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Greg Macpherson Band - "Slow Stroke". I've been reading Michael Turner's Hardcore Logo and since I'm not a fan of British Columbian 80s punk, I've been kinda imagining Greg Macpherson in place of Joe Dick. The substitution doesn't really work - the novel-poem's protagonist is a proud, well-meaning incompetent. (Macpherson, meanwhile, is wholly competent.) Macpherson is one of the finest voices in contemporary Canadian music - like a snarling Bruce Springsteen, Joe Strummer raised on Woody Guthrie and Winnipeg winters. Nevertheless, he's mostly unknown here, kept in the long shadow of former labelmates The Weakerthans. While I'm a fan of those folk-punkers (and we'll likely hear them on Gramophone some time soon), I'm willing to assert that Macpherson is in fact the stronger talent. The coals in his eyes smoulder and flare more brightly. His songs are fierce but instantly catchy - pop hooks with stark, clear-cut lyrics, a fighter's spirit. They blaze. Live, Macpherson's a monster, yelling and consumed by sound. "Slow Stroke" is fairly straight-forward, but there's nothing to yawn at in the yellow guitar licks and goofy, fabulous "hoo-oo-oo"s. Dig.

Nacho Vegas - "Seronda". A mesmerizing sliver of Spanish alt.folk - a doubletracked voice over acoustic guitar, organ, and a lazylaidback palette of drums. There are little blossoms, too, of horns and fiddle, as well as a brazen, smiling theremin (or something), whinsomely singing in the dawn. Howe Gelb teamed with Hayden, en español. Since recording this album (2001's Actos Inexplicables), Nacho's become a permanent member of Acaruela/Sub Pop signees Migala, who play black-and-red post-rock. This is better.

Elsewhere:

A downright enormous folk music library (with RealAudio and AIFF files) at Southwest Missouri State University: The Max Hunter Folk Song Collection.

Joy Division - "Disorder" [live]. Taken from Joy Division's superb live record, Les Bains Douches. Recorded in Paris, December 18th 1979. Joy Division can be a hard band to discover. For those of us who didn't grow up with Closer playing on either our stereos or those of our older siblings, it's a difficult and somewhat baffling listening process. The first response tends to be one of distaste: this is cheesy 80s moping, weak on hooks, with a lame-sounding echoey production. Whereas New Order is able to break through the generation gap through its similarity to contemporary dance-punk and electro, Joy Division can sound embarassingly dated. Les Bains Douches, however, puts a new face on the aesthetic of the J.D. studio releases: it is nimble and visceral, and it strikes me dumb with its fury. The songs become frenzied, rock'n'roll, and I can hear an anger that the track seems to direct against its own debauchery. It's dance-rock that's tearing itself down, nails out. Eyes blackened, booze spilled.

Wiley Kat - "Bird Tune". What I've heard of the new Wiley record I like a whole lot. I'm a pansy, so it helps that he feels nicer than Dizzee Rascal, but I also appreciate the skewed organic sounds that bruise his productions. "What Do You Call It?" is totally charming to me - it's the horns that do it, punched through with brittle garage tics. "The Game" is great too, like G-Unit after a punch in the gut. "Bird Tune," though, is older - and in this case, it's not a vocal mix. The track is hollowed out, a little desperate: a captured bird that squirts out song like a creaky door, steam from a valve. It marches on with a kind of sick determination, tabla hanging on like a craven accomplice.

[minor edits at 5:13pm]

because these things are good and you should see them (aka, clicky):

alex at Close Your Eyes does an excellent audio round-up of Sufjan Stevens's work, through the ears of someone who is bedazzled and still exploring.

pop has posted a lovely, honest quote by radiohead's Jonny Greenwood: "You know, there's a certain Tom Waits song that whenever I hear it I, you know, it just... it makes me talk in this inarticulate way that I'm using now. It's so good. It seems to me quite disingenuous to be embarrassed about it. . . . [Music] should be ambitious, and good music does deal with life and art and all these wonderful things. I used to be ashamed talking about it, but now I just think it's fraudulent to pretend otherwise." It's worth reading the whole thing. Greenwood's expressing that intangible, enthusiastic feeling of oh-my-art-is-wondrous that i am so often struck by. he's smitten and can't find the words. It makes me glad.

Audio Lunchbox. I can't believe I had never encountered this before: a music shop with $0.99 (US) tracks, $10 albums. Everything's on DRM-free 192 kbps mp3, available internationally, on any platform. It's indie labels (obviously), but there's everyone from Anti (Tom Waits) to Badman (Hayden), Troubleman Unlimited (Tussle), Absolutely Kosher (The Wrens), and Koch (2Pac, Lamb, The Kinks). Like the iTunes Music Store, but available to Canadians, and even less restrictive. Hooray! (a little weak on world/jazz/classical/hip-hop, though...)

(my first round of $0.99 recommendations: The Mountain Goats, "Family Happiness"; The Wrens, "Happy"; Tussle, "Don't Stop"; The Long Winters, "Cinnamon"; Solomon Burke, "Don't Give Up On Me"; Tom Waits, "Alice"; The Weakerthans, "Our Retired Explorer..."; Hayden, "Dynamite Walls"; Pedro the Lion, "When They Really Get to Know You They Will Run"; Kepler, "The Changing Light at Sandover"; Elliott Smith, "Division Day")

Good evening!

Our mp3 deliberations are (mostly) over, and thanks to the generosity of our anonymous patron, things are (mostly) back to normal here. We won't, however, be putting last week's songs back online, so for those of you who missed out, my apologies.

Today's tracks are both from a terrific and strange little Vancouver band called P:ano. For a time, I had thought that no-one could use a colon to make a band-name more awkward than Songs:Ohia, but wouldn't you know it, Nick Krgovich & friends proved me wrong. The group plays a hushed chamber pop that falls somewhere between Low, The Microphones and The Beatles' "Julia." It's acoustic and loose, Nick Drake fronting The Unicorns.

P:ano - "Tut Tut". Quite likely my favourite track from the band, this is taken from their lovely When It's Dark and It's Summer (2002). Krgovich and Larissa Loyva duet above the sound of light through blinds: piano, clarinet, the kindliest of drumrolls. An organ nudges in just in time for the softest, wussiest, finest ode to a Jackson 5 song that's ever been recorded. And then it ends with the sound of a seaside memory.

P:ano - "Working". From 2004's The Den, here's a brisk little number that shows Nick singing happily along over piano and some mixed-up percussion: "I can see this getting worse / for me". Flute and harp flutter in, tiny zippy airplanes, then some operatic voices hurtle down, like thick yellow bands of sunshine.

Go catch the trailer to Jim Jarmusch's new film, Coffee and Cigarettes. Witness as Bill Murray chats with the RZA and the GZA, as Iggy Pop and Tom Waits get all passive-aggressive. I can't wait. (Anyone out there catch it at the Toronto Film Fest or SXSW?)

Thanks to all those who commented on my Vaganza tracks; any further comments remain most welcome! And for those who care, twas a fun, if gruelling 24-hours.

A heady thanks to John Sakamoto, as well, for the kind words about StG in this week's Anti-Hit List (we're apparently a "passionate, culturally literate blog"). If any of you are visiting for the first time, please stick around! There's no more Wilco to be heard, but I promise more good stuff, every day.

Said the Gramophone headquarters is having some tense deliberations on the subject of mp3 sampling and cease and desist orders, so we're going to have to pause our regular scheduled programming. Not to worry your pretty little hearts, however - I still have some things to prattle on about.

First of all, I just came home from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It's beautiful and funny and sad: in short, it's everything it should be, and I'm so so glad. Moments of complete intimacy flutter against the backdrop of normal, mundane life, and then fade into it. Houses collapse. Tears trickle over smiles and voices break into morning haze. Every loss is tangled up with hope, every broken heart affirms its importance. And the best of all, the snowy crown, is that amid the sublime (ice) and the ridiculous (bird-house), the doubters are allowed to doubt (and we're all doubters, some days). Those hopes may be false, those loud broken hearts may diminish with every hour, those footsteps on the beach may vanish into the surf. In short, it may be a loop of love or a loop of senseless loss. In short, it may be a loop of love or a loop of senseless loss. A loop

Gondry's music videos feel like they were practice for this. The underrated Human Nature feels like a slapstick working-up-the-energy. And I get my own back against all the Jim Carrey haters (he's slow and small and brilliant). Lovely, heartless, both.

Onward and upward -

For any and all of you in Montreal, this Friday is VAGANZA, a 24-hour improv marathon, all proceeds from which go to charity. If any of you are in town and wish to drop in for an hour (or sixteen) of ridiculous, absurd, good-natured (and unscripted) fun, tickets are a measly $3.00. I will be on the stage. (right, so: 9am-9am, Feb 26-27. 2nd floor, 3480 McTavish St.)

Every year for the past three, in honour of this thing called Vaganza, some friends of mine and I record a song. These songs are nonsense, but they are also an excuse to get together and make nonsense music. Kyla Drushka on guitar; Julian Smith on clarinet; myself on vocals. Submitted for your approval, then, are two little slices of whimsical fun.

Drushka - "Devil's Dance/Vaganza". 2003's entry is a bizarre, windy bit of Tom Waits klezmer; a twisting guitar line and some terrific improv from J. The best bit is the quiet interlude in the middle - some mystical chasidic chants, with a squeeze of absurdity - and then an accelerating finale that quickly degrades into hisses.

Drushka - "The Dark Vaganza Dawn". Recorded/composed last night (Feb. 23, 2004), in the space of about three hours. The increased production values (ie, ocean sounds and percussion) come courtesy of Apple's GarageBand. Everything else makes its way in through the built-in mic on my iMac. "The Dark Vaganza Dawn" is a humid european cabaret that's been visited by the javanese gamelan orchestra and mr Scott Walker. There's also a crazy girl in the back (a member of modest mouse?) who's playing slide-guitar. I dream of brown and pink elephants, ice, and good tobacco.

Admittedly, they're good and they're not, but I'd love to hear any of your thoughts.

something seems to be up with our file-hosting - hopefully it will be resolved soon. in the mean time, read the entries and imagine what the music would sound like (or visit any of our lovely sidebar links).

Today is Beck Day at Said the Gramophone. Beck Hansen is fascinating: he seems to have a knack for all the finest opposites in music - coolness, sincerity, eclecticism, dedication. He's done the lo-fiest of lo-fi, novelty hipster pop, zinging pleather soul, sample-knit hip-hop, angst-ridden folk... and all of it with what seems like a genuine love, an unquenchable desire to explore. He has not yet produced a masterpiece, but I nevertheless cling to the hope that his day will come. I cling and cling and cling...

In the meantime, though, he's released eight albums of gutsy ambition, from the static-and-cement of A Western to the patchwork of Odelay, the Prince routines on Midnite Vultures, and the tragic, mediocre Sea Change. Add to this countless b-sides, robot dance moves, and a penchant for surprising me - yes, if Beck was on the ballot in a Canadian political leadership race, I'd join the party in question, vote, and then follow through at the general election, NDP or not. Beck would support the CBC, wouldn't he?

Aaanyway...

Beck - "I Get Lonesome". I referred to this track yesterday, and then felt like sharing it today. This song is just so painfully dead, so rotted through from a "lonesome" ache that there's only a husk left; dry bark. The drum thumps and thumps, something standing in for a heartbeat. You can hear the way the singer's already hit a dead-end, that he's "a slab / stiff as a stick on a board": there's an awful irony to the "I get lonesome" of the chorus, the way it implies he's still changing, still getting lonesome, not already locked into this grey chipboard casket. I was once in a play where a character threw himself in front of a train to the tune of those closing "ooh-oohs." This is taken from 1994's One Foot in the Grave; it's Beck in his early mode, tangled and hoarse, long before he moonwalked at the Grammies. A steal from K Records for $12 USD.

Beck - "Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometime". It's my most anticipated movie of the year, the one that bloggers and critics alike are hailing as a masterpiece, but yes, I have yet to see it. My date with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is Wednesday night, and I'd rather like to skip the intervening moments (have them erased?) and jump straight into the opening credits. To help me along, then, is Beck's new song, recorded with Jon Brion for the film. A cover of the 1980 hit by the Korgis, Beck's wearing his troubadour hat - he murmurs sadly, sincerely, over small sighs of strings and a Brion signature organ (see Magnolia, Punch-Drunk Love). An electric guitar weaves in and out of the scattered drum hits, but it's Beck's voice that pulls us in, like Leonard Cohen's velvet croon. Listening to something like this, it becomes easy to imagine the role Beck will play fifteen years from now, evolving into a deep-voiced hipster emeritus, an Elvis Costello, David Byrne, Tom Waits. (For more Kaufmania, today's Tangmonkey Link-o-the-Day, the incomparable Being Charlie Kaufman.)