Passing sounds

I mostly remember Helium as the kind of band that would come on the stereo in the living room of the house that my college band used to practice in. Funny how a band that soundtracked the moments between moments and didn't command much of my attention would find a way to burrow deep into my subconscious so that my memory of that time instantly brings them to mind. Maybe it was Mary Timony's husky but gentle indie rock voice. One that seemed ubiquitous at the time, but is sadly absent from the air around me these days.

Helium - Ancient Cryme

Pay what it takes to feel alive

I remember in college briefly being into a lot of those Southern gothy bands — the ones that mixed weird and surreal/apocalyptic religious imagery with ramshackle percussive sounds that sounded like an increasingly second-hand approximation of Tom Waits's '80s albums. That approach is legit enough, but it wasn't really a good look for me. Jim White has turned out to be one of the more durable of those dudes, and listening to his debut album again, I'm pleasantly surprised at how nicely it fits these hazy heatwave days. This tune is an interesting cocktail of apocalyptic visions in a cool glass of water slowly poured over your head.

Jim White - Burn The River Dry

I realized my fists were clenched

Robert Wyatt and his cozily alien voice make another welcome appearance on the 'blague. I recently busted out his Shleep record and was reminded of why it's good to keep albums around that you suspect might grow on you. While not the spirit triumph of Rock Bottom, it's a beautiful and weird cycle of sleepy-brained tunes apparently inspired by their creator's insomnia. Good enough that two specimens are warranted. The first was co-written with Eno, and its jaunty, gentlemanly funk gives has that signature all over it. The second is more late-nite in its texture, and I can see the camera slowly pulling back above the spiral staircase as the protagonist shrinks to a shaky point.

Robert Wyatt - Heaps Of Sheeps

Robert Wyatt - Out Of Season

Carnival barking in a one-man-band

The circus comes to town. The Lonesome Organist (AKA Jeremy Jacobsen) was one of the few guys in the '90s Thrill Jockey scene who seemed to have a sense of humor about music. And how could he not? I remember being knocked out by his one-man-bandmanship on stage. Playing drums, keys, and guitar at once while screaming into the mic, it was all a whirl of limbs, but with a Stevie Wonder-esque steady rocking motion, like a door moving back and forth on its hinge in fast-forward. This first track captures that feel. The second shows that he's not all madcap novelty and suggests that he may have, in fact, traveled through space to get here.

The Lonesome Organist - Catching Flies With My Teeth

The Lonesome Organist - 6 Volt

Humble experiments

Ladies and gentlemen, Songblague proudly presents the unsexiest saxophone ever recorded. Barry Black was a side project of Eric Bachmann (of Crooked Fingers and ex-Archers of Loaf croaksmanship) where he got to indulge his "serious music" aspirations. The stuff is pleasant enough as Composition 101 fare, but the charm is in appreciating little seedlings that don't have much hope of germinating and don't seem at all diminished by their modest ambition. This tune sounds like it should soundtrack a claymation film about a haunted house.

Barry Black - Chimps

Theme Week - Dream in sound (3/5)

The Apples in Stereo are probably the most straightforward of the E6 bunch. Which is just fine when you write sterling pop songs. I suspect that if '60s jangle pop hadn't existed, guys like these would probably have invented it. Give me angelic bah-bahs and a chorus full of burly horns, and I'm a happy Songblague.

The Apples in Stereo - Silver Chain

Reductio ad absurdum

Well, it seems Songblague has been inscribed in the Book of Life. And not just because your humble host is still breathing. As chance would have it, this is post #366. The actual one year anniversary was in early March, but I was a slack mf-er and went on vacation. So, putting calendar markers aside, let's say this marks an occasion.

Segueing out of Yom Kippur, here's one that's fully secular, but — as conflicted love songs go — has a sensibility that's 100% Jewish. The outro feels like an incantation, and before that, a peculiar laundry list of love's unpolished elements. Who would have thought Mr. Bongwater had this tender side?

Kramer - It Never Stops Being Absurd

Repent!

I hope it doesn't seem like I'm scrambling for some Judaica to rock pre-Yom Kippur. Last year's fasting jam may have been more mood appropriate, but who doesn't love some good klezmer, especially when it's mixed with a noisier jazz spirit. I'm note sure if these guys are still around, but I was way into them in college. Zorn and his gang called the stuff Radical Jewish Culture, and I still like that idea. Of course, this was before I knew anything about the trad klezmer canon. I have a habit of always learning these things in reverse.

Is it me, or is there just something fundamentally rascally about the clarinet? Anyway, l'chaim, you filthy sinners!

Naftule's Dream - Oy Tate (Oh Father)

I had a window seat

Where are my manners? I didn't even give Ms. Ali Hammer—newest member of Team Songblague—a proper intro last Friday. Hopefully, you'll do right by her and lend her your ears when she graces us with her postings.

After her deft reach into charcoal depths of The The's back catalog Monday and Flynn's string-tastic drama yesterday, I think we need a little light detour. In Sweden! Eggstone are sadly unheralded pop masters. This one's got some classy chord changes that should definitely produce smiles at your July 4th bbq. It's got a chorus to put you into a diabetic coma, but the dash of melancholy is the secret sauce.

Eggstone - Taramasalata

Laugh all night

MX-80 were a post-punk band from Indiana. Yeah, that one. Apparently, they did not set the cornfields ablaze. I happened upon a live album of theirs during college and just recently pulled it out again. It comes from late in their career and has a weariness befitting a band that never got beyond cult status. I guess you can hear that somberness in this track. I find the idea of quantifying your daily allotment of laughter terribly depressing. I'm not sure if the problem is that we get so few or that the world we live in is bureaucratic enough to calculate an average. Worse is that I probably fall below that average more frequently than I ought to.

On the other hand, I really love the notion that laughing all night long is life's greatest pleasure. It helps when you deliver that news in a sad flatness, punctuated by one of the most joyless 'ha ha ha's you'll find on record.

MX-80 - 15 Laffs

Float in space, drift in time

Another chunk of bigness. Or maybe it's wideness. But epicness undeniably. This one feels a lot like an aftermath and pulling yourself together enough to recite the simplest declarations as though they held all the meaning in the world. By the time all the pieces are in place, I'm ready to get swallowed by the sky.

Spiritualized - Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space

Diasporovisation

Every time I try to think about the music I'll be hearing in Israel, I end up putting on something made by Jews in America. This track goes back to the fertile downtown improv scene of a few years back, now scattered around the city, and probably several others. A diaspora by any other name.

Roy Nathanson & Anthony Coleman - Ija Mia

Mars on life

Time for some '90s digital warmth. I'm talking about the friendly, textural stuff, not the hamfisted fin-de-siècle aggro junk people used to writhe around to so goofily. I put on Autoditacker the other day because a) it was starting to feel autumny and b) I have good memories of washing dishes to it. Now I have good memories of cutting vegetables to it. And it still feels like a comfy sweater of sound in the crisp air of early autumn.

Mouse On Mars - Juju

Cheers for the young idea

Before he was an indie rock A-lister, Ted Leo slogged it out in Chisel, a band whose mod-inflected punk was totally a harbinger of what would come in the 'aughties, but sadly out of step in the '90s. Set You Free is still a dynamite listen, containing the blueprint for Leo's stylistic range while rocking out with the kind of abandon you rarely recapture once you hit your stride. This cut spends a minute and a half revving up before launching into a refrain so good, they just keep it going without changing a note. Pure rock bliss.

Chisel - On Warmer Music

Is that a bruise or a kiss?

Another inbetweener. Too jagged for the radio; too hooky for art rock. Right in Songblague's sweet spot. Then there's Wedren's voice. Polarizing, to say the least. I always thought he sounded best when caterwauling on top of the twisted guitar pummel. This album started his drift toward explicit pop; not surprisingly, it signaled the end of the band.

This is a track that I can't help but keep falling for. I never know what he's talking about, but phrases like "the cream of California" suggest unsavory intentions. And yet kind of sleazily inviting. To quote another indie vet—sweeter than a drop of blood on a sugarcube.

Shudder To Think - Call of the Playground

Say anything, you

The summer between my junior and senior years of college was placid in a way that seems inconceivable now. I had a mindless job, an internship, a band, time for books, and suspiciously little worry about post-graduate plans. Sundays, I'd often drive down to the Princeton Record Exchange and spend the afternoon thumbing through the inventory, the size of which was matched only by the douchiness of the clerks.

The setting sun on the drive back always made beautiful shadows on the road, and these guys held a steady spot on the car stereo. Run On was a New York art pop band from the days when not too many people cared about New York art pop bands. They'd probably clean up today. Their albums still sound great; Songblague heartily recommends. Especially for moments like the one at 2:55, when the violinist stomps on a pedal and takes it home like John Cale with a flower in his hair.

Run On - Anything You Say