Sang froid

Speaking of buried treasure from the 1980s, I can't recommend the Femmes Sous Cellophane comp highly enough. If you like your pop continental cool, female-fronted, and artastic, there are 21 choice cuts to keep you in a Francophilic state of mind. I'm pretty sure it's out of print, but, you know, the Internet. Here are two of my favorites tracks, more material to soundtrack your alternate mental re-creation of that decade.

Juliette et les Indépendants - Un Jour Anglais
Première Classe - La Fille Qui Rit

(FYI — I'll most likely be laying low next week, or most of it, at least. Sometimes there just aren't enough hours in the day/night.)

Necessary listening

How is it that I only heard of The Necessaries a few days ago?! You'd think enough people who love Murmur or early Talking Heads or any smart New Wave pop would've championed these guys a long ago. I'm shocked that the Arthur Russell (keybs and vox) curators haven't been all over this, especially since it's a such a different context for his special genius. At any rate, I'm happy to do my part. If you're a fan of any of the aforementioned, go find their Event Horizon record. I wonder if the cover was done by same guy who did Crazy Rhythms or if there was just something about that shade of blue in the early '80s.

The Necessaries - More Real

Pinback in the day

Despite Songblague's occasional brushes with current events, I can assure you that today's song has nothing to do with Libya. It's more about a finger-walk through my CD collection, which I try to do regularly, as a break from my recent lazy habit of Itunes scrolling. I'm not sure whether that's what triggers the nostalgia or whether an unconscious itch to revisit old times comes first, but either way, landing on Pinback's debut record brought a wave of sensory remembrance into last weekend. It may be meat-and-potatoes indie rock, but the right notes in succession have a remarkable way of making a song seem made just for you.

Pinback - Tripoli

Put you in a light that will hurt your eyes

Let's stick with loud guitar rock bands from the 1990s. Or more specifically, the ones I was into then. Even more specifically, the ones that still make me make rock faces and dumb body contortions. I think I've previously commented on how badly a lot of the math-rock/post-rock/indie-anything-but-cock-rock from that era has aged. Much of it has neither the fun/catharsis of rocking out nor the technical wherewithal to prog it up respectfully. (Have you listened to a June of 44 album in the last 10 years? Yeesh.)

Anyway, these guys were good. Still are — the old stuff and the reunited version both. Exploded Drawing remains a great experimental rock record that does both effectively. Here's one of my faves from it. The verses sound like banging your head without being head-banging. Neat trick.

Polvo - Feather of Forgiveness

Dead presidents

Admittedly, I was planning on taking today off. Presidents' Day may be a silly holiday (jamming together some Rushmore birthdays and calling it a nationally meaningful day...c'mon), but it has remarkable durability for justifying a day away from work. And since I dodged the bullet of actually going to work today, I should at least pony up a song. So, in the spirit of this barely-a-holiday, here's one from our nation's capital. A band as great and dead as the aforementioned Washington and Lincoln. Sorta. Whatever. Rockage!

Jawbox - Reel

Achy body grooves

Been spending the week fighting off a cold — the nasty kind that sneaks up, disarms you, and holds your whole body hostage before pointlessly surrendering without even demanding ransom. In the midst of zincing and lozenging, I've rediscovered an age-old principle that the fighting spirit of white blood cells is greatly enhanced by warm, shimmering dance music. Like this fine specimen. If you recognize the sample melody, it's probably because you were constantly subjected to this in 1988.

Mylo - In My Arms

Bass is the place

Falling victim to the same hubris as Kiss, the members of Yes decided that the mid-'70s would be a good time to unleash a full complement of solo albums upon an unsuspecting public. (You can check out a detailed critical summary here.) At the far ends of the embarrassment scale were singer Jon Anderson's cosmic drool epic and drummer Alan White's, um, reggae exploration. Meanwhile, bassist Chris Squire somehow managed to cram Yes-sized pomp and near-constant bass shenanigans into a decent pop song. Who knows, maybe it had something to do with hiring Bruford back on drums. I like this song with surprisingly few reservations.

Chris Squire - Hold Out Your Hand

On some faraway beach

Staying with hazy sounds, this one's got my ear of late. Dirty Beaches is just the right moniker here. It sounds like someone's crackly radio playing a ways down the beach on a vacation day that started carefree but then took on an odd nervousness. But it's magically 1965 and there's a girl smiling in your direction.

Dirty Beaches - Lord Knows Best

My blurry valentine

You want a little St. Valentine's romance? You're gonna get it wrapped in gauze, a slow jam re-engineered from false memory, marinading in a rainy dream and spooning your ears in a subdued restlessness. And you're not going to fuss over the incomprehensible voices, because you know the sweet cooing swirls would drop out of the air under clarifying lights.

How To Dress Well - Lover's Start

New York noise

Whoops, my bad. This one was meant for Friday, but a perfect storm of work madness and a subsequent evening of steam letting offing conspired to undermine my daily discipline. Deepest apologies to the SB faithful. But actually, this track sort of fits that spirit. I first heard it on the excellent New York Noise compilation that probably did as good a job as any of capturing the brilliant, Janus-faced postpunk/disco-not-disco scene of the late '70s/early '80s. I think these guys only made one EP, but this song puts you in the party right as it's hitting its decadent, wild grunting peak.

The Dance - Do Dada

I want out

Fugazi took some guff for going out on a slightly more accessible note. Or because they got a little fancy with the music. Or was it for cracking an occasional smile and admitting they don't live in a monastery? At any rate, I'd like to counter any sour grapes with this track from their swan song. It's got some nice stingray guitars and a good daily helping of Guy's wailing and flailing. But then, wait, they go all "ooh ooh" across the chorus and rock an arena-sized buildup and release. And then some well-focused harshness suddenly arrives to usher them out with their sneer intact.

Fugazi - Full Disclosure

Nothing compares...

...to a long long draining day at work. I guess this is the price I pay for the privilege of seeing the magic little purple man in concert Monday night. Yes, quite magical. Quite sparkling in his outfit, and quite adept at stepping on effects pedals in high heels. He's still a showman to the end, maybe a bit of a parody of himself (maybe he always was), but all were swaying when he busted out one of the great ones he gave away. I'm too tired to find an audio version, so please excuse the fact that this is from the Ellen talk show. I guess with Prince, nothing should ever really surprise.

Crane kicks

What's not to love about a singer that sounds like a child who spent her formative years locked in an empty room with only cobwebs and black-and-white TV for company? Apparently, her older brother played guitar and let her join his band of pale boys with black hair hanging over their faces. I remember blasting this out of crappy speakers in my high school bedroom (no b&w TV there) and thinking ominous thoughts about the oncoming Year 2000. Then I did my Physics homework.

Cranes - Shining Road

Pointer brothers

Smooth '70s soul is glorious for so many reasons, not least of which is its ability to soar into the clouds while fueled by the most embittered lyrics. It seems Choice Four never really had their day in the sun, but for those who heard them, they nail the aesthetic spot on. (You can get their fantasmic debut here.) This tune feels awfully similar to the more celebrated "Backstabbers," but if you're making an airplane mix, it's a great one to have on as you're lifting into those clouds.

Choice Four - The Finger Pointers (Part 1)

Escape from New York

Sorry, I lied a little. Songblague is taking the week off, on account of an important work junket/escape from the icy East. But here's a little piece of love from LA...