Bullshit flowers

Psychedelically-inclined weirdo home recordists with exemplary pop genes setting a humble course through nicely-hummable proggish realms of the musical cosmos. Makes me happy in my headphones. Nice nod to "Ladies of the Road" in the chorus. I'm sure they knew at least 75% of their audience would catch that one.

The Chrysanthemums — Bullshit

About Schmidt

Now this is why I've always been a bad completist. No completist at all, really. Obsessed as I have sometimes been with Can, I've spent precious little time digging into their not-too-intimidatingly-large solo catalogs. And even there, I've privileged Holger Czukay, who seemed to be the most interesting one (and I say that despite my highest admiration for Jaki Liebezeit's divine beatkeeping). So, happy surprises upon recently absorbing some albums by keyboardist Irmin Schmidt. 

It's impossible to tell who contributed what to Can's totally unique stew. But on his own, Schmidt seemed much more melodically inclined. I'm especially digging his Musk At Dusk album (does the title sound better in German?), and this tune gives a sense of what Can might've sounded like if they'd tried to go be a straight-up pop rock band. Which is of course, not straight-up at all, but just weird enough to ripple the pleasant waters.

Irmin Schmidt — Roll On, Euphrates

Fresh aches

Well, what do you know...Cocteau twins sound as exquisitely mysterious otherworldly lovely on a breezy summer's day as in midwinter. There are days when I think they've so thoroughly nailed it that everyone else should just take their toys and go home.

Cocteau Twins — Crushed

Plan ahead

Funny how few musicians explore even a fraction of what synthesizers can do. Of course, I love synth pop as much as anyone (why do pop hooks sounds so good on keyboards anyway?), but I also appreciate those who actually use them to synthesize sound. Residents-inspired Der Plan were luminaries of the art synth scene in '80s Germany, and I'm kicking myself for not knowing that until recently. Making up for it with a double dose here, from both ends of their run. The first sounds like it was made by factory machines, the other like something out of a twisted version of Disney. Both seem ahead of their time. And ours.

Der Plan - Hans Und Gabi

Der Plan - Space Bob

Solitude standing

Suzanne Vega reappears, and maybe it's not so surprising. If you're gonna strap on an acoustic guitar, you either need to amaze with belted-out simplicity or draw in with soft understatement. I guess her gift for the latter was the key to being a folk singer in '80s New York, even if her cool, sharp observations seem decidedly un-folky. Here's a song that creates its own quiet, near-wistful place inside the cacophony of city bustle.

Suzanne Vega - Night Vision

One foot in the door, the other in the gutter

 

The thinking person finds ambivalence everywhere. But where it could paralyze, the truly wise make it something to rock out to. And there are few wiser than the Replacements. Here, it's ambivalence about taking their punkness uptown or wrapping it in a suit or some other metaphor for making the primal rock instinct palatable to the mass market, such as it existed in the mid-'80s. I'm not sure if the horns are meant to be tongue-in-cheek, but for me, they make for an irresistible, snarling groove.

The Replacements - I Don't Know

French frost

Things are starting to settle into that Christmastime feel. And I admit I'm happy to be fitting myself into a cozy mental frame. Which means the contrary part of my mind wants to conjure up creepy, unsettled sounds. This one is wintery alright, albeit more in a nuclear variety. And serves to remind that the French can also set their faces grimly to an ashen sky.

Trisomie 21 - The Fairylike Show

How you feel when you wake up and your city is intact

Yesterday morning felt like a burlesque of Christmas day. After an unsettled night, I woke up with a childish sense of anticipation. Not for presents, but for destruction. I didn't want it, but after hours of disaster porn on the news, I confess, I wanted...something big to show for it.

Happily and anti-climactically, so very little was in evidence. Wet streets, a few little branches and leaves on the ground, nothing falling from the sky. A few minutes to organize my perversely conflicted reaction, and I decided this was in fact a very good thing. And perfectly soundtracked by a fine piece of C86 pop, satisfying the sweet tooth and pulling the knowing frown as well.

Close Lobsters - Sewer Pipe Dream

Sounds of my imaginary English youth

It doesn't happen enough, but whenever some gruff jangle from the C86 era crosses my earspace, I'm reminded how much I love the stuff, as though some version of myself might've grown up on it. If you're interested, an updated/expanded version of that comp is available and near-essential. Here's a track from a band whose name I love or hate depending on my mood.

14 Iced Bears - Like A Dolphin

Pedals a'flowerin'

This is a last minute fill-in. I'm in the mood for something incongruous to the day—an autumnal, instrumental, vintage 4AD brood job. Go listen to this and fill up your journals with poetic musings, betches.

Dif Juz - No Motion

Nun takes flight again

I'm gonna extend Flynn's musical stopover in New Zealand one more day. Though they don't usually get mentioned in the same breath as the classic Flying Nun roster, Straitjacket Fits were indeed quite awesome. I love everything about this song. The tense string trills building up to swirling psych-pop verses and then launching into a brilliant soaring chorus. Then around again. Nice ebb and flow. When they sing 'she rides the wind,' I think I can see what that looks like.

Straitjacket Fits - She Speeds

Sadder than bombs

It says something about music's strange alchemy that some songs stop you dead in your tracks even after a million and a half listens, when you think you've squeezed out every last drop of emotional impact. Here's one of those for me. I'm not even sure why. The lyrics are pretty plain by the Mozzer's standards, straight-up maudlin, without the sly black humor. It doesn't even bother with narrative arc.

But I guess it's the little things that do it for me—Johnny Marr being all wizardly with layered guitar parts, the understated complimentary bassline, the quiet synth doubling that comes in at the outro. Among the ranks of objective Smiths classics, this is sorta B-list. And yet...it kills me every time.

The Smiths - Back To The Old House

How has it taken this long to get a Smiths jam up on the 'blague?! Here's the stripped-down Peel Sessions version. Even sadder, ghostlier. Do you have a favorite?

The Smiths - Back To The Old House