It was all just a big misunderstanding, but it may have cost The Elastik Band any shot it had at rock 'n' roll stardom. Vindication came 21 years later.

The year was 1967, and San Francisco was ground zero for not only the hippie movement but a strange, wonderful musical awakening, as well. Just as innovative and exciting as its contemporaries, with a batch of good, solid songs to boot that toyed with pop, garage and psychedelic styles and never settled in one place, The Elastik Band never did rise to the heights of Santana or The Grateful Dead or Jefferson Airplane. But the group was a part of that scene and having a contract with a major label gave members hope that they would make it as well.

Then came the single "Spazz," one of the oddest, most strangely compelling, pieces of trashy garage-rock ever put to vinyl. Today, it's a collector's item. But back then, people misinterpreted the lyrics, thinking that they were poking fun at the developmentally disabled.

The song's creator, David Cortopassi, was mortified.

"I guess my reaction was both one of surprise and of disappointment," he says. "Surprise because the response was so unexpected and unwarranted. Though admittedly I don't have a lot of patience for stupidity or people without a clue, I never made fun of people with physical or mental disabilities. It's entirely out of character for me."

Nevertheless, many had taken "Spazz" — released on the major label ATCO — the wrong way, and the negative backlash that rose up to greet The Elastik Band prevented the group from going on tour in Europe. Those shows could have led to great things for The Elastik Band, but the tour never got off the ground. Frustration followed, as The Elastik Band had to endure all kinds of label interference, and eventually, the band broke up.

But the story doesn't end there. "Spazz" survived, the 45 becoming a highly sought-after collectible prize. The song has also been a favorite on a number of different garage/psych collections, including Rhino's much-lauded 1998 Nuggets compilation. That, in and of itself, is probably not enough to patch up those old wounds. Still, Cortopassi feels some sense of vindication.

"Definitely," he says. "Over 40 years later, and 'Spazz' comes out ahead as the defining song of my entire repertoire. I've had bands that were far better, written music I'm more proud to have done, released albums having real meaning with something to say, but The Elastik Band continually bubbles to the top and grabs attention."

Watch for more on The Elastik Band in an upcoming edition of Goldmine.

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It's hard to believe now, but back in 1989, the B-52's weren't exactly the darlings of FM radio.

A decade had passed from when "Rock Lobster" and its epileptic-seizure riffs, punctuated by the call-and-response vocals of Fred Schneider and beehive-wigged cohorts, Cindy Wilson and Kate Pierson, had electrified audiences in the U.K. and shocked the American underground into actually having fun and dancing — a foreign concept to the indie world at the time.

The kitschy New Wave/surf guitar classic, with its '60s dance-party vibe, was an out-of-leftfield sensation, and the B-52's self-titled debut album cracked the Billboard Hot 100. Its successor, 1980's Wild Planet, featuring the tense urgency of "Private Idaho," went gold and the B-52's appeared on "Saturday Night Live," and the whole world — well, the cool part anyway — it seemed was in love with the thrift-store misfits who wanted nothing more than to have a damn good time, however quirky they seemed.

Then came a brief dalliance with the Talking Heads' David Byrne that wound up producing material for Mesopotamia, and an unexpected foray into electronica and drum machines with Whammy! But none of it generated a hit that had anywhere near the massive appeal of "Rock Lobster," and The B-52's had seemingly lost their way a bit.

"At the time, we weren't a hot commodity," remembers Schneider, who, of late, has been working with an electro outfit known as The Superions that has recently made available its first single, "Totally Nude Island," on iTunes and on The Superions' MySpace page.

Long before The Superions were a glint in Schneider's eye, however, The B-52's had enlisted A-list producers Don Was — who actually wasn't on the A-list at the time, but certainly is now — and Nile Rodgers to help shape and mold the songs that would comprise Cosmic Thing. The album would become a monster hit, but initially, Schneider had a tough time getting the record's delirious single, "Love Shack," played.

"We produced it and put it out, and radio wouldn't touch it," says Schneider. "They thought 'Love Shack' was too weird."

So, while Pierson and Wilson did their part to promote the record by handling the bulk of the interviews that came their way, Schneider set out with Warner Bros.'s A&R man to convince programmers to give "Love Shack" a chance. They did, and " ... and it took off," says Schneider. "And then 'Roam' came along, and we had the biggest hit of our career. That was a fluke, too."

In the case of Schneider, lightning might be striking for yet a third time, as "Totally Nude Island Ursula 1000 Remix" has received strong airplay on 30 radio stations nationwide. A fluke? Perhaps, but it's not bad for what was essentially a lark for Schneider and his Superions' partners, keyboardist Noah Brodie and programming expert Dan Marshall.

"Ursula did an amazing job, taking the song and making it groovier for club or radio," says Schneider.

The hypnotic, syncopated beats and space-y effects Ursula adds put "Totally Nude Island Ursula 1000" in another world than the original, which, as Schneider says, is "straightforward tiki/lounge [music]" — complete with the sounds of waves lapping the shore and tropical birds. A hedonistic fantasy — despite referring to an island chain as a "pearl necklace," Schneider rates the somewhat racy lyrics as "PG-13" — with creepy undertones, "Totally Nude Island" is a fun listen either way.

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As fodder for pop-song lyrics, what could be more inspirational than a doomed, horribly dysfunctional relationship? Caught in the clutches of a particularly "brutal" one — as he describes it — Charlie Brand, lyricist and frontman for indie-pop sensations the Miniature Tigers, made his escape, leaving his home in Phoenix, Ariz., to head to Los Angeles.

While on the road, Brand wrote the Tigers' new album, Tell It To The Volcano. Because of the troubles he's seen, it would be logical to wonder about the mood of Tell It To The Volcano. Is it heavy? Is it sad? Does it wallow in self-pity? That's not Brand's style.

From the time he was just a lonely Tiger wrapping colorful, slightly skewed but utterly infectious pop presents out of his Phoenix bedroom for all the good, little indie kids, Brand has couched his most intimate, heartfelt reflections in lighthearted wordplay and ingenious, at times even joyful, arrangements, sprinkling in funny little pop-culture observations along the way.

Miniature Tigers (www.miniaturetigers.com) has been Brand's baby from the start. But soon after the birth of the humble project, Miniature Tigers grew too big for the confines of Brand's home base. And Brand found himself in a professional studio environment and onstage, and the Tigers would sign to Phoenix's Modern Art Records. Breaking free from the aforementioned relationship entanglements, Brand met his collaborator and drummer Rick Schaier in Los Angeles. The partnership allowed Brand to expel the toxicity that occupied his heart and spill it out onto Tell It To The Volcano, an album rich in metaphor — cannibals and volcanos replacing the reality of God's little jokes — that playfully flaunts a fascination with the TV show "Lost" while giving Brand the cleansing experience he needed.

An island vibe pervades the mix of acoustic-guitar strum and slight electro-pop impulses and touches of "Cannibal Queen," while the title track revisits the world-music pleasantries of Paul Simon's Graceland ... but with a brief eruption of electric-guitar crunch. Then there's the breezy "Tchaikovsky And Solitude," which seems to sashay across a beach-side gazebo with a Hurricane cocktail in hand. It's all done in easy, laid-back manner that belies the detail found in these treasures upon repeated listens.

These days, when the Tigers play live, Brand and Schaier get a little help from friends bassist Lou Kummerer and lead guitarist Lawrence Hearn. Fun and coming close to complete anarchy, the Tigers' concert experience is punctuated by humorous onstage banter. Going further, the Tigers enlisted "Yacht Rock" creator JD Ryznar to direct their "Cannibal Queen" video. Never having done a video, Ryznar went all out and created something that the band feels comes very close to the movie "Weird Science."

Available through iTunes, Tell It To The Volcano can also be purchased in a limited-edition letterpressed CD package and on vinyl at shows and through the band's Web site. Touring is happening this winter, with the Tigers opening for Ben Folds. An official retail release of Tell It To The Volcano should be available soon as well. Brand talked about the new record in a recent e-mail interview.

Where does the fascination with cannibals and volcanoes come from, and with the song "Cannibal Queen," to you, do relationships have some semblance of cannibalism to them?
Charlie Brand: I've always been fascinated by that kind of imagery. Might have come from watching too much "Indiana Jones" growing up. I think when I write I usually try to conceal the meaning in some kind of visual metaphor. I was really into this jungle thing when I was writing.

"Cannibal Queen" I wrote in the height of an ABBA phase and called it "Cannibal Queen" as tribute to "Dancing Queen." I'm not sure if there is any real link between cannibals and the content of that song.

What is it about the show "Lost" that appeals to you and did it inform this record in any way?
CB: I love how involved "Lost" is. I love how they referenced something in Season 2 that they only just showed us a couple episodes ago. There is a lost reference in one of the songs on the album just for fun really. I sometimes reference a song of mine in the lyrics of another song, which in someway is "Lost" inspired.

While this album springs from an examination of a relationship and two years of ups and downs, there's nothing maudlin or sad about it. Even songs like "Cannibal Queen" and "The Wolf" have a certain joy or exuberance to them. Was there something about the experience and escaping it that contributed to the overall feel of the album?
CB: I wrote a lot of these songs about a terrible relationship, but I wrote most of them while I was in another relationship that I was very happy in. This album is about two very different girls and my experience with both of them.

I think the song "Tell It To The Volcano" kind of answers the question of the album. I wrote that after a revenge fantasy of throwing this girl down a volcano to seek closure. I was very hurt by her, but I think there is something joyous about finding that closure. I think the album isn't really up or down; it's both at once. I was in a really positive place while recording the album.

How did you get "Yacht Rock" creator JD Ryznar to direct the video for "Cannibal Queen"? The press materials call it a mix of "Weird Science" and "Frankenstein." Was that the result you were looking for?
CB: Our manager Adam knows him and had asked him to write a treatment for the song. He sent us the treatment, and we loved it. That was all JD's idea, so we just went with it and put our trust in him. It's funny, I've never really asked him what it means to him.

Miniature Tigers started out as a solo bedroom project. How did you come to join forces with Rick Schaier, and why didn't you continue on as a solo act?
CB: I never wanted to be the guy with an acoustic guitar by himself on stage. I always wanted a band but just didn't know any musicians.

Rick and I found each other on Myspace and had loved each other's music from the start. He sent me a cover of one of my songs, and I covered his. We had talked over the computer for a year and became best friends when I moved to California.

Rick is so talented and makes it fun for me to play music. I am genuinely a fan of his. Check his music out! myspace.com/alvinband

What was the most difficult thing about bringing your music and this show to life onstage?
CB: I think the most difficult thing has been finding bandmates. We've been having friends fill in on guitar and bass for a while. We've had so many incarnations of the band. It's hard to teach everybody the songs over and over. It keeps it kind of fresh because each version of the band is a little different.

"Tell It To The Volcano" and "Tchaikovsky and Solitude" have kind of ghostly island vibes to them. And I love how "Tchaikovsky and Solitude" sort of has this kaleidoscopic explosion near the end. When coming up with the arrangements for such songs, does the process differ in any way from a real upbeat, bouncy track like "Cannibal Queen"?
CB: "Tchaikovsky" was the first song we recorded for the album. The demo is pretty sparse. I didn't even want to record it, but our producer, Ryan Breen, pushed for it. I figured we could just do it as a warm-up song. I remember humming what I wanted to hear, Rick playing it on the keyboard and Ryan tweaking it in ProTools. It was a very collaborative and fun song to make. When I bring a demo in, it usually has all the parts, but I think we come up with a lot of ideas on the spot in the studio that changes the song around a lot.

How did you get on the Ben Fold tour and what are you most looking forward to in touring with him?
CB: Our friend Jeff Wooding works with both of us. He gave Ben Folds our CD I believe. Thank you Jeff! Honestly, I am excited just to be able to see him play every night. We're used to playing small clubs and some of these venues on this tour are pretty large. It's very intimidating but I can't wait!

Perhaps nobody will ever scrawl "Johnny Hickman is God" on any concrete overpass supports, but maybe somebody should. The Cracker guitarist's chops are vastly underrated and worthy of admiration.

There is even a rumored story about Keith Richards having once talked about how Hickman reminded Richards of himself.

At a Cracker show, on occasion, some drunk in the audience will express his man-love by yelling out "Jaww-neee" while Hickman is reeling off a particularly crafty solo.

It happened repeatedly last Thursday night at the High Noon Saloon in Madison, Wis., as half of Cracker — Hickman and frontman David Lowery — sifted through the sand of its back catalog to dig out nuggets of smart-ass, often raucous, alternative country-rock gold for a full house.

Finally tiring of the souse's exclamations, Lowery decided to have a little fun with him, suggesting with a smile that Hickman has, when confronted with such adoration in the past, gone out in the crowd to make out with his most ardent supporters. The good-natured jibe had the intended effect. No more "Jaww-neees" were yelled out, and Cracker was allowed to ply its trade without distractions.

Even at half-strength, with Hickman on electric guitar and Lowery strumming his acoustic, Cracker's stripped-down performance was a rollicking good time, with crowd favorites "Low," "Euro-Trash Girl" and "Teen Angst (What The World Needs Now)" generating the biggest responses. Hickman's soloing was sharp, playing to the crowd with obvious glee, while Lowery delivered his biting lyrics with delicious sarcasm and a world-wise gleam in his eye.

This wasn't a night for previewing fresh material, even though word has it that Cracker will be releasing a new album this spring that Cracker insiders are saying will deviate a bit from the band's established sound. This night was an opportunity for fans to revel in the rich catalog Cracker has already amassed and to celebrate that history with the two artists most responsible for the group's enduring popularity.

As an added bonus, those in attendance also got to hear the sonic desert flowers Pieta Brown has cultivated. The daughter of folk-blues singer-songwriter Greg Brown was joined by guitar slinger Bo Ramsey in opening for Cracker, and her dusty, painted soundscapes were beautifully hypnotic. Ramsey was the ideal foil, lending a ghostly honky-tonk vibe to the proceedings.

To find out more about what Cracker is up to, visit www.crackersoul.com. And visit www.pietabrown.com to learn about the up-and-coming young artist, whose Flight Time EP made No Depression music critic Andy Moore's Top 5 of 2008.

Intimately familiar with Willie Nelson's broken-down laments and rambunctious drinking songs almost from birth, Matthew Houck, the one-man guiding force behind the alt.-country project Phosphorescent, pays his respects to the red-headed stranger on the deeply reverential, but sometimes playful, To Willie.

Mining the depths of Nelson's rich catalog of work, Houck breathes new life into 11 dusty favorites and obscurities from one of country's most admired outlaws while taking great care not to trample the heart and emotion of the original versions. From the ramshackle, honky-tonkin' mayhem of "I Gotta Get Drunk" to the full choir of rich, beautifully arranged vocals that embraces "Can I Sleep In Your Arms," it's clear Houck has thrown himself body and soul into each and every one of these covers.

"Reasons To Quit" and "To Sick To Pray" practically glow thanks to Houck's gentle instrumental touch and expressive, nuanced croon, and "Pick Up The Tempo" prods a sleepy backup band into an easy shuffle that drunkenly sashays into a sepia-toned past. Loneliness, regret, disappointment — all such feelings are brought out in Houck's masterful interpretations. It helps that he has a voice that settles comfortably in a register that allows him access to the pain and plucky hopefulness Nelson's best songs convey. With To Willie, Houck doesn't leave the dark, crumbling, Southern gothic mansion he's built with earlier works — 2007's Pride being the best example — but he does open the shutters and sweep aside the drapes to let in some weak light, while showing a willingness to get out of the house and go drown his sorrows at the local watering hole.

Houck talked about his Willie Nelson tribute album, released Feb. 3 on Deep Oceans (www.deadoceans.com), in a recent interview.

Was there anything you wanted to be careful of in reinterpreting these songs, which are some of your favorites of Willie's?
Matthew Houck: Not really, just wanted to make sure they came out right.

Nobody has as warm and weathered a voice as Willie. Yours is cleaner, with a slight warble, perhaps indicative of more youthful pipes than his. In singing these pieces, how aware were you of the difference in tonality and character, and how did that affect how you approached them, because I was especially struck by the rich, gorgeous choir of harmonies in "Can I Sleep In Your Arms" and the duet you did with Angel Deradoorian on "It's Not Supposed To Be That Way"?
MH: Well, I'm definitely aware of the differences between mine and Willie's voices, but to be honest it didn't have any affect on the recording of these songs. I have known all of these songs for a very long time, and it was never a question, for me, of how they would compare to the originals. I knew from the start that they would naturally be very different sounding. So I approached them in the same way that I approach the recording of any song, just aiming for the best way to get to the heart of it.

Coming off 2007's Pride, which received tons of critical praise and was perhaps seen as breakthrough album for you, and then going out on tour and reshaping those sort of nocturnal, ethereal works in a more shambolic, raucous manner, did that experience give you the confidence to try something like this?
MH: Phosphorescent toured for a really long time after the release of Pride. Just singing night after night like that, for months on end, my voice became a lot stronger, and I learned more and more about how to use it. I will confess to having always thought I was a good singer even when others perhaps didn't, but I realize that my singing is much stronger now than it was even a year or two ago, and so that helped a great deal with the making of this album. Willie's shoes are, of course, pretty big ones to step into.

What went into some of the song choices you made? Was it simply a love for each of them, or was there something about them that served as a challenge?
MH: Yes, simply a love for each of them. I recorded probably my favorite Willie Nelson tune, "My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys," a few years back on Phosphorescent's second album. I knew that I wanted to record more of these songs that had always meant so much to me and now have
gotten the proper chance to.

"Lived in" is a phrase that's been used to describe your versions of these songs, and you can hear that on To Willie. Perhaps it's a difficult thing to put into words, but how do you think you were able to create that sense of having taken up residency in them and being familiar with all their parts and moods and textures?
MH: I have lived with these songs since I was a little kid. My dad played Willie Nelson tapes when I was growing up, and these big, sad old songs spoke to me deeply back then, and I've carried them with me ever since. The songs themselves are pretty "lived-in" you know? That's their nature. They reveal themselves more and more to you as you get older. Certain things hit home more and more the older you get, and I expect they'll keep doin' that.

It's interesting that synthesizer is so prominent in "Permanently Lonely."
MH: It just sounded so good.

I love how ghostly the pedal steel is in "The Last Thing I Needed (First Thing This Morning)." Did you want it to feel haunted?
MH: That song is a haunting one. Not spectrally haunting but down-to-earth haunting. The pedal steel is a good instrument for gettin' that feeling.

Do you find that there's a great deal of sadness in Willie's music? Because, you sure have a way of bringing it out.
MH: It's true that a lot of these songs are heartbreakers all the way. For whatever reason, those have always been my favorite kind.

What was your favorite one to do and why, and were there any you left out that you felt a twinge of regret over in leaving them alone?
MH: There are definitely plenty more great Willie Nelson songs that could have made their way onto the album, but I don't have any regrets on leaving any out. For this particular record, these 11 songs worked perfectly together. Each has its own unique voice — and the original versions of these songs span several decades — but put together they make for a remarkably cohesive album. It would be impossible to pick a favorite from among them; each one has something going for it that I
absolutely love.

How did you set out to ensure that this record would be more than just a covers record, and did you listen to other covers of Willie's songs or other cover records to see what they did right and what they did wrong?
MH: No, it was a very organic process. I didn't have to "study" anything, not even the songs themselves — they really have been a part of me for so long. I just arranged them and sang them as if they were Phosphorescent songs. And so that's why they sound that way; I just happened not to have written these ones.