So my two eldest daughters have developed an appreciation for this YouTube channel of two sisters who make videos together called Jillian and Addie. They're legitimately funny in that early dead-pan, self-referential teenage sort of way, kinda irreverent but innocent and tackling goofy internet shit like Sirenhead and Slenderman and Jeff the Killer. Seems like their dad helps them here and there with the vids and...I don't know, I just get a great, wholesome "let's put on a show" vibe from it all.

Of particular intrigue to me is that they live in Pittsburgh. NO ONE lives in Pittsburgh. It's a veritable wasteland. So the rusted, backfiring Midwestern heart in the pothole of my chest loves this to no end.

Anyway, there's a video where they shout out this guy Weird Paul who I'd never heard of. Apparently he's this local Pittsburgh cult artist who's put out a billion records all DIY-style. In their video they feature a totally banal earworm of a song called "Pot of Macaroni" the entirety of which, I believe, is just him melodically saying "pot of macaroni" with a cheesy Casio beat/tone backing him.

I find that I sing this to myself at least every time there's a pot of macaroni and cheese for the girls, which, let's be honest, is at least three times a week.

Anyway, over the summer in Ann Arbor I found this Weird Paul single at Encore Records, one of my favorite 7-inch record store sections in the world. Worth a roll of the dice at $4.72.

What I sense here is a sort of Rust Belt R Stevie Moore. The title track is simple, effective and charming. Earnest without being cloying. Paul is wearing a Daniel Johnston t-shirt on the photograph on the cover here. Nevermind that Cobain wore it first, this is as poignantly literal an "influence on your sleeve" signifier that you could ever hope for.

"I Worked In The Fields of A Small Organic Vegetable Farm" is short and to the point lo-fi punk that commences before you can think too much about it. The way it should be.

"Insomnia" prattles on in a twee sorta way with Jennifer Petroskey's vocals being strongly reminiscent of Heather Lewis' in Beat Happening. A Randy McFeely is credited as playing bass on this one and I can't help but think there's some sort of connection to the tertiary character on the Pittsburgh-based production of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood and I digs it.

Overall, nothing too deep, enjoyable on just the right level and a worthwhile exploration for all of the discerning diggers out there.