Moondog - "Symphonique #6 (Good for Goodie)". So according to this article in the Oxford American, Moondog was a blind homeless man who spent three decades on the streets of NYC, begging, composing music, wearing a cloak and a viking helmet. For real. Sure, after he was 'discovered' he was flown to Germany and leading American orchestras and receiving fan-mail from Philip Glass, but in the meantime - there he was, day after day, enough of an institution that the New York Times devoted two columns to the story of his obtaining a different pair of trousers.

It's a good story. Too good, almost. It's as if Moondog's life was purpose-built for a Robin Williams-starring biopic. But before we giggle at the tall tale, before we let the attention focus too strongly on this strange man's biography, let's listen to the music.

Because, ladies and gentlemen, it's wonderful.

It's a stew of sounds, this is. It's a conspiracy of counterpoint. It's clarinet and bass and flute, french horn and tuba, violin and this numbskull snare. It's an orchestra's joyous assembly, a union of likeminded folks, everyone speaking for themselves and yet twittering in sympathy. It's friendly as a warm pie with one slice taken out. I hear Mark Mothersbaugh, Jon Brion and certainly Philip Glass, but Moondog's playful, arbitrary, he chooses places to point at (clouds! town hall! mullberry bush!) and the music skips to new destinations instead of pummelling incessantly the same spot. I saw Annie Hall last night, but a few weeks ago I saw Manhattan, and if Gershwin hadn't written Rhapsody in Blue, or if Woody Allen had chosen high angle instead of low angle shots for his opening Manhattan montage, this woulda been the movie's soundtrack. I'm pretty sure.

Moondog - "Lament 1".

I include this track as well because, whoa!, it's so familiar. Mr Scruff's gleeful "Move On" is built on samples from Moondog's "Lament" (for Charlie Parker). In this excerpt, the drums are skid-scampering like hot sneakers over pavement, violins seesawing like shadows over twenty-four hours, saxes singing the praises of someone, reminding each-other of someone, telling those old stories, trying to capture that someone's old tics, smiling with the memory.

These tracks come thanks to Lawrence. I am very taken with this Moondog man, but apart from the above know little about his work. Looking on Amazon, I see there are rather a lot of records (including a remix album). Can anyone suggest any in particular?

[buy Moondog stuff at Amazon UK/US. And pick up the music issue of the Oxford American.]

---

The Clientele - "Since K Got Over Me". So earlier this week I was in a certain Edinburgh record shop, lookin' to buy the new Beard, maybe hoping to find an inexpensive copy of the new Akron/Family or R. Kelly cds, flipping through the cheapo bin, and what do I find but a promo-sleeved CD by The Clientele, called Strange Geometry, for £1.99. I own - and love - The Violet Hour, but "Strange Geometry" didn't sound familiar. I had a vague recollection of a b-sides/EP collection, so figured this was it.

Instead I got home and found that this is their new CD, out September 5.

The Clientele are a band of singular purpose, singular sound. They play a sort of music that seems obvious, that's so familiar it's already dear. It makes me think of The Smiths' golden guitars, the hushed vocals of (Felt, and) a hundred shoegaze bands, but then I think about it, I slip on some headphones, and I realise there's nothing like this. This is dreamy but lucid, it's melancholy but not unmoving, it's quiet but loud. And the Clientele are fiercely evocative, bringing visions of a place I've never seen.

It's England, I guess. A London of honeyed fog and smothered light, or else hills and heath, will o' the wisp between the trees, swirls and glimmers and faint recollections. I can never decide if they play music for cities, or for the country. I suppose it's both, but separately. It's for dusk and for dawn: violet hours.

"Since K Got Over Me" is the first single from Strange Geometry. It's all those things I said before, mist and gleam and smokestacks and moors, but it's also got a stronger stare than anything on the previous record. Strange Geometry is a break-up album. Maybe. "Everything's so vivid and so creepy since K got over me," MacLean sings, then much more insistently, "THERE'S a HOLE in-SIDE my SKULL with WARM AIR blowing IN". The drums are realer than on The Violet Hour. Elsewhere there are Five Leaves Left-style strings, maniac "Revolution 1" electric guitar. And also a familiar (dear) sparkle, a shine, a whisper. Here and there, the band play the same parts as they did on the last record. But that's okay: they're just remembering them, like we do.

[read my old review of The Violet Hour]

[More mp3s at The Clientele website, and watch Merge and Pointy for ordering info over the coming month.]

---

The strangest thing in the universe? Probably K & K Mime.

The new OK GO music video, all lo-fi tripod dance-moves style, is indeed pretty rad. But so is the DIY Clap Your Hands Say Yeah thing that some fan did, in order to bring attention to the Awesome Guy In Shirt-Collars Who Is Dancing. (both via mefi)