Mt Eerie - "Wooly Mammoth's Absence". The opening track from Phil Elvrum's new (very limited) EP, Seven New Songs.

Phil came through Ottawa earlier this summer. He played in a nursery in the basement of a community centre. We sat on wrestling mats. And holding an electric guitar he sang simply, beautifully. The music flowed out of him like water from a cup. He made it look so easy. He sang songs about whale-hunting and being "up his mother's ass". He sang small things and wise things. He wasn't neither melancholy nor glad - he simply sounded like he was trying hard to be true.

My favourite Microphones record is Mt. Eerie, an album that opened before me like a cloud suddenly shaking out rain. But while that's perhaps Elvrum's most indulgent LP*, it doesn't carry his most indulgent songs. (Look to the heavy-handed production that peppers The Glow, Pt. 2.) But neither of these things mark the clean, shining beauty of "Wooly Mammoth's Absence." Instead, the production is almost invisible; you don't think of the time that's been invested in every sound, in every strum. It's like that piece of soft grey glass on the beach, the one you hold in your hand without a thought for the things that shaped it.

Phil sings, of course. There are other blending voices and mirrorpooling guitars. Drums hide deep in the song's chest, bursting out only at its close. As placid as the sound is, however, the track's spirit is live, wakeful. It's got that electric current that runs through all of Elvrum's best work - that pure, attentive kindness. Under the pretty, glimmering song is an unwavering faith in the universe's beneficence. [sold out]

Harry Nilsson - "Save the Last Dance For Me (Demo)". This mostly-unplugged version of "Save the Last Dance For Me" is taken from the deluxe release of Pussy Cats, Nilsson's maligned bender-weekend album with John Lennon. And yet it's wonderful. As the organ pulses, Nilsson sings slowly, confessingly, like a man who is baring his heart. There are places where his voice almost rasps, but it's a beautiful strain - a moment of tension, rough croon against golden Rhodes. The absence of drums means that the song never descends into prom schmaltz - it's always just a little dead, a little sad. It's this reluctance, this lethargy that Nilsson needs to push against; he insists, he calls, he begs. He needs to sing this as truly as he can, or else that's it, c'est tout, the fog will roll in and she'll be gone forever. A dreamer's blues. (Thanks, Mike.) [buy]

* When indulgence works, of course, it's single-minded genius.

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Never Came Home continues to do great things, with an especially fantastic track by Yashudi Ide.

As you'll all doubtless have seen, mp3blogs.org is a nifty mp3blog aggregator. I find it's useful for glancing at after I've visited my regular mp3blog stops, to check for interesting things by people who aren't (yet) on my list, but should be.

Jeff is back with looking askance from '93, a new mp3blog that's getting started with a fine track by No Name No Fame, and, um, KLF.