I'd been feeling a bit nostalgic about Officewatch™ lately, plus I had approximately two million e-mails to catch up on. So I spent all of Saturday in the office, despite the fact that it was absolutely beautiful outside. I awoke in my bed at 7:00 fucking a.m., was in by 8:30, and the cleaning lady was there. Solution: I played the Men's Leave Home (because they were playing later that night) on the headphones until she finished vacuuming and dislodged. But: STFU, GRANT, YOU ALREADY WROTE ABOUT THAT. About 10 percent of the way into my electronic mail clusterfuck (11:32 a.m.), I started to wonder if there was a beer in the editorial fridge. At 12:32 p.m., I looked, and THERE WAS. It was some sort of Pyramid, no doubt mailed to Bethany Jean Clement for sampling. I obliged, testing one while listening to Daptone Records' El Rego reissue El Rego. El Rego has been called the Godfather of Benin Funk for his essential recordings of the '60s and '70s with his band Ses Commandos, whose output ranged from traditional rhythms of West Africa to Afro-Latin, Afrofunk, and even Benin-style blues. Songs like opener "Feeling You Got" sound like stateside funk of that era, only you haven't heard it 8,000 times. Other tracks take on the more static, jaunty traditional rhythms of the region. You can also find Rego's work on the excellent Analog Africa compilation Legends of Benin, as well as at least one other Daptone 7-inch reissue. After the Pyramid (thanks, Pyramid; sorry, Bethany!), I got tired and started reading the paper on the horrible stinky couch in the middle of editorial. Then I fell asleep reading the paper on the horrible stinky couch in the middle of editorial. Then I awoke to the sound of the security keypad being decoded outside, so I sat up and pretended to be reading the paper again. Who entered but Dan Savage for his annual visit to the office! He peeked his head around the corner and said only, "Hey." Well, THANKS FOR RUINING MY NAP, DAN SAVAGE.
This interruption forced me to drink the other Pyramid while listening to the new LP from London trio Male Bonding, Endless Now, due out on Sub Pop on August 30. Initial impression: This one is soft as a puppy's hair-dome compared to the band's first record, Nothing Hurts, and by the time the gleeful/melancholic guitars of "Seems to Notice Now" (the record's third track) charge in, it's evident this album is a winner. Nevertheless, the urgency, tension, and volume of Nothing Hurts are largely absent. I came in early Sunday and worked for a few more hours, but that story is really boring.
