Tonight is a night for second chances, as the Pipettes return to Toronto with Smoosh, the Portland-based sister trio with a median age of 13, and Monster Bobby, one of the Pipettes puppetmasters doing an impression of Casiotone for the Painfully Alone with fewer vintage keyboards. It’ll be fantastic! Or not. It’ll be something, anyways. Here’s another taste of what I’ll hopefully be grooving to when the clock hits the midnight hour, courtesy of the band’s nighttime Beauty Bar set at SXSW.

Pat Tillman is Austin’s premier “girl group”. We support the bravery of one professional football player (Pat Tillman) who decided to make a stand for our rights as Americans to play retro-flavored pop rock. He basically put a gun in the face of every terrorist in the world who would deny us the freedom to sing our sweet American harmonies.

So begins the latest bio for the Carrots, the Austin, Texas girl group that plays retro-flavoured pop-rock in honour of the football-player-turned-soldier. Or maybe they’re actually playing retro-flavoured pop-rock to praise Jesus. Or maybe none of the above; turns out every Carrot bio you’ve read lately is a giant fabrication. But that’s okay, because you don’t actually need to know very much about America’s latest girl-group superweapon to combat the supremacy of the British.

Here are the facts: the Carrots are a six-piece band whose mission in life is to recreate that good ol’ 60’s sound. Unlike the Pipettes, who’ve laced their concoction with a sassy, post-modern wink and nod, and Lucky Soul, who’ve brought some superb studio wizardry and up-to-date pop credentials to the mix, the Carrots really do sound like a relic from the past. Well, aside from the occasionally saucy lyric—I don’t think the Shirelles or the Supremes could get away with saying “ass” in a song. They’re also unsigned, and in the classic tradition of penniless artists flaunting their generosity, the Carrots have put up an entire EP for free download. None of the latest wave of 60s revivalists have really been breaking any new ground, and the Carrots stick closer than most to the old template. This may either earn them your scorn or your adoration, but before you pass judgement, you might as well give their EP a listen. The church-going, Tillman-loving kids in the Carrots may very well win your wallflower heart.

Largehearted Boy’s been keeping a list of live sets from this year’s SXSW, worth a looksee if there was anyone in Austin that piqued your interest. The kids tell me that the Rosebuds set was a very good one, though I suppose it misses something in the audio-only translation—namely, the sight of lots of twentysomethings from the crowd dancing on stage. It’s also good to see the Imperial Teen set in the list (alas, only streaming, and it sounds like an NPR session rather than an actual live show); though it’s very short, it’s also proof that the band’s working on new material, finally—late 2007, kids!

But the pleasant surprise is also the one show you knew was going to appear on the intertubes sooner or later: the Pipettes. This set of MP3s is from the outdoor set on the 17th, and what’s so surprising about it is that it sounds very good. Some explanation: a Dutch concert site, Fabchannel, also has a live show from the Pipettes up, complete with video. (By the way, Fabchannel is utterly fabulous for live shows; check out the Dears set!) Like a sucker, I listened only to the first couple of songs before I gave up—the mini-Spector production from the album was gone, which wasn’t a surprise, but it was just one symptom of an overall trend. It was like the carefully constructed facade that is the Pipettes collapsed before my very eyes: the dance moves seemed a bit cute, the voices seemed off (especially Gwenno during “Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me”), and the whole performance felt more workmanlike than charming.

That was last November; fast forward to March and suddenly it feels like a different band. Maybe, unlike the Rosebuds, the Pipettes benefit from a lack of video footage; when the cute dance moves are just in your head, you don’t ever have to think about things like tour fatigue or audience reaction or other buzz-killing issues. Even the banter sounds more natural. Sure, everyone still sounds off on “Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me”—maybe an indication that they need to work on it or strike it from the setlist—but overall it makes me slightly regret not going to the Canadian Music Week performance.

Only slightly, though. Sounded like a nightmare getting anywhere near the Rivoli that night.

Anyone who knows anything already knows the best pop stars come from the British music scene. Why settle for Jessica Simpson and Christina Aguilera when you could have Kylie Minogue and Girls Aloud? And look who else is back—performing during the BBC’s coverage of New Year’s 2007 was none other than Sophie Ellis-Bextor, the woman who gave you “Murder on the Dancefloor.” And though Shoot From The Hip wasn’t quite as well received as debut Read My Lips, “Catch You” sounds like an altogether different beast. Whereas Ellis-Bextor’s 2004 album suffered from an overload of cheesy pop production that sounded several years out of date, the first single from Trip The Light Fantastic keeps its eye on the prize. This sort of million-miles-an-hour, electro-influenced dance pop suits Ellis-Bextor far better than the slightly hammy disco flourishes of yesteryear and arrangements that often left her alone to struggle with the lyics—not exactly her strong suit. “I Am Not Good At Not Getting What I Want” this ain’t.

By contrast, “Catch You” feels like 80% chorus, meaning Ellis-Bextor doesn’t have to worry so much about those pesky verses. And in place of the bit-too-loud synth hits and slightly-too-slick guitar riffs, we get a streamlined electro-rock track worlds away from anything from her last two albums. In the past, if we were lucky we’d maybe catch Ellis-Bextor in a bemused mood, or maybe with a slight snarl (after all, she did play the bad girl in the video for “Murder on the Dancefloor”). But “Catch You” is Sophie Ellis-Bextor with all engines on full throttle, and it turns out she’s still got plenty of tricks up her sleeve. Though a Stateside release is about as likely as the British invading Greenland, import hunters can pick up Trip the Light Fantastic in May.

One last song before the new year. I’m honestly not sure if this is a Christmas song by association, or if there’s some hidden meaning to “Baby It’s Cold Outside” I missed (you know, aside from the ominous implications of a man who won’t take “no” for an answer). But for whatever reason, this has been a Christmas staple for some time now, though it’s easy to pretend it’s just an ode to the hibernation season.

Lots of people are good at one thing, but it’s still a pleasant surprise to me when someone displays a reasonable amount of talent in multiple areas. Geena Davis was an Olympic archer? Martin Mull is a painter of renown? George Carlin played the conductor on Shining Time Station? (Okay, acting isn’t far from stand-up, but going from swearing on stage to teaching little kids about Thomas the Tank Engine?) Add to the list Zooey Deschanel, she of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and Elf. In a scene from Elf, she sings this song in the shower so well that people had to ask if it was actually her. Indeed it was—one of Deschanel’s neat side benefits is she can sing her own parts, thanks to a lifetime of choir work and her on-again off-again cabaret show in Los Angeles. Director Jon Favreau, well aware of Deschanel’s background, decided to exploit her talents by giving her a duet with Will Farrell in the movie, and then again with Leon Redbone on the soundtrack.

Thanks to the onset of global warming (5 degrees Celsius in Toronto on Christmas Day?) it hasn’t been properly cold enough for songs like this. So just imagine the blustery wind and the snow up to your knees, the way it should be during the holidays, and enjoy.

And now, because it’s a fantastic song (even though an internet friend continues to insist it’s not really about Christmas), “I Was Born on Christmas Day.” If you celebrate, enjoy the holidays—and if you don’t, enjoy the all-day marathons on basic cable!

[review 2006: the best of the year]

The Pipettes may or may not be manufactured; they may or may not write their own songs; they may or may not be a retro-chic one-trick pony. These are all questions to be considered the next time the Pipettes release an album, if these questions are considered at all. What matters this time around is We Are The Pipettes is a smashing success—few albums this year were anywhere near as fun, charming or giggle-inducing as this one.

To begin to understand what makes the Pipettes so irrepressible, take a look at Pitchfork’s write-up from their Top 100 Music Videos feature:

When I first watched this concert clip, I wasn’t feeling the whole “in the crowd” filming technique; just let me see the Pipettes do their synchronized gestures in their signature polka-dotted dresses—not the back of some guy’s head. But after the initial annoyance wore off I realized that almost every member of the (albeit small) audience was mimicking every Pipette point and hip twitch exactly, giving this low budget video a charming two-way authenticity that helps to advance the group’s 1960s schtick past trivial novelty.

This is going to sound stupid, but even when pointed out beforehand, the “crowd does the hand motions” move still catches you by surprise. But Ryan Dombal, astute as he is, missed the real reason why the video for “Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me” is so great. It’s not because the audience is doing all the hand motions and hip twitches; it’s because you’re doing all the hand motions and hip twitches. When the audience does it in the video, it’s like you’ve been caught dancing in the shower. Except there’s no reason to be embarassed; everyone else is dancing too, your own silly grin flashing back at you on each of their faces. The Pipettes this year are what the Go! Team were in 2004: torchbearers for audience participation chic. Is it any wonder they’re labelmates?

The opening title track is a campy sci-fi intro to the band, but “Pull Shapes” is the real litmus test. On paper, there are a couple of things working against the Pipettes—it sounds a bit like the Spice Girls channeling Ronnie Spector, and the introduction to “the girls,” aka Rose, Gwenno and Becki, is incredibly cheesy, right down to the canned personalities (”I like to disco,” “I like to rock n’ roll!” “well, I like to hip-hop!”). A lesser band would wink at the proverbial camera, but for the Pipettes, ironic detachment is completely missing the point. “Pull Shapes” is ingenious because instead of compelling you to laugh knowingly, it gets you to embrace the cheese wholeheartedly. And damned if it doesn’t work, between the glorious strings and the beautiful harmonies and the “clap your hands if you want some more.” “Pull Shapes” is an outstanding song, right down to the bare essentials; this acoustic version is proof. If “Pull Shapes” doesn’t infect you with its gleeful enthusiasm, you may be medically unable to feel joy; consult a doctor.

After “Pull Shapes” sucks you in, the rest of the album exploits the advantage. “Why Did You Stay?” is all sockhops, tailfins and diners, probably the closest the band gets to actually recreating the 60s as opposed to riffing off it. “It Hurts To See You Dance So Well” is loneliness wrapped in envy wrapped in bitterness, all surrounded by a candy-coated shell of harmonies. And of course there’s the aforementioned kiss-off of “Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me,” a deliciously bratty showcase for the band that makes perfect sense as a single. But really, aside perhaps from the off-kilter opener (which really doesn’t fit very well with the rest of the album), every song on We Are The Pipettes delivers. It’s the gift that keeps on giving; it’s fun to listen to, it’s fun to sing along to, it’s fun to dance to. It’s just fun, wrapped in pink and black with white polka dots.

Though not strictly a Halloween song, “Thriller” has all the ingredients—spooky setting, well-choreographed zombies, great costumes, and a big fright—at least for Michael Jackson’s girl. So in light of the season, I bring you a “Thriller” reanimation of Frankensteinian proportions, courtesy of the lovely and talented Petra Haden (who previously did an entire acapella reimagining of The Who Sell Out). She really belts it out on this one—if you’re at all a Petra Haden fan, you need this.

In another case of the everyone else getting all the good stuff first, the latest album from French popsters Tahiti 80 is coming out in North America next month, more than a year after its release across the pond. This would explain the slew of North American dates coming up soon, which has me interested; we don’t have a whole lot of bands over here powered by disco beats and falsettos anymore, not that Tahiti 80 are the second coming of the Bee Gees or anything. Though listening to “Big Day” off the aforementioned Fosbury, maybe the comparison isn’t as ludicrous as I thought.

Tahiti 80’s biggest splash stateside was with “Heartbeat,” off their first album Puzzle. Perhaps as part of the transcontinental music exchange program that sent Towa Tei to London and Kahimi Karie to Paris, Tahiti 80 found themselves with a sizable fan base in Japan. And why not? The Japanese have never been as allergic to the disco aesthetic as the Reagan generation. So it makes some sense that Cornelius should work his magic on “Heartbeat.” If you’ve heard any of the Four Tet remixes of Beth Orton’s Daybreaker material, you’ll know what to expect here: the beats and keyboards have been turned down in favor of a more organic folk sound. There’s even a bit of banjo in there somewhere. Sublime and soothing where the original was upbeat and full of funk, it’s a lovely track to have in your collection.

It’s hard to remember now, especially when Weird Al Yankovic writes lyrics about buying fanny packs at the Gap, but there was a brief moment in time when the relatively conservative fashion at the Gap was ahead of the curve. I know this because in high school, many of us mercilessly taunted everything about the Gap—the clothes, the greeters, the commercials—and what do high school students do better than pissing in the face of what’s popular? The most recent trend of putting real songs in your commercials started with the likes of Volkswagen, Apple and the Gap (though none of those infamous campaigns will ever compare to the bizarre vision of Grace Jones shilling for Citroen). On the one hand, it means the time-honoured tradition of the commercial jingle is all but dead. As someone who has enjoyed compilations of American and German jingles from the golden age of television, I feel somewhat qualified to say this is a great loss. “Head On, apply directly to the forehead” might be forever lodged in your memory, but I’ll bet you won’t look too fondly on it twenty years from now. On the other hand, some commercials put relatively unknown artists on the map. The discussion about whether indie artists in commercials are selling out seems to be mostly old hat now, with commerce winning out over an arguably old-school perception of artistic integrity.

Of course, not all the songs ad producers pick are unknown quantities. In fact, most of the songs people remember years later aren’t the unknown songs that break out, but rather older songs by road-tested artists. Some of them are more obscure than others—everyone can spot, say, the Rolling Stones a mile away, but Nick Drake’s contribution to a Volkswagen commercial snuck up on people, leading to a resurgence of interest in what was a relatively low-profile artist. Somewhere in between lies Bill Withers. Coming back to the Gap, one of the best commercials they put together was a one-off spot called “Khaki Soul,” featuring “Lovely Day.” Withers is one of those artists whose songs are more famous than he is. Covered, sampled and played over numerous commercials, Withers’ music has remained just outside the spotlight for years, and an entire generation of people—including me, once upon a time—now know songs like “Just The Two Of Us” and “Lean On Me” without even knowing the name Bill Withers.

An addendum: in the late 80s, “Lovely Day” was used in a British television commercial (showing that this sort of thing has been happening for years, though not in nearly the same numbers as now it seems). To capitalize on the song’s second life, a remix was released, and Withers appeared on Top Of The Pops to promote the new release. Maybe not the best of ideas.