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Brahms' 3rd Racket | Gretchen Corbett

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Recommended if You Like
10cc Be-Bop Deluxe Frank Zappa

Album Links
B3R Website

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United States - Illinois

Other Genres You Will Love
Rock: Adult Alternative Pop/Rock Pop: British Pop Moods: Type: Sonic
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Gretchen Corbett

by Brahms' 3rd Racket

This is it. You have arrived. All your pain and suffering, the hapless wandering in the dark, the nagging doubts, the rainy days, the lonely nights, the flooding toilets...all of it...it's all behind you, now. You have arrived. Go get your headphones.
Genre: Rock: Adult Alternative Pop/Rock
Release Date: 

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  Song Share Time Download
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1. Gretchen Corbett
3:15 album only
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2. Seeing Eye Dog
4:27 album only
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3. Jesus in Japan
4:01 album only
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4. Crème De La Crème
4:42 album only
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5. Nashville Girl
2:58 album only
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6. Hardware Store
5:30 album only
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7. Palindrome
3:00 album only
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8. Champion of the People
2:41 album only
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9. Rock & Roll Hall of Fame
8:34 album only
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10. Pastor Hansen's Dream
3:45 album only
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11. Skin in the Game
2:21 album only
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12. Sexy Booty on the Dance Flo
4:38 album only
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13. Way (Go) Back
5:28 album only
Downloads are available as MP3-320 files.

ABOUT THIS ALBUM


Album Notes
“Would you really call it British Pop? Does it sound like 10cc? The Style Council? Tears for Fears? Prefab Sprout? Does it really sound like Zappa, Bill Nelson, XTC, Steely Dan?”

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. It doesn’t really sound like anything else, and I confess I have no idea what "sonic" means, but I had to pick something, so…”

Modern Rock? Adult Alternative? Low fat? High Carb? Caffeine Free? Extra Crispy?

Common wisdom says you’ve got to have a short and snappy descriptor for your music. You have to have a “genre” or your music won’t be distributed through websites like this, or even talked about by anyone because the poor souls won’t know what to “call it” then. (!!!) Which means that if you cannot squeeze your sound into one of the prefabricated molds (Smooth Jazz, Hardcore, Future Soul, etc.), you’ll have to conjure a new one: Abracadabra! Alakazam! Injection molded! Here we is!

One guy told me the music he made was: “Primitive Modern Acoustic Scientist Music.” He said it with a very serious face. He had been working on it. “Primitive Modern Acoustic Scientist Music.” That was his genre. I wanted to slap him.

Another lady I heard on NPR (where else?) claimed to have invented a new genre called “Afro Soul,” the name apparently derived from the fact that she happened to be African American and was simultaneously fond of crooning the words “Afrooooooo Soooooul” over some jazzy-loungey keyboard tinkling. Afro Soul, my ass. It just sounds like a big hairdo.

Folks, if we continue to allow these hucksters to slap their meaningless doublespeak on musical sounds (like campaign stickers on telephone poles) where will it end? Check out some of the alleged “genres” that have somehow found their way into the CD Baby dropdown list: Freakbeat? What is that, a kid’s cereal? Shoegaze? No, I’m sorry, children, but admiring your shoelaces does not qualify as any music. And are there really that many morons running around convinced their special genre is called “Paisley Underground” that the stupid thing has to be included in the dropdown? The golden rule ought to be: “The only true description of any sound is that sound, itself.” (Sometimes I tell people that Einstein said that. And they believe me! But I confess to you now, it is a lie. It was me. I said it.)

“So what,” you might ask, “does all this have to do with this CD, Gretchen Corbett?” Well…

The thirteen pieces of music on this disc come with no short and snappy descriptors attached. One of them is instrumental. The others have singing, or, in one instance, talking. They each occupy their own space. The instrumentation changes from one to the next. Different time signatures, keys, tonal colors and textures are employed. Some of the lyrics are story-like, others are more abstract. Lurking between the sixteenth notes you’ll find religious kooks, political scammers, mercenary women, supernova’d rock stars, even a big, flaming hunk of shimmying, sexy booty, but no genre boundaries or injection-molded plastic. Rejoice. You have been liberated. You don’t have to call this music anything. All you have to do is shut up and use your ears.

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