It's looking official now: funny music has found greater favor on the Internet than on terrestrial radio. Dr. Demento's show airs on under 20 AM and FM signals throughout the U.S., and he's offering more songs in the online version of his humerus-tickling gig. Programs on collegiate and other non-commercial stations taking Demento's lead by running their own assortment of novelty tuneage have become as endangered a species as the model they're emulating. (The demise of one such show in my state can be attributed to its host station becoming a National Public Radio affiliate; I enjoy my weekend fix of "This American  Life", "Wait! Wait! Don't Tell Me!" and "On The Media" (which I hear elsewhere, anyway), but it's still too bad the station's host university chose to pull the plug on local programming.)

Though the above subject has been a source of my kvetching and woe in previous ROM musings, I'm OK with it now if it encourages more innovations such as The FuMP (The Funny Music Project).

Founded by a cadre of funny music/filk artists who have benefitted from Demeny's attention, it's an online repository for consistently new songs and an archive of all those that have been posted in its past. And don't bypass the cache of artist- and fan-produced videos, either. The songs are available to hear and download—gratis at a lower bit rate and purchase at a higher one; subscriptions may be purchased, too. Plus, there are bimonthly CD compilations. Yippee!

Thanks to two FuMP principals, THE GREAT LUKE SKI and rapper DEVO SPICE, of comedy hip-hop act SUDDEN DEATH, copies of the first eight such comps have come into my possession. In contravention of an admonishment from another editor, the following mass review of those anthologies fits the dictate of the dreaded ODTAA (One Damned Thing After Another) paradigm. I think we'll all live through it, and you may be all the more enlightened. So, come with me into an exploration of FuMPery's highlight up to earlier this year, yes?

Volume 1: Luke Ski, often mentioned already in this space, contributes a channeling of Jeff Foxworthy's most famous schtick applicable to Star Trek fans and a rap that's unusually not about anything sci-fi/comics/TV-related but a favorite pork product; funnier still to my ears is his skit (a FuMP rarity among what's mostly songs) introducing a repulsive new superhero, Unexplained Rash, with an assist by  the arguable first lady of the scene The FuMP promulgates, CARRIE DAHLBY. Sudden Death's best showing comes with a lament to mobile phone woes wherein "Can you hear me now?" is both plea and chorus.

The biggest FuMP contributor to be known outside of comedy music circles  may be TOM SMITH, whom Luke Ski has assured me is the king of filk. At his most accessible, Smith's rich baritone and erudite wit make his fandom for science fiction and computer/Internet culture accessible to those who don't fly their geek flags as high as he does (or haven't even bothered to pick one up); playing tech support for his father and Web site end-users license agreements.

Fellow FuMP regular WORM QUARTET, the one-man band comprised of a dude who otherwise calls himself SHOEBOX, makes maniacally grinding, ranting electro-rock that cleverly critiques, insults, and self-deprecates. Just as the work of the late Wesley Willis can be identified by his synth sounds and rhythmic patterns, so can WQ, though it's far more aggro than the aforementioned loveable schizophrenic . 'Box rails against the political correctness that has gentrified "Sesame Street".

On a much more tender note, regular folkie FuMPer/comic strip artist ROB BALDER considers the relationship between Dr. Bunsen Honeydew and his beleagured assistant, Beeker, at "Muppet Labs". Less tender and plenty hornier, POSSIBLE OSCAR affirms fanboy libidos by reimagining Poison on "Talk Nerdy To Me".

Strangest dang thing here comes courtesy of a band whose name I hope isn't entirely serious. POWERED BY SATAN  should cause amusement among non-Mephistopholeans and vegans alike with the demanding screed "You Must Give Me Beef".

Volume 2: You won't lack for synonyms for mammaries once you hear www.Spaff.com resident vocalist ROBERT LUND's spoof of German New Wavers Nena's biggest Stateside hit. SEAMONKEY's take on hillbillies and middling Aussie rockers Jet is an ode to dining on a certain woodland creature. Steady FuMp duo RAYMOND AND SCUM sing of the diffidences and virtues of "Time With Your Wife".

Volume 3: That hoary respository of kiddie education, School House Rock, has given inspiration comedy music through the years, with THE BROBDINGNAGIAN BARDS being one of the latest with their examination of "Exclamations". Deceptively wimpy as the 'Bards are cheekily literary, JONATHAN COULTON gets excited at the prospect of al fresco fornication in '70s acoustic singer-songwriter style. Nerdcore rapper MC LARS rightly wonders about the legitimacy of Scientology (and surprises me with his list of some of its adherents) over snappy electro-metal hip-hop, but he loses me with his ultimate subjectivity. Keeping with kitties adorning this editions artwork, MARC GUNN goes all sea chanty-sounding about missing arrogant felines (those last two words perhaps being a redundancy?) who return to their owners; Smith offers his musings on the "LOL cats" Internet picture phenomenon, as well. And THE GOTHSICLES employ aggressive trance  danciness to a banger about videogame minutae with screaming glee.

Volume 4: The gravity associated with U2 hasn't often lent itself to parody, but POSSIBLE OSCAR transforms the Irish activist rockers' decrying of sectarian violence in their homeland into an ode to a chocolatey ice cream treat. David Bowie has neither been the object of much hilarity, but that's where POWER SALAD's tale of an inebriated astronaut comes in. Robert Lund sings the implied sequel about stalking that may logically follow from The Plain White T's recent hit emo ballad about a certain Biblically-named object of affection. Dahlby contemplates the approach of her 30th birthday and explores how anything can become a song. Spice and his Sudden Death DJ THE PROFESSOR adapt a Newcleus electro-hip-hop dusty into a (mostly) celebration of Wikipedia. PAUL AND STORM gently commemorate the passing of the man responsible for the creation of their favorite dubious fast food entree/snack, Chicken McNuggets (with faux choral soul gospel vamp!).

Volume 5: Hear Earl "WYNGARDE" Luckes, Jr. and Luke Ski rant about most everything chafing their fanboy, political, culinary, comedic and otherwise cultural skins over a wild-arse track that exists in that space where punk rock and free jazz (without brass) collide. Catch the greatest posse cut of the series thus far as Seamonkey enlists fellow filkers Smith, HOUZEMAN and GLENN LIXX for a take on what may be The Shop Boyz only claim to kitsch rap-metal fame/infamy. Subject yourself to Worm Quartet's mea culpas for everything that may have possibly been Shoebox's fault...and a good many that aren't. And hear the supressing of my envy as PROJECT SISYPHUS regales the program that makes me want to get a Mac as my next computer—Garageband—in a medley of styles in one song.

Volume 6: Christmas time in FuMPville isn't much about the baby Christ child and not much more about Santa Claus. Smith envisions what he wishes the jolly old elf should leave under his tree (and how he covers the backsides of fellow FuMP'ers over a Billy Joel-inspired melody), while Seamonkey denies the existence of Kris Kringle altogether to the melody of a ditty that announces his coming. What's more, Luke Ski proffers a follow-up to his ode wishlist for a über fan's holiday. CARL HATMAKER provides a rare touch of country in a hony-tonker about how hunting and Santa's yearly trip outside the North Pole collide in the demise of a red-nosed reindeer. Another elf and a pegasus (and a drunken hook-up) provide the singer of HOT WAFFLES with upscale bacon cheeseburgers. Project Sisyphus gets tongue-tyingly silly in a tribute to the Saw movies. More prurient juvenalia comes courtesy of FLIBBBERTIJIBBET's appraisal of—OK, I can't avoid the title wth this'un—"The Scrotum Fog Of Lake Titicaca". And if that's not enough for you about guys' junk, Spice cops KANYE WEST's DAFT PUNK collabo' to bewail the miniscule quality of his masculine appendage (how daringly unrapperly, yes?).

Volume 7: Madison, Wisconsin cult hero/comedic busker ART PAUL SCHLOSSER makes his FuMP premiere on a Luke Ski-abetted pastiche dance remix of his urging for all of us to get weird; and pretty darn weird it is. About as weird are POSITIVE ATTITUDE's litany of things going wrong with the universe that should, nonetheless, cheer up a body; later, they imagine the scenario of The Chipmunks offing their mentor, David Seville. Dahlby chided Britney Spears on the previous volume; but, here, Hatmaker still wants to...uh...partake of her, despite her one-time tonsorial baldness (to distinguish her head from other, more indiscrete pictures of her, right?). Hot Waffles ups Hatmaker's country ante in his sex manual-in-song for computer nerds. ERIC COLEMAN dissects manifold Internet ephemera—especially Photoshopping women's heads to bodies that aren't theirs—with two-chord strums. BOB RICCI morphs a Christina Aguilera power belter into one about how his computer can't be hacked. Raymond & Scum may call their contribution "The Classiest Song In The World",  but that's to disguise their gutterpunky remodel of an age-old number about a certain gastro-intestinal ailment.

All volumes have been, thus far, on Sudden Death's FIDM Internactive label. Most come with bonus CD-ROM video content, and every collection contains over 15 tunes. The ninth set's out as you read this. Now have fun wading through the links, eh?

The FuMp
The Great Luke Ski
Sudden Death
Carrie Dahlby
Tom Smith
Worm Quartet
Partially Clips (Balder's clip-art comic strip)
Powered by Satan (who's now the man known as Flibbertijibbet)
The Brobdingnagian Bards
Seamonkey
Raymond and Scum
Possible Oscar
Jonathan Coulton
MC Lars
Marc Gunn
The Gothsicles
Power Salad
Paul and Storm
Wyngade
Project Sisyphus
Hot Waffles
Soul Patch (Hatmaker's band)
Positive Attitude
Eric Coleman
Carla Ulbrich

This year, I attended my first high school reunion since the fifth anniversary of my class matriculating back in the '80s. How time has been kind to some of my distaff classmates (and, alas, less so to others) and the degree to which the system of cliques/castes has broken down in the ensuing decades and are only so relevant to a music column. If I were to think about the tangle of circumstances that apparently determined my degree of romantic (mis)fortune with the former and my position within the schemata of the latter, it's probably figured into how music and the appreciation of it has figured into my life. And goodness knows the intersection of yours truly's trip on this globe and music's intersection therewith has significantly shaped the direction of ROM. As perhaps it should be, eh?

But then there was the music at the reunion. Last time I attended, provided for our drinking and dancing—if there was dining, I've no recollection of the food—was a covers-happy bar band of what I recall to be middling talent and silly name (Dr. Bombay, since I inferred it). This year, a Dj was on hand, more seemingly for ambience than to facilitate dancing. If memory serves, none of the latter went on during that first reunion I attended, either.
   

In the evening's few outbreaks of dancing I did witness, however, it was from females only, on a postage stamp of a dancefloor (the shindig was held at a marina converted into a bar&grill, where dancing wasn't highly figured into the building's function, I guess). And then, they were moving to songs that didn't exactly inspire me to become the sole XY chromosome bearer amid what would have been five bodies at most out there, especially when some of those whom I'd have joined looked to be drunk. I didn't have any tolerance for bringing myself to intoxication or hanging wth those who enjoyed inducing same among themselves back when we were legally compelled to endure the 8 am - 3:15 pm  public education shift, and that remains as much the same about me.
  

I wonder how many of my robe 'n mortar board compatriots would have wanted to have joined me near the CD (or download?) deck had we been subject to tunes that would have impelled me to get on out and shake what the good Lord gave me. In the spirit of the dread ODTAA that has defined some of this column already, here's an arbitrary list of songs, not necessarilly uniformly indicative of anything about me, per se (though some are), from roughly my middle-to-grad school years (that I recall from those years and didn't hear later and that would move me to potentialy make a fool of myself...in that way, anyway). These should consume the five-hour span I spent among my Waupun High peers. Enterprising readers with enough time and amity for me  are encouraged to make me a mix of what follows, and you'll get kudos within this column, of course. So, in no real order...

  1) "Homosapien" - Pete Shelley
  2) "Temptation" - New Order
  3) "Ya Mama" - Wuf Ticket
  4) "Cruiser's Creek" - The Fall
  5) "Seven Year Ache" - Roseanne Cash
  6) "Dance This Mess Around" - The B-52's
  7) "Dutch Hercules" - Tesco Vee
  8) "Trouble Funk Express" - Trouble Funk
  9) "Another Thing Coming" - Judas Priest
10) "Dance Stop" - Daniel Amos
11) "Look Out Weekend" - Debbie Deb
12) "Looking For The Perfect Beat" - Afrika Bambaata and The Soul Sonic Force
13) "Transmission" - Joy Division
14) "Double Dutch Bus" - Frankie Smith
15) "Love Can't Turn Around" - Farley Jackmaster Funk with Darryl Pandy
16) "Public Image" - Public Image Limited
17) "Potential New Boyfriend" - Dolly Parton
18) "Last White Christmas" - Basement 5
19) "White Men Out of Work" - Rip Tenor and His Cavalcade of Top Bananas
20) "English White Boy Engineer" - The Three Johns
21) "Public Enemy Number One" - Public Enemy
22) "Bad Times (I Can't Stand It)" - Captain Rapp
23) "I'll Do Anything For You" - Denroy Morgan
24) "Boys Don't Cry" - The Cure
25) "Five Foot One" - Iggy Pop
26) "Situation" - Yaz(oo)
27) "You're No Good" - ESG
28) "Like This" - Chip E.
29) "Dreaming of Me" - Depeche Mode
30) "Let Me Go" - Heaven 17
31) "Hang On to Your Love" - Sade
32) "Party Time" - Kurtis Blow 
33) "Love is Bigger Than Life" - Ideola (a/k/a Mark Heard)
34) "Pop Muzik" - M (ak.a. Robin Scott)
35) "Me No Pop I" - Coati Mundi (a/k/a Andy Hernandez)
36) "Rock Box" - Run DMC
37) "Jukebox Baby" - Martin Rev
38) "It Takes Two" - Seduction 
39) "I Feel Love" - Donna Summer
40) "Tether To Tassel" - L.S.U. (a.k.a. Lifesavers Underground)
41) "I'll House You" - The Jungle Brothers 
42) "Fall Down (Spirit of Love)" - Tramaine (Hawkins)
43) "Angel Eyes" - Roxy Music
44) "Voulez Vous" - ABBA
45) "Mission à Paris" - Gruppo Sportivo
46) "Going Underground" - The Jam
47) "Speak Like a Child" - The Style Council
48) "Joy and Pain" - Rob Base & DJ E - Z Rock
49) "Promised Land" - Joe Smooth
50) "Europa" - Thomas Dolby
51) "Telecommunication" - A Flock of Seagulls
52) "Sense of Purpose" - Third World
53) "Forever Mercy" - The Altar Boys
54) "No More Innocence" - Mad at the World 
55) "Black Betty" - Ram Jam
56) "Acid Tracks" - Phuture
57) "Stranger in My House" - Ronnie Milsap
58) "Running Up That Hill" - Kate Bush
59) "She Sells Sanctuary" - The Cult
60) "The Beat Goes On" - Orbit
61) "Summertime Summertime" - Nocera
62) "This Disco (Used to Be a Cute Cathedral)" - Steve Taylor
63) "Do You Wanna Funk" - Sylvester
64) "Antmusic" - Adam And The Ants
65) "What's In Your Mouth" - The Oil Tasters
66) "What Difference Does It Make?" - The Smiths
67) "Roxanne Roxanne" - U.T.F.O.
68) "Ba Ba Ba Ba" - The 77s
69) "I Feel Love" - Donna Summer
70) "Too Nice to Talk To" - The English Beat
71) "Ha Ha Ha" - Flipper
72) "Microphone Fiend" - Eric B. & Rakim
73) "The Modern Dance" - Pere Ubu
74)" Lie Down in the Grass" - Charlie Peacock
75) "The Show" - Doug E. Fresh & The Get Fresh Crew featuring Slick Rick
76) "A Million Miles Away" - The Plimsouls
77) "Money" - The Flying Lizards
78) "Computer Games" - Yellow Magic Orchestra  
79) "I Zimbara" - Talking Heads
80) "Places That Are Gone" - Tommy Keene
81) "So Hungry, So Angry" - Medium Medium 
82) "Nobody I Know Likes This Government" - Beat! The Naked
83) "Urgent" - Foreigner (the Dj may have played it, but I must have been talking to someone, and/or nobody else was dancing) 

Every now and again, I defy the reason I got into the gig that finds you reading my words now, and I buy new CDs. And with the lack of shops selling new discs in a roughly 40 mile radius, I'm now finding myself patronizing a relatively nearby big-box electronics retailer. Two such recent experiences have me less than thrilled at the biodegradably green packaging in which I found my purchases.

Admittedly, my dissatisfaction with LIL MAMA's VYP:Voice Of The Young People (Jive) doesn't come entirely from its cardboard encasement. The teen rapper born Niatia Kirkland set up her début longplayer with charmingly bubblegum singles that gave me hope that commercial hip-hop could again be fun, even if they didn't make the radio much around me (nor, oddly enough, the R&B countdowns to which I'd been listening at the time). Any girl with moxie enough to brag on the power of her lipgloss without a hint of innuendo and make the genius move of adding her piece to a remix of posing pop punkette Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend" is my kind of MC.
  

I can understand how she wouldn't want to be pigeonholed, though. And, per the insinuation of her album's title, how she wants to rap and sing wth conscience and concern for her peers. Since I haven't heard her on Radio Disney, no one should have expected her to be a rhyme-spitting Vanessa Hudgens (however, just writing that has me thinking of how killer a duet among them would be).
   

There are too many times on her album, however, that the gal's just too heavy. Like Curtis Mayfield or Funkadelic metallic blues "woe are the kids" heavy. That's easy to respect, but Mama might do better to offer some hope and sonic lightness in the manner of her hits.
  

All that said, the deluxe edition I splurged to buy comes in an oversize, ultra-garish package that gives me the immediate impression that she'll have even more to prove come time to lay down tracks for a follow-up. I believe Mama has it in her, but she has to make an upward climb, first.
  

ELVIS COSTELLO, conversely, has amassed enough commercial and critical goodwill to threaten to issue his latest collection with THE IMPOSTERS, Momofuku (Lost Highway; named for the inventor of ramen noodles, in keeping with the quick and casual assemblage of the album, it's been stated elsewhere) only on vinyl and download and not ruffling too many feathers. And yay to the former Declan MacManus for not only relenting to release it on CD, but also recording twelve songs that sound like the missing link between This Year's Model and Armed Forces, albeit with the sharper storytelling songwriting he's developed since the late '70s.
  

Maybe because releasing it in my favored configuration (though I'd considrered buying the LP, even without the fancy record cleaner on which I'm wanting to spend a small fortune) was an afterthought, or maybe in keeping with the low-key nature of the entire project, it looks something akin to crap. Maybe that's Costello being unpretentious or exhibiting the pretension of anti-pretension. But perhaps because he's an artist who helped get me through times of upheaval such as high school ('sorry I didn't think to put you on the above imagined playlist, El'; I know some in my class are familiar with—but didn't like, at the time—"Pump It Up"), I expected packaging to match the quality of the music.
  

And that's the basic trouble with the directive of current Columbia Records head Rick Ruben and whomever else in his echelon is advocating for these kind of sub-Digi-Pak. It's bad enough to see acts you already like in dumpy packaging. It must be worse, still, for newcomers and bands you might want to try but whose wares you're wary about buying. Speaking of both, at the same place I picked up the aforementioned items, I  saw the latest by a guy whose album I should have bought by now, Sean Kingston, and a group whom I've liked when I've seen them on TV, The Naked Brothers Band, in the kind of thin, single-panel cardboard sleeve in which I still sometimes receive advance CDs. Where's the room for lyrics, additional pictures, and being something just a bit heftier to appreciate?
  

Maybe in this age of download dominence, such niceties matter less to more people. But I think not. My vantage point as a critic allows me to diagnose a malady without prescribing a cure. And frankly, wih a stack of CDs to review before I submit this to Our Patsy and Kym, I'm not inclined to consider that prescription right now. And not that I wish ill to Mother Earth, but there must be something that can be done to keep me in a mood to support wth my dollars what I'm already pretty good about supporting with my time.

Now, let's get to the quick(er) CD reviews of other relatively recent aquisitions and accumulations, shall we? OK!

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More shorties next time, Lord (and the mail?) willing. 'Got music you think I'll like...or can write about in such a manner that you think others would want to read about it? As always, please send to...

P.O. Box 29
Waupun, Wisconsin 53963-0029
USA