Baby Teeth

Nov 5, 2012 Daytrotter Studio, Rock Island, IL

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  1. Welcome to Daytrotter 00:12
  2. Paul 06:42
  3. Happy Secretaries 04:31
  4. Cocaine Again 04:38
Baby Teeth

Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry

Baby Teeth, the band died not all that longer ago, but while it was still alive, it made a third and final stop into our studio. We will accept the reason for the plug being pulled on the group, but we suspect that the poor play of Chicago Cubs had something to do with the demise as well.

The Chicago band - which consisted of Abraham Levitan, Jim Cooper and Peter Andreadis -- made songs that spanned the galleries of prog rock to glam rock to funk and rhythm and blues. It's a longer list, should you wish to make it that, but Baby Teeth go for the throat, the pectorals and for both different variations of crotch. It was a non-discriminatory brand of "big night" music with all of the underpinnings of what transpired through the day or the week that turned a person from regular person into a man on the hunt or a lady on the prowl, looking to sink some of the memories of displeasure roaming these parts.

The protagonists of these meaty songs are always acting out and upon the very primal urges of serving the self with whatever it deems that it needs at that very moment. It's animalistic, entertaining and sexy. Levitan puts on a cape and an air when he sings. It's of bigger britches and proud chest. It's of Mick Jagger and David Bowie swagger that reverberates for counties and counties, rattling dishes and drying glasses miles away from wherever he's standing at a microphone. The swagger doesn't stop there - with his words of hustlers, gamblers, Casanovas, muscle-y men, pin-up women, workhorses, fakers and dreamers (all with a shared composite of the standard, regular old person). It is perpetuated in the grind and bump of all that he, Cooper and Andreadis do with their instruments and their time. The music is thick with that swagger and that mood - where there should be feather boas framing all of the dips and turns, connecting the fuel to the glamorous fire. It's a swagger that flames and amazes and still, despite its best efforts, sometimes fizzles for the various characters that these three introduce us to. It's the real swagger.

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