Archives : all posts by Jordan

The Aislers Set - "Chicago New York"

Here The Aislers Set play a twee shuffle, like Belle and Sebastian with just a touch of Phil Spector pop percussion.

The weeks-long alcoholic bender reminds me of the pathetic binges of The Beautiful and Damned. [Buy]

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Ike and Tina Turner - "River Deep Mountain High"

Whereas the Ronettes were swept along by Spector's production, their voices like finger snaps or hand claps, violins or booming bass drums, merely one part of Spector's epic soundscapes, Tina Turner sings over the bombast. The grandiose arrangement serves as a platform on which she can express the depth of her feeling, the height of her devotion. To get a sense of the latter c.f. 1:16 to 1:35, to get a sense of the former just listen to the unhinged timbre of her voice, to her unrestrained cries as the song comes to an end. [Buy]

The Silt - "Happy Wheat"

This is ominous country music. Music for serious farm work with heavy, rusty equipment, and grinding gears. For feeding slops to dirty pigs with flies at their tails. I'm reminded of the ever-setting sun in Terrence Malick's Days of Heaven. The lead guitar, sliding and bending, is either caught up in, or is itself a storm. The synthesizer sounds like something that might land in a field of wheat, and leave a crop circle in its wake. The vocals are the work of a traumatized farmer whose stories have become less and less lucid, more and more surreal, since whatever happened to him happened to him. [Info]

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Son House - "Low Down Dirty Blues"

Listen to the way House plays guitar after each of his vocal lines. He plays a slow and spartan run, bending each note, drawing it out. It's so simple, just five quarter notes, the part that least displays virtuosity. But in its simplicity and restraint can be heard House's sadness, his frustration, and his anger.

After you're done listening to that, why not move on to appreciating House's beautiful vocal jumps up into falsetto? After that, make your bed. Then buy a Son House CD. Then put on Remain in Light and dance around your house/apartment. Then go to bed. Eat breakfast in the morning. [Buy]

Oh yeah, I'm looking good today. This green really brings out my eyes.

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Cat Power - "The Greatest"

The drumming here is as good as drumming can be in a context like this. Give the man a Grammy, or a bottle of scotch, give him a bath, because, frankly, he's dirty. He's done something so beautiful here that I've almost had a nervous breakdown trying to express it in words. He leaves me weak. His drums frame and reframe, saying again and again "look at the song this way, then like this." He's a tour guide and the song is some natural wonder which he completely reveres. "Have you noticed how the piano and guitar interact, pay attention to the down-beat, pay attention to the up-beat, just listen to her voice, to her overdubbed harmony tracks, so lowdown and just out of reach, now listen to that guitar break into a million pieces." His tight drum rolls and tentative snare/high-hat interplay provide a perfect dynamic counterpoint to Marshall's piercing piano chords.

Also, I love it all: The "Moon River" quoting strings, the deep soul guitar, the round tone and careful placement of the bass, and most of all, Marshall's perfect vocals - broken, scared, awed, serene. [Info]

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The Double Stops - "c44"

"c44" sounds a bit like Kelley Stoltz's "Prank Calls," posted by Sean the other day. But whereas "Prank Calls" is the work of one man, a studio perfectionist with an affinity for the Beach Boys, "c44" is very much the work of a band, a chugging, sloppy team with an affinity for the Velvet Underground. Like early VU, they employ a sort of 1 2 3 go approach to song, squeezing out small climaxes from a limited dynamic range. [Info]

Katie Moore - "Russian Nut"

I first saw Katie Moore play in a local band called Timber. I noticed almost right away that there was something astounding in her voice. Yes, she was effortlessly singing pitch-perfect harmonies, but more than that, it was the timbre of her voice that captured my attention. She has a strong, round tone, with complete control of her tremolo flourishes. She is neither piercingly trebly, nor crooningly bassy. She is the sound of drinking whiskey and soda in an old wooden bar, during winter, playing Scrabble. [Info]

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The Halo Benders - "Mercury Blues"

The Halo Benders never work together, always against each other. The low voice ascends while the high voice descends, the bass guitar is heavy and staccato, the six string is chiming and legato. Clashing lyrics and vocal melodies are sung simultaneously. An interminably wheezy organ is played by one member, certainly to the great annoyance of the other. Yet the outcome is something cohesive and a little bit heart-wrenching.

Like a petty rivalry on the surface of a deep friendship. [Buy]

The Carter Family - "Church in the Wildwood"

What starts out as a nostalgic remembrance of a childhood spent at the "church in the wildwood, the church in the dale," turns into a beckoning proselytization. They want us to come to the church, and frankly it sounds good. So, I'm going. How am I going to get there, you ask? I'm going follow that bassline right into the wildwood, into the dale, coaxed all the way by the vibrato vocal harmonies, to that little brown church. I'll follow that bassline right through the pearly gates, into god's arms. And though I'm an atheistic Jew, I'm going to like it there, because I'll be with the Carter Family, who are basically just like my family, except Christian and excellent harmonizers. [Buy]

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Galaxie 500 - "Ceremony"

Sometimes two things come together to form such a righteous and holy union that it makes you wonder why atomic entities still exist. Such is the case with Galaxie 500 and Joy Division, a coming-together like Adam and Eve, Abelard and Heloise, Rodgers and Hart, and pb and j. [Buy]

My computer broke. I thought I’d lost everything, which would have been a minor tragedy for man, a non-event for mankind. Miraculously, everything was recovered, and my computer works fine now. My repair guy didn’t seem to know what was wrong with it or how he fixed it, but I’m going to stop playing wallball with my computer and I’m going to start backing up my files.

Remembrance Day is also my editor, Max Maki’s birthday, and yesterday she reached the quarter century mark. She is a sometimes unsung hero of this blog, dutifully correcting my often incomprehensible prose and always suggesting “more jokes.” Happy birthday!

My birthday is Monday. Start thinking about what you want to get me. I was thinking about setting up a registry. Thoughts?

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Wolf Parade - "I'll Believe In Anything"

I know, I know, I’m way behind on this one, but it’s my birthday and I’ll write what I want to. Specifically (and I mean really specifically) I’d like to write about the interval of 2:18 to 3:08. The whole song is a sort of epiphanic climax. But maybe more like an eternally delayed climax. Because, though it starts off wildly tense, intensely regimented, infused with the spiritual fervor of gospel music, it manages to build and build, achieves unexpected heights, always delaying a release, maintaining tension as the volume and tempo increase. The fact that between 2:18 and 3:08 there is no release of tension despite the emergence of a magnificent crescendo is a special feat of musical composition. The song is possessed of such contained energy that I find my body affected. It’s hard to breathe with anything other than quick, short gasps. It is certainly not a song for dancing to. [Buy]

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My Morning Jacket - "Wordless Chorus"

Z presents a new My Morning Jacket, one more enamored with the Flaming Lips than with CCR. I can’t say that for me it’s an entirely welcome change, but the songs remain like fine fillets of salmon: delicate and tender. And pink, and good with lemon. [Buy]

Leo Kottke - "The Fisherman"

One thing that sets John Fahey apart from other folk-revivalist finger-pickers is how slowly he plays. He draws out his patterns, leaving room for rhythmic play and filling in. It seems like Fahey could continue to add melodic lines to a part ad infinitum, like he has a million fingers, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety of which he only brings out on special occasions (concerts and recording dates) and even then only one at a time. But that’s just a beautiful trick. There are players as technically competent whose playing might not initially sound as dense, because they play fast all the time, from beginning to end, never adding, or taking away, just playing as hard as they can, almost artlessly, like how Brotzmann plays the saxophone and like the opposite of how he plays, too. One such guitarist is Leo Kottke, a pupil of Fahey’s.

That Leo Kottke can play guitar with startling precision and control is clear from any of his recordings. His ability, however, to write a good song is not always so clear. Sometimes he’s just showing off, a glorified acoustic Steve Vai. And sometimes he sings (yikes). But here he gets it right, playing precise (there is no other word) zigzagging runs, and steady, unrelenting bass patterns. There’s something satisfying in how light and sure his touch is (Fahey is clumsy in comparison), and there’s something deeply comfortable and familiar about this melody, this fisherman’s fugue. The real heart of the song, though - what makes it one of Kottke’s few great compositions - is the interval of 1:20 to 1:35 in which the treble loses its precision, ceases to serve as curlicue and flourish, and begins a short, convulsive ebb and flow. Meanwhile, the bass begins to descend and descend, eventually relenting, finally, for a moment leaving the treble alone to its simple two note seizure, before the song resumes its typically rigid Kottkean form. [Buy]

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Panda and Angel - "Mexico"

Panda and Angel have an ear for the minor detail, for the small accompanying part that makes the difference between a dull song and a beautiful one. In fact, “Mexico” is nothing but those details and small parts, and the pregnant spaces in between. The percussion at the beginning, the repetitive vocals, the unambitiously picked acoustic guitar, the occasional electric guitar and tom hits – each is put in its exact right place. So that when the parts get bigger, and the drums commit, and horns, melodicas, and recorders are added, it has the desired emotional impact. This is Mexico on a cold morning by seaside. It is a lonely place, not recommended for tourists. [Info]