Why isn't there a thread where we can gush about the Blake Babies?

Sunburn is wonderful. and i'd like to rant about Juliana's "Hey Babe" while im at it

sunburn is a really good record, although it doesn't resonate with me quite like it did when i was 18

rosy jack world is my favourite by far though

I played Only Everything for MC the other day after having ranted on about it to him months before and he loves it too. Sunshine grunge is it, absolutely.

With the tide of early 90's revivalism rising, these guys are due any day now for a comeback.

Which would be nice for them in terms of money. But I think that the major appeal of the Blake Babies was that they sounded very young (Juliana had the voice of a 13 year old).

Not sure Hatfield really needs the money

They released an album seven years ago.

i need to get earwig one of these days

I need to go back to 92
Doctor!

The 2000 or 2001 LP is good!

I have been listening to this very old mini-LP (7 tracks, c.1988?) on vinyl - purple & white sleeve; crikey I don't even know what it's called. But it's terrific!

"Girl In A Box" has been one of my favorites for years, but I'm just now hearing Sunburn for the 2nd time.. the first time was last night. I didn't realize she sings on almost everything.

Strohm was gonna write an entire book about his early days including this band, I hope he puts that out someday.

he had heaps of stuff up on a blog about the blake babies history from his perspective for a while which was really interesting, i would be a shame if he didn't do something with it

yeah that's what I was talking about, we come from the same Indiana scene and that was the Musical Family Tree page. he pulled all of those entries cause he wanted to put them into book form, then Facebook took over and I haven't heard anything more.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&v=O0ex4MEa0zc&NR=1

Try again
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0ex4MEa0zc

(maybe it's that endscreen that messes up the embedding)

Gimme some mi-i-i-i-rth!

Comeback album (13 years ago jeez) is sounding very good and comforting to these middle-aged ears. But yeah as hinted upthread, it does kinda feel like a different band

I started listening to Sunburn again recently after a decade-plus of not hearing. It's a fantastic album and holds up really well. I wish there were more coed duets, as they sound really nice together, but still good stuff.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5P-56UHN0Fc

So this one off reunion show.

Not sure Hatfield really needs the money
― baaderonixx, Thursday, April 3, 2008 10:05 AM (8 years ago) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

Juliana was recently trying to sell a handwritten note from Kurt Cobain just to pay bills

Yeah, it's not like she's related to the guy who wrote King Kong or something.

Maybe one or two off.

She didn't write back. She didn't write, she didn't call, she did not respond. I don't blame her. If our places were reversed, if I made an album and she wrote a review of it that amounted to a marriage proposal, I can't say for sure how I would react, either. We pour ourselves into songs and essays, and when we do it right it's a cunning imitation of a sincere attempt at making personal connections, but that doesn't mean we're prepared to be successful. A part of me believed that there really might have been a sense in which Bed was Juliana's attempt to find me, not me in some metaphorical sense but me. And another part of me was simply powerless, once the words "If we marry" lodged themselves in my mind, to do anything but play out the rhetorical impulse and see how a record review that began that way would end. I did hope she would respond (and not, preferably, by having her lawyer send me a threatening memo). If she had, I don't know whether I would have been more thrilled or terrified. But I took the possibility this seriously: I printed out a copy of the review, wrote my name, address and phone number on the bottom of it, took it with me to her concert a few weeks after that issue appeared, waited around after the show until she came back out to sign autographs, and handed it to her. I'm not confident that was a good idea, but it seemed to me that once I had written her a public love letter, not trying to deliver it would constitute some unpleasant mixture of hypocrisy and cowardice. So I delivered it. I wrote a love letter to a stranger, published it, and delivered it. Maybe you think that's romantic, maybe you think it's pathetic. I haven't completely made up my mind, myself.

I was fully prepared to get no response. In my mental calculations, I think I figured there was about a five percent chance, at best, that the letter would break through the wall of expectations and protocol between us. The other ninety-five percent covered a wide range of possible reactions, some of the more coherent ones being aversion, disinterest, incomprehension and unavailability. What I forgot to account for, though, is that if she didn't respond, I would have no way of knowing why. Aversion, disinterest, incomprehension and unavailability are all possibilities, but another possibility is that she never opened the envelope, never even read the thing. When I handed it to her, I didn't explain what it was, I didn't make her promise to read it, I just put it in her hands and walked away. But other people were handing her things, and if you've ever watched Juliana Hatfield interact with her fans I suspect you'll share my impression that it makes her almost intolerably uncomfortable. If a letter she could take home and read in the safety of her own bedroom had a five percent chance of reaching her, any words I could say in person would be lucky to get a tenth of that chance. So I handed her the letter. I didn't try to follow up, I didn't try to find out her phone number, I let the letter either work, or not. And so I have no idea what happened. Maybe she threw it out backstage, on the way to retrieve her guitar. Maybe she took it home, and put it on the pile of things people have handed her after concerts, and it sits there still. Maybe she took it home, opened it, read a paragraph or two, concluded that I was deranged, and threw it out. Maybe she took it home, opened it, read it, and decided that it would be wisest not to encourage me. Maybe she took it home, opened it, read it, and loved it. Maybe she's re-read it a hundred times since, and a hundred times narrowly failed to find the courage to pick up her telephone and dial my number. Maybe she's reading this, now, and feeling foolish. I wish I knew.

Amazing thing from John on FB right now.