This Confangled Blog Business

You may have noticed that I didn't blog here at all last week. That was intentional on my part - I've been negotiating trying to find time to listen to the music and blog about it. Its hard to do the two simultaneously in any other format than a lame-ass play by play style, which I don't think anybody should be forced to experience. I'm still chugging away at the unlistened tunes:

I'm down to 145 gb!

However, for the purposes of this blog, I've vacillated on the best form of the posts, timing, and what not. I typically write late at night (its 2:22 a.m. right now) because I'm part-robot, part-night owl, and a little crazy. Right now my living situation just doesn't support doing that very well. Eventually I'll have more control over my living situation (things like privacy, personal habits, environment). Right now I have to go with it.

So, for the time being I think what I'll do is try to select an album to write about each week. Of course I'll listen to more than one album, but a constraint like this will keep writing here manageable. Thanks for checking in, and I'll be back with new content soon.

Cheers,
Bodhisvaha

Day 26: Black

Things began with the strangest sequence of artists yet: The Fiery Furnaces to Biz Markie, Bjork to The Dandy Warhols to Jay-Z, then a lone Kronos Quartet prelude to Depeche Mode. This slid me into the "black" albums that I have, including two simply called The Black Album (looks at Jay and Dandy), and Black Market Clash, among others. Try out Lucifer below:

I found Lucifer quite appealing. As some well-padded, 20-something, white, college guy, I'm not going to attempt any pretense of intelligent discussion about the content of this song. I will say I think it sounds awesome. There's some really effective atonal counterpoint about two-thirds of the way through the song, where he starts singing over the female lead.

Moving on, I thought I had already gotten my fill of Muse, especially in the pretentious waters of a post-The Resistance milieu. However, it would seem that I skipped over this little gem from Black Holes and Revelations, called Assassin:

The brutal opening sets the song off to a blistering pace, a violent tarantella exploding in full instrumentation. What's neat is the way they weave together a standard call/response structure over the top of this without deadening the intensity of the instrumentation. I'm sure somewhere in the lyrics Muse actually gets to making the title of the song relevant, but of course that's not why I enjoyed it. It seems to be a terrible struggle for any band - often the enjoyment from their work has nothing to do with the lyrical content so much as the tone and feel. However, people rarely go crazy for just pure instrumental work, or for wordless music. Their songs need the words even though  no one listens to the words themselves. They listen only to the fact of the song having words.

Music left: 153.32gb

Cheers, Bodhisvaha 

Day 25: Ayn-uh Minuten, Bitte

I've been keeping myself pretty busy these past few days, juggling an installation piece (which went quite well, and I'll put the results online soon), my internship, a branding project, my first adventure into tumblr, and I started reading Ulysses for the first time (pro tip: no what the hell an omphalos is).

And in the midst of all this frenetic activity I was pushed and pulled by Gary Schyman's score work for Bioshock and Bioshock 2. For those who "aren't into games," the Bioshock games have explored the consequences of an objectivist society according to the precepts of Ayn Rand in the marvelous fictional city of Rapture. While accurate, that description utterly fails in capturing the faded, glorious allure of running through the ghosts of man's aspiration frozen as architecture. Instead of geeking out about his aggressive use of dissonance and atonal composition techniques, I'll simply say that he made some very compelling music.

Apart from my journey under the sea I enjoyed som XTC, Hiromi, and something called The Bird & The Bee. They're a technically-oriented indie pop duo, building up thick vocal harmonies over jazzy chord progressions that consistently twist and bend in ways you're not quite expecting. For the most part their lyrics sucked ass, with pieces that bemused me in their obviousness such as Again & Again and Fucking Boyfriend. However, the music was slick enough that I found myself still humming along, only to curse when I had discovered they had gotten me again. I'll be interested to see where they go, because I think their overall sound is pretty swank.

After that light-hearted frolic, I got slammed by the tandem titans of Jaco Pastorious and Miles Davis. And not just any Miles Davis, but Bitches Brew Miles Davis. The album that, excepting one four and a half minute piece, contains no jams shorter than eleven minutes. Sadly, this project of mine has nudged me begrudgingly toward the direction of not liking jazz as much. I enjoy long form work. If you make something that's a good solid hour of music, I won't condemn it for its length. However, I just can't process that much codified improvisation at once (which is what jazz is - ad lib within a specific contextualization). I did get a quaint little surprise, though:

 Music left: 157.36gb

Cheers,

Bodhisvaha

Day 24: The best of everything.

The schizophrenic weather around here is really getting me down. I'm pro-snow, so the rain is just miserable, both because its freezing cold and because it, well, freezes. I'm reduced to walking to my classes instead of biking, the result of a comic series of foibles and circumstances arranged to render my bike inoperable. But, enough bitching.

One phenomenon I didn't think about when starting this project was the deluge of compilation albums that use "The Best of..." convention for their titles. David Bowie, Carly Simon, Depeche Mode, even the double-take worthy Dramarama and Fad Gadget have respective "Best of's" to throw into the mix.

Here's the complete list of "Best of" artists, in the order I heard them:

Blondie

Blur

David Bowie

Carly Simon

David Bowie (again, but this time 1969-1974)

Depeche Mode

Dramarama

Fad Gadget

Larry Graham and Graham Central Station

Marvin Gaye (let's get it on)

Pixies

Rockapella

Silverchair

Simon & Garfunkel

Styx

The Beach Boys

The Smiths

The Spinners

Warren Zevon

SO. MUCH. BEST. MUSIC.

I'm glad that I actually listened to Pixies. I mean, mutilating waves are great and whatnot, but I'm sure the band had a little more substance.

And now, something completely different.

Yes, that's Panjabi MC, off his album Bhangra. I thought you'd like it. I have this strange soft spot for anything pseudo-spoken in another language in music. Its like a kryptonite-esque weakness of mine. The other thing I get all goofy for are women talking lyrics over a really heavy baseline, à la CSS, Duchess Says, or even (don't hate me) The Ting Tings (sometimes, when its a full moon). Things rounded off today with some more Hiromi (who's funky piano I will always fawn over) and The Black Keys with The Big Come Up. 

Music left: 159.38gb

Cheers,

Bodhisvaha

Day 23: Mediocre Masters: Brian Eno.

Welcome to another installment of Mediocre Masters! This has been a long time coming. Brian Eno, your time is now. Eno, or more pretentiously, Brian Peter George St. John le Baptiste de la Salle Eno (yes, that's really his name) is credited by some with the pioneering of ambient music. Since 1948 he has graced our dimension with his rare gift for tedium and a bizarre semblance of what the generous would call taste.

Really? Also, surprise palm frond.

The only thing more puzzling than his semi-drag charm and ninja-fern compatriot is the gray zone where a hairline should be. Granted, this photo is outdated.

There. Now I can direct my disdain just at the aimless buzzing he pimps as music. After drenching Eno in so much of my juicy ire, it might seem inappropriate to merely call him mediocre. However, as we shall see soon, an artist couldn't manage to be truly bad and sustain such a long lasting career. This is the strange enigma that is Eno: everyone seems to want to work with him. He tangled himself up with Talking Heads, David Bowie, Devo, U2, Coldplay, and others. He's participated in various acts over time, proliferated into writing, installation, and other, more esoteric projects (such as a deck of cards that uses randomness and quotation). He's been producing culture for over forty years now, and it would seem that everyone missed out on the joke behind his practice: his shit is cold. At his most energetic we get no better than the Microsoft opening sound. No, really.

Wow! That sounded like the beginning of something potentially intriguing. Too bad it was only some 3 seconds long. He even had this idea of doing lots of mini-pieces like this, which I think is neat, too. He seems to regularly have interesting ideas that get smelted through his forge of banality into something you can't quite believe is happening only because so little actually is happening. Let's study one of his fully developed pieces, 

2/2 (from his Ambient I: Music for Airports)

Its almost like watching a sunrise, if the sun were insufferably lame and had a questionable history of cross-dressing. And please don't think I'm hating on him just because his sound is "avant-garde", or "experimental." I can get my groove on to some pretentious shit with the best of them. Ghost Opera? I'm down. A saucy threnody? Sign me up. One of the largest tone clusters ever composed? Let's pop some popcorn. But please, I beg you, please don't make music where the most engaging thing you could add would be a soft voice intoning "You are a valuable person. People like you..."

Protest

Stop SOPA/PIPA

Day 21: Beethoven and Indulgence

I realized that, since I will soon be departing the beloved halls of my university, I should make an effort to get as much as possible from my library. Books, DVD's, music, sheet music, poetry anthologies all ripe for the *perusing*. I was elated to find Tinariwen and their  album Amassakoul. Since it started with an A, I felt no guilt indulging in it immediately. You might have seen this group on The Colbert Report some number of weeks ago (I have a roommate who religiously records and watches this show). Please, enjoy a sample:

To top it off, I was enjoying my roommate Scott's lovely hookah with him. Positively delicious. He ended up naming his hookah Elizabeth Bathory, Blood Countess (yes, that one). Liz for short.

After that came Beethoven, his Pastoral Symphony and something else that matters. Sadly, a special someone decided to awkwardly shuffle into my playlist. Don't worry, I'll talk all about him next time. The Rolling Stones guested in Beggar's Banquet, and Dave Matthews Band in Before These Crowded Streets. I know that DMB gets some hate, but I cannot deny the group's talent as session musicians. Just because his music attracts a lot of Bro-sey folk doesn't mean he has to be all bad, right?

Ms. Spektor also surfaced in her Begin to Hope. I remember my "Regina" phase, where I obsessively listened to her and learned to play my favorites on the piano. I can still do a mean Braille. One of my delightful finds today was Auburn Lull. As in my other pursuits, I tend towards a dichotomy of extremes. At one end I revel in bloody rhythms and raw, throaty dissonance. At the other end I delight in the calm, undulating ambience of groups like Explosions in the Sky.

Auburn Lull makes it a little harder for me to make digs at Shoegaze.

There's a beautiful simplicity to the vocal harmonies in Broken Heroes. All of the parts are balanced, with no competition for the listener's attention. The song waves back and forth, shimmering in a way that reminds me of the heat of summer. Fortunately, the percussion and bass provide just enough structure to prevent the whole thing from collapsing into tonal mush.

Music left: 160.42gb

Cheers,

Bodhisvaha

Day 20: Slightly Esoteric.

Things started off prog with King Crimson's Beat. Then a little pop with the Beatles and their white album. Revolution 9 caught me off guard. I'd heard about the song before, but actually listening to it for the first time was quite a different experience. Eventually, I came to the somber works of Arvo Pärt. Specifically, Beatus - Tonu Kaijuste. To say that his music is heavy would be an understatement. I appreciate that kind of gravity on occasion, but his work felt very stiff overall. A big part of what I value in music is its rhythm. I don't mean it has to be fast and drum-blasting, but it does have to be interesting. Although the vocals were well-done, beautiful, in fact, they didn't help shake the overall feeling that I had been coerced into going to mass after getting slipped a valium by my pervy uncle.

There were some triumphant moments in his music. The fifth section of Magnificat-Antiphonen was engaging for its awed, reverent chord progressions and its ethereal dissonances. Of course the fact that its a cappella gives it the air of something angelic. Since I'm not Christian, my experience with the music is probably different from someone of a faith to which this text speaks. However, that sense of glory and mystery is pervasive to the human condition, and I believe that it is accessible to anyone of any theological/philosophical stance. His work reminds me of Eric Whitacre and William Albright in some ways. Hopefully I'll get the chance to tell you more about them later. Anyhoo, try out part of Magnificat-Antiphonen.

If you can avoid falling asleep it can be lovely.

                                              

                                                  -My Uncle

After that came something a little more palatable: The Eels! My friend Leigh introduced me to them about four years ago, and I had only really listened to their song "Ballerina," which hooked me because I'm a sucker for the tritone in music. Enjoy Novocaine for the Soul.

 Music left: 161.85gb

Cheers,

Bodhisvaha

Day 18: Joy and Cramps

I finished the book I had been working on, Babbitt, today. I recommend it, even if The Jungle turned you off of Sinclair Lewis. Its pretty short, and very interesting to read after The Society of the Spectacle. Anyway, let's talk music.

Amy Winehouse made a posthumous visit in the form of Back in Black. I never really got into her when she was alive, and it seems disingenuous to do so now. I will say that she has a fascinating voice. Motion City Soundtrack and a drive-by Ani DiFranco led up to my introduction to The Cramps and my first venture into psychobilly. For me, the sound is tightly wound up with a romantically grungy image of late 80's and early 90's NYC. It gets filed in my head right next to Stranger Than Paradise, a quintessentially artsy black and white romp through the drifting youth of an increasingly postmodern culture. Or some shit like that.

I dig the slow swank they throw around in this song. The off-kilter vocal jumps, the crazed triplet stutters, and Lux gasping and gawking with a seedy drawl provide the right amount of grit I crave. This segued nicely to another intervention by Bad Religion. Also, Warren Zevon wiggled his way in somehow.

The next band I'd like to draw your attention to is The Joy Formidable, a trio that uses electronic haze and droning synths to create a dreamy bed for their vocals, sliding in and out of focus.

The Greatest Light is the Greatest Shade starts off distantly, like its echoing from far off in the distance. The combination of the major chords and distant, almost chant-like melody with the actual chanting of "this dream is" adds to the meditative space it carves out in the distance. (By this point you have hopefully already toked out before listening to this song, otherwise you might miss this.) And this distance makes the climax in the second half more gratifying as the distant instrumentation comes together, emphatically lifting the chant "happy for you" up and away, another echo in the distance.

This chill set up was kind of shat on by Vanessa Carlton and her album Be Not Nobody. If the name doesn't ring a bell, try this. That's right, let it all soak back in. Its not that I think she's necessarily a bad singer, per se. Its why I consider Matthew Good a Mediocre Master whereas B*Witched is an aural abortion: the banality of their lyrics and conventionality of their music smother whatever talent they might have. Its not like they shaved their armpits into a microphone for an hour and tried to sell it. They just haven't made it past the "facile regurgitation" stage that artists have to go through.
Coming next time: prog.

Music left: 162.46gb

Cheers,
Bodhisvaha

Day 17: A switch up.

So far I've been able to make a nice dent in my backlog. I'm still trying to get the hang of this whole blogging business, as I haven't really tried it with any consistency before. Everyday does seem a tad excessive. Thus, I'll be switching to a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule. With this being the first day of classes and all, I just send off and see you Wednesday.

Cheers,

Bodhisvaha

Day 16: New letter, new terror

I officially started listening to albums that start with B today! This means that I have now listened to every single album in my collection whose name begins with the letter A. The letter A ended quietly with Ben Lee's Awake is the New Sleep. I really got the feeling that he wants to be Bob Dylan, as he relies on that lilting and melodic way of talking through songs that is the essence of any Dylan caricature today.

The letter B was inaugurated with an assortment of b-sides and rarities split between Bad Religion and Cake.

Bad Religion's got some fun in it, but it sat on the side of being too rough to want to listen to all the time. Of course, these tracks aren't their most refined representation. They've done a lot of Christmas songs, for whatever reason.

After them I got to indulge in some Infected Mushroom. They achieve a nice spacey quality in their music while still generating interesting rhythms (I'm looking at you, Eno).
However, my libraries sick sense of humor had to drop in...

I think my ears just fused together into a giant vagina. For extra laughs, skip ahead to 2:55 in the track where whoever is singing busts out into the most painful, stilted attempt at ad lib I've had to experience yet in my short life. Who do I know that actually listens to B*Witched? They mercifully broke up (the Sisters of Fate spared our universe) in 2002. All of this has been given to me by this past summer at the earliest (for those who don't know, my hard drive crashed over the summer, so I ran around reconstructing my collection from  my friends). I have to ask: Who actually intended to keep this shit?


This might beg the question: why did I listen to it? I guess you could call it some antiquated sense of "doing it right." It seems like cheating to delete an artist or album right before I have to listen to them because I assume I won't like them. That kind of defeats the purpose of this whole project. Besides, now I can say things with personal authority like B*Witched is the musical equivalent of a tampon dipped in the glitter jar at school and stapled to Hello Kitty's forehead.

Fortunately, Sigur Ros dropped in to save the day with their Ba Ba Ti Ki Di Do, an unsurprisingly enjoyable EP. Next came Bowie's Baal and an actual album in its entirety by Zappa: Baby Snakes. Dude, that guy is strange. I mean, I knew that he was strange beforehand from friends who like him. But damn.

Music left: 163.52gb

Cheers,
Bodhisvaha

Day 15: Mediocre Masters - Matthew Good

I'd like to take the time to introduce a new occasional feature in honor of the embarrassingly trite musical efforts I've stumbled across through my listening: the Mediocre Masters. It's time to pay homage to the astoundingly average. Lurking between the sexy glitch-tricity of Cut Chemist, R.E.M., and the personal vice of Audioslave (don't judge me - Show Me How To Live is fucking catchy) was the oeuvre of Matthew Good. I had the pleasure of two of his long-form works today - The Audio of Being and Avalanche. It turns out that between his solo work and his band I have six hours of his radio-slathering drivel. Give me drugs.

This man. Fuck him.

He hits all of the right beats for utterly generic music. He keeps his tunes at an even keel, somewhere around 80bpm. His voice hits that sweet spot of whiny/airy and unsupported. Its as if he thinks expression is summarily tied up in breathiness. Predictable percussion with a guitar riff slapped over the top isn't enough for this pinnacle of pedestrian effort. The requisite string sections make their due appearances in  songs that try desperately to be deep and poetic, such as In a World Called Catastrophe. 

Please note the complex motifs he weaves throughout this subtle meditation on death, existential angst, and contemporary sexuality. With startling, evocative lines such as

Here it comes, and there it goes/ Another day of decomposing light

He paints a surreal landscape where his inner emotional turmoil manifests in the ambiguity of distorted syntax and surprise antecedents.

At the risk of leaving a bad taste in your mouth, please enjoy some Cut Chemist.

You may recognize the animation as being from The Animatrix. 

Music left: 164.6gb

Cheers,

Bodhisvaha

Day 14: Break

I didn't get any listening done today. A combination of errands and visitors kept me away from my computer. Fear not, more thrilling tales of my music to come.

Day 13: Age and Passing

Today was lighter on the listening than other days have been. I took some time to dig into one of the books I got for Christmas - Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis. I decided to read it because of what I'd read about it from another book called The Modern Mind: An Intellectual History of the 20th Century by Peter Watson. I went to some art openings today, although they were pitiful because of the weather and a lack of college-aged bodies. At the Heorot was a one-act by Beckett called Krapp's Last Tape, which was intriguing if not absolutely enjoyable. I still worked in music, though. 

I started off with Johnny Cash with At Folsom Prison. Next came some Nick Lowe and Etta James. This of course means that I got to listen to one of my favorite songs:

Something smooth and sweet hides in her leisurely notes. Its love without any pretense or self-awareness that later songs about love (I'm looking at you, Darwin Deez and your radar detector) lost. There's a quote from David Foster Wallace about how the next generation of artists will be rebellious not through irony but instead through genuine, unabashed emotion and desire. Their directness will be their subversion, and their honesty the source of their revolution.

After that came a live album of Styx. This has two problems: I'm only kind of okay with Styx, and I don't like live albums (with the exception of Jason Mraz, since he sounds as good live as recorded). It wasn't too terrible, although the age of the musicians showed in the unavoidable vibrato that distorted their harmonies. Then, The Flaming Lips! At War With The Mystics is pretty legit, and I'm glad I got around to listening to it. The crazy titles, bizarre soundscapes and keen sense of melody all combine into a trippy-ass ride that I'm definitely down for. I got to finish up with some Hall & Oates.

Lady Rain, from The Atlantic Collection.

Music left: 165.05gb

Cheers,

Bodhisvaha

Day 12: Old Time Religion

I've pretty much been in isolation today since I have the apartment all to myself, and a lot of my friends aren't anywhere near campus right now. This means I had another day to blast through a lot of music, and thank god I could. I got some of The Kinks and a one-of Bob Dylan's oeuvre (Sweetheart Like You). Then things took a turn for the spiritual. Arvo dropped in again, this time with the somber pomp of a mass performance. Not quite to my present tastes. After that came Jesu and the Ascension album. Quite enjoyable. They strike a great balance of ambient tonal fields and engaging percussion action. Coincidentally, John Coltrane also has an album named Ascension.

Don't listen to it. Dear Jesus and a bag of chips don't fucking listen to it. Why? What puts me in such a state of almost horrified deterring? Here, let me show you.

Look carefully. What do you notice, about, maybe the time for each of the pieces? That's right. Three unholy hours of this shit. Only four tracks. Even that in itself might not be such a problem. I've had a roommate decide he enjoyed hour long techno-trance pieces, and I tolerated them. But this - this album - is a constant assault upon your notions of redundancy, harmonic relationship, and coherency. It literally sounds like a jazz band got together and all of the players just started playing randomly, following one sole directive : make sure you can be heard over everyone else. I can't overemphasize just how incoherent and stochastic it is.

And its not that I have a problem with stochastic process, aleatoric music, or even downright coherency. Just don't use those techniques to create something that makes me want chew my own ears off (I'll gladly rip out my jaws to make it happen) so that I can illegally smuggle them into a miserable former-bloc country somewhere in eastern Europe where I'm sure Coltrane will never be able to find them again. Jesus. Sorry, Jesu.

After that came a lovely dip into Elvis Perkins and his While You Were Sleeping.

Straightforward acoustics, a clean voice and elegant lyrics make for an enjoyable listen.

Next was Wilco's Ashes of American Flags. I seem to be bipolar in my reaction to Wilco. I'm either gaga over their more experimental electronic pieces, or I'm trying to keep from compulsively switch tracks when I hear the lead singer whip out this warbling country-wanna-be twang with steel guitar back up just to be cheeky. Van Morrison and DJ Shadow also got to make an appearance.

Some of the stuff from this album was just kind of funky. Weird patches of straight up dialogue and schizophrenic pieces that seemed to shift for the sake of shifting. But here, in Send Them, the jumps and interjections work incredibly well. Percussive bells keep a lively tempo over a chill base ascending line. And over this are spread some fast verses, rapid rants that play with syncopation and meter effortlessly.

Music left: 166.44gb

Cheers,
Bodhisvaha

Day 11: Water

Post-Christmas seems to be just this general stretch of irresponsible milling about. I do quite enjoy it, although its done quite the number to my sleep schedule. However, its given me oodles of time to just dig through my playlist. I started things off with Jethro Tull and his famous Aqualung. In some ways he seems like a rougher cousin to Sufjan Stevens. He manages to work these ornate flute trills and melodic passages in a similar fashion. There's a certain ornateness and subtle complexity to the chord structures. Its like Jethro Tull comes at the music making process starting with a heavier rock sound, and then incorporating this lightness into it, whereas Sufjan goes the other way, always having to work harder to add weight and punch. And of course the lead singer for Jethro Tull can muster far more menace than the Detroit musico-cartographer. But after their twisted little Aqualung, I get this:

Yes, that would be Aqua's Barbie Girl from the album Aquarium. Don't ask.

Post-hanky-panky I got to visit Me First and the Gimme Gimmes and Are a Drag. Its quite the amusing number as they cover various show tunes. I had no idea that they were strictly a cover band until I went to their wikipedia page to read about them. Strangely, they provided the beginning of a wiki-walk that lasted forty-five minutes and led me through topics such as business-efficiency models and Finnish swearing. Perkele! 


Then Fugazi, Wishbone Ash, and Squeeze all made an appearance. Nothing particularly phenomenal jumped out at me this time, but I'll be interested in seeing when they pop up next. I was kind of amused by Squeeze's absurdly upbeat rock organ which hid in the background songs like Farfisa Beat.

Army of Me came next. It was a compilation of remixes and covers of the song by various artists, so it felt strange just saying Björk was next. Some of the covers got pretty intense, which I wasn't expecting. Hemp made a nice contribution, switching the relentless, churning, electric ostinato over to guitar. However, what I really dug was the remix done by Dr. Syntax'N'CB v. Rivethead. I couldn't find a video for it, so here's the track as best I can manage.

It starts out with natural sounds and light percussion that breaks down into this hot, glitchy pulse. Of course, the song gets funky in its orchestration, but you'll have to find that out for yourself.

Music left: 166.32gb 

Cheers,

Bodhisvaha

Day 10: Ecstasy and Hooves (or: No, this isn't an Equus reference)

I had another drive by Zappa - Don't Eat The Yellow Snow. Thanks, Frank. You're a pal.
Yo-Yo Ma was on the agenda today and his album Appalachian Journey. I hadn't taken the time to actually listen to him. Of course he's fantastic, but I never gave him a chance. I wish that it had been just him, as it quickly meandered into banal, 50 year old car music as soon as someone started singing over him. He was followed up by Guns n' Roses and XTC. XTC would be another band whose name had been thrown around in front me, but I had yet to jump on board.

We're All Light is an enjoyable, straightforward tune. Its like someone put a movie montage in my head of two young high school sweethearts finally confessing their love to each other.

After XTC I had the chance to namedrop Deerhoof, a funky, electrically souped-up quartet that mixes weird patterning with more traditional rock elements. I enjoyed their lighthearted, yet attention-grabbing song Flower.

This awesome percussion riff busts out into something waltz-like and twitchy, with chords wavering in the background. They play with creating several different beat-based "feels," sliding between rhythms that are in three and in two. What I really enjoy about this song is that it shows the band willing to treat the vocals as just another instrument. I'd also recommend Sealed With A Kiss if you like what you heard above.

Music left: 166.93gb

Cheers,
Bodhisvaha

Day 9: The Sly Tribe

First off, let me say Happy New Year! Betty White survived, the Beast did not awaken, and I survived my hangover. Hallelujah. I took a day or two break from this saucy music business for the Janusian festivities, so I have no time to lose!

I had the pleasure of revisiting Hiromi Uehara to start things off. She makes incredibly enjoyable work. What makes it so unique is that she comes at music-making from the perspective of a dedicated pianist. The piano is her instrument. With this as her starting point she manages to keep her work fresh and diverse in its tone. At the risk of sounding like lame weather music, the drums and other instruments she incorporates only serve as solid framework for her intense, artistic vision.

After that was the cringe-inducing CKY (formerly Camp Kill Yourself). All of the music off their album An Answer Can Be Found awkwardly vacillated between cheesy, uplifting rhymes and trite attempts at lyrical depth and anguish. Its nerdy, white-kid, feel-bad-about- yourself rock, and its nauseating. However, I felt a lot better with The Monkeys! Fortunately, my playlist still had a good twist to keep things weird:

This is what the beginning of a strange hour looks like.

That would be two anthologies, one for Sly & the Family Stone, one for Tribe Called Quest, intertwined into a schizophrenic mash-up. Is it because they're black, iTunes? Is that why? You racist pig. This was the one coupling that really did it for me:

Followed by:

lolwut?

Music left: 167.52gb

Cheers,

Bodhisvaha