I coulda been somebody...I coulda been a de-virginized pre-pubescent stud...but I am what I am...so go ahead, laugh at me Mr. Airplane Man...laugh til you cry

  I don’t have a problem with these two fabulous looking women calling their combo Mr. Airplane Man. Not one bit. I don’t have a problem with these girls, or any girls for that matter, playing the sort of two-piece blues that’s so in vogue these days (The plea: I am not a rockroll sexist pig!   I am a simple, sensitive male.  I am a politically correct male. I am a sensitive, non-sexist, politically correct new millennium kinda guy who finds these chicks…err…women HOT as hell because they play the fucking blues…and look good doing so.   They are beauties to be sure, but it is the music that makes them sexy – you can be utterly confident of that much!). Nosireebob!  And I don’t have a problem with another minimalist blues duo entering the fray (although, truth be told, they’ve been around before said fray). Nor do I have any problem keeping Mr. Airplane Man separated from the mass of more visible (visible? Christamighty those White Stripes are every-fucking-where these days) bands plying this hipster’s blues trade because their approach is so very distinctive (although they do brush elbows with that sordid sonic fever that the Black Keys are spreading).  And I sure as shit don’t have a problem with Margaret Garret’s as-smart-as-Polly Jean Harvey’s vocals, because sounds like those just so happen to make a fella melt (I am a puddle of liquidly fluid chocolate pudding in the grasp of this racket!)

  My only problem with this record, Moanin’, is Tara McManus.   Her name…her last name: McManus.  Because Jenny McManus was the first girl to ever scare the shit out of me with her assertive aggression.  Tara McManus is not, of course, Jenny McManus.  Tara plays drums; Jenny probably never finished High School.  Tara has dark hair; Jenny was a blondish brunette.  I don’t know Tara from didley-squat save for her terrific drumming on Moanin’; Jenny was a fast sixth grade girl who, as rumor had it, had been with a ‘High School’guy!  Tara doesn’t even know I exist; Jenny, who has probably forgotten me, came after me in the sixth grade with a worldly and knowing aggression (she had even smoked a cigarette in front of me once – sheees, I was helpless!)

  So whatsit got to do with all this rock and roll shit? Jenny McManus? Tara McManus? Margaret Garrett? PJ Harvey? Howlin’ Wolf (he’s covered here on Moanin’ twice – superbly if yer askin’ me)?  It’s got every-fucking-thing to do with it! EVERYTHING.  Because, you see, this whole rockroll mess has, was, is, and always will be about just that: boys and girls! girls and girls! boys and boys! sweat and saliva! Lips! Legs! Limbs! Lust! Lasciviousness! Especially in these hot grind/grind blues that Mr. Airplane Man are selling you’ll find it…the bottom line: Sex!

   And sex is what makes it work.  Yeah, sure, you’re gonna dig these two gorgeous girls squawking the down dirty blues. It cannot be ignored.  But, you’re also gonna dig it because it’s fucking done in primo shit hot fashion.  Garrett and McManus (that name again!) do it right and do it very, very well.  Maonin’ is in many ways as good as any other entry into this new world post-punk alterna blues kingdom, and in many ways it’s better.  It’s an assertive record (just spin the shot-from-sawed-off-double-barrel cover version of “Commit a Crime” and try not to sweat…I dare ya) that – unlike some of their competing practitioners - never pretends to have invented this music, they just use it for what it’s always been meant to be used for: to exorcise those demons of the soul.  They play it straight, they play it right, and they play it damn well.

  And all things considered, I’m wishin’ I’d had this record back in those days when Jenny McManus was around and given me the girl-who-knows groove – I might have been able to figure out a thing or two with her. As it stands now, well, as you can tell, I’m pretty fucking hopeless. But at least I’ve got this Moanin’ record to soothe my post-pubescent fantasy blues

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