Archives : all posts by Sean

I think that the saddest emotion in the world just might be resignation. Deep, gaping sorrow can be devastating; the ache of loneliness can be a torture; an angry hurt can blaze and blaze; and yet, there's something even sadder in that moment when you swallow the sorrow and say that you'll move on. When you pretend to have bright eyes, when you try to have a bright smile, when you nod and say "right. fine. okay."

I've long been a collector of sad music. And the two tracks I'm posting today are perhaps the crown jewels. Not as tortured as Bright Eyes's "If Winter Ends," not as paralyzed as Beck's "I Get Lonesome," not as broken as "Pyramid Song," but maybe even more stinging. These singers don't whinge and whine about how unhappy they are; they don't tell us about their blues, as if asking for sympathy. Instead, they sing to one person in particular, a lover who isn't, and they repeat the devastatingly cheerful cliche that we saw earlier: "right. fine. okay." It's all so beautifully done that maybe you miss it, maybe you think the kinds words are sincere, that the "have a good life" isn't laced with irony, with resignation - that the song is a happy one, and not the grey-inked opposite.

Jude - "I Do". It was with this track that Jude justified his existence. His album is pleasant, it's witty, but suddenly, here, it's as if his hipster duds have been torn right open: the shirt-buttons ripped out, the sunglasses smashed, the suede shoes burning slowly into ash. It's a song about love; a song sung in a bright voice. But there's so much hidden by that sly, invulnerable tone: so much that's been left behind. Jude took a risk when he made "I Do" so terribly sweet, in voice and in instrumentation (strings, acoustic guitar); but the pay-off is worth it. The beauty gradually becomes monstrous, twisted, tragic. The pretty song only underlines Jude's masochism, the despair he's trying to obscure.

The Montgolfier Brothers - "The World is Flat". Here's a song you can hear a dozen times without realizing the anguish it conceals: there's the crystalline flutter of guitars, like a dream composed by Clientele, a slow piano and Roger Quigley's lulling voice. He seems to be singing of a perfect relationship - "we'll watch the dawn," he sings, "and we will raise a family. . . I'll be the apple of your parents' eyes / they'll raise a glass to us / and I won't drink the bottle dry." It's in that negative, the "won't drink," that there's a sign of what's going on. That the entire song calmly, discreetly proceeds from a false premise. There it is in the second line: "The world is flat and I've still got a chance with you." The lovers' idyll necessarily collapses, necessarily drifts to shipwreck: the divorce is a certainty, a yesterday. "God is good and / life is fair," Quigley sings, and there's so little bitterness left, so little misery: just that permanent heartbreaking ache, that tragic, unredeemable resignation. Ye gods. (for more on this record, see close your eyes.)

and on a happier note...

updated the blogroll. thanks for the suggestions. the following have been added to my daily mp3 blog fix (ie, they're the ones who post music that makes my heart sing). i'm sure they're old hat to all of you: but they're fresh to me, and truly delightful! to all these musicbloggers, my thanks!

fingertips music - grand, varied, outta-nowhere legal mp3s.

cocaine blunts & hip-hop tapes - tracks and news from a discerning, eclectic hip-hop ear.

new(ish) - good indie-ness, with a nice emphasis on folk + idm.

soul-sides - oliver delivers vintagesoul mp3s!

the big ticket - indie rock and sports and simple, contagious enthusiasm.

talkie walkie - group livejournal with all sorts of things: the bestest is the indie canadiana.

Hood - "They Removed All the Trace That Anything Ever Happened Here". Taken from Hood's quite-good 2001 record, Cold House. It's a strange, lingering, late winter song. Narcoleptic indie rock that intercuts melancholy murmuring with electronic flickers, a wary electric guitar, and an erratic rap by Doseone (?). Better than it sounds, I think; like late Talk Talk crossed with Clouddead. Hood's earlier work (six albums, countless eps, comp tracks, etc.) is excellent, too. They're dark water music. (i was gonna post the song myself, but then i realized hood offers it for free on their site, so there you go.)

The Magnetic Fields - "I Don't Really Love You Any More". Gay and liberated chamber pop, cantering along at a speedy pace. Stephen and Claudia's vocals blend into a single, arch-but-genuine voice. "I am a gentleman / think of me as just your fan." There's also ukelele, cello and drum taps, as well as something wheezy and sincere deep in the background. It's a trifle that in the right circumstances could be absolutely joyous, absolutely euphoric... that is, unless you turn it on one day and wonder if maybe Merritt's being ironic, whether perhaps there's a possibility here for devastating, glassy-eyed resignation, false cheeriness. And then you can't listen to it properly again. (oh and yes, taken from the Fields' I, due in may.)

elsewhere: be absolutely sure to explore the haunting bulgarian vocal music at tofuhut, and the light dance delight that is the Katerine track at fluxblog.

see you on monday, although i may do a non-mp3 post over the weekend!

Gianmaria Testa - "Per Accompagnarti". For those of you who are dying for more new Wilco (sorry), here's something that resembles A Ghost Is Born, in its own humble way. Sure, there aren't any blazing electric guitar solos; nor is it a stupid eleven-minute avant-dance piece of shit (Wilco's "Spiders (Kidsmoke)" is rather awful). But "Per Accompagnarti" has the earnest, coffee-house feel: piano, upright bass, acoustic guitar, dusted drums, a muted trumpet. Testa even sounds like Tweedy, only more Italian. I first heard Gianmaria Testa on the stereo at a Second Cup, (no joke,) and liked it so much that I got up and asked what was playing. "Per Accompagnarti" is taken from 1996's Extra Muros, but La valse d'un jour is also excellent.

The Streets - "You're Fit But You Know It". Subpar (one-channel) radio rip of the new Streets single. It's Mike Skinner in his bouncy, silly mode (and I've always preferred his meditative, bittersweet side), but still, there's much to like. What's good is the trenchant guitar riff that underlies the whole thing, the understated chorus hook, Mike's I-know-it's-awkward-but-fuck-off lyrics: the cardboard "so/when/i/looked/at/you/standing/there," and "chips and drinks"; the off-key "don't/you/just/know/it" the wry "yes yes, oh yay"; the wonderful "i'm all right / don't touch me," and the return to bounce which follows. Of course, The Streets isn't exactly Dizzy Rascal, and this isn't a brazenly brave track; what it is is damn entertaining, clever, good-natured and generous with its laughs. I would like to hear this song in commercials.

(re my wilco source. it's private - sorry. i'm sure that the leak will disseminate quickly, though. if, in a couple days, there's still no sign of ghost on soulseek, i'll post another track - but i don't intend for said the gramophone to become the www equivalent of a 0-day irc room.)

So I didn't think I'd post this as I hadn't intended to be "leaked music central," but as the song keeps coming up on my iTunes playlist, I keep being bowled over by the sheer honesty of the electric guitar solo, the way that it's bashful and rock'n'roll at the same time. I haven't heard the whole album, but from what I have heard, A Ghost Is Born sounds like it's Wilco's Let It Be. Gone is the bounce and sparkle of Summerteeth, the silver gauze of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, and instead - knit sweaters, cigarettes, drums, and men trying to express themselves the only way they know how.

The internet feels like it's home to more Wilco haters than lovers, but I'm one of those kids who fell in love with YHF, and while my crush has waned, I'm happy to be excited about the band again, happy that this song sounds so good to my ears. If you're still too sick of them, however, please feel free to skip ahead.

Wilco - "At Least That's What You Said". A voice and a piano, with flickers of guitar far, far in the background (memory). If it wasn't Tweedy, I might hate it - self-indulgent singer-songwriter crap. But (but!) there's an elegance to his simple, bittersweet vocals; there's the feeling he's sorry that this might sound trite, that he can't help it. I can hear the wounds, the vulnerability as he sings "mad," "serious." When the electric guitar stands up, begins to jam with piano and a simple drum-line, there's still an order to this, a self-conscious play-by-numbers. "Now we'll jam out." But things get out of control, things break down, things just break. I can hear the mess and the freedom and the regret. I can feel it. I turn up the volume and I wash myself in it. I scoar myself with it. And the shiny piano keeps on going (see Lambchop Aw C'mon/No You C'Mon), like the shiny kitchen and the shiny sun and the shiny grasses that still wave outside, regardless of you in your room, hands balled up, eyes squeezed shut. A clear cold glass of water that you pick up and drink.

Other songs that are like this song:
Elliott Smith - "A Distorted Reality is Now a Necessity to Be True"
OutKast - "Hey Ya!"
Kepler - "The Changing Light at Dawn"
Radiohead - "Just"
The Tragically Hip - "Grace, Too"
The Unicorns - "Thunder and Lightning"
Songs:Ohia - "The Lioness"
Modest Mouse - "Trailer Trash"
The Frames - "Fitzcarraldo"
The Beatles - "Helter Skelter"
Clinic - "Dj Shangri-La"
Arab Strap - "New Birds"
Dirty Three - "No Stranger Than That"
Nick Drake - "Pink Moon"
Sparklehorse - "Happy Pig"

And then, for those of you who don't and won't like the Wilco, or for those of you who need a shimmy-shammy right now (and not a hot flame), I bring you, from K Records (of all people), the finest song that C.O.C.O. have ever released:

C.O.C.O. - "Move On". Bass and drums pitch a devastatingly simple dance beat, a devastatingly simple lyrical hook, the sort of thing that should be played on vinyl, that should be danced to at a party in a loft on St-Denis, in black-lacquer shoes and stupid sunglasses. Oh - and a bowl of cherries nearby. Cherry cola, too, with those bendy straws. And a girlfriend.

Received a copy of the Jay-Z Construction Set in the mail today. Will update you when my Black Album / Astral Weeks bootleg is complete.

Prompted by this ilm thread, have been relistening (quite a lot) to the new Destroyer record. The horrible thin fakeness that came through on my speakers is dampened when listening on headphones, and there's room to appreciate the lyrics and indeed the music. It's coming across as quite a beautiful album, as well as a funny, mad one. Some of the arrangements are complicatedly lovely - layer upon layer of synthesized sounds, each flat enough to lie smoothly over the other.

Have also discovered Frog Eyes. No idea how I missed The Golden River, but it's great disjointed indie rock, with a fiery-eyed Bowie at the head (the vocals are also extremely reminiscent of Montreal's Wolf Parade). I'm really wishing the Destroyer/Frog Eyes tour was passing through the city.

i = super excited about the upcoming Jolie Holland record, and you should be too. Her debut was gorgeous, and from the sound of "Old Fashion Morphine", Escondida will be another linen-soft sliver of dusty bluegrass. hooray!

now then

Pipas - "No Suspires Mas". Discovered via the fantastic Anti-Hit List, who recommended the light and easy "Jean C". Indie pop rather terrifies me at this point - I get so many freakin' indie pop records in the mail to review, and so many of them are damnedly uninspired. Thank god, then, that a band like Pipas comes along, recording music so effortlessly great that a sunny day comes climbing through the window, even in the depths of winter. Sure to be a hit for anyone who enjoys kids like The Lucksmiths, or even a beachcombing Belle & Sebastian or Isobel Campbell. While I can't understand this song, I still come very close to singing along. It's the way that I wanted to feel at the party after high-school graduation. It's the sound of golden, twinkling stars.

CocoRosie - "Terrible Angels". Touch and Go never ceases to impress me with its ear for idiosyncratic talents. Rachel's, Dirty Three, !!!, Nina Nastasia, Enon, Black Heart Procession, TV on the Radio, and now CocoRosie. They're like Rosie Thomas crossed with Jandek, which is an analogy almost impossible to comprehend. Pink and black women's voices, doubletracked and gentle, bleeding over the scrape and snip of metal, decapitated samples. Devendra Banhart's bluesy twin sisters, caught in an AM radio. I can't decide if it's beautiful of creepy or both - but it's as compelling as anything I've heard this year. (more here.)

Still looking for heads-ups on the best of the new mp3-blog crop. If you've got a site that you think I might like, please do make yourself known!

Feist - "Mushaboom". From the upcoming solo debut of Leslie Feist (By Divine Right, Peaches, Broken Social Scene). As fluxblog attested, the demo to this song was beautiful, and the final version delves even deeper into the wonderful. It's whimsical and violetbright, filled out with piano and drums and shaker and xylophone and horns. Feist is cream-voiced and pleased to be there, her melody a pretty and small-petalled flower.

Feist - "When I Was a Young Girl". With its bongos and handclaps, the song risks being something indulgent and rather inane. It's saved by the long stare of a sharp electric guitar, however: a cowboy glare that clears away the incense. Still, more than anything, "When I Was a Young Girl" - like much of Let It Die - is pretty. This is a blessing and a curse: while Feist will be perfect alongside Hem and Nedelle and other silken-voiced indie-jazz chanteuses, she's hardly the anti-Norah that some predicted.

It's a piano sort of day, here in Montreal. Clear skies and brisk breezy roads, clumps of snow at the street-corners, people sauntering around and singing to themselves. No sign of birds, yet, but I'm sure that they're en route.

Professor Longhair - "Go to the Mardi Gras". I first heard Mr Longhair through Mr Kafkaesque, which is sort of embarassing because Longhair's one of the founding fathers of New Orleans R&B, and that speaks to my knowledge of early r&b. This was his signature tune, with several different versions (with slightly different titles) recorded. It's a fantastically bouncy boogie-woogie-ing number, saxophone bumps over a hush-and-stumble drum patter, a bright and friendly whistle, Longhair singing with matter-of-fact exuberance. "If you go to New Orleans," he says, "you oughta go see the Mardi Gras." And then there's the whistle solo at the end, the rhythm section cutting out so that there can be a little smiling moment.

Gordon Downie - "Chancellor". The Tragically Hip are the biggest band in Canada, and so it follows that their vocalist must be the biggest rock singer in the country. But listening to Downie's solo debut, Coke Machine Glow, the idea seems preposterous. The album's got spoken word and peculiar broken songs, Julie Doiron and Atom Egoyan, people yelling from the backs of rooms and hardly an electric guitar to be heard. What it showcased, however, was Downie's remarkable panache for vocal delivery as well as for lyrics. "Chancellor"'s melody is something lovely and unforgettable, dancing with absurd imagery and letting the gushing flow of Downie's voice carry it up and around mossy outcroppings. It's difficult to identify precisely why the song is so wonderful, so starry and quietly fine, but the proof's right there - in the clattering drums, the generous piano, the acoustic guitar strum; in the way that in 2001 I kept it on repeat for hours, in the way that I'm compelled to now do so again.

You may notice a new description of stg on the right sidebar. Obviously, I take this business of good music very very seriously. (Do you boys and girls think I need to put in something about 'supporting artists'? If you ask me, anyone who reads this thing knows and does, many times over. But I wonder...)