans, I shake out a Sazerac. It’s a little tricky but worth the effort. Here’s one recipe I’ve tried (from drinksmixer.com):

Sazerac Cocktail

1 tsp sugar
1 1/2 oz rye whiskey
1 dash Deva absinthe
2 dashes Peychaud bitters
2 dashes Angostura bitters
1 twist lemon peel
ice

Chill an old-fashioned glass by filling with crushed ice. In another glass mix the sugar with the bitters dissolving the sugar. Add some ice, stirring to chill. In the old-fashioned glass remove the ice and pour in the absinthe coating the entire glass. Remove the excess absinthe. Add the rye whiskey and bitters/sugar mixture. Add the lemon twist.

Oh my, rye!

However, if you’re not a fan of whiskey but want to see how rye can influence a malt-based beverage, you’ll be glad to learn that some microbrewers have been experimenting with the grain in their beers to good effect. I recently enjoyed Bear Republic’s Hop Rod Rye, which as the name suggests featured a balance of hoppy and earthy aromas and flavors, and Honey Rye Ale, from Lake Placid Brewery, which was sweet and slightly astringent. Here’s an interesting article on the rise of rye-based beers, in case you’re getting thirsty.

Now that we’ve filled our glasses, it’s time for a little mood music. A long time ago, I learned the difference between so-called “Dixieland” and New Orleans-style jazz. But don’t ask what that is — as my friend, mentor, and curmudgeonly jazz critic Hayden Carruth would have said, “I know, but I’m tired of telling.” Suffice it to say, like pornography, you’ll know it when you see it. And there’s no better venue to see (and hear) the real thing than the dingy, cramped, stifling, and always “hot” Preservation Hall. The Grand Ole Opry it ain’t, and as tourist traps go, it’s got all the charm of a rotting roadside gin joint. But for $5 or so, you can sit close enough to stuff a dollar in the bell of a trombone during requests and listen to jazz the way it’s been played pretty much since the turn of the last century.

Earlier this year the house band, which occasionally records and tours, put out a new record, Preservation: An Album to Benefit Preservation Hall & the Preservation Hall Music Outreach Program. As the rather unwieldy title indicates, the effort is an attempt to raise money for the many local musicians who were displaced (or worse) by the hurricane. But what makes this LP more interesting and valuable than a typical tribute record is that the band invited a variety of artists, from pop to hip-hop and elsewhere, to jam with them. Among my favorites are Jim James from My Morning Jacket soft-singing “St. James Infirmary” (here’s live footage from the recent Newport Folk Festival) and Tom Waits’s gravelly, off-kilter version of “Tootie Ma Is a Big Fine Thing.”

Listen to “Tootie Ma Is a Big Fine Thing” (mp3):

Not only do these combos prove to be good representations of the native music but they also offer an excellent example of what a delicious gumbo is New Orleans-style jazz — a heady mishmash of traditional and novel styles, based on standard compositions, with lots of improvisation.

Another, more recent contribution to that region’s musical philanthropy is the Gulf Aid AllStars project. Organized by rapper Mos Def, and featuring members of Preservation Hall, as well as Lenny Kravitz, and Trombone Shorty, the group released an original composition (and a video), the jammin’ “It Ain’t My Fault,” available on iTunes, to provide relief from the latest insult on the Delta and its environs. I should also mention Backatown, the new LP from Trombone Shorty & Orleans Avenue (who played “One Night Only” recently on Letterman). It’s a funked-out, brassy answer to the question, who’s making good jazz records these days?

And now that we’ve got the fluids and music flowing, it’s time to settle in with a good book. One of my greatest used bookstore discoveries was Faulkner House Books, off Jackson Square, a boutique-like setting situated in the eponymous writer’s one-time residence. It is a destination spot for any bibliophile seeking trinkets from Southern and other literary luminaries — I once splurged on an autographed copy of A Craving for Swan, a collection of essays by Transylvanian transplant Andrei Codrescu. I really did.

But the writer I have mapped out now is Tennessee Williams, who would turn 100 in 2011. Although “10,” as he often signed his letters, wasn’t born in New Orleans, he moved there in 1939 and called it his home for much of the rest of his life. And, most important, he chose the city as the setting for many of his most absorbing plays, most notably the storm-tossed Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (watch the corny 1958 movie trailer) and the sultry A Streetcar Named Desire (check out this serio-comic interpretation by The Simpsons). My favorite, The Glass Menagerie, though set in St. Louis, is a Southern sympathizer for sure and will be reissued early next year by New Directions, with an introduction by playwright Tony Kushner. (You may read an excerpt here.) As a “memory play,” it seems like the most suitable material for perusal as we raise a glass and blow out another candle for New Orleans. Especially since, as Williams observed, “in memory, everything happens to music.”

As always, tell us what you think. What are your favorite memories of New Orleans? Are there other native foods, musical styles, or authors that you think everyone should know about? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

It’s the same thing every year. Not long before the last pop and fizzle of fireworks has begun to echo over the waterway on the 4th of July, I suddenly realize: summer is coming to an end.

Yes, I know that’s melodramatic. Technically speaking, the season is barely two weeks old at that point, with much ado to do and look forward to. And yet, standing in a crowd of friends and loved ones, often with one of my kids on my shoulders, watching the chrysanthemums and anemones of firelight bloom and fade (and boom) overhead, I can’t help feeling one of the highlights of the year has ended.

There's nothing normal about the new releases from Norman and others.

Maybe that’s why I enjoy taking in pyrotechnic displays: they are dazzling, delicate, and fleeting. Like all good things in life — Jiffy Pop popcorn, a grand slam in baseball, your first kiss — there’s a visible build-up, they arrive (or exit) with a bang, and they always leave you wanting more.

Maybe that’s what I enjoy about summer, too. Trudging through a record 3’ of snow just a few months ago, it seemed warm weather would never arrive. And now that “the three Hs” are here, settling their het-up, hefty haunches on our chest, it’s nice to know they will be moving on soon enough.

I guess what I’m getting at, what I’ve come to realize recently is, as any dead poet would tell you, carpe that diem. Whether watching fireworks light the night skies over the Severn River, or sweating out the dog days still rolling over on the calendar, it’s a good plan to appreciate each moment, the spectacular and the exasperating. And, yes, I know that’s melodramatic, too. But, as they say about the weather here in the middling Mid-Atlantic, whether you like or loathe what’s happening — just wait, it’ll change.

And the best way we at Scribbleskiff know how to A) sidetrack ourselves from saltation, or 2) savor every second, is to listen to a little new music. To that end, we have collected 18 songs, released over the past few months, that are sure to make your summer days (and nights) crackle and pop. But rather than shower you with them all at once, like a Roman candle, we’ve decided to make the fun last a little longer — like a tropical heat wave. We are posting six of our picks below, along with some commentary. You can listen to the rest for free (and opinion-free) at 8tracks.com (just click this link). Enjoy!

(If you are receiving this via email or Facebook and do not see the flash music players below each song, click here to listen in full on the blog site.)

“No Clouds,” Norman, Hay, Hay, Make a Wish and Turn Away. A lot more than one letter separates Norman from “normal.” In fact, there isn’t much that’s typical about this folky five-piece from Portland, Ore. With a sound that swings from rootsy jam-band (enough to wake The Dead) to lush baroque-pop (a la Fleet Foxes), and lighting on a litter of other influences in between (blues, country, and gospel, for instance), “No Clouds” will have you wishing its sunny disposition would linger a little longer.

Listen to “No Clouds” (mp3)

“Heat & Hot Water,” ARMS, EP. If this song is any indication, the arms of ARMS (the full-time side project for Todd Goldstein of the late Harlem Shakes) are open wide. Incorporating all sorts of musical styles and instrumentations — everything from lo-fi wood block knocks and hand claps to pulsing basslines, fuzzy jangly guitar, and crashing drums — “Heat & Hot Water” may be one of the coolest songs I’ve heard in a long time.

Listen to “Heat & Hot Water” (mp3)

“What’s In It For?,” Avi Buffalo, Avi Buffalo. If you’re looking for new talent, you can’t get much more fresh-faced than Avi Buffalo: three of the band’s members just graduated from high school. But these kids from Long Beach, California, must have old souls. In fact, it’s the other-era touches — Frankie Valli vocals, stringy VU guitar licks, Green on Red organ trills, etc. — that make this song sound sophisticated and, well, all grown up.

Watch the video for “What’s In It For?” (mp3)

“20 Miles,” Deer Tick, The Black Dirt Sessions. It may be old school (that’s a nicer way of saying “old fart”) to name-check REM these days, but the chorus of this song reconstructs the Stipean howl from “Talk About the Passion” so accurately that it stops me in my tracks every time I hear it. In a good, geezery way. But don’t let my oldfangled ear-brakes keep you from enjoying the ride with one of the best songs by one of the best roots-rockers recording today.

Listen to “20 Miles” (mp3)

“King of Spain,” The Tallest Man on Earth, The Wild Hunt. He may not really be the lankiest person on the planet, but this Swede sure has high hopes. With a galloping acoustic guitar rhythm and a ragged, pinched vocal style, Kristian Matsson is attempting to carry on the troubled troubadour/tramp tradition made famous by Mssrs. Dylan and Kristofferson. Sure, it’s been tried again and again, with limited success. But sometimes achieving something so simple and artful isn’t always such a stretch.

Listen to “King of Spain” (mp3)

“It’s Hard to Be Humble (When You’re From Alabama),” Phosphorescent, Here’s to Taking It Easy. I first heard these guys in early 2009 with the release of To Willie, an alt-country-esque yet faithful encomium to country music’s most famous (though now former) braidsman. And now that they’ve weathered their wooly ways, they’ve begun to grow their sound, adding new textures (like an apropos Memphis horn section), and generally sounding more mature. If nothing else, this song is proof that (to my ears, at least) you can’t have too much pedal steel guitar.

Listen to “It’s Hard to Be Humble (When You’re From Alabama)” (mp3)

So, there you have it, one-third of our mid-summer fun pack. But don’t wait too long before giving these songs a listen — they will be gone before you know it. And don’t forget to check back soon for the next installment.

As always, tell us what you think. Have you heard any of these new cuts yet? If so, which is your favorite? Or are there other summer songs that you think everyone should be listening to? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

Rarely do I purchase full-lengths anymore. It’s become necessary (and, well, funner) to simply cherry-pluck a few songs from amid the muckle of platters on the market.

Being on a limited budget is, of course, the main contributing factor to this behavior. I download as many (legitimately) free mp3s as I can; most record labels these days will give away a couple to promote new LPs. Even the evil geniuses at iTunes offer at least one a week, as a way to boost sales. But these aren’t always the choicest picks of the litter or, in some cases, even studio tracks.

So, in general, when it comes to laying out cash for a sought-after song I allow myself to buy only two from each release. This seemingly random, self-imposed Scrooge-ism may sound limiting, and it is. However, knowing your limitations has its own rewards. For example, shopping this way forces me to make sure my picks are superior. And I’d like to think I’ve gotten pretty good at performing this act and am happy with the outcome — as are, I presume, Scribbleskiff’s faithful readers. (But, please, don’t make me explain my recent two-fers by JJ or Me’Shell Ndegeocello.)

On the whole, I believe my eclectic jukebox approach, though not exactly music to the music industry’s ears, is equally as enjoyable as a completist’s and allows me to spread the love a little wider.

However, recent releases by two different artists — one I knew well but in a different context, and one I wanted to know better — have proven too tempting. After previewing all the tracks online, I realized I just couldn’t make the hard choices. In both cases, I had to suspend my “rule of two” and go whole hole. Luckily these decisions have been more than just wallet-wearying – they’ve been eye-opening and mind-expanding. In fact, I can honestly say my latest purchases sound so good they are literally out of this world – out of the American pop music world, that is.

Following are brief reviews of each record, along with a sample song or two (click here to get Flash player version). You may also listen to a playlist featuring other songs by these and related or similar-sounding artists by visiting the Scribbleskiff page at 8tracks.com (just click here). I’d be willing to bet that, after listening to these cuts, you won’t be able to pick just one either. Enjoy!

Go, by Jonsi

Go, Jonsi (XL Recording). Jonsi is the nickname of Jon Thor Birgisson, the lead singer and creative force behind Sigur Ros, an electronic-folk group from Iceland known for their often foreboding experimental compositions. I once compared one of their songs to the music that I imagined the Elves in The Lord of the Rings would make if they formed a rock band: mystical, ethereal, alien. Well, as it turns out, Legolas himself has put out a solo record. (I also recently discovered that the volcano Eyjafjallajokull erupted with a similar soundtrack.) Like his band’s output, Jonsi’s solo debut — equal parts Animal Collective, Enya, Jon Anderson (of Yes), and Bjork — is expectedly noisy, romantic, sweeping, and weird. Yet it’s also remarkably diverse and complex, a witches brew brimming with lush string and peppy brass arrangements; layers of keyboards, both piano and synths; some surprisingly offbeat (literally) drumming and playful rhythms; and an odd array of musical instruments and vocalizations. It’s an eclectic collection of beautiful songs, really, very different from a Sigur Ros LP in many ways and unlike anything you’d expect to hear on the so-called U.S. “indie music” scene right now — and yet somehow reflective of that genre’s independent spirit. Best of all, Jonsi sings (mostly) in English, which is a welcome departure from the beguiling though nearly impenetrable patois of Icelandic and a make-believe language he usually warbles in. I really like the lead-off track and single, “Go Do” (watch the video here), which showcases Jonsi’s avian vocal range, soaring between tenor and high-altitude falsetto, buoyed by a mixture of polyrhythms and found sounds. Other favorites include the lilting “Boy Lilikoi,” the dramatic “Tornado,” and the anthemic “Grow Till Tall.” This is a great soundtrack for an early morning – it’s uplifting without being saccharine, mythical and ambient, yet devoid of any New-Age bombast. If you seek musical inspiration at the start of the day then, by all means, go buy Go.

Listen to “Boy Lilikoi” (mp3):

Trans-Continental Hustle, by Gogol Bordello

Trans-Continental Hustle, Gogol Bordello (Columbia). Now, if you’d rather skip the spacey sonority of Jonsi and jump right to the punch-, er, line, then these Slavic eccentrics are what you seek. From the opening chorus of “Pala Tute,” the opening track, Gogol Bordello flounces on your sonic doorstep, banging on the knocker with one hand and holding a bottle of vodka in the other (watch them perform it live here). Peddling songs in a sprawling musical style known as “Gypsy punk cabaret” — an apt term for a rabble of Romani merry-makers whose sound is at once grounded in Old World traditions and at the same time poised to grind your face with their fists — Eugene Hutz, the scrawny, scruffy Ukraine-born band leader and head nogoodnik, has a flair for the dramatic. His voice sounds at times like a sneering, snarlier version of Shane McGowan (think The Pogues, but with Russian accents), and at other times more comical and showy, like a Ringling Bros. ringleader or a meeting of Kermit the Frog and The Count. But the music he makes is anything but laughable. It’s a Molatov cocktail of influences — a shakerful of everything from European folk tunes, to ska, punk, metal, flamenco, and country — covering a range of political and social issues, all from an outsider’s orientation: cultural revolution, racial outrage, star-crossed love, immigration, and so on. And all sung in a “wild and crazy,” tongue-twisting mash-up of languages, lyrics, and labels: “Last One Goes the Hope” (huh?) or “Immigraniada (We Comin’ Rougher)” (wha?). But all of this incongruity and inelegance somehow makes the music all the more intoxicating and infectious. Listening to this new collection by Gogol Bordello — their major label debut, in fact, with Rick Rubin as producer — reminds me of my first taste of real Hungarian Goulash in Budapest. I wasn’t exactly sure what was in it, or how it was made, but it was so indescribably good that I knew, after only the first bite, I had to have more right away.

Listen to “My Companjera” (mp3):

As always, tell us what you think. Are you a fan of Sigur Ros or Gogol Bordello? Have you heard either of these new records yet? What are your favorite songs? Let us know by leaving a comment below. By the way, this is our 100th post! Thanks to everyone who has been reading and commenting these past two years — especially you, dear reader, the one who has reached this the end of the penultimate paragraph.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

As T. S. Eliot once famously remarked, regarding the nature of talent and artistic development, “Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.” And although Eliot was lashing out against critics who accused his allusive poem The Waste Land of mere plagiarism, he was also providing a valuable template for any would-be artist, whether bard or bass player. In other words, borrowing from your predecessors is fine, just don’t act like a copy-cat.

It’s definitely a ruler I’ve used to quantify my work habits. But it wasn’t until recently that I took a closer look at the rest of the quote and realized its currency for music reviews: “Bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, something different.”

Another case of "Adult Education"?

That is certainly the case with the The Dark Side of Hall and Oates, a new tribute album by an artist collective known as Koot Hoomi. There is little imitation here, and certainly no defacing, either (not intentional, I don’t think). What there is is good poets taking someone else’s work and making into something much better and different. Definitely different.

First, a bit of a disclaimer: The immensely popular duo Daryl Hall & John Oates represents just about everything I hated about pop music in the late 1970s and early ’80s — from their wacky hairdos and goofy posturing to their watered-down soul and gooey overproduction. I avoided their songs whenever they came on the radio, which was often back in the day. And I regarded their fame as a watermark — if you liked them, there was a good chance I might not like you.

So when I recently found out there were not one but two new H&O tribute records hitting the market, recorded by two different groups of hip kids, my first reaction was, “What for?” quickly followed by, “What the?!” I mean, do we really need more versions of these tired old tunes? If I want to hear “Maneater,” complete with its cringe-making sax solo, I’ll go to my dentist’s office. Worse — and this thought concerned me the most — could it mean that H&O had somehow become cool, especially among young alt- and indie-rockers, and were receiving a revival?

The truth is I was right, at least in one regard, and completely off-base in just about every other way.

In addition to the aforementioned Dark Side release, the other H&O tribute record to hit the shelves this spring was Interpreting the Masters, Vol. 1 (A Tribute to Daryl Hall and John Oates), by The Bird and the Bee. For their contribution, the LA-based synthpop pair gathered up the most popular and revered H&O songs, dusted them off, and updated them a bit according to their New Wave-like dance-club whims. They’re faithful covers and don’t stray too far from the outline of the originals. Their interpretation of the urgent yet bouncy “Private Eyes,” for instance, sounds a little breathier and more uptempo (you can sample their version here). But it’s essentially the same song, with a more contemporary coating. I imagine the result will be endorsed by fans of both bands, it just isn’t surprising or satisfying.

On the other hand, the group known as Koot Hoomi — which I assume takes its name from Kuthumi, one of the “Masters of the Ancient Wisdom,” whose job is (appropriately) to bring back knowledge that has been lost to mankind, according to the Theosophists — has created an album of cover songs like none I’ve encountered in quite a while. Koot Hoomi doesn’t merely repeat history, reviving the biggest hits from the Hall & Oates catalog note for note. Instead, they tackle lesser-known and relatively obscure cuts, too, reinterpreting (and, in some cases, completely reinventing) them all.

The genius (and maturity) here lies not in the choice of songs but in the way the musicians have chosen to play them. According to the band’s Web site, the album was recorded “in living rooms and basements, using cheap instruments” and analog tape devices, which creates a somewhat homemade, “lo-fi” atmosphere. And that was appealing to me right away, given the heavy-handed production quality of the originals. (I know that was “an ’80s thing,” and not necessarily H&O’s intention, but it’s always been a big turnoff for me.)

Moreover, there appears to be a 1:1 relationship between song recognition and interpretation. In other words, Koot Hoomi give the lesser-known tracks like “Say It Isn’t So,” “I’m Sorry,” and “Had I Known You Better Then,” a stripped-down, straightforward treatment that captures the essence of the originals but creates something that’s novel and strong enough to stand on its own.

Listen to “Had I Known You Better Then” (mp3):

What was surprising to me is that, by going back to the basics and clearing away the layers of phony studio effects, the musicians are able to reveal an artistry in the songwriting — that’s right, I said “artistry” — that I missed in the originals. Which makes sense, I guess: it’s why I liked “MTV Unplugged” so much.

However, it’s the more popular tunes that bring out “the dark side” of Koot Hoomi. Each of the band members takes a turn taking apart the three chart-toppers that are included, sometimes with a scalpel and other times with a hammer. This eye-opening approach — doing the unexpected to the thing with the most expectations — now seems the most appropriate for a tribute record. It’s what Surrealist artist Meret Oppenheim was aiming for with her fur-lined teacup: sometimes, to recognize the value in a familiar object, you have to look at it in a new (even absurd) way.

For instance, “Maneater” is sung by a woman, group member Harper Piver, which turns the whole “dating-advice” conceit on its head. Meanwhile, “Kiss on My List” gets a “suite” transformation, going from a traditional four-minute pop song to an epic three-parter, complete with Apocalypse Now-like helicopters, psychedelic guitar flourishes, and a host of found sounds, including an electric drill (!).

Listen to “Kiss on My List” (mp3):

This is not parody, mind you, but there are definitely some moments when the tongue is planted firmly in the cheek — as in “I Can’t Go For That (Suite),” with its humorous rap outro, an outlandish rant about pop culture that name-checks everyone from L. Ron Hubbard to Celine Dion. It’s not for the fainthearted true believer.

No, and that’s the point here. If what you seek is a reworked yet fairly loyal rendition of your favorite Hall and Oates classics, then go get The Bird and the Bee’s new collection. I’m sure you will not be disappointed. But if you want to try something a little bit different, something that challenges your opinions and yet is still gratifying, then come over to The Dark Side of Hall and Oates.

It may be true that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery — at least that’s my mother used to say when my little sisters were “copying” me in the backseat of our Ford station-wagon. But, as I learned by listening to and comparing these two new tribute records, imitation may be most meaningful if it causes you to reconsider the original source and, possibly, see things you hadn’t seen before.

As always, tell us what you think. Have you heard either of these tribute records before? What are your favorite songs by Hall and Oates? Do you think cover songs, good or bad, have any value? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.