album #53

lp (ambulance ltd)

I dig this album- dreamy, slightly psychadelic pop. I imagine it all taking place in a green and blue room, light filtered through smoky shadows. Except for the tracks that are pure sunshine and salesmanship, like "Anecdote." There's an ambient vibe to this record; if Pulp Fiction was a little more aquatic or a little sweeter, this could make a good soundtrack- touches of noir and now and then, the southwest.

Several pop gems- the dark sneer of "Primitive," the plucky sunny "Anecdote," the anthemic "Heavy Lifting," and my two favorite tracks: the low easy amble, perfectly accentuated by a sweet guitar sigh, of "Young Urban," and the driven, pretty, sad slacker jewel "Stay Where You Are."

My main critique- sometimes they spend excessive time in their underwater jams, either waiting to get somewhere good or lingering after a great song has already finished. A few times I've had to make radio edits, particularly to trim the fat from my two favorite tracks. That dreamy, smoky ambience now and then just feels like killing time.

This might be an interesting band to read about- wikipedia indicates that they've had a somewhat turbulent existence, with every member leaving to form a new band except the lead singer, and then their record label is going under, and the leader of the group seems a little bit lost- one of those creative people who might be, this is a harsh judgment to make of a guy I'm just starting to learn about, but there's a vibe of laziness, of passive disappointment in the face of decline. Christ, it's actually pretty sad. Man. Well hey, good music, good music. Contracts… what terrible things. Don't get the law involved, just live and make.

album #52

majesty shredding (superchunk)

A lot of catchy pop-punk anthems- “Digging For Something” cries out across the void, “My Gap Feels Weird” is fast and shimmering, “Rosemarie” trots gallantly, “Crossed Wires,” my favorite, roars with youthful, triumphant energy. “Slow Drip” crescendos fantastically in the chorus, a Cars-like choral rally around the world 'time.' “Fractures in Plaster” is a stately gem, something about it feels like a call to arms- I can picture it as one of those Broadway rock anthems. The guitars in “Rope Light” are awesome, no other description seems appropriate.

This band I think has a deeper history and more connotations than I'm ready to wade into- the sort of band that Klosterman references, and I'm not sure if it's with love or derision. As far as I can tell, this is a really catchy band (I'm surprised they didn't have any huge '90s radio hits, maybe they did), their singer has one of those voices that makes any band sound like a mallpunk band (that is, very high pitched) and they seem like the sort of band that doesn't grow up- they're gonna play with the same youthful energy and weirdness that they played with back in the day, whenever that was.

I really feel in an awkward place with this band- listening to them brings me back to sophomore year, when my priority was being cool and I didn't know how to get there. Something in me needs to make sure that I'm leaving this band with the 'right' opinion, even though that notion would expose my entire process of listening and reviewing albums as a lie- an effort to reinforce social orthodoxies, in the privacy of my own home. The bottom line is you take from music what You take from it; though I've found music reviews very useful, mainly for catching things I didn't notice, filling in gaps in my knowledge and perspective. Having checked- the good news is, the snobs reinforce my gut instinct that this is a really good, fun record. Also, I didn't know Superchunk founded Merge records. Cool cool. Wouldn't mind hearing more of these guys.

album #51

kaputt (destroyer)

This Might be my favorite Destroyer record, it certainly contends, and it's so incredibly different than anything else he's released. Lately I've thought of Daniel Bejar as being this generation's David Bowie, in his pursuit of reinvention with each album- in which case, this is his Young Americans. I'm amused at the thought of somebody who falls in love with Destroyer at Starbucks, looks into his back catalogue, and comes up with a whole lot of his nasally, barely melodic 7-minute tangled blues rock tracks. I think Bejar said this was the first time he truly set out to make a pop record- and boy, if this is what he comes up with, he should really keep it up.

“Chinatown” is one of my favorite songs, a contender for my favorite Destroyer song- well paced, beautifully constructed, with a seductive key line sneaking up and down in the chorus. “Suicide Demo For Kara Walker” is a lovely, misty island. I remember Kara Walker's art and I often picture that room in the Met, with silvery light air and blue currents, when I hear this song. This is a silly thing to confess, but a lot of this album reminds me of the misty pond level of Bugdom- white fog and clear waters and far journeys from port to port (hey, after all, Bejar talked about far-flung imperial outposts as an influence on this record.) “Kaputt” is a wonderful song, a wistful, pretty synthetic dance. I would absolutely dance to it in a cool, dry European disco of whites and blues. “Downtown” is a jewel, I love the vibrant bass, the choir, the smoky curl of the saxophone, the shape of the whole track just works for me. It's another one of my favorite songs, and it would sound amazing in a dentist's office.

It's easy listening, baby, and it's easy on my ears. More than anything I'm curious about what this means for the next Destroyer album- if this is an aberration or a distinct step towards a new direction.

album #50

destroyer's rubies (destroyer)

This album is an old favorite. It hit me at the right time, a point of my life where I was extremely hungry for and receptive to a good, cool album, especially from something from the New Pornographers universe. This is the first Destroyer record I owned- I remember buying it from a cool record store in Soho, now a realtor's- and I've always thought of it as the gold standard. It's everything I expect from Destroyer- rambling, literate epics, hushed dissertations on manners, spectacular power riffs, plenty of ba-ba-ba la-la-la's, and a few songs I spent endless nights singing along with.

One thing I'm just now realizing, as I listen to “Rubies,” is how this must be what it feels to be a Dylan fan- Dan's strengths and quirks line up somewhat with Bob's. Dylan is obviously legend but I haven't always loved him, yet my ear is pretty warmly tuned to Destroyer. I suppose I leave his excesses behind, there's just so much left that I'm into- lots of elegant melody lines and powerful surges of guitar noise and well-earned personal connotations.

“Rubies” is one of my favorite ten-minute songs (right up there with “Marquee Moon,” “Jungleland” and the current leader, “Station To Station.”) I love the journey the song takes, and it's particularly poignant when it lands on just one fragile guitar in a quiet room.

“Your Blood” is an amble I've loved since the day I heard it; “European Oils” is a giant, my head bobbing from the first theatrical downward march of the piano, a heavy European blues journey that hits one of my favorite lyrics- “in love and war, I insist on slaughter/ and getting it on with the hangman's daughter/ she needs release, she needs to feel at peace/ with her father, the fucking maniac”- and there lands a searing riff that I've sung along with for years. And the guitar, the piano, the lyrics, all slamming in rhythm as they drown in the storm- or collapse in the barroom dance hall- just a magnificent number.

“Painter In Your Pocket” is one of my favorite songs ever; Katie and I have always bonded over it. A sad and thoughtful beauty, it moves like a submarine, you can feel the pressure of the ocean against the steel of the song, and every now and then breaks a glowing hint of pure pink perfection, a sweetly sad riff to which I'm entirely devoted. When that melody takes over in the second half- man oh man.

“3000 Flowers” rocks, searing energy from start to finish. The end of the song especially is a magnificent “push the pedal, sing along loud” slice of my youth. The rest of the album is largely blues numbers, intricate rambling jams. I haven't always loved 'em, but they're pretty solid, and I give them more listens and more leeway than I do most 'B' songs.

I wonder now how important it is to listen to an album alone in your car, when it comes to determining the music one loves most. Generally speaking, I hold residual devotion for most of the music I've listened to in my car; there are other bands and albums I've loved more in the years since, and yet I can't break the feeling that I'd love those albums even more if I'd heard them in my car. The most obvious factor is, everytime I drove, I was in a dreamy vacation environment, a nostalgia safari, and my poignancy radar was tuned so high that everything generated meaning instantaneously. If I continued to drive in my daily life- if I continued to experience most music in my car, I wonder how the effect would differ. It would be weaker, that's pretty much for sure.

album #49

angles (the strokes)

It's all right, it sounds different than The Strokes' more iconic sound, their lo-fi mid-aughts stuff. This album gleams a little more- it's almost as if they're reproducing the arc of music history, moving from the '70s garages into the later '70s disco-pop and the '80s clean synth sounds.

“Games” is a song I listen to over and over again, strictly because it opens with a fantastic minute of vintage synth disco-pop sound; “Gratisfaction” is pretty awesome, a glam-rock serenade straight out of early Bowie. And “Life Is Simple In The Moonlight” sounds a lot like Michael Jackson at the beginning- it draws you in with intro to “PYT,” eventually settling into a decent, minor key sagging sway (jolted awake every now and then by some ba-ba-bas.)

Overall, the album doesn't leave a strong impression but it's all right. It's an interesting story here- Casabalancas recorded his vocals separately and communicated with the rest of the band largely by email, and rather vaguely at that. So it makes sense that the album feels different than what came before- the rest of the band could take the lead (which Casablancas insisted on), so adherence to the formula, doing things the way they were done before, simply didn't follow.

album #48

anthology II, disc 1 (the beatles)

This is a fun cache of music; it's not really a proper album, seeing as this is about 18% of the Anthology, and it's the only slice of the pie I have in my collection. It's not even my favorite slice of the pie- I remember loving Anthology II, Disc 2 more as a kid; I must've misplaced it once upon a time.

AII/D1 covers the days of Help, Rubber Soul and Revolver; I'm fairly sure that the live tracks are from their famous Shea Stadium gig. These tracks, then, are slightly before the period of my peak interest, but it's still a highly intriguing time in the band's history- transitioning from Beatlemania to the studio. The watery, kinda-cool, kinda-awkward take of “Tomorrow Never Knows,” especially in contrast to the overwhelming adoration on their concert tracks, gives you a sense of how brave that transition was- the choice to make it, to leap into the unknown, surely against their label's wishes.

Some various thoughts provoked by the tracks:

“Real Love”- holy hell, this is a great song. And truly a pretty moving production, as well. Something beautiful in the simple act of Yoko allowing the boys to make it. “I Feel Fine”- I've always really liked the song, and it's sinking in now how this truly is a hard emotional state to reach, and when you're there it truly is something to celebrate- pure, simple, uncomplicated mutual love. “Ticket To Ride”- never really loved this song, but it's just now, just tonight, hitting me how perfect this song is. It truly does describe how my most important relationships ended, and the manner that I now expect relationships to end. It's hard to keep two hearts in sync. This song tells the story, simple and sad and perfect.

“You've Got To Hide Your Love Away” > “Yesterday.”

The Anthology version of “And Your Bird Can Sing” is my favorite version- the mid-sixties cascade of guitar, it's just honey to my ear. It's a bit of a shame that their stoned giggles break the take down. “I'm Looking Through You” is a beauty; best song on the album, besides “Real Love” perhaps.

This reminds me that I should get Help!, an album of theirs that I loved as a younger man. And also, hell, why not Magical Mystery Tour? And Abbey Road. My Beatles collection is, in fact, startlingly thin. I guess it's because I've got the albums all up here, man.

I've never really considered this an album, and until today it's been years since I listened to it all in a row. These are more like filler songs, fun little classics that pop up on shuffle. In any event, it's all pretty good. The Beatles were, how you say?, pretty darn good.

album #47

aladdin sane (david bowie)

This is Bowie's fifties rock album, with a heavy dose of Rolling Stones, strong and simple. There's a good sing-song shape to the songs, they move on a metronome- it's a relatively predictable album, not in a bad way. There are a few odd gems- the paranoid passion of “Panic in Detroit” lifts it up a level, as the guitars run down the walls; “Time” is a vaguely hostile cabaret soliloquy, an early taste of the Thin White Duke. “Lady Grinning Soul” makes for an alluring closer, a haunting ballad of smoke and mirrors. And my favorite track is “Aladdin Sane (1913-1938-197?),” one of the great Bowie songs in my opinion. The glowering piano line seduces me instantly- add to this the eerie, searching question of the chorus, “Who Will Love Aladdin Sane?,” and the astonishing, otherwordly breakdown of the piano midway through. Nothing on this orderly album can approach the level of chaos braved in that interlude.

Another way to look at that song, in context of this album- this is the first record Bowie released as a genuine rock star, massively famous. And "Aladdin Sane" hints at the boldly strange road that he'll soon travel, far away from conventional glam rock sounds.

This is a good one- I really like this album, I'd rank it as one of my favorites of Bowie's. One question I'd love to examine is, who is Aladdin Sane, the character? I know Ziggy, I know the Duke- what's Aladdin Sane's philosophy exactly, and does it show up anywhere other than that particularly haunting track? Is there a theme that unifies these tracks on a level that I haven't discerned? The answer appears to be 'no,' and the character, as Bowie describes him, is "Ziggy goes to America." Anyway- this is a winner. Good, good album here.

album #46

young americans (david bowie)

This is a fun album to listen to, and fun to understand as a reference point for where Bowie came from, and where he ended up. Young Americans is 'plastic soul,' as Bowie called it- soul music flattened of all meaning and sung by a priviledged white boy. There's something awkardly parodic about it, like it's not a straightforward celebration of the art form- and nothing about how it's made, just the fact of its existence. It's easy listening, seductive and fun- it's hard to reconcile this sweet, easy Bowie against the dark and surreal journey he undertook just a year later on Station to Station, and deeper into his career with the Berlin trilogy. Though on the other hand, this Bowie makes perfect sense as the precursor to the “Let's Dance” Bowie of the early '80s. Sometimes it seems Bowie can be rightly summarized as, a guy who took any given genre and created an album where he took that genre and turned it on his own warped wordlview. This record feels a little less strange though, it feels a little more straightforward. This is Bowie at his pinnacle of corporate amiability.

“Young Americans” is a funky jewel, one of my mom's favorite songs; “Win” rises with a flutter of brass wings; there's no way really to describe the other songs except to say they sound iconic- they sound like very good examples of '70s soul. They sound like what easy listening funky soul is supposed to sound like, very well constructed and melodic and endearing. They don't stand out, I'm not excited to listen to them, but the sounds are good.

The oddest song on the record is the classic finale, “Fame”- a dark, buzzing, funky, angrily atonal strut. In fact, man, after listening to the rest of the record, this barely makes sense as a track here. If the rest of this album is clouds of amber & pink, “Fame” is a blade of purple. I suppose this is the dark, weird, Bowie edge that I was looking for. Another thing that intrigues me about this record is, John Lennon sang background vocals on this song (and the cover of “Across the Universe,” my least favorite track on the album.) It must be so overwhelming, so strange to be collaborating with somebody who was a global icon when you were a young teen, somebody who was surely a personal hero- but it's a testament to Bowie's confidence that he can pull it off. That's when you really know you've made it- and when you really know that you can make it. When your heroes want to work with you, and you take it in stride.

album #45

twin cinema (the new pornographers)

One of my favorite albums ever, one of the most important albums I'll ever own. A massive power-pop achievement from my favorite band of my college years. They released their peak album at the peak point of my fandom, at the end of the summer I spent driving through Texas blasting Mass Romantic and Electric Version.

The towering ballads from this album defined the end of that summer and the end of every vacation- "Stacked Crooked" stands as one of the songs I've gone to more often than any other, when I've critically needed a song to overcome me. "The Bleeding Heart Show" is right up there as well- those 'Hey-La's are the holy chants of my highway church. "Twin Cinema," love everything about it, a great opener. "Bones of an Idol," the discovery of that glowing green guitar riff, epic. "Use It," one of the ultimate 'it's time to get up and move and take action' songs. "Jackie Dresssed In Cobras" chases a gorgeous melody right up a tree and then shakes it off a branch back into the verse. "Sing Me Spanish Techno" is a a great pump-you-up track, "Three Or Four" marches to a heavy, ball-swinging beat, "Star Bodies" charges forward and evenutally leaps off a cliff into the stratosphere- that atmospheric electric breakdown in the last minute was, for a certain time, my favorite minute of miusic. And "Streets of Fire" is a lovely, low key, wistful stroll. And then every other song is prety good too.

Holy hell, how did I not choose this for the 'your favorite album ever' project? What a weird oversight on my part. I guess I thought I was over these guys, in the way that one gets 'over' The Beatles after a certain level of exposure. Station To Station might be more compelling at this point, but Twin Cinema, all the drives throughout Austin and workout sessions in my sophomore year dorm, all my last nights in the car before a morning flight= this one really, really counts in a huge way.

album #44

physical graffiti (led zeppelin)

A lot of pretty badass stuff on this album- a heavy, nasty, sexy, swaggering album. Great riffs.

“Custard Pie” sets the tone early, a throbbing rhythmic riff, Robert Plant's ooh's and aah's from across the stage and right up into your body. It's a great opener, one of my favorite tracks. “The Rover” is heavy and nasty, like a serious workout, with an irresistable high riff sneaking in. “Houses of the Holy” charms me, it's got a melodically seductive ease, the song you sing to bring a girl home- not the song you sing once you get there. “Kashmir” is an epic, that thunderous orchestral wave crashing into your ears- a peak moment for the album. There's something about the lazy melodic charm of “Down By The Seaside” that pulls me in, it's worth revisiting. “Ten Years Gone” is a melodic, melancholy beauty, the man choosing music over a particular love. This song's guitars break open in a way that reminds me of the best blues moments from a John Mayer album. And “The Wanton Song” very suddenly became one of my favorite Zeppelin songs, the main riff drives with relentless power, a violent motor, and the shell eventually cracks to reveal this pearl of melody in an aquatic wash of guitar sound. One of those musical moments that I keep tapping like a junkie, willing to listen to so many empty minutes just to hit that perfect taste again.

Lots of good on this album, though I gotta say it's a little long for my tastes- too many songs, and they're all a little too long. Which gives me the odd idea of releasing edited versions of albums (Indeed, I have done this with one or two albums), cut out what I consider filler and keep the songs centered on their best melodic highs. Indulgence seems to be one of Zeppelin's defining traits, and that's evident in both form and function.

album #43

bitter tea (the fiery furnaces)

This is a cold, crisp, gray air album. It's a winter album for me, I remember it from January in Texas, driving around Brandon's neighborhood, or nights sometimes. There's a dry mint flavor to it, cool and disconnected. The instruments have a dry electric tingle to them. 'Bitter tea' really is a pretty good name for this odd record, a further lurch electricward than any of their earlier records, to a fault.

"Black-Hearted Boy" was a track I used to like, the lamented torch song, seductive melody- but it gets derailed by its tangy electronic excesses, a recurring theme of this album. "Bitter Tea" is a fun time, first minute sounds like a fantastic arcade showdown. "Oh Sweet Woods" is an old favorite, a terrific nighttime track, eerie and imposing, a hallucinated manhunt. "Police Sweater Vow" is a more straightforward number, there's a lift to the groove that implies, 'shit man, everything's fine.' I've always liked the vintage rock ballad vibe of "Whistle Rhapsody," a song that could have seduced '70s arenas. And "Benton Harbor Blues" is a chill, melodic beauty, a cousin of "Tropicool Ice Land," and lyrically a fine go-to in times of reflection.

This is one of my less-favored Fiery Furnaces albums, it just doesn't pull me in. Good tracks though, and it captures a particular season quite well.

album #42

the black saint and the sinner lady (charles mingus)

An all-time great album title, and a great album too. It sways with exhilarating bombast, like a jazz pirate ship, or a stumble-bumble adventure through angular New York alleyways, colored like a comic book. This album tells more of a story than any other jazz album I've heard so far- others have a cool ambience or take a nice journey, but this album always creates pictures for me more vividly than any other record, I really feel the rainy, angular, brick-wall, yellow light, swaying and bustling adventure.

This album moves between states very well- I've thought lately about moving between states as a crucial element of a comedic scene, that the moments of transition are where the laughter and surprise comes- and this album demonstrates that ability quite well, musically. Low sways, Spanish guitars, bursts of activity. You're always lurching around, looking for your footing, while The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady pulls you and moves you.

album #41

hexadecagon (the octopus project)

Two things I didn't know about this band until the other night: They're Austin natives, and also this album was played live as an installation piece at South by Southwest, an epic art-concert. And knowing that really makes the record make sense- I'd describe this as an album that would be more exhilarating live. Get caught up in the rhythms, feel the sound surround you, everybody bobbing and dancing along. It makes me think about music as a Catholic experience, sheltered and religious and mystical and totemic, vs. mechanically reproduced music, where I'm just sitting and listening to this album on my bed, in between gchat conversations and thinking about what site to head to next. Shadowy dancers, neon streaks of light, that's what I see now when I think of this album.

Particular favorites: "A Phantasy," I've always liked how the melody line lands in that track, and "Circling" is pretty exciting, it very much feels like the communal climax, there's an awesome sense of drive and drama and unity in the way the instruments spiral around the central, authoritative key line, like a tight jagged twister.

Don't love all the tracks but they're all fun, positive, there's a melodic goodness to it- I wouldn't call myself excited by Most of the tracks, though. This band might be worth further exploration, though, if they've put together other albums that have pulled a strong response.

album #40

evil empire (rage against the machine)

A fun, feisty record, a badass record- scowl, feel the fury coasting your veins, give a smart and fierce "fuck you" to all the bastards. "People Of The Sun," an awesome opening track- immediately you feel everything that's gonna work on this album, the high tight spit of the vocals, the rusty buzzsaw fire guitar that can do anything; the irresistible throb of the bass. This is, indeed, one of the only times that "rap metal" works, and beyond 'works'- it makes resounding sense. It's the perfect combination of sounds and philosophies to capture the fully defiant spirit of the band.

My main complaint is that the songs, over time, all sound pretty similar- and it does remind me of Texas gyms, as all metal does (even if this is way better than the average track from that genre.) There are a few gems, though, each track can probably win three minutes at a time- that is, enjoyed in a context without being worn down over the course of an album (much like Radiohead in that regard.)

album #39

helplessness blues (fleet foxes)

An endearing album, and it's grown on me. "Montezuma" is immediately beautiful, the melancholy choral cascade completely seduces me; "Bedouin Dress" wins me over with that earnest guitar and playful clarinet. The album pulls together beautiful choral harmonies again and again, with that tinge of working man's pastoral sadness, an oldness and wisdom and sense of simplicity throughout. "Helplessness Blues" is an absolute beauty, I love the rhythmic pluck and dash of "Lorelai," especially with the symphonic vocals- it's probably my favorite track on the album, after "Montezuma."

I really love this band- not only beautiful on the level of melody, harmony and instrumentation, but even the wistful philosophical tinge of their lyrics suits me right. This band is one of the greats (and to think, I used to envy/resent/ignore them, just because they're slightly younger than I am. Although that remains a sickening thought.)

album #38

before today (ariel pink's haunted graffiti)

This is an example of an album where I just never think of the title; I've always thought of the band's name as the album name. It's a shady album, it googles and buzzes. The electric sound almost sounds like a kazoo. It's a fun, fuzzy foggy retro album, with two superstar tracks: the undercard "Fright Night," glowing melodic synths dramatically landing across the purple nightscape song; and "Round And Round," Pitchfork's best song of 2010, an honor my roommates and I initially met with derision- but upon inspection, I personally came around to it in a big way. It still sounds like that particular December to me, and even more specifically it's the night I first came back from LGA. A lovely anthem, instrumental choices that stretch across the best of the '80s, a final fadeout I've made a habit of singing along with.

After those two songs, in the context of the whole album, I realize how the rest of the record just can't compete with those stars. Good songs all, but those two are in their own stratosphere. Altogether, a fun record, and I'm more likely than not to stick with a track when it comes up on shuffle. I like this guy- even though he oozes LA premeditated weirdcool, he's put together some pretty acceptable, weirdcool tracks.

album #37

ahmad jamal at the pershing (ahmad jamal)

A sublime album, one of my favorite finds from my friend's album project. I think of this album less as a matter of individual songs, and more the continuum of a concert. I love live recordings; the ambience of the crowd's engagement, the way the music reverberates out to the space- space we're free to imagine.

Here's a thing I'm thinking about just now, the difference between picturing music that takes place in a studio (where it's really anywhere we want it to be, evokes anything we want) and recorded music that takes place live (this album, for me, always evokes itself, a sharp '60s crowd awash in blue, a hint of smoke.) Though maybe that's not fair to say- after all, what this album Really evokes is The Blue Note, back when (I think it was Katie) I attended a performance there. And At Folsom Prison, though I always feel the environment (I picture it as concrete yellows, brownish gray uniforms), I suppose it also takes me out to the wilderness- but not quite the total way that, say, Red Headed Stranger does. And I bet the environment is a key factor there. The audience becomes an instrument, an element of the expression, and therefore an element of the interpretation. It's pretty true of actually live-attended concerts, the music is the focus but so much of the experience comes from the shared sensations of the crowd, the feeling of sharing something vibrant and connective.

This makes me feel like reading up more on Walter Benjamin or talking to Annie. In any event, this is a delightful album, cool, melodic, elegant, charming. A very good listen, an artist worth knowing more.

album #36

pink moon (nick drake)

This album sounds like beautiful autumn photography, memories of the Bronx Zoo or Thanksgiving '07, warm autumn- the leaves every color, the still beauty of the lake, multiplying the images. Leaves that don't necessarily crunch when you step on them. A sweet album with that hint of melancholy, it's very relistenable. Lovely ambient music. Makes me think of the 'lodge rock' genre making its way into pop culture, musical Waldens. This album surely is one of the iconic progenitors of that style.

Nick Drake's a Van Gogh figure, one of those tragic posthumous heroes, and I've appreciated everything of his that I've heard. My favorite song of his is from the Garden State soundtrack, "One of These Things First." As lovely as he can be with just the organic sound of the guitar, I'd also like to hear more of his more layered compositions.

album #35

electric version (the new pornographers)

I've always loved this album, and it was my favorite New Pornographers album (out of the two I knew) that fateful summer '05, one of the crucial eras of absorbing music from the driver's seat on Austin area highways. Two main differences from Mass Romantic: (1) Electric Version strikes me as slightly sweeter, a little bit cuter, not quite as relentless; and (2) it's a little more uneven, a mix of tracks slightly weaker than Mass Romantic's weakest, and several other tracks that are supreme personal favorites.

"Electric Version," for instance, is one of my favorite opening tracks on any album, and is basically the opening track of summer '05. That roll of drums, that cascade of dark pearly synths down the stairs, the bob and surge of the chorus; a pair of Neko-driven tracks that I used to absolutely destroy my ears with, "The Laws Have Changed" and especially "All For Swinging You Around," a song that for a certain shining time felt like it would be my favorite song forever. "July Jones," from the title, to the somewhat hot, tired swoon of the beat, forever feels like late summer '05 to me; "Loose Translation" is a beauty, a terrific melody in the keys that lines up with the percussion quite compellingly. "Chump Change" is a song I feel like I'm discovering just now- it wasn't on the summer '05 mix (not enough space on the cd, one of the tracks I left behind), and I'm just now noticing the Fleetwood Mac-esque searing harmony, great stuff going on in this track. And then there's the song that, a winter or two or three after that summer '05 peak, became one of my favorite songs: "Ballad of A Comeback Kid," a true tower, a journey that climaxes with an anthemic roll of guitar hooks that I sang along with, loud, hopeful, wistful, triumphant, again and again and again.

album #34

the brutalist bricks (ted leo)

I loved this guy when I was younger; a very exciting performer to see live. The records he's released in recent years haven't totally captured my imagination. This record doesn't leave me with a strong impression, it mostly feels like filler, it just kinda sounds like him. A few tracks I love- "Gimme The Wire," wonderful energy on this one, a real zip of a number; "Bartolomeo and the Buzzing of Bees" is a romantic number, there's something seductive in that low, slow, driven rhythm, the lyrics that hint at new promises offered to an old flame. Something about it evokes a balcony scene. And "Bottled In Cork" is the star track, I really love it- it starts with a classic Ted Leo zip, and suddenly stops at the cliff's edge and shifts splendidly into a melodic, sing-song number with a vintage feel, a total beauty. Something about it evokes "Queen Bitch," that melodic acoustic call and response rhythm; it certainly sounds like a track that would exist on a Wes Andersen soundtrack. I remember hearing this song in a bar and loving it, and when my pal Russ identified it, I remember knowing then and there that Russ was a guy who knows his music.

It's possible I haven't given the rest of the tracks enough time to sink in and become their own; maybe I'll return some other time, but for now I'm content with what I've mined from this record. If anything I need to get his older albums into my collection.