If you were a lost soul wandering in the dangerous and murky
backwaters of the internet in September last year, these are the songs you
would have found. Actually, you would have found considerably more, but I have
slowly filtered the list down to these essentials, so that you don't have to.
"Back to Nature", by Fad Gadget. Nothing to do
with the very fine song by Magazine of the same name, but nevertheless notable
in its own right, being both the first record by Mr Gadget, who went on to have
a sterling career putting out electronic records on a Goth-industrial fringe,
and also the second record released on Mute Records, also the first by someone
other than label honcho Daniel Miller himself. (Although, this seems to be open
to debate: the catalog number, MUTE 002, bears it out, but according to
Wikipedia -- as of today(ish), anyway -- Silicon Teens' jaunty electropop take
on Chuck Berry's "Memphis, Tennessee", another song I remember very
fondly, came out first. It's all rather vexing, although, given that Silicon
Teens turned out to be Daniel Miller in disguise anyway, ultimately not
actually relevant to anything.)
"Tonight, We Fall (John Foxx and the Maths
Remix)", by ADULT.. More fatback analog synths, although in this case we
probably have to classify them as "retro", even though Foxx himself did
sound like this back in 1979. Parts of this come across like a slowed-down
version of DAF's "Der Mussolini", yet another fireside favourite.
[Don't get too fancy -- Ed.] Elsewhere the synths are so huge you keep waiting
for them to blow a fuse.
"All Night", by Icona Pop. This, on the other
hand, is thoroughly modern. But a pop song, done right (as this one is), is
timeless. I dare you not to jump around the room to this when it is played at
high volume. Even if someone else is watching. How embarrassing.
"Jupiter", by Blackfield. Then we get the big,
lachrymose strings, and the portentous piano, and it's like we're straight into
Eric Carmen's "All By Myself", but this is not that song (mercifully)
but another song, and it's not actually, once you get past the first 20
seconds, maudlin at all. (Well, I suppose it is, but within reasonable
tolerances.) Mid-seventies pop-rock will never grow stale. What? This was made
last year? Shoot me now. At least tell me they are from Canada. No? Damn.
"Mexico", by Firefall. Is it okay to hate The
Eagles but to like music that sounds, largely, indistinguishable from The
Eagles? Of course it is, nobody ever said I had to be consistent. The lead
guitarist here may not be Joe Walsh, but he's no slouch. Bonus points for the
mariachi interlude. (Postscript: it doesn't really sound that much like The
Eagles, does it?)
"Summertime", by Booker T & The MGs. Oh that Hammond.
"Castles Made of Sand", by Four Tet. And old
random stray Four Tet track, coming from his LateNightTales installment. You
know the song. It's one of Jimi's. Whether you recognise it or not is an
entirely different question.
"Tell Me What Is True Love", by Bert Jansch. Is
Bert Jansch. Is good.
"Gnostic Serenade", by 3's a Crowd. Bands with
both numerals and apostrophes in their name rarely make it big. (Now there's a challenge ...) That is the
only possible reason for this mesmerising song being hitherto unknown. (Unknown
to me, at least. Perhaps you knew better.)
"Sand", by Clear Light. You can be forgiven that
thinking, after the first few seconds, that you were listening to "London
Calling", by The Clash. You realise the error of your ways as the song
rapidly morphs into what it actually is, a sixties guitar-driven garage
smoulderer.
"Pink Dominos", by The Crescents. This is probably
what The Beatles, or at least the kids who then turned to The Beatles, had been
listening to just before The Beatles became a thing. You can hear them in it,
but you can also be astounded at what they turned it into.
"Cocaine Blues", by Escort. There are other songs
called "Cocaine Blues". This is not any of those. Escort have done their homework so well, there are no clues that I can spot that indicate that this wasn't made 35 years before it actually was. I hope they take that as a compliment.
"Hills of Katmandu (Patrick Cowley Mix)", by
Tantra. Disco on steroids. And divers other substances, not necessarily all
legal. Enter at own risk.
"Rainbow Circles (Beatless Version)", by Kaito.
Whereas this is disco, or rather Kompakt-style techno, on, well, I don't know
what: helium perhaps? All the bottom-end propulsion has been extracted from the
track, leaving a residual pulse and an overall sensation akin to being lighter
than air. Nice.
"Flares", by Land of Light. It's not every day you
hear a piece of music that transports you back to David Sylvian's solo
masterpiece, "Brilliant Trees", or the second disc of "Gone to
Earth", but this does that trick in such a way that, even after 11
minutes, you don't really want it to end. Ah, so that is what the "Repeat" button is for.
