Memory of a memory

Oh hypnagogic wonderland/nightmarescape. It's almost too easy to fall lifelessly into its arms, so specific is the pull of the repeat-play-damaged Betamax quease. When sensory overload is your square one, how can adult terrors not feel a little anticlimactic.

James Ferraro - Buffy Honkerburg's Answering Machine

Stretched across the continent

Back home! The honeymoon was a persistent glow, and I'm hoping to keep it alive in spirit as long as I can. Meanwhile, I'm struggling with the jetlag and renewing my visceral understanding of how it feels to be stretched across the great sky. Here's a tune that would have fit both the languid and active of the last week's moments, as well as this gradual process of become whole at home again.

Prins Thomas - Attiatte

Anybody still out there

I've come to a decision. Caustic lyrical observations about the stupidity of how we live only work when the music is smooth, and better yet, awfully greasy. If you don't let the snark ride in on buttery chords and tasty leads, you're likely to choke on your own salt. Steely Dan, Prefab Sprout, and these guys are my evidence. This one seems to be a riff on the emptiness of the TV-mediated life, blah blah. Lucky for us, the music is has enough atmosphere to make it seem like an inspired sentiment.

The Chap - Obviously

Empty the dresser drawer

The excellently-named Geneva Jacuzzi has graced this space before, albeit under another assumed name. I recently got an earful of her full-length album and cannot deny its mondo hypnagogic appeal.

I'm not sure why so many performance artist types end up doing demented variations on new wave in their musical pursuits. In Jacuzzi's case, I think she's just demented, period. At any rate, I'm very glad about this tendency. Here's a little nightmarish toetapper to ease you into the weekend. Something deliciously demonic about these clothes strewn on the bed.

Geneva Jacuzzi - Clothes On The Bed

Now I care

Last year, some folks in LA had the bright idea to showcase local bands by having them cover Television's under-celebrated Adventure album. I too have under-celebrated this album because, well, it's not Marquee Moon. Which is itself an over-celebrated album, in my opinion.

Of course, this 'blague has given some tender love and real estate to Adventure's best track. But the beauty of covers is how interpretation can bring out a song's hidden virtues. In this case, a fairly pedestrian four-count rocker grows a country beard and rises glowing and newly translucent up above quiet waters in the beautiful moonlight.

Local Natives - Careful

I'm all on tender hooks

Style never goes out of style, I've heard it said. You can shine with well-worn fabrics if you wear them well. Which I guess is why a band like this can give me those good shivers even though I've probably heard every note, timbre, and lyric somewhere before. A track that can make both dinner prep and a new subway walk feel cinematic is worth enjoying well beyond a nod to its sources.

Camera Obscura - French Navy

Steady rumbling

Know these guys Jochen Arbeit, Gerd Bessler, Hopek Quirin? Me neither, really. Somehow it got into my audiospace. But I like improvisations that coalesce into something that sounds deliberate. And I like that this sounds like some far off commotion that holds a rhythmic face and doesn't care whether or not you come hither.

ABQ - Palmela

New York, 2061

OK, enough of the sunniness. Yesterday morning, the sky opened up just in time to drench me on the last patch of sidewalk as I darted into work. A mean gray sky over the Chrysler Building can't help but bring all kinds of Blade Runner-isms to mind. Hence, this beautiful sprawling piece of dark ambient sci-fi noir. I like to listen to it in my 187th-floor apartment.

Dylan Ettinger - Penguin Point

Jet set hot nerdness

Oh sweetness, does this one just nail it! Grovesnor (aka Rob Smoughton) is a sometimes-member of Hot Chip, maker of excellent mixes, and top crafter of H&O-nodding, '80s neon r&b pop gems. He's also aces at turning a weakness into strength. I think his aesthetic wouldn't work half as well if he didn't totally foreground the schlub factor. He clearly know that the night may belong to the beautiful, but the nerds create the soundtracks.

Grovesnor - Taxi From The Airport

My blurry valentine

You want a little St. Valentine's romance? You're gonna get it wrapped in gauze, a slow jam re-engineered from false memory, marinading in a rainy dream and spooning your ears in a subdued restlessness. And you're not going to fuss over the incomprehensible voices, because you know the sweet cooing swirls would drop out of the air under clarifying lights.

How To Dress Well - Lover's Start

Alternate office party soundtrack

The approach of a work holiday party is always cause to imagine my own soundtrack. If you're gonna blast the music at a volume that renders conversation near-impossible, you can't expect me to not have strong feelings about it. Last year, I wanted to go all cosmic groovy. This year, it's vintage hip-hop robots, with lots of pitch bending. Which really should happen more than once a year.

Beem - Manka

Second line any time

Back home. Happy about it and yet a little sad about leaving such a magical place. I'd be remiss if I didn't share some more music from my trip. Here's a recording I made on a raucous Friday night on Frenchmen St. Having eaten some fab jambalaya, enjoyed a set of excellent gypsy jazz, and then participated in a karaoke competition (did I win?), I was just pleased as anything to step outside as this band was getting going. Then I had more jambalaya. I have reached the conclusion that New York needs more second line happenings.

?? - Brass Band on Frenchmen St.

Come on, let's (po)go

Another old favorite makes a return. Superchunk come roaring back after nearly a decade of musical silence, except of course for building that powerhouse of a label (or at least a semi-functional business model, I'm told) — Merge Records.

This is a feel-good comeback. Who didn't like Superchunk? Nerdy indie rockers triumphantly rocking in their cool, no-fuss fashion. You saw them in college, and you jumped around and loved it, and then you went home to listen to more challenging music, though with a lot less joy.

They have a new album, and it sounds exactly like...them. In fighting trim. Which is great. You do what you do and you do it right. Yessir. Here's one to make you jump around like the big happy dork you still are.

Superchunk - My Gap Feels Weird

Fake can be just as good

Talk about smoothing out the edges. Blonde Redhead have come a long way since the clamor of their youth — a musical arc as old as the process of growing up. The scraped guitars and nervous bashing are gone, but a lot of implied violence and dread still live in the minor-key gauziness that envelops their songs these days. It lends character to their pretty faces. So they're going full steam ahead with dream pop, and maybe you don't think that's a good look for a band that took their name from this. I don't think it fully suits them either, but when they wear it well, it's a stunner.

Blonde Redhead - My Plants Are Dead

Serpentine sounds

What a great weekend for music. A mere day after Friday's Rotherific flights, the Daptone soul revue touched down on Prospect Park. Obviously, the star was Sharon Jones, resplendent in a sparkling blue dress that blinded even those of us on the commoners' side of the fence. She's got the voice, and the lady knows how to do a show. But, of course, it wouldn't be half as kickin' without the be-suited Dap-Kings, who may be the tightest band on the scene today (please correct me if I'm wrong).

On top of all that goodness were the opening Budos Band, Afro-funky music for summer sweating, busting loose from Staten Island. They've got a new batch of jams, which are a little more Mediterranean, but just as hot. There's not too much to think about with this kind of stuff, although I can't help but think I wish I'd learned to play some brass.

The Budos Band - Golden Dunes

Sweet music is your best friend but will always leave you

I've realized something about myself. The sweeter the song, the catchier the hook, the worse my mood after listening. Enjoying that immediacy puts a spring in my step alright. Maybe I jump around. But make me have a conversation or put up with the slightest annoyance right after, and it's Mr. Hyde time.

It goes to my new theory that music is the absolute best thing ever, but only when it's happening. From the sublime, unfolding shapes of Cecil Taylor's improvs to the mental sugar rush you get with ace power pop, it all fizzles to a terrible letdown when life resumes. For me, there is no spillover. The noise of talking, doubt, fear, and regret don't get newly painted over. You don't wake up singing from the blissful dream. You wake up and get ready for work.

Here's a tune that made me happy for hours the other day inside the bubble of repeat. However unfortunately named, these midwestern kids exude the incomparable joy of spraying the air with tunefulness. And then it's over.

Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin - Sink/Let It Sway

They'll only miss you when you leave

Some people get nostalgic about band reunion tours (see: recent Guided By Voices news).  I, on the other hand, get excited about compilations from a band most famous for being pre-Band of Horses for some of its members but given too little credit for being more interesting and more soulful than anything by Band of Horses.

In light of this and the inevitable mid-July sluggish weird feeling that creeps up.  This song creeps up on you too, but in more of a cozy blanket of heartbreak kind of way.

Carissa's Wierd - Die

Haze on the highway

I rarely feel hemmed in by the city. There always enough spots to feel like you're someplace else. Or no place at all. But sometimes I do get the urge to hop in my imaginary car and hit the road. This is a strong contender for the song I'd put on as the key slides into the ignition. If John Lennon were from Detroit, he might've come up with this one. Clearly, it's not just Swedes who can conjure these classic sounds.

Tame Impala - Lucidity

I've built you this gorgeous house

Until a couple of weeks ago, I couldn't remember the last time I'd discovered new, great music in a live setting. Then I saw Lost in the Trees play at Bowery Ballroom and remembered what it felt like in 2004 hearing the Arcade Fire for the first time or in 2001 when I first saw Matt Pond PA. It's not like discovering Bowie or Big Star, but in some small way, this little blip of a show changes you.

On record, it's hard to hold up to that kind of expectation; unfueled by late nights and drinking and enthusiastic crowds, it sounds a bit more sparse than you might expect. Still, there's something here, and it's inspiring to be reminded that we're not too old to find the new.

Lost in the Trees - All Alone in an Empty House

you've got your pride and your prose

So, I'm supposed to have a bass lesson today, and I flaked.  What has this got to do with Songblague?

The reason I flaked, you see, is because I was walking home from a friend's place last night with my current favorite record blasting on my headphones when I realized that I don't really want to just play bass: I want to play bass in a specific band, and if I can't do that I really can't be bothered.  And not only do I want to be in the Gaslight Anthem (who is of course the band in question), but I want to figure out a way to leave my headphones on while also having conversations and going about my life in general, because I don't ever want this record to stop playing.

So there you have it: I've posted about this band before, but I couldn't tell you what other new music is out right now and worth listening to.  I can't even keep appointments.

The Gaslight Anthem - Boxer (Live on KEXP)