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It's A Shame About Ray
Lemonheadsâ seminal album âItâs A Shame About Rayâ, lovingly reissued for itâs 30th Anniversary. The long overdue reissue includes a slew of extra material, including an unreleased âMy Drug Buddyâ KCRW session track from 1992 featuring Juliana Hatfield, B-sides from singles âItâs A Shame About Rayâ and âConfettiâ, a track from the âMrs. Robinson/Being Roundâ EP, alongside demos that will be released for the first time on vinyl. his reissue celebrates their prestigious fifth album.
Described by music journalist and author Everett True as âA 30-minute insight into what itâs like to live hard and fast and loose and happy with like-minded buddies, fuelled by a shared love for similar bands and drugs and booze and freedom.â. âItâs A Shame About Rayâ had a considerable impact back in those heady, carefree days of â92, the record perfectly captures Dandoâs ability to effortlessly encapsulate teenage longing and lust over the course of a two-minute pop song.
Singles such as âMy Drug Buddyâ and the breezy perfect pop of the title track might stand out (plus the add-on of âMrs. Robinsonâ which later copies included), but the albumâs real strength lies in the tracks in-between; the truly fantastic âConfettiâ (written about Evanâs parentsâ divorce), and the eye-wateringly casual acoustic cover of âFrank Millsâ (from the âhippieâ musical Hair), a version that seems to resonate with every ounce of pathos and emotion felt for the lost 1960s generation. To hear Evan Dando sing lines like âI love him/but it embarrasses me/To walk down the street with him/He lives in Brooklyn somewhere/And he wears his white crash helmetâ is to truly appreciate how wonderful and tantalising pop music can be. Then, thereâs the rush of insurgency and brattishness on the wonderfully truncated âBit Partâ; the topsy-turvy âCeiling Fan In My Spoonâ⊠this was male teenage skinny-tie pop music on a level of brilliance with The Kinks, early Undertones, Wipers.
Described by music journalist and author Everett True as âA 30-minute insight into what itâs like to live hard and fast and loose and happy with like-minded buddies, fuelled by a shared love for similar bands and drugs and booze and freedom.â. âItâs A Shame About Rayâ had a considerable impact back in those heady, carefree days of â92, the record perfectly captures Dandoâs ability to effortlessly encapsulate teenage longing and lust over the course of a two-minute pop song.
Singles such as âMy Drug Buddyâ and the breezy perfect pop of the title track might stand out (plus the add-on of âMrs. Robinsonâ which later copies included), but the albumâs real strength lies in the tracks in-between; the truly fantastic âConfettiâ (written about Evanâs parentsâ divorce), and the eye-wateringly casual acoustic cover of âFrank Millsâ (from the âhippieâ musical Hair), a version that seems to resonate with every ounce of pathos and emotion felt for the lost 1960s generation. To hear Evan Dando sing lines like âI love him/but it embarrasses me/To walk down the street with him/He lives in Brooklyn somewhere/And he wears his white crash helmetâ is to truly appreciate how wonderful and tantalising pop music can be. Then, thereâs the rush of insurgency and brattishness on the wonderfully truncated âBit Partâ; the topsy-turvy âCeiling Fan In My Spoonâ⊠this was male teenage skinny-tie pop music on a level of brilliance with The Kinks, early Undertones, Wipers.
$30.73
It's A Shame About Rayâ
$30.73
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Description
Lemonheadsâ seminal album âItâs A Shame About Rayâ, lovingly reissued for itâs 30th Anniversary. The long overdue reissue includes a slew of extra material, including an unreleased âMy Drug Buddyâ KCRW session track from 1992 featuring Juliana Hatfield, B-sides from singles âItâs A Shame About Rayâ and âConfettiâ, a track from the âMrs. Robinson/Being Roundâ EP, alongside demos that will be released for the first time on vinyl. his reissue celebrates their prestigious fifth album.
Described by music journalist and author Everett True as âA 30-minute insight into what itâs like to live hard and fast and loose and happy with like-minded buddies, fuelled by a shared love for similar bands and drugs and booze and freedom.â. âItâs A Shame About Rayâ had a considerable impact back in those heady, carefree days of â92, the record perfectly captures Dandoâs ability to effortlessly encapsulate teenage longing and lust over the course of a two-minute pop song.
Singles such as âMy Drug Buddyâ and the breezy perfect pop of the title track might stand out (plus the add-on of âMrs. Robinsonâ which later copies included), but the albumâs real strength lies in the tracks in-between; the truly fantastic âConfettiâ (written about Evanâs parentsâ divorce), and the eye-wateringly casual acoustic cover of âFrank Millsâ (from the âhippieâ musical Hair), a version that seems to resonate with every ounce of pathos and emotion felt for the lost 1960s generation. To hear Evan Dando sing lines like âI love him/but it embarrasses me/To walk down the street with him/He lives in Brooklyn somewhere/And he wears his white crash helmetâ is to truly appreciate how wonderful and tantalising pop music can be. Then, thereâs the rush of insurgency and brattishness on the wonderfully truncated âBit Partâ; the topsy-turvy âCeiling Fan In My Spoonâ⊠this was male teenage skinny-tie pop music on a level of brilliance with The Kinks, early Undertones, Wipers.
Described by music journalist and author Everett True as âA 30-minute insight into what itâs like to live hard and fast and loose and happy with like-minded buddies, fuelled by a shared love for similar bands and drugs and booze and freedom.â. âItâs A Shame About Rayâ had a considerable impact back in those heady, carefree days of â92, the record perfectly captures Dandoâs ability to effortlessly encapsulate teenage longing and lust over the course of a two-minute pop song.
Singles such as âMy Drug Buddyâ and the breezy perfect pop of the title track might stand out (plus the add-on of âMrs. Robinsonâ which later copies included), but the albumâs real strength lies in the tracks in-between; the truly fantastic âConfettiâ (written about Evanâs parentsâ divorce), and the eye-wateringly casual acoustic cover of âFrank Millsâ (from the âhippieâ musical Hair), a version that seems to resonate with every ounce of pathos and emotion felt for the lost 1960s generation. To hear Evan Dando sing lines like âI love him/but it embarrasses me/To walk down the street with him/He lives in Brooklyn somewhere/And he wears his white crash helmetâ is to truly appreciate how wonderful and tantalising pop music can be. Then, thereâs the rush of insurgency and brattishness on the wonderfully truncated âBit Partâ; the topsy-turvy âCeiling Fan In My Spoonâ⊠this was male teenage skinny-tie pop music on a level of brilliance with The Kinks, early Undertones, Wipers.
























