Other moons

Sometimes you have to go put yourself into an imaginary '60s place. I remember getting into these guys a few years ago, when I was apt to snatch up any album if someone told me it was a forgotten classic lovingly/belatedly reissued. Or maybe a rare specimen of exquisite artifice that the masses just didn't get around to appreciating, and then its moment passed. Well, I've still got that instinct, and I still believe all those possible futures are worth pondering. Here are a couple fine examples (links fixed now).

The Moon - Pleasure

The Moon - Pirate

Life is but a memory

I don't care how somber or lonely he sounds, Nick Drake is always the magic elixir for washing away the hectic static of the day. Or the week. And he's great at reminding how ephemeral everything is. So let him usher in the weekend.

Nick Drake - Fruit Tree

Move on up

Good to know that '60s could've-been-rock-heroes The Move have been posthumously elevated from Nuggets love to full-on reissue fever. The one "Best-of" in my possession is a proverbial treasure trove of psych garage pop that makes me legitimately wish I'd been around to see them in action. Here are but 2 such gems. I challenge any band functioning today to use the word "terminus" in a more rockin' way.

The Move - Blackberry Way

The Move - Omnibus

Yesterday's endings will tomorrow life give you

At long last, I'm giving Yes's debut some real attention! Having listened to their heyday albums to death a few times over and having gone thru so much admiration, revulsion, re-appreciation, and more backlash, I'm able to enjoy a totally different band in these baby steps. Which is to say, a band very much in its fey '60s throes, looking for a sound, but it might involve with big "compositional" ambitions. The fact that even this—it's proggiest track—only vaguely hints at blowing structures open, is now a big part of its charm. Especially the glorious clumsiness of the big ending! Goes to show that however highfalutin, they were always inspired amateurs.

Yes - Survival

The wind does not hear

It's never too late to recalibrate the brain. Today's song has occupied a minor place in my head for over 20 years, similar to its interlude-like position on the seminal In The Court Of The Crimson King. There it's sandwiched between the proto-metal blast of "21st Century Schizoid Man" and the proto-prog melodrama of "Epitaph".

But now it suddenly steps into its own spotlight — a rainy day spaceout with some classy flute action and a subtle edge that hints at the darkness tucked into the Aquarian age. That non-heavy handed invocation of the demonic is actually one of my favorite things about the Crims.

King Crimson - I Talk To The Wind

Sleazy listening

Has the first week of 2011 harshed your mellow yet? Well, let's get back in the mental bathtub for the weekend. And when you get out of it, you'll find yourself a lot less clean than before. No really, this is some classy shit. Now let's get you out of those clothes...

I haven't seen Camille 2000, but judging from the poster/album cover, it's clearly a film about the Eiffel Tower. You can grab the full soundtrack here.

Piero Piccioni - Ballade

Groovy warning to wayward youth

Had my head stuck in a fog the last few days. Concentration just keeps slipping away. Ironically, today I came across two separate articles about the ways people deal with the atomized attention span and ever-increasing distractions in today's world. I need to get better at that. I'm thinking one good way to clear the clutter and is to just put on something to keep my head bobbing. Nice and mellow. This track does the job nicely. Can't help but feel a little indicted myself by the lyrics. What a preachy old grampa Horace was as a young man. Still, he's got a point. Better get it together before I end up in jail.

Horace Andy - Skylarking

Spend nine minutes going crazy

If you ever want to turn a slow night drive through a sleepy suburb into something more interesting, throw this one on the stereo. It helps if earlier in the day you've been shooting guns under the supervision of range instructors who resembled mismatched cops in a buddy movie.

Part of me wants to call Ivers a visionary. All of me is willing to call him dead and, according to Wikipedia, it wasn't pretty. Sometimes music turns life into a cartoon.

Peter Ivers - Gentle Jesus