PAS/CAL - "Little Red Radio". The band's from Detroit and they sing of Christmas-time, so I can only assume that Detroit Christmases are full of blooming daisies, bounding ponies, picnics that turn into dance parties - everyone doing the twist on the red check blanket. "Little Red Radio" is a pop song of exquisite oomph, a dozen riffs arranged in starbursts on a plate. There's a touch of Of Montreal and mid-period Sloan, but mostly it's fuzz bass and organ, falsetto and overdubs, galloping drums. "Little Red Radio" is about as relentless as the New Pornographers, but whereas that band's like one long (glad) punch to the gut, Pas/Cal is more of a punch to the mouth: they'll make your flace flower.

If this song were a business card, then the person handing it out would be entitled a) to lots of dates; b) to lots of jobs. I know that business cards don't usually score you dates but usually business cards don't have sweet choruses that you can sing along to in the car.

[The Dear Sir EP is out on November 11 - pre-order / more info (and 2 earlier EPs to buy)]

Kocani Orkestar - "Mi bori sar Korani". This Macedonian brass band have influenced Balkans-come-lately like Beirut or Hawk and a Hacksaw, but I think it's more important to imagine the lovers they've inspired. Because while I can imagine a man sitting glumly and listening to "Mi bori sar Korani", nodding his head solemnly to the accordion solo, it seems much more likely that a girl with pepper curls might swing round on a clatter of horns, taking her cue from the four-tubas-and-drums to ask the fellow for a dance. This is gypsy wedding music. While you listen to the croon and the hard sparkle of horns, imagine the picture the liner-notes paint: "On the second day [of the three day wedding!], everyone gathers round the bride's house. Women are allowed to drink alcohol so they do drink a lot. Men paint patterns on their faces with lipstick and tear each other's shirts. The torn shirts are then arranged into a big pile which is set on fire. The band plays, everyone dance [sic]."

So don't be fooled. While there's something sensible in the croon of this song's singer, it's the madness of the trumpets that is most relevant. Because while the tubas tuba and the drums drum and the accordion accordions - with skill that could only be inebriated - the women are drunk, the men made-up, the shirts on fire, and everyone- well, everyone dance.

[buy]

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Some interesting discussion continues in the comments of Eef Barzelay's guestpost, mostly relating to gangsta rap and cute indiekid covers thereof.