Friday Night Jukebox
This is the first one of these I’ve done, mostly because my musical tastes are not very sophisticated. I’ve got a decent ear for classical, but when it comes to rock, blues, country and rockabilly, it’s a bit like roller coasters: I like whatever’s fast, simple, rickety, and gives me a sugar high. I figured I’d post a Friday jukebox anyway because my posting’s been light and this place’s been on fire lately.
Anyway, the Makers were part of an early 90s garage rock revival that was, for me, a godsend, living as I did in DC, where the music scene was divided between go-go, which I like, and earnest, post-punk emo art-rock, which got old pretty quickly for me. By high school, most of the records in my collection were either 60s garage bands or anything on Sun Records. So, for me, the purely juvenile pleasure of the new garage bands was like a blast of smoky, boozy, perfumed air.
The Makers started out as a sort of mix of mod, skiffle, and punk: sort of like The Pretty Things, but meaner. At their height, they played this stuff better than anybody around. Then they switched to playing glitter rock right before MTV christened a garage rock revival. I’ve always wondered if The Makers wanted to smash the set when they saw The Hives.
Anyway, this song is from their album Psychopathia Sexualis, where they were transitioning from mod to glam. It’s ridiculous, over-the-top, a little goofy, and kinda lewd. But, man, what a riff!