Another day, another mixtape ...
"Medicine Map", by Chuck Johnson.
You may say that latter-day finger pickers who have drunk at the well of John
Fahey are a dime a dozen. Maybe so, but I won't be getting sick of listening to
their magical and mesmerising tones any time soon.
"Just Seventeen", by Raiders. The
lyrical content may be on the nose (and of its time) but this track by Raiders
(wither Paul Revere?) kicks hard and bounces high in a 1973 kind of way, although
it is actually the product of 1970 and therefore, perhaps, ahead of its time.
Nice use of brass, too.
"Can't Find My Way Home", by
Blind Faith. This proto-Led Zeppelin IV number is from the only album by Blind
Faith, aka Eric Clapton, Ginger Baker, Steve Winwood and, uh, the other guy. It
features a record cover that, if you came up with it today, you would be in
jail, my friend.
"She
Said, She Said", by Lone Star. One of the reasons I persist with this
meaningless trawl through the endless morass of other people's musical
recommendations is to find the occasional moment (there is usually one just
around the corner, or the corner after that, or ...) of WTF-ness. Here comes
one now: The Beatles torn to shreds by way of the kind of overblown
overstatement that could only have come from 1976. Enjoy.
(Editor's note: the following is a BBC
session, rather than the album version. It is 30 seconds shy of the album
version, and perhaps lacks a bit of the latter's variation in dynamics, but
heck, on the one hand it's entirely off the planet, on the other hand it's yet
another example of "why punk had to happen": bloody (Welsh) hippies.)
"Soul Coaxing", by Orchestral
Academy of Los Angeles. It may not even have any words, but this is such an
emotional rollercoaster of a song that I cry every time I hear it. Seriously.
You can come to my house some time and watch me. I might charge admission.
"Pictures (Quiet Village Remix)",
by Grandadbob. I really miss Quiet Village. This helps.
"High", by Ellen Allien. It's
been a couple of years since we had anything from Ellen Allien. You know how
you sometimes feel like there's an absence in your life but you can't quite
place what it is? Now I remember. There's only one word for this track: perky.
"Lucia (John Talabot's Sunset
Edit)", by Ishinohana. What this is is a tweak of some 1980s mellow guitar
noodling. Although it actually sounds way better than you would imagine. Trust
me.
"Breezin'", by Masayoshi Takanaka
and Kazumi Watanabe. Did somebody just mention 1980s mellow guitar noodling? I
think I've got some more around here somewhere. Ah, yes, here it is. Featuring Yukihiro Takahashi on
the drums. (Bonus: album cover of the month. Not just for the
"historical" World Trade Centre photo, but for the majesty of the
font in which the album title is styled. But look closely: "Fantasic"?)
(Note: this seems not to be readily
findable on ye olde internet, so for the time being you can hit the dropbox.)
"Hold On To It (Jonny Nash
Remix)", by B.J. Smith. "Jonny Nash". "B.J. Smith".
You expect to be in country-twang territory, or perhaps in the presence of a master of the pedal
steel. But no. (Guitar shimmer does appear throughout, albeit through what
sounds like an opiate haze.) B.J. Smith was fifty percent of Smith & Mudd,
whom you might remember. Another track, as it turns out, for those pining for Quiet
Village.
"The Rhythm Divine", by Yello.
Ah, those crazy Swiss. Enlist Shirley Bassey to sing her not insubstantial
heart out. Drop in some backing vocals by the one and only Billy Mackenzie.
(One: why would you pull one of the sainted voices of modern music into your
orbit and then bury it in the mix? Two: why would he have agreed to it?
(Presumably that's easy to answer: it's Shirley Bassey. (Also: he co-wrote the
song.)) Three: do you notice how, when she sings "in my
heaaaaaaaart", she does sound like Mackenzie? It's actually kind of a neat
trick. The word "meta" comes to mind, although there is clearly
nothing meta about the result. It kills.)
"No Justice", by Astronauts, etc.
The first 12 seconds will determine whether you need this song in your life or
not. I bit.
"Chant For You", by Prequel. Here
things get a bit murky. It sounds like bits of old records stuck together in
such a way as to create a brand new song, one that is both "exotic", and
funky as heck. Which is exactly what it is. If you remember the WTF moment you (read:
"I") had when you first heard DJ Shadow, or Four Tet's
"Rounds", you will go for this. (Also: Australian content. Well
done, son.)
And finally, Mr Sakamoto tinkles the
ivories. You remember this. But when you first (and probably last) heard it you
hadn't yet immersed yourself in the world of Studio Ghibli. So now you wonder
if this piece of music, long buried in the far recesses of your brain, is one
of the reasons those movies have always felt so strangely familiar, so
comforting. Or maybe that's just the genius of Hayao Miyazaki.
