T.D. Reisert - "For How They Forget"

Set in Palm Beach (not the city in Florida, but the beach in the palm of your hand). Wet only with the moisture that gathered when your fist was clenched in silence. The ridges of your skin sink and crest, and the wind is rather incessant. The structure, the landscape, seems to be oddly constructed, glued together last-minute, but the longer you stay, if you stay right til the last minute, you'll feel it all glide into place. [Buy]

The Low Lows - "Lane Fire"

The same is true here. Like a drunk silent comedian, stumbling all around the room, almost falling into a hundred different things, almost losing his balance a hundred different times, the act is about holding the fall until the last possible second. And in the song, with its corduroy colour and smoke-rising pace, the beauty of that wait becomes central, like when a camera pans completely around a room, waiting for that first thing to re-appear. And here the camera pans past dirty dancefloor tiles with shuffling old cowboy boots lit in hazy blue light. Up to a man waiting for his wife to finish slow-dancing so he can take her home. Over to an old lady protecting her whisky glass like it was in danger of evaporating. On past a young man with his head down, inexplicably. And then back to the boots, and the tiles, and the light. [Site]

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Frog Eyes tonight.