Art Ensemble of Chicago :: Nonaah
what tiMe is it?? and what the heLL does that thing in the corner think it’s staring @?? ? fetch me: The Broom!!! what?.. ? .. ?, I think. it’s trying to communic8. that’s/not a ir/rational argument. No. No, I do not dig.. SssssshHhHhHhut. up. Please find assemble picture to fit size and/or shape. end transmish. OK.
now, or
nonaah,,,5/.
No w?
! !
.
~
_naah_
Nonaah (6.6MB MP3)
Art Ensemble of Chicago
Faraquet :: the Missing Piece
It’s impossible for me to pick one favorite Faraquet song to write about. It took me days to settle on this one and I did so simply because it’s the one tune I put on every single mix I ever give to anyone. That doesn’t necessarily make it my favorite per se, but the Missing Piece is a song that I think should be in everyone’s life. If for anything, then to introduce them to Faraquet’s incredible music.
I first heard this band after they split up in 2001, so I have always bemoaned my misfortune at missing their live shows. But this is a funny world. Grace and Fate are lovers and sometimes they rendezvous in the form of a reunion show at the Black Cat! Guess where I’m going to be on September 18th? I’ll be the one with the big toothy grin on his face.
In their way too short time together as a trio they put out one full-length, The View From This Tower, a couple of singles and a split 7”. Dischord just released an Anthology of re-mixed/mastered versions of previously released and out-of-print songs. The guitarist, Devin Ocampo, and drummer, Chad Molter, went on to form Medications, which is another totally freaking awesome band that everyone should go listen to.* Go…now!
* In the interests of full disclosure and blatant gloating Devin Ocampo produced and performed on my band’s new EP.
the Missing Piece (4.9MB MP3)
Faraquet (label site, fan video)
the Kinks :: I Go To Sleep
Listen really carefully to the pick-up notes at the very beginning of this song. As the the harmony enters on the down beat it’s almost drowned out, but the melody’s upper voice sustains right smack up to the cadence (four seconds in) introducing the song’s major motif. In that little space is the point in the song where my eyes close and my chin folds into my chest. My breathing slows way down and in my mind’s eye I can picture Ray Davies recording the scratch track at night, alone in someone’s attic. You can hear the faintest flub just before the vocals enter. That makes me smile.
The vocal melody invokes the image of a somnambulist’s ballet. Each syllable is a new dancer falling gracefully into the spiraling shadow of the next. The successive pulses in the piano’s tenor line suggest an awkward sort of antagonism, like when the sound of your own heart beat keeps you frustratingly suspended between rest and restlessness. As the song continues though, this line seems to settle into a subtle half-time loll. Its rhythm becomes like a mother slowly rocking her fidgeting child into a deep and heavy sleep.
Then all of a sudden the bright intervals of that glorious major chord shifts the song’s mood from haunted, to hopeful, and the narrator daringly admits to losing his loving faith for only a moment. You get the sense that bliss can only come when consciousness slips away. So when the main motif recapitulates, ushering in the final verse, the new dawn doesn’t appear majestic but empty and cold. Like waking up without the person you love by your side.
I Go To Sleep (3.8MB MP3)
the Kinks (wikipedia)
XTC :: Generals and Majors
Living in and around DC is totally creepy. When I first moved here I was definitely not ready to see people rocking cammo outfits, standing in line at Starbucks on their way to work at the Pentagon. From the intelligence I’ve gathered to date, Marines are really into White Mocha Soy Frapuccinos. However I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of a penchant for Double-Berry Coffee Crumb Cakes. That information is what we Beltway Insiders call ‘close-hold.’
Anyway, I was doubly not ready to see unmarked black vans surrounding a huge missile launcher perched on top of the freaking parking garage I pass on my way to work every morning. Note: according to my calculations, the missile launcher appears to be aimed directly at my office. Not to worry though, every other day I am reassured of my homeland’s perpetual and manifest safety by the supersonic jet fighters scrambling above head or the Apache attack helicopters floating ominously past the Washington Monument. Speaking of the monument, that thing is creepy too! It has glowing red eyes at night. I kid you not! I’m also pretty certain it whispers nasty things about me when I pass by it. Am I starting to sound paranoid? Good. That’s the point. Because when you’re at a bar / party and casually ask the stranger you’ve been having a warm conversation with what they do for a living, then all of sudden everyone around you stops talking and all at once starts dialing the same number on their cell phones, then the stranger tells you in a cold, flat tone that they work for the State Department and abruptly walks out of the bar / party you know you’re living in a creepy town surrounded by creepy people doing creepy things for an extremely creepy administration. It does start to grow on you after awhile though.
Then again, so does fungus… especially weaponized fungus created and released by a rogue DARPA scientist masquerading as a reclusive British rock genius. Please, stay calm everyone: The war is almost over.
Generals and Majors (5.7MB MP3)
XTC (homepage)
Nina Nastasia :: Ocean
Chicago in the winter: the sun had died a terrible death: the only warmth in the whole world was emanating from WLUW’s radio tower: traffic and ice slowed the city to a crawl: a song whispered out of my car stereo that all at once soothed and saddened: I pulled into the alley and stopped the car: I listened with my eyes closed: the song ended: I finally let go of my breath: I rattled into the house: “I just heard the most amazing song, but I don’t know what it is or who it’s by”: Ocean: Nina Nastasia: amazing.
Ocean (8.3MB MP3)
Nina Nastasia (label site)
Raymond Scott :: Little Miss Echo
I love me some cartoons. When I was a kiddo I’d sit back, work my fine motor skills opening coke cans, throw on some Looney Tunes and love life. It’s amazing to watch those old cartoons and hear the vocabulary they used. They didn’t dumb-down for the audience. That goes doubly for the music. Everyone knows Carl Stalling. He was a freaking genius. One time in college, we had a cartoon music composer come in for a guest lecture. He put some of his scores up on a projector so we could analyze the music: frenetic, genre-blasting, wacky and brilliant. He talked about Carl Stalling’s influence a great deal. Unfortunately he neglected to talk about the guy who started it all: Raymond Scott. This guy was the real deal. Not only was he a major influence on cartoon music but he also taught a young Bob Moog about electronics and how to apply the science to musical instruments. Yep, that far reaching…
If you want to hear a song that you had no idea was written by Raymond Scott check out Powerhouse. You’ll recognize it right away. Think factory line music. Anyway, this post is not quintessential Raymond Scott but it’s oh-so pretty. Who wants a coke?
Little Miss Echo (10.5mb mp3)
Raymond Scott (homepage)
Caetano Veloso :: Tropicália
This song gave name to a genre. This song bears the name of a phoenix. It wails out of the darkness; it sings with the abandon of youth; it is a testament and it is a memorial.
I’ve been planning on posting Tropicália for a while. After reading Melissa’s last post I was floored by how similar these two musician’s stories are. As sad as that is I can’t help but feel like the atrocities that surrounded these people are somehow transcended by the beauty and power of the music they created. Those who died soon after hearing these tunes first broadcasts are remembered every time someone hears them for the first time, lives to talk about them, and sing along with them.
Please listen to this song and remember the ghosts that listened before us.
Tropicália
Caetano Veloso (wikipedia)
Sly and the Family Stone :: Fun
Fun is. Any song that starts with a kick-snare, boom-smack is bound to make your next two and a half minutes shake like Jell-o in a centrifuge. That snare keeps on the 2-3-4’s throughout most of the song: a drunkard trying, and failing, to stand up straight. It only veers off to fly through time and space into the bottom of the percussive register. Then it snaps right back into the groove as if it were that drunken guy at the party who falls off the porch only to jump right back up as if nothing happened (you know who you are).
The Beatles-esque choir can’t stop itself from climbing up the banisters to pull the chandelier all the way back down. That’s just the beginning of the end, but the party keeps going. The dry mouth laughter in the background can’t be the horn section; they’re too busy getting stuck in your head. I know… it’s OK… just whistle along. Too much Fun is never, ever enough.
Fun
Sly and the Family Stone (homepage)