Hot, or at least
lukewarm, on the heels of the last one, here is our hypothetical mixtape, inna
May 2012 stylee.
"I Only Have Eyes
For You", by Oneohtrix Point Never. Last month it was Beck's turn. This
month it's the guy with the partly unpronounceable moniker. He so totally
deconstructs the song that it almost stays deconstructed. And yet tiny
filaments of the original flicker ever so fleetingly that it ends up not
disappearing up its own edifice. Although the risk was certainly there.
"I Call On One's
Muse", by Rob Jo Star Band. Nice try with the English usage there, Rob,
but I don't think you've quite nailed it. One
calls on one's muse, perhaps. Or I call on my
muse. But the two don't tend to play well if mixed together. Unless, that is,
you meant "One" in the "Prisoner" sense. Yes, that could
work. Cool song, by the way. I particularly like the seemingly random
synthesiser farts that unexpectedly appear at various points. "What does
this button do?"
"My
Ancestors", by Chris Zebby Tembo & Ngozi Family. Some fine African
psychedelic music has been unearthed over the last few years. Is the well
running dry? It would appear not.
"Right Where You
Ought To Be", by Mr Elevator & The Brain Hotel. Quite. Mr Elevator
& The Brain Hotel exist in the present, but sound like they have been
brought up on a diet of nothing but "Nuggets". As a scientific
experiment it proves the soundness and immutability of the theory that if you
put four boys in a room with two guitars, a bass, drums, and a microphone, they
will sound like sixties garage rock no matter what time period they happen to
be living in. As a song, well, it is nothing you haven't heard before but just
fine nevertheless.
"Tell Me What's
On Your Mind", by The Allah-Las. As for the last song, only -- if this is
even possible -- more so.
"Tattoo On Her
Shoulder", by Capital Grey. Capital Grey take it out of the garage and
into, let's say, Abbey Road. "Nuggets" after the drugs have kicked
in, perhaps. This and Mr Elevator & The Brain Hotel were introduced to us
by the ever reliable "Clifton's Corner" segment over at Aquarium Drunkard. Shout out!
"Up The Hill And
Down The Slope", by The Loft. From '66 to '86, perhaps; C86 to be precise.
And the distance is not as far as you might think. If this song had a fault it
would probably be that it goes for about a minute too long. But that might only
be because all other songs of the era cut out after two minutes, which is
hardly The Loft's fault.
"Supermarket",
by Supermarket. Perhaps the least Googleable song EVAH. Basically Lawrence,
from Felt, with a vocoder and some keyboards. How you respond to the song will
depend on how you responded to that last sentence.
"Here To
Stay", by New Order. Ah, New Order. Always the same dodgy lead vocals.
Always the same naff lyrics. In short, always the same. And yet always frakkin'
brilliant. No, I don't get it, either.
"This Is Not The
End (Gui Boratto 2012 Mix)", by Gui Boratto. From the "pop"
corner of Kompakt's repertoire (and a happy 20th birthday to you, too), and
clearly indebted to N*w Ord*r. In fact, you can almost sing along to "Here
To Stay" while this is playing. So do you "need" both? Only you
know the answer to that.
"Exercise 5
(September)", by CFCF. One of David Sylvian's finest moments, reworked,
sublimated, recombined, reimagined, tweaked, reinvented, deconstructed. Some or
all of the above. Or none. I should hate this, precisely because it's not
"September", by David Sylvian, but strangely I don't. I'm not sure
exactly what I should do with it,
mind you, but that's another question.
"Belle
Tristesse", by Miharu Koshi. Evidently, this little sweetie is from a Christmas
compilation circa 1983 and featuring various members of Yellow Magic Orchestra.
1983 was at the height of my love affair with YMO so I can only explain my
ignorance of its existence by pointing out that the Internet only came along later.
That's my excuse, anyway. Astute readers will note the tenuous link between
this and the previous song, being Sylvian's sometime involvement with Ryuichi
Sakamoto (including on the "Secrets of the Beehive" album, from which
"September" comes). Yes, we are not averse to clutching at straws
here.
"Maybe Tonight
(Morgan Geist Vocal Edit)", by Lovelock. The opening combination of
acoustic and electric piano is the real winner here. Morgan Geist's vocals are
the icing. Once again, ten minutes proves to be barely enough. Lovelock, in
case you didn't know, is one of many handles of Mr Steve Moore, who has proved
himself capable of doing a large number of things, not all of them sounding
remotely like this but all of them worth a listen (or ten).
"Sweetness In Her
Spark", by Lightships. What we have here, in essence, is a Classic Pop
Song. It will remind you of the gentler corners of the Flying Nun roster, it
will remind you of The Clientele, it will remind you of some band from Sweden
whose name you can never recall. One day other songs will remind you of this.
The wheel turns, and it will turn again.
"Equal
Mind", by Beach House. Proof that a Beach
House b-side is better than most bands' a-sides.
"Happy
Pills", by Norah Jones. I hipped to Ms Jones through the agency of Danger
Mouse, and in particular his paean to Italian soundtrack music of the sixties,
"Rome", wherein she goes mano a mano (or should that be mano a birdo?)
with Jack White and comes out with her dignity more than intact. Here, she is
working with Danger Mouse again. They seem to be a good combination. (Note to
self: maybe I need to spend more time with that last Belle & Sebastian
album.)
"Blind
Alley", by The Emotions. Sometimes it's better just to let the song speak
for itself:
"Sister
Brother", by FJ McMahon. From an album with the curious title of
"Spirit of the Golden Juice". This song, together with many others
like it, operates as a signal from another era, reflected out into deep space
in the early 1970s and bounced back to earth only now, as the seemingly endless
quantity of "lost" private-press albums, made for pleasure rather
than profit and produced in tiny quantities, and bearing names you have never
heard of, are discovered afresh and reissued for an inquisitive, and
unexpected, new audience. Or at least an audience that might have sung its
praises first time around if they had been given the chance. Well, Adrienne
likes it, anyway.
