Two sides of the moon

Rounding out a very non-comprehensive week of Krautrock, we're taking it back to the mighty Can. This jam is another favorite of mine, and uncharacteristically short. Clock-precise and sunset-beach-party-decadent at once.

Can - Moonshake

And here's one that's pretty much a "Moonshake" re-do, from one their less-than-perfect later albums. Clearly, their future days were no Future Days. You can hear the '70s finally catching up with them. Still a sweet hypnotic groove.

Can - Don't Say No

Happy Memorial Day/bbq/whatever you do! Back Tuesday.

Harald squared

I know what you're thinking — why did Anthony Michael Hall agree to wear metallic paint for this album cover? A more relevant question is why I have such a soft spot for sequencers, real drums, and lead synth that traces shapes in no particular hurry. I figure why stop at one winning groove when doubling down feels doubly good. Some imagery comes to mind — the first track accompanies as you burrow out of the ground and see the sunshine for the first time in years. The second is like gliding through endless air.

Harald Grosskopf - Emphasis

Harald Grosskopf - Synthesist

Space Capades

From cold hinterlands to deep space nebulae. I trust there are forms of life out there whose native language sounds a lot like Manuel Göttsching's guitar. Fun fact — Göttsching is prominently exhibited as a wax model in the Tokyo Tower Wax Museum, which is the largest wax museum in Asia. Now you know.

Ashra - Don't Trust The Kids
Ashra - Blackouts

Confronting the Yeti

Fierce Teutonic warriors, gather at my side! Grip tight your spears and let us enter the ice cave to slay the wooly beast that has terrorized our people for too long.

In the movie this song creates in my head, every character looks like a variation on Conan the Barbarian, pre-paternity suit. Still, Yeti is a pretty great album overall, well worth absorbing for those who think Germans are all about sleek precision.

Amon Düül II - Pale Gallery

In praise of the paradiddle

Is it possible that it's taken over 500 Songblague posts to get to one of my absolute favorite bands?! Talk about an ace in the hole. This groove is so literally seminal I feel as though it may be partly responsible for my existence. Umm, in a cosmic kindred spirit kind of sense, that is. I'm not suggesting that my or any other parents in South Jersey were blasting this while contemplating children. Gross.

At any rate, I remain convinced that listening to this track, combined with the right meditation, can lift your body above the ground. I'm also thinking this is gonna be a full-on Krautrock week, so hang on to your umlaut.

Can - Halleluwah

They laid down the law

Coming from Athens, GA, it shouldn't be surprising for the B-52s to give a little nod to antiquity. Sort of. I don't know why their Mesopotamia EP got the critical shrug. I think David Byrne gave their sometimes-irritating party tunes a welcome arty streak. This is basically a Speaking In Tongues groove (or maybe realistically Tom Tom Club) with Southern charm. Dig the swirling guitar bridge. It's like a cartoon sandstorm.

The B-52s - Mesopotamia

You get used to an empty room

Forget about songwriting prowess, ragged charm, and the grace to almost never make a public fool of oneself over a 40 year career. It's rare for any man to achieve "women want to be with him and men want to be him" status. All the more impressive when his name seems to destine him for a career in Accounting.

Sometimes you have a day when you realize your life has drifted way too far from the exquisite poetry of a Leonard Cohen song. These are the times when such a song is necessary.

Leonard Cohen - Master Song

Church music

If your knowledge of The Church starts and ends with memories of "Under the Milky Way" on 120 Minutes, I heartily recommend grabbing some early albums, or at least their well-compiled Best-of. The fact that it's subtitled "Under the Milky Way" doesn't do much to push against one-hit-wonderdom, but there are many great alt '80s songs to be heard from these Australians. Here's one.

The Church - Shadow Cabinet

No alibis tonight

More love for Bill Nelson, going back to his "I'm not Bowie, and I'm only sort of a guitar hero" days in Be Bop Deluxe. I try not to devote too many posts to one artist, but this musical crush keeps holding strong.

Be Bop Deluxe - Orphans of Babylon

Baroque n' roll

Well, damn, Blogger seems to have re-asserted its usually invisible dominion over the SB space. Which is to say, "site maintenance" has not only delayed today's post, but seems to have deleted yesterday's altogether. Thanks much, Google. No one should have an excellent Yellow Magic Orchestra tune taken away from them, so I'll fix that when I get time.

Meanwhile, happy Friday the 13th. No ghoulishness from me though. Instead, how about a delectable slice of '60s pop. With jealousy-ridden lyrics to offset the succulent melodiousness.

Also, FYI, given transit and assorted commitments, probably no tune this coming Monday. Unless I rescue that YMO post.

The Left Banke - She May Call You Up Tonight

Yellow magic

For those who think the Germans had a monopoly on visionary robotic synth pop, here's a track for you. Some crispy, groovy music for a car chase on a highway of the future.

Yellow Magic Orchestra - Solid State Survivor

Sometimes I forget that we're supposed to be in love

I like Magazine because they're one of those bands where you can really hear the transition from punk to postpunk. Howard Devoto split from the Buzzcocks for the usual reasons having to do with ambition and outgrowing forms that limit. He started Magazine because bleak music has exciting possibilities, and also because synthesizers are fun. I know certain bands tend to suck the air out of the discussion, and though Magazine is rightfully not as celebrated as the Joy Divisions of the world, their debut Real Life is still pretty dynamite.

This is one the least rock n' roll-ish numbers on it, and it nails the artful chilliness of that whole aesthetic. The lyrics especially show an impressive leap from songs like "Ever Fallen In Love" that are hard to sing into your 30s. Rainy day saxophones, meanwhile, never get old.

Magazine - Parade

Barbituate serenade

I remember in the late '90s when Portishead frequently found its way into swanky restaurant/ cocktail party playlists. It never seemed right. The music wanted to be enjoyed in as much solitude as possible. You didn't have to be depressed, but it helped to at least be silent. I like that their comeback album seems designed to spook away any such soundtracking accidents.

Portishead - Hunter

Mothers' Day

With all due respect to the moms out there, it's hard not to see Mother's Day as one of those holiday hustles where gift purchases act as stand-ins for actual relationships. (For the record, I got mine some beautiful flowers, as I do every year). In that spirit, let's welcome Frank Zappa back to this space with his singular brand of Motherly love.

Frank Zappa & the Mothers of Invention - Mother People

Breathing room

I wonder if there's an arc of tension in life. You hold more and more of it until the absurdity of worry overwhelms that instinct. I hope so. And I hope it's before I'm 60. I need to get better at letting things roll off me. Or at least learn to physically disconnect from the tensing pulse of the cell phone vibrations and false-bright tones of incoming email. At work anyway. Time to think used to easier to come by. Does music help clear a space? Songs like this sure do.

Michio Kurihara - Wind Waltzes

Under a young moon

Maybe I should worry. I went to a show the other night, and yet again, I felt like I was among kids. Not simpering hipstery ones this time, but rather fresh-faced Midwestern types, happily bouncing along to a band that I enjoy like guiltless candy. The performance was a bit of let down. Some bands bring to the stage like college kids who don't really know how to command it. That's OK. I was in good company. Walking out, I looked at the moon, and thought of this boyish-voiced track.

The Microphones - The Moon

I got a bad desire

Another one near and dear to me. Everyone likes the Springsteen fist-pumpers, but this one has a quiet intensity that can burn holes through iron. Talk about anguish. And a bit creepy — exactly how little is this little girl? Are we talking "daddy" as in actual father? The warm keys can't soften these questions. But I'm gonna have to drop a curveball version, approaching dance mix territory, which works better than you'd think.

Bruce Springsteen - I'm On Fire (Cousin Cole's Bad Desire Mix)

And for a screwball, the Chromatics version, working the "Every Breath You Take" style guitar. It's blank and ghostly, almost dubby. Points for not changing gender in the lyrics.

The Chromatics - I'm On Fire

Nowhere to be

This has got to be one of my favorite song titles. I love either image it suggests. If it's planes, what a beautiful image as they lift into the air. If it's narrow rushes of water, what a sweet assault. Motors hum, and the drums start unruly but eventually fall in line. Eno sings something mostly incomprehensible, yet profound-sounding, and we're all in watery flight to some amazing place.

Brian Eno - Here Come The Warm Jets

Raveled

I saw Werner Herzog's new Cave of Forgotten Dreams over the weekend. And in 3D, which added...umm...another dimension to the experience. I'm not really in the bizness of recommending movies, but you really should get yourself over to a theatre for this one. That is, if you're interested in the discovery of cave paintings from Early Man over 30,000 years ago and what we might learn about our dear old selves. Not just about their artistic acumen, but of their consciousness, which may be not all that different from our own re>the belief in a spirit world and its relationship to the creatures living in the material world. Looking at that staggering distance of time, you can't help but wonder when the human brain developed that dimension and the impulse to express it.

None of that has much to do with today's song. Except the binding tie of genius.

Maurice Ravel - Gaspard de la Nuit (Le Gibet)