On the other hand,
some months seem like Christmas: trying to narrow the choices down to those
that would fit on one CD feels like a form of cruel and unusual punishment.
(Shed a tear for the ones that got away.)
"She", by
Charles Kynard. Kynard is a lesser-known exponent of the Hammond B-3 in a jazz
setting. You would probably call this Acid Jazz today, but it wasn't called
that in 1971. The back cover photo has him grinning in a manner that reminds us
of that other Hero of the Hammond, Barry Morgan.
"The Soul of
Patrick Lee", by John Cale. In his long solo career, John Cale has
produced many records, great swathes of which are, to be diplomatic, "not
to my taste". Anyway it just goes to show that you have to keep listening,
because there are always gems to be discovered. You might have expected to find
this song on "Paris, 1919" (one of his two solo masterpieces, if you
ask me) but instead it is buried on the "Church of Anthrax" album,
made in collaboration with the original minimalist, Terry Riley, an album which
is otherwise largely experimental in outlook. Evidently that is not Cale
singing. You could have fooled me.
"Cherokee
(Nicolas Jaar Remix)", by Cat Power. I was rather taken by the previous
couple of Cat Power albums, but "Sun", from last year, left me
largely unexcited. (For which I feel like I should apologise. Um,
"sorry".) This Nicolas Jaar remix, however, is another story
entirely. It pitches Marshall's voice against a droning, almost ambient bed of
sounds, both organic and electronic, formed into a contextually perfect
descending chord sequence. I think it is marvellous.
"Elephant (Todd
Rundgren Remix)", by Tame Impala. It's nice to see pop all-rounder Todd
Rundgren making a second (or fifth?) career as a remixer. He did a number on a
Lindstrom track a while back, and now we have him taking whatever it is that
makes Tame Impala sound so timeless and tweaking it ever so gently in order to
tease out the pop possibilities of the song (no mean feat, given that the
original song itself is pretty darned catchy). It may even sound like a
seventies idea of a 21st century dancefloor smash, but, if anything, that works
in its favour. I particularly like that he picks up the line "here he
comes", which appears fleetingly in the middle of the original, and places
it front and centre of the remix, as if slyly welcoming himself aboard.
"Satisfaction",
by Mountain. Sludge guitars extracted forcibly from the foul-smelling bowels of
1974, and employed in service of this Rolling Stones cover. (The sound of these
guitars is not a million miles away from Tame Impala.) On the same album they
also cover "Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On". I'd like to hear that.
Although there's no way it's going to beat Lee Hazlewood.
"We Are Never
Ever Getting Back Together (Country Mix)", by Taylor Swift. So sue me. A
great pop song is a great pop song. And that never goes out of style. Or
fashion. Or your head. Co-written, it won't surprise you, by Max Martin, who seems
to know what he is doing.
"Prove To
Me", by Seapony. Speaking of never going out of fashion: chiming, jangly
guitars paired with dreamy female vocals. There are days when I wouldn't want
to listen to anything else.
"Gas on F",
by White Denim. In which the rambling -- and prolific -- Texans channel, in
their own way, Uncle Neil's "Down By The River". At least, it starts
off that way, before morphing into its own gently psychedelic sound field.
(That would be a field with contented cows.)
"Ooh-Ah-Ee",
by Vern Blair Debate. There is, in fact, no debate whatsoever, Vern. Supremely
funky guitars, straight out of Haircut 100, are the order of the day here.
Instrumental as anything!
"Hot, Funky and
Sweaty", by The Soul Lifters. What it says.
"Take It From A
Friend", by Janey and Dennis. Remember songs like "Seabird", by
The Alessi Brothers? You will after you have listened to this. Hipsters have
given this kind of song the label "sunshine pop", but there is the
slightest air of melancholy sitting just underneath the surface to add some substance
to the sweetness and light. I imagine it is possible to trace a line from this
song, via The Carpenters and, if you're from Australia, The Moir Sisters, to
"Trees and Flowers", by Strawberry Switchblade, and thence, heading
backwards again in time, to The Roches' "Hammond Song", and maybe
even "You Make The Sunshine", by The Temprees.
"Silversong",
by Mellow Candle. Oops, I almost wrote, "by Espers". Both parties
should take that as a compliment. This is the kind of song that Espers do
better than anyone else in recent memory; here's how it was done in 1972.
"I'm A Man",
by Cisneros and Garza Group. Actual, certifiably authentic Texas sixties garage
rock; and a cover of the Spencer Davis Group classic. What could possibly go
wrong? Okay, the flute solo, for one thing ...
"Magic
Mirror", by Aphrodite's Child. So you thought Vangelis was responsible for
nothing more than the "Blade Runner" soundtrack and windy new age
mumbo jumbo assisted by the helium-voiced dude from Yes? That Demis Roussos was
nothing more than a facilitator of wet handkerchiefs? Think again.
"Kyenkyen Bi Adi
M'awu", by Alhaji K. Frimpong. Music for your back porch on a summer
evening. If your back porch was in Africa.
"Still I Love
You", by Isaac Tichauer. Australian content alert! Dude has clearly been
listening to Dan Snaith (especially in his Daphni guise), Nicolas Jaar, Andy
Stott and the like, but has managed to come up with his own sound. And I like
it. There's a particularly nice "Tubular Bells" kind of thing that
surfaces every now and then.
"Mauve Mood
(Gavin Russom remix)", by Alice Cohen. As best as I can figure out, this
is the same Alice Cohen that Wikipedia describes as a New York-based musician
and visual artist, active since the late seventies. I'm surprised I haven't run
across her before; this is exactly the type of analog synth-based tunesmithery
(think, for example, early Nite Jewel) that I fall heavily for every time I
hear it. Actually, the analog nature of the remix, not surprisingly, is
Russom's own work; the original song is carried along on a 1980s digital synth-pop
sheen.
"Sandsings
(remixed by Boards of Canada)", by Mira Calix. At the time when we were
trawling through the internet in search of the songs that would ultimately form
the basis of this hypothetical mixtape, a new Boards of Canada album seemed
impossible to even imagine. Thus we were inclined to leap on anything bearing
the Boards of Canada name with a haste that perhaps no longer seems entirely dignified.
