Q: What do you do when it’s too hot to move, think, type, talk, or post eloquently on the musical artist of your choice?

A: Lie on your bed and listen to Heartbeats by Sweden’s The Knife. Guaranteed chills.

*I actually don’t like the live version they have up on their Myspace page as much as the original on Silent Shout. So if the screaming fans don’t do it for you, seek out the studio version. Either way, rock solid.

Oh my goodness, two features in one? What’s next, salt and vinegar potato chips? Jay-Z and Rihanna doing a song together? The mind boggles. Call it laziness or ingenuity, but I’ve decided to combine two weekly features into one consideration of a movie about music… kind of.

I finally got around to watching Shut Up and Sing, Barbara Kopple’s documentary about the Dixie Chicks and the uproar surrounding an offhand comment singer Natalie Maines made at a concert in 2003. Before I go into detail, I should mention that I was never really a Dixie Chicks fan - in fact they barely registered on my cultural radar before the whole “I’m ashamed George Bush is from Texas” debacle. But I am a huge fan of documentary filmmaker Barbara Kopple - her 1976 doc Harlan County USA is one of the most astounding and heartbreaking films I’ve ever seen (and she made it when she was, like, 12. Okay, 22. But still). So I went into the film curious to see what she would do with a story about pop music, big hair, freedom of speech, and the polemic beast that is America today. Suffice it to say I was not disappointed.

The film is built around the aforementioned comment Natalie Maines made between songs at a concert in London, England - she expressed displeasure at US foreign policy, and then said “We’re ashamed that President Bush is from [our home territory] Texas,”. The fallout from the comment included hate mail, mass burnings of Dixie Chicks CDs (turns out CDs don’t burn so well, so we get to see lots of Middle American workboots stomping on them), radio boycotts, and even a death threat. Kopple’s deft editing and compiling of footage creates what is in fact a fascinating portrait of the media spin machine, and what exactly is meant by “free speech” and “patriotism” (and whether or not the two are in fact totally irreconcilable). There is the usual predictable and disturbing woman-hating, where the Chicks get called sluts and traitors, and several news commentators (guess which network - cough*fox*cough) suggest that what they really need is a good slapping around. You really get to see the opposite ends of the American political and cultural spectrum in all its gory glory. As one of the Chicks, Martie Maguire, sums up near the end of the film, “It had to be from us - it was perfect. It had to be the unlikely voice from what looked like the conservative heart of America.”

(more inside…)

Tired of going to hardcore shows only to catch a mohawk in the eye on the dancefloor, get other people’s crusty macho sweat on your fishnets, and feel alienated because you’re not male and/or straight? Never fear, Thundrah is here for you, like a big cozy noisy blanket. It’s loud, hard, jangly, queer, and heartfelt, with some tweaky electronic twiddling from Lisa Gambletron and sticks-a-flying drumming from ZZ Topless, as well as good-old-fashioned throat-tearing screams from singer and guitarist Mac and the world’s catchiest bassline courtesy of Stephen. Somehow it works as well for looking out your window at factory smokestacks as doing windmills on the dancefloor - and goodness knows any sensible youth needs both.

Thundrah’s currently on tour, and I think I’ve posted this too late for you Toronto kids to check out, but they hit Ottawa tonight and Montreal tomorrow. And their album, The City Swallows the Sparrow, is now available from Montreal’s Blue Skies Turn Black. They’re also on tour with California’s Mika Miko, who give me new hope for the L.A. DIY scene, and make me believe that we can make our dreams come true with gluesticks, a photocopier, some scissors and some sparkles, dammit. And okay, you might end up with sweat on your fishnets anyway. It’ll be worth it.

I was already planning to post about Giselle Numba One for this week’s pick, so imagine my delight yesterday when I opened a copy of the Montreal Mirror to find an interview with her where she says “I’m a bitchy person, I’m politicized, I’m a feminist. I don’t want to ever be described as sexy in Giselle Numba One, I don’t wanna be that girl. I wanna be the angry feminist rapper that everyone’s afraid to hit on,”. Um, did the spirit of Queen Latifah* just enter your body?

Giselle Numba One is actually the side project of Giselle Webber’s main band, Hot Springs. But while the band is undoubtedly a raucous good time, I can’t seem to get enough of her poppy, rant-y solo stuff, which is kind of like if Joanna Newsom traded her harp for a Casio and started rapping about witches instead of singing about faeries and lovers lost at sea. Though Hey Kid may be the crowd favorite, personally I love The Wicca Rap - though be warned when you listen, this jam is catchier than mono. Once it enters your head it may never leave. I hope her solo stuff gets off the backburner soon and onto my plate.

Meanwhile, we still have the Hot Springs’ release Volcano to look forward to, and, oh heck, another priceless quote from Webber: “‘Pink Money’ is a lesbian rock anthem, and I used to be like [in earnest tones] ‘This song’s for all the women who,’ and I’d describe it in a couple of sentences. Now I just go, ‘That song was about vaginas’ and everyone’s like ‘YEAHHH!!!’”

*if you haven’t recently listened to Queen Latifah’s U.N.I.T.Y., do yourself a favour and pick it up RIGHT NOW. Forget Hollaback New York or Hollaback Canada. This is Hollaback WORLD.