Previte eyes

Sometime in my recent heat delirium, I suddenly recalled a favorite moment of my trip to Barcelona — wandering the Miro Foundation and getting caught up in a waking dream of color and sound. It's a state I lapse into all too easily in art/museum situations, and, as always, I wish had recorded any of the passing musical thoughts that ran through my head. Thankfully, Bobby Previte made a whole album of compositions inspired by Miro paintings that sounds a lot like what I was thinking.

Bobby Previte — On The 13th, The Ladder Brushed The Firmament

Music for beautiful evenings

I caught the Amadou and Mariam concert in the park the other day and was struck by how much it captured equally what I like and dislike about shows in the park, which pretty much aligns with what I like and don't like about crowds. Also, what I like and dislike about women in flowing dresses swaying to the music with their eyes closed. Still, you can't argue with a beautiful evening. I'm not sure if this tune got played, but a brief crawl through their albums got its loping groove deeply stuck in my brain.  

Amadou and Mariam — Sarama

Archer's aim

We all need our solo projects. Sea & Cake guitarist/illustrator Archer Prewitt falls squarely into that camp of quiet contributors who impress with a side career of well-drawn pop daydreams. Nothing earth-shattering, but a useful outlet for creative ideas that might otherwise get subsumed into weird dinner recipes or other pursuits that would be of no benefit to me. Glad he's not that selfish.

Archer Prewitt - I'm Coming Over

Christmas comes early

Now that it occurs to me that I'll be gone for Christmastime, I'm doing a sudden, early dive into holiday sounds. Belle and Sebastian are probably the last people who should be attempting to cover James Brown. This effort is like an office Xmas party make-out  — probably made a lot more sense when plastered, was ill-conceived, but ultimately forgivable and will be repeated more awkwardly next year.

Belle and Sebastian - Santa Claus, Go Straight To The Ghetto

Full-throated

There are some songs you come to love simply through trying to learn to play them respectably. Thankfully, I get to range widely on that front. When it comes to mariachi, you have to adjust your ears a little. It's not about subtlety or exquisite textures, but rather full-throated projection, like your head might burst from the singing. All the instruments feel like that, especially the horns, as evidenced in all their pinched glory on this track. Special bonus — lyrical depth! Needing the illusion of love to feel love. Or something like that.

El Coyote y Su Banda - Arboles de la Barranca

We could go kick down some doors together

It seems like everyone has a kind word for Spoon. And why not? They've made skeletal pop melodic and still mainstream for a good run of albums now. Sometimes, they out-clever themselves, but usually they're inspiringly rigorous about pruning. This one is mysterious and still a bit warm. And it's got count-it-off clacking sticks as the main drumbeat! My cap is tipped.

Spoon - Paper Tiger

Dance party in the auto factory

Just because machines work the assembly line now doesn't mean they don't also need to cut loose afterward. Except they don't go down to the bar to get blasted. They just rock an all-night rave up right there on the factory floor after the lights go out, and they don't even need to limp to work the next day.

Cornelius - Another View Point

All we ever had was now

Who doesn't think a little about mortality as the year approaches its end? And if you're gonna go there, it never hurts to bring Wayne Coyne with you. I admire the Lips' freakout prowess as much as anyone, but I've got a real soft spot for the band's kindhearted/childlike handling of weighty matters like addiction, alienation, and death. And of course, the giant balloons at their shows.

I recently listened to the Yoshimi album for the first time in years, and was fully taken by its warmth. This tracks pulls a neat trick — flipping apocalyptic despair into a realization that having an ongoing flow of now that simply persists until it stops persisting isn't really such a bad deal. And the texture of the music is a total winner — a soft drugginess that somehow sheds a very clear light. (You can hear an instrumental version here.)

The Flaming Lips - All We Have Is Now

A man on his back counting stars

Moving from pure spirit celebration to chilly internal self-doubt. Happy holidays! Actually, I love this song. It's like a wave that starts as a little stirring in the backwaters and then suddenly crashes over you. So glad they don't repeat the big crescendo.

Low certainly has a way with pacing. And harmony too. And as indie-tragic as the lyrics may be, there's a certain beauty in sullen imagery that reaches desperately for nobility. Surely, we've all been that poor fool on his back counting stars. Now go feast. See you back on Monday.

Low - Little Argument With Myself

Two car garage

I wanna rock. Or, more precisely, I wanna listen to a group of musicians rock, and then, with all deliberate action, shake my head vigorously in alignment with the aforementioned rocking, and in that totality of motion, pronounce myself a participant. And I want to share the specialness with you. In 2 parts, like a 45. First stop, Sweden! Pick slides, pumping fists, and accents bent to the international rocking standard.

The Hellacopters - All I've Got

These guys do it a little more angular. But the chorus makes me go full-on air guitar, so it's a win-win.

Hot Snakes - Unlisted

Post-apocalyptic civic duty

I received my jury duty notice the other day. While it's pretty awesome that the State wants to entrust me with the deciding of an actual legal matter, I can't say I'm thinking much about it. Instead, my mind drifts back to the last time my number was called. Early 2003. The winter was bitter. Bush was on the warpath. I was vaguely depressed and enmeshed in one of Mike Davis's drearier riffs on the tortured decline and death of American urbanism.

In the central jury room, they showed us a video about American Justice. A bunch of actors depicting medieval villagers threw a woman into a lake to see if she was a witch. Then Ed Bradley appeared on camera to explain the virtues of our evolved legal system. Early in the day, I ran into an ex, and we went for an awkward lunch. In the afternoon, I froze up horribly while a girl attempted to chat me up in the hall outside one of the courtrooms. I spent the next two days in the grand courthouse waiting for something to happen. All the while, I imagined how pop songs might be conceived and enjoyed in one of those future dystopia movies from the early '80s. Not the main theme, just one of the casual numbers the characters might listen to at night in a moment of calm. It sounded a lot like this.

Shy Child - Mercury and Sun