Nicholas Krgovich - "Baby Blue Tutu". Dancing round the rim of a champagne flute. The air's filled with the finest mist of carbonation - a sparkling on cheeks and lips, the backs of hands. You hold each other and dance, in slow spins, while the party is carried from one end of the room to the other, on a tray. [buy / bandcamp]
Mica Levi - "Andrew Void"
The body sieve, with blood like dried glue. The sound that a thing makes is analogous to its name, in that a name is an alternate-dimension expression of that very thing. In one world a flower is a thing with pedals and a stem, in another simply the word 'flower' is the thing, and in another, the sound of two rubber hoses shifting along each other more slowly than the sun moves in the sky, that is the thing. This, today's song, is an expression of silence. In one world, silence is the absence of sound, but in another, this is an expression of that same thing. This is silence saying its own name.
10:23 PM on Nov 26, 2014
Jones - "You". There is a mechanic's garage on the corner. Where your little street meets the green, low-boughed boulevard, there is a small garage which always seems closed. Closed but not derelict: it is well maintained; clean windows, swept stoop. The front is shiny and blue. There is a sign in white and cherry. Nobody ever seems to be coming or going but the tree overhead always seems to be in bloom. The garage contains things: gleaming engines, good machines. You drive past sometimes and you think perhaps you can see someone inside, on the other side of the panelled door - someone experienced, hard-working, honest. Someone wiping tarry hands on a rag. At night you dream of the day that your own car breaks down; a May morning, a July afternoon, your transmission begins to sputter and you wheel the car right to the front of the little garage. In the dream there is a bell. You ring it. You wait. Gulls are painting circles overhead and as you slumber you imagine the sound of a clasp unclasping, a perfect whirr, then the door that begins to open. The giant garage door, clean as a lake, lifting now before you to reveal a perfect, crowded room.
10:51 AM on Nov 24, 2014
Nancy Pants - "Happy". Garbage dancer: foil, cereal box, yes ok some Christmas garlands. Sewer somersault, basement splits. Pogo and worm. Found some records in a milk-crate, "Louie Louie" and "Black Hole Sun", remember to wear gloves. Night sky's a black canvas and tossed gravel. Daylight's a flashlight. I traded my dad's Pontiac for a bass guitar. I kissed a girl. I fired an elastic band at the auditor and we'll sparkle til we droop.
[Total Nancy Pants is out now / bandcamp / cassette launch in Montreal tonight]
(photograph from American Cooking: New England, via Bartek)
11:14 AM on Nov 20, 2014
Elvis Depressedly - "Pepsi/Coke Suicide"
A memory of a writing made about the re-enactment of something like a movie that told a story similar to mine. Of near-misses and silence. Of the time before the wall. When the movie told it, things got timeless. When it was re-enacted, things became a pastiche, and there were all the flaws we didn't see before. When it was written about, there was space for detail, and working-through of the flaws, kneading them into decorative knots. And then the memory laid the veil, as on a bride, or a corpse.
Mary J Blige - "Whole Damn Year". A year is a year is a year, inarguable. Each of our years is entirely the same - the same 12 months, January to December, 365 or 366 days. The same and also utterly unique: my year was mine, yours was yours. We cannot swap. For better or for worse, time is something held separate and in common.
And sometimes it is for worse. Sometimes we want to take someone's year; borrow it, shoulder it, carry it for a month or two. Sit down. Give me your year. Maybe there are thieves who seek to steal winners' glad 12 months - but me I always want to assuage my friends' bad ones. I want to roll their years up, like old sleeping bags, and bury them in the forest. Somewhere where the leaves will turn and fall; and snow will land, and melt; and where ferns will grow, come spring. Give me your year. Let's gather them all up together, a frail shared fortune.
10:50 AM on Nov 17, 2014
Cocteau Twins - "Lorelei". [buy]
On Monday night my novel Us Conductors won the Giller Prize, Canada's biggest fiction award. I thanked all of you in the speech. I thanked this song in the speech. My life's a rock in a rock tumbler, getting shone. My life's a tetherball, in orbit 'round its post. My life's Elizabeth Fraser's torn and starry voice, all new edge and possibility. I don't know who I am any more, just that for a few moments I'm tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
I love this song and I never understood the words. What is she singing? Does she know what she is singing? Does she know what she is sending out into the world, atop coronated guitars? Or is she just trying to keep up with the pouring, pouring feelings in her heart - like a stick in the riverwater, like a caught kite.
Someone is putting crowns onto the heads of the guitars and Elizabeth Fraser is singing us down the river or up to the podium and and it'll never be yesterday again.
This is my love to all my distant friends (you): here, this is it, for you, here;
10:18 PM on Nov 11, 2014
about said the gramophone
this is a daily sampler of really good songs
. all tracks are posted out of love
. please go out and buy the records
to play a song in your browser, click the
. to download a song, right-click the link and choose 'Save as...'
all songs are removed within a week or two of posting.
said the gramophone
launched in march 2003, and added songs in november of that year. it was one of the world's very first mp3blogs.
if you would like to say hello, find out our mailing addresses or invite us to shows, please get in touch:
montreal, canada: sean
toronto, canada: jordan
toronto, canada: dan
please don't send us emails with tons of huge attachments; if emailing a bunch of mp3s etc, send us a link to download them. We are not interested in streaming widgets.
if you are the copyright holder of any song posted here, please contact us
if you would like the song taken down early. please do not direct link
to any of these tracks. please love and wonder.
"and i shall watch the ferry-boats / and they'll get high on a bluer ocean / against tomorrow's sky / and i will never grow so old again."
about the authors
lives in Montreal. He is a writer, critic and author of the theremin novel Us Conductors
. Follow him on Twitter
or reach him by email here
is an actor and writer living in Toronto. Any claim he makes about his life on here is probably untrue. Email him here
lives in Toronto. He is an opinion editor at the Toronto Star
. Jordan's posts appear at Said the Gramophone only on the last Wednesday of every month. Email him here
Site design and header typography by Neale McDavitt-Van Fleet
. The header graphic is randomized: this one is by Kit Malo
our favourite blogs
(◊ means they write about music)
Back to the World
A Grammar (Nitsuh Abebe)
A London Salmagundi
Words and Music
Gorilla vs Bear
Clouds of Evil
The Dolby Apposition
Awesome Tapes from Africa
Pitchfork Reviews Reviews
i like you [podcast]
Wattled Smoky Honeyeater
The Clear-Minded Creative
Passion of the Weiss
Juan and Only
Then Play Long (Marcello Carlin)
Coming Up For Air (Matt Forsythe)
my love for you is a stampede of horses
It's Nice That
Song, by Toad
In FocusAMASS BLOG
The Rest is Noise (Alex Ross)
My Daguerreotype Boyfriend
The Hood Internet
things we like in Montreal
le pick up
au pied de cochon
vices & versa
+ paltoquet, cocoa locale, idée fixe, patati patata, the sparrow, pho tay ho, qin hua dumplings, café italia, hung phat banh mi, caffé san simeon, meu-meu, pho lien, romodos, patisserie guillaume, patisserie rhubarbe, kazu, lallouz, maison du nord, cuisine szechuan &c
drawn + quarterly
+ bottines &c
casa + sala + the hotel
blue skies turn black
montreal improv theatre
cinema du parc
yoga teacher Thea Metcalfe
The Morning News