Let me be your one light

Still reeling from last night's viewing of Gravity in all its 3D, vertiginous, space is awe-inspiring/freezing/vastly and utterly inhuman splendor. My mind casts out to a space object that is a much easier fit for romantic paeans. This one is worthy reading of Big Star's classic; a beautiful light pours out of it.  

His Name Is Alive — Blue Moon

From the mellow jungle

And now for some sit-down funk, well-suited to kicking back in a rocking chair with a nice whiskey or whatever you like at the end of the day. I'm still impressed that these guys were able to accommodate a legion of jam band fans and still keep their credibility intact. Guess that just speaks to the universal appeal of wah-wah on a Hammond B3.

Medeski Martin and Wood - Wiggly's Way

No glasses for classes

Funny how certain old impressions never change or even die. They just sit suspended, as though carved in rocks that never come into contact with weather. I put on the Swirlies every now and again and the recollections (mostly borrowed) are always the same. This song came out a little before my college days, but every note (and fairly ludicrous "noise" coating) smacks of the hermetic indie rock landscape that I was enamored of, and yet never fully connected with, at the time. Genuine pleasure, but it still feels like I'm looking into someone's bedroom window.

Swirlies - Pancake

Gone with a rock promoter

Sticking with fond feelings for the '90s. Last Splash came on during a night drive recently, and I got a bit of that old driving-around-rocking feeling from high school days past. Very nice indeed even now that I'm double that tender age. This tune in particular has a burnt, slightly baked quality that I quite enjoy. I'm not really sure the part with the big drums is necessary. But then, it was the '90s and who can fuss with bands that crushed on crunchy guitars.

The Breeders - No Aloha

Down in candyland

Slowburn saxophone and queasily sliding bass open a window into a dark other world inside the insistent daytime heat. It's not the first summer this has happened, and probably won't be the last.

Morphine - Candy

Junior boys

I admit I didn't really care too much when Dinosaur Jr reunited a few years back. Still don't. Liked 'em, but never loved 'em. Which I realize diminishes my indie rock bona fides in the eyes of some. That's OK. Mostly, I just want J Mascis to take some Dimetapp already and get rid of that nasal congestion he's had for 30 years. Anyway, here's a rocker that just rocks rockingly all the way from where you been to wherever you're going.

Dinosaur Jr - On The Way

Wrong again

I guess once you get a Mac attack, you've got to let it ride. Here's a jump-around jam from Lindsey's coke-addled heyday of high ambition. And why play the sweet break on guitar when you can do it on harmonica! As massive betrayals of self-editing go, I must say Tusk is surprisingly tight. Which reminds me to go make that mix of songs from crazy flawed double albums. Call it Disasterpieces? Suggestions welcome. I'm guessing it'll be pretty prog-heavy.

Fleetwood Mac - I Know I'm Not Wrong

Meanwhile, a double shot of Fleetwood Mac demands a palette cleanser. Playing the random song title associations game, here's some fun stuff from high school. As song pairings go, I guess this is mostly...wrong.

Archers Of Loaf - Wrong

Bad people doing wrong things

Yesterday, I woke up in a nasty mood. It continued all through the day, fueled equally by mundane frustrations (missing elevators, slow walkers) and a sense of big trouble brewing (the oncoming electoral triumph of thuggish orc-like seekers of Congressional office). The thing about a scowl is the longer you hold it, the more naturally it fits, even when there's no shortage of sunshine around you. And you end up with this song stuck in your head and feeling kinda good about it. Maybe that good feeling is what keeps the malice inside. I'm sure it will pass.

Gallon Drunk - Jake On The Make

Come on, let's rock

After a double dose of Anglo melancholy, I think it's time for some landlocked American rawk. And so it will be. I always thought Bob Mould hit it just right with Sugar—Hüsker Dü muscle with pop hooks aplenty. Oh yeah, and finally a kick-ass rhythm section. Even though the Beaster EP that followed their hit debut had an odd menace to it, this track fully captures the melodic ferociousness that is Mould's gift to humanity. His voice is just huge here, even though it's kinda buried in the mix. The man sure had some pipes to go with that guitar back in the day.

Sugar - Tilted

Why don't you be good for something

In the 1990s, I used to imagine Mark Eitzel and Mark Kozelek locked in an epic rivalry, a sort of King of the Downers version of Magic and Bird. Kozelek ran up the score on confessional despair, but Eitzel clearly had the edge on drinking himself to death. Put this one on next time you wake up wondering where the rest of you went.

American Music Club - Gratitude Walks

A better alarm clock

If yesterday's track was the woozy night song, this is one for wrangling your way out of dreams in the morning. You force your eyes open and glimpse the strange rain outside the window. You'd go back to bed, except for the foreboding sounds swirling around and coaxing you into the day.

Threadgill wins points for unusual ensemble assemblage, by jazz standards at least. You put together a band with electric guitar, alto sax, french horn, two tubas, and percussion, and you're bound to come up with something different.

Henry Threadgill - Too Much Sugar

Love song or filibuster?

It is Songblague's position that the best love songs are the ones where bitterness and ambiguity, however appropriate, get banished straightaway. Which would seem to put this one right in the wheelhouse. When you spend a full 65% of a 5 minute song locked into a 'love love love' refrain, you're either the most devoted dude in the world, so smitten that no other words come, or you're hijacking the air until your demands are met. I'm not sure this song is such a straight arrow. Maybe there's some ambiguity after all. Unrelatedly, Happy Birthday, B!

Teenage Fanclub - Norman 3

Same as the old Jersey

Can't keep a good sad bastard down. Or off my stereo anyway. After a luxurious dish of instrumental prowess, I like me some tormented indie rock to sting the palette. Given my geographical origins, I wish I could care to look for an essential New Jersey resonance in the song, but it's the transcontinental despair and the gauzy, surging music that gets me. Sweet sad bastard.

Red House Painters - New Jersey

The past that'll get us

Disco Inferno possess one of the least accurate band names I know of. Hardly disco and nothing resembling an inferno with these guys. They started out as a Joy Division knockoff and evolved into a weird and interesting poppish group that worked an artful approach to sampling into equally artful songs. None of this would be apparent in this tune, which is one of their least weird songs. But it's a nice summer listen, breezy and moody, with lyrics about trying to not be held hostage by the past. I like that thought lots.

Disco Inferno - The Last Dance

Everything at once

Another track to get back into a New York state of mind. Last week, I was talking about musical snobbery and the freedom of jettisoning the 'chops quota' for enjoying music. On the other hand, it's instructive to go back to the groups that thrilled so much and set the bar unfairly high. Case in point, John Zorn's legendary Naked City band, which I spent several years going totally gaga for and then burnt out on pretty hardcore. Mighty refreshing to take it out of the cellar and pull a stiff shot of the stuff. I heart New York.

Naked City - Asylum