tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23863421113789108992024-03-12T19:45:16.094-07:00Hello, sky. Hello, Earth.chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2386342111378910899.post-5669620264986683732009-12-31T21:27:00.002-08:002009-12-31T21:29:45.682-08:00the year in music: BiRd BrAiNs<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">tUnE-yArDs </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">BiRd-BrAiNs</span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Unfortunate spelling aside, this little lo-fi gem really surprised me early this year. Constructed from over two years of sound captured on a little handheld voice recorder, Merrill Garbus’ </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">BiRd-BrAiNs </span></i><span style="font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">is an amazingly catchy and truly odd pop record of African-inflected beats and off-kilter ukelele, dripping with sound clipping and tape hiss. While the cut-and-paste charm of the album is an asset, it never becomes a crutch to buoy itself—Garbus’ songwriting chops hold their own, a feat unmatched by most of her lo-fi contemporaries. In fact, it came almost as a harbinger of kindred spirits Dirty Projectors and their pop-infused </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bitte Orca</span></i><span style="font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, sounding something like Timbaland stranded with a four-track recorder in an alternate universe.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Garbus’ voice is especially something to behold. It is idiosyncratic without ever turning twee, often with violent intensity, often laced with sweetness, and sometimes both at the same time. Garbus, not only as a singer, but as a songwriter, as a producer, as an artist, (and especially as a performer, as I learned firsthand last month,) creates from an entirely free and open place. And </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">BiRd-BrAiNs </span></i><span style="font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">is a testament to that—lucky us.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2386342111378910899.post-50452011647423452002009-12-31T21:27:00.001-08:002009-12-31T21:27:40.275-08:00the year in music: Actor<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">St. Vincent </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Actor</span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have been a fan of Annie Clark’s since I accidentally discovered her debut album, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Marry Me</span></i><span style="font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, in June 2006, the week it came out. I was instantly enamored with her oddly wonderful mixture of sweetness and guitar-shredding chaos. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Marry Me </span></i><span style="font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">was one of my favorite albums of that year, and unlike many of my other favorites from that year, it actually got better over time.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Actor, </span></i><span style="font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Annie has transposed some of the wicked guitar arrangements from </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Marry Me</span></i><span style="font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to a full-bodied orchestral freakout. Many of its tracks began as musical scores for some of my favorite movies, and while the title may mislead one to feel it is a bombastic, cinematic album, it is actually quite the opposite—Clark has written an album of intimate domesticity, embodying female characters who find themselves bound by the tethers of their own femininity, merely acting out their assumed gender roles while constantly seeking their own forms of independence (with varying degrees of success).</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The biggest “actor” on </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Actor </span></i><span style="font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">is Clark herself, who, through clever and often heartbreaking lyrics, finds the humanity of her characters, and represents their struggle in her patented sound—a shaky balance of honey-voiced vocals and swirling Disney woodwinds with some truly disgusting sounding fuzz. Beneath all the sweetness of Clark’s feminine characters lies darkness, violence, deep sadness that endangers (and often engulfs) their saccharine put-ons. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Clark is quickly becoming one of the most inventive pop songwriters of our time, making music that is at once challenging, intelligent, and extremely melodic. And though I have dedicated more Facebook status updates to her than I care to admit, (did I mention that she’s absolutely beautiful and I’m totally in love with her? I’m not sure if I did…) my awkward obsession with her stems solely from a deep respect and love for the work she creates, for the intense feelings it evokes within me. And I don’t think I’m alone.</span><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2386342111378910899.post-60770480353336237762009-12-31T20:48:00.000-08:002009-12-31T22:19:29.305-08:00the year in music: jj n° 2<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">jj </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">jj n° 2</span></span></i></span></b><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; white-space: normal; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 20px; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; white-space: pre;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">"Where did this band come from, and why is there a pot leaf on the cover?"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">At only twenty-seven minutes long, this debut full-length from mysterious Swedish group, jj, was not only the perfect combination of many of my favorite sounds, but, like Atlas Sound's <i>Logos</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">, became a source of comfort in time of need. When my grandmother passed away, the uplifting one-two-punch of "Things Will Never Be The Same Again" and "From Africa to Malaga" kept me moving, the two things that allowed me to seek solace in the seeming senselessness of everything. "Ecstacy" was just a fucking jam, a tongue-in-cheek jam that samples Lil Wayne, only to quote Will Smith's "Miami". When some heart-pangs set in after the whirlwind of past few months, "Are You Still in Vallda?", a stunning ballad about the transience of summer love, sailed through to make it all better. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:20.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Sure, the record is shimmery and melodic, a seamless patchwork of sounds, cultures and textures. That goes without saying. What sets jj apart from all the other globally-minded, drug-hazy electronic-pop acts out there is real heart. Fewalbums resonated with me more this year, or any year, to force me out the shuffle-friendly mindset of the times and just sit down and <i>listen</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family: Georgia; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">In many ways, it felt as if the record had listened to me too.</span><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p></o:p></span></p> </span></div></span></i></b></span></div>chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2386342111378910899.post-51036345862631659752009-12-31T20:42:00.000-08:002009-12-31T20:45:02.454-08:00the year in music: Veckatimest<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Grizzly Bear </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Veckatimest</span></i></b><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><!--StartFragment--><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I remember driving with my dad through the countryside, a place that has not been annexed by any of the surrounding towns. These odd, amber fields in July were the long way to a park we were headed towards, a park along the Tualatin River, whose name I cannot recall. We planned on canoeing the river, but not today. Today was not a good day, there was not enough time.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There were people in the park, an assemblage of a hundred family barbeques. It was summer. There were pretty girls playing volleyball. We escaped the people. We walked along the river, finding secret pathways in the forest. We hiked through roughly hewn logs and makeshift trails, pointing out the foliage and looking out at beautiful views of the river. My dad longed after a few of the boats that rode past, once again commenting how cool it would be to have a boat of his own. I remember the sun, as I often do, glistening off the water, and that my father’s socks had fallen down.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">All throughout the drive, he complained about the bass of </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Veckatimest</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, saying it sounded weird, like it was underwater (his ear was full of some fluid that whole week). By “While You Wait For The Others”, he cautiously admitted, “Yeah, okay. This song is really good.” It was the golden hour, in a field of wheat, and I was with my father.</span></span></span><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--> </i></b></div>chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2386342111378910899.post-29861370680891279922009-12-31T13:35:00.001-08:002009-12-31T13:35:53.622-08:00the year in music: Bitte Orca<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><b>Dirty Projectors</b><span style="font-weight:normal"> </span><b><i>Bitte Orca</i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It was my first night in Georgia. I remember the moon, it was full. I remember holding her hand as we drove from the little house she grew up in. I remember little things, like the way I freaked out when “Temecula Sunrise” first exploded from the speakers, or soft smiles exchanged hearing “Two Doves” for the first time. Or the way she sung along to the eerily appropriate metaphysical love song “Stillness is the Move”. Or the shivers when Amber and Angel’s voices soar at the climax of “Useful Chamber”. Or the swooning romance of “Fluorescent Half Dome”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">She put this album on, and we sat in near-silence throughout its forty-one minute duration on the midnight drive back to Macon. The street lamps were melting. Flares and glare bent on the foggy windows. All this surreal light at night. I was in a hazy dream of being out of my world, out of myself it seemed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">There are dozens of moments like this. I could write endlessly about this summer, the Fourth of July, reconciliation in Seattle, drives through Portland at night, the last time I saw my grandmother alive, all of them just as valid, and all connected to this record.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And I probably could spend pages (and pages and pages) dissecting how good it is on every conceivable <i>technical</i><span style="font-style:normal"> level—lyrically, compositionally, melodically, the sheer scope of the thing, how it seems to effortlessly redefine (and reinforce) pop music and what it is capable of, how every moment is a pitch-perfect highlight, how, even all this nostalgia aside, it is, without a doubt, my favorite album of this year, and one of the albums closest to my heart for all time.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">But at the end of the day, <i>Bitte Orca </i><span style="font-style:normal">is the soundtrack of this drive, of my trip, of this feeling of renewal and escape. To me, it is the sound of falling in love. In love with life and its enormity. In love with being alive amongst lovers, friends, and family. That’s what this record sounds like to me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2386342111378910899.post-81889414365842237332009-12-31T13:33:00.000-08:002009-12-31T13:34:20.255-08:00the year in music: The Hazards of Love<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia-Bold; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Decemberists </span></b></span><span style="font-family: Georgia-BoldItalic; "><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Hazards of Love</span></i></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia-Italic; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Hazards of Love </span></i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">is the nerdiest thing I’ve ever heard. Think about it—it’s a prog-folk concept album inhabited by folklore characters and their salacious trials and tribulations. There’s even a fucking “Forest Queen” for god’s sake!</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Perhaps this explains why the indie elite poorly received the record. It certainly isn’t “cool”. Yet I feel </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia-Italic; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Hazards of Love </span></i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">rightfully deserves a place at the table with some of the “hipper” inclusions on my list.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia-Italic; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hazards </span></i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">is, without a doubt, a pitch-perfect concept album, with melodic and lyrical themes threaded seamlessly throughout, a seamless ebb and flow, and all the trademarks of the Decemberists’ back catalogue mingling with some lovely surprises. It is so assured of itself, so meticulous in its construction, and, above all else, so massive in its sound. Even its connective tissue is staggering—the ominous twenty-nine seconds of “The Queen’s Approach” never ceases to give me goosebumps, as it segues perfectly into the dreamy romanticism of “Isn’t It a Lovely Night?”</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The inclusion of Ladies Diamond, both Becky Stark of Lavender Diamond and Shara Worden of My Brightest Diamond, was one of the smartest decisions imaginable for a record of this scope. Stark’s ethereal folksiness contrasts brilliantly with Worden’s fucking massive bazooka of a voice, (beautifully cast as the aforementioned icy “Forest Queen”). Worden, quite simply, steals the show, elevating the album to legendary status; she makes what might have just been a great Decemberists record, to a simply great record.</span></span></p> <span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">While Colin Meloy has previously used his hyperliterate voice in the Decemberists to craft pop songs into short stories, </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia-Italic; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Hazards of Love </span></i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">is his novel. And while it</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia-Italic; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">may have been blackballed from the indie-rock intelligentsia, (and fuck them—they’re no fun anyway) the rest of us can explore a truly remarkable album, and bask in its pretentiousness without pretension.</span></span><!--EndFragment-->chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2386342111378910899.post-2595787068862281192009-12-31T13:31:00.000-08:002009-12-31T13:32:14.115-08:00the year in music: Bromst<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia-Bold; "><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dan Deacon </span></b></span><span style="font-family: Georgia-BoldItalic; "><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bromst</span></i></b></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I never got Dan Deacon before. I couldn’t get past the Woody Woodpecker samples, the tingy midi-controlling, the mind-numbing speed and cracked out joy of his earlier works. “But</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia-Italic; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">‘Wham City’ is great, Chris, you really need to hear that one!” “No, you need to see him live!” “No, really, Chris, you have to throw it on a party to get it, any place with lots of people.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’d only ever listened to him alone. I had never listened to Dan Deacon with other people.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Devin bought </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia-Italic; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bromst </span></i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">during Spring Break, the week it came out. I had heard it prior, and found myself oddly moved by it. From an objective musical perspective, I could understand the dynamics of what he was doing, the nuance in his orchestration (now with live instrumentation), the creative shifts in mood he had begun experimenting with on this record. In particular, “Wet Wings” was truly something to behold.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Devin intended to just drive me back to my house. We’d just shared a beer and a half at his place in Northeast, and spent the time discussing our futures, the nature of artists in society, our fears, our doubts, as well as our hopes. The album played, and we just kept driving. We had reached my neighborhood—“eh, keep going, I got time,” I said.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We detoured through suburbia, during the first few tracks of </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia-Italic; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bromst</span></i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, continually getting sidetracked, always saying I’d be back in a little bit. Hills rose and fell, and I knew we were running short on time, but it certainly didn’t register. As far as time was concerned, we were exploring our pasts, the endless expanses we had grown up in, and out of.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We said nothing. We drove up a hill. He put the car in neutral. We said nothing. He took his foot off the pedals and his hands off the steering wheel. We shook the car forward. As “Snookered” reached its peak, we rode the hill, like a longboard, or a roller coaster. Though there was a brief swell of panic in my stomach, it subsided. I trusted the hill. I trusted this moment. At the bottom of the hill was the single ting of a glockenspiel.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We said nothing. We didn’t have to.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family: Georgia-Italic; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bromst </span></i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">is a social listening experience, one designed to share and be shared. It will always remind me of this drive, and the joy of just letting go.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2386342111378910899.post-42822564349070928562009-12-31T13:30:00.001-08:002009-12-31T23:20:14.053-08:00the year in music: One Nation Under Chilly Willy<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Bold;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Chilly Willy </span></b></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-BoldItalic;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">One Nation Under Chilly Willy</span></i></b></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">On my birthday, I received an unexpected surprise—Will Mehigan released two brand new Chilly Willy albums for free online, one, a mashup dance mix, the other, a collection of original dance tunes. While </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Italic;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The Mystical Adventures </span></i></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">is a truly great addition to Mehigan’s ever-growing discography, </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Italic;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">One Nation Under Chilly Willy </span></i></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">is, admittedly, the one that made my year.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Italic;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">One Nation </span></i></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">is, simply put, a record containing the entire recent history of pop music, seamlessly intertwined with itself. And while this has been done before by countless DJs, it has never been done quite like this. Mehigan gives relevance to overlooked songs, credibility to demonized songs, and exudes a youthful exuberance and confidence unparalleled by his contemporaries.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Rather than create cognitive dissonance, Mehigan weaves these vastly different songs together in a new marriage of style and substance that is at once cohesive and jarring enough to keep listeners until the very end. The use of dynamics on </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Italic;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">One Nation </span></i></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">is a welcome improvement from past mashups of his, now creating a sense of drama juxtaposed with playfulness—an epic scope to booty-shakin’ music. And, even more impressive, neither mode overstays its welcome.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">While it does not always work, the moments that do are both completely absurd and, quite simply, earthshatteringly awesome. Take, for instance, the point in “Back It Up” where a deconstructed, stuttering “Ziggy Stardust” backs up “Get Low”. Or when Ratatat shuffles underneath Shakira. Or when the signature drum thump of “Song 2” and the horns of a Chicago song [almost] legitimize Katy Perry’s whirlwind bi-curiosity. And who else would have the balls to defuse Ice Cube’s snarl (“Life ain’t nothin’ but bitches and money!”) to that of a chipmunk over a song from </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Italic;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">High School Musical? </span></i></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The highlights are innumerable and would be difficult and pointless to try and list—I will just say that, as amazing as 2009 was for “original” music, there were few albums that I listened to as much as </span></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Italic;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">One Nation</span></i></span><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> this year.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">With these two records, Mehigan is proving himself to be fearless, and it seems to come not from an ultrahip and ironic perspective, as many might expect. While much of it may come from “wouldn’t it be funny if…” experimentation, this assuredness seems to come from a very clear and wholesome love of music—all music—that allows him to be an undiscriminating listener, not bound to trends, scenes or genres.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And as a result, Mehigan is an odd, versatile, and brilliant talent.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2386342111378910899.post-50449679138528895712009-12-31T13:28:00.000-08:002009-12-31T13:30:06.282-08:00the year in music: Logos<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Georgia-Bold;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Atlas Sound </span></b></span><span style="font-family:Georgia-BoldItalic;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Logos</span></i></b></span><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Georgia-Italic;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Logos</span></i></span><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> offered me a much needed autumn, a hazy come-down from the illustrious highs of summer, something to Fall into in the midst of some serious tragedies. The first singles "Walkabout" and "Sheila" carried me through the cold months in Colorado. Both are guiltless and sweet, and each warmed me up, encouraging me to keep walking. It was the soundtrack for bus rides through October snow, it swirled through the cold November sun and skeletal trees, and it filled my room through December. The more I explore it, the more I find, the more I hear.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It may be a personal inclusion, but </span></span><span style="font-family:Georgia-Italic;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Logos</span></i></span><span style="font-family:Georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> is undeniably inventive and great. Bradford Cox really studies the music he loves, and it shows. Atlas Sound is not the most original band in the world, but there is a great care in which Cox pulls apart his influences, both modern and classic, to understand them. And when he puts them back together, it comes out like this.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2386342111378910899.post-66131590205386447062009-12-15T17:25:00.000-08:002009-12-31T13:28:51.731-08:00the year in music: Merriweather Post Pavillion<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Animal Collective </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Merriweather Post Pavillion</span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">“If I could just leave my body for a night…”</span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Yes, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Merriweather Post Pavillion</span></i><span style="font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> made a strong first impression. It is one of those records that unified a whole scene, making a profound impact on its foundations. It is one of those records that caused a collective gasp throughout music publications, aficionados and casual listeners alike. It stunned other musicians existing the same world, leaving indelible marks on the band’s contemporaries. People wouldn’t just play it at parties, they would </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">talk </span></i><span style="font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">about it at parties—and your credibility as a listener became inexplicably (and unfortunately) tied to your relationship with it. It’s already inspired hundreds of hipsters to pick up a synth, a sampler and a floor tom and start making noise (for better or for worse). It is one of those records where time is divided from before you first heard it and after.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Yes, it was overhyped, yes, it was overexposed, and yes, after awhile, the fervor surrounding it became unbearable. Not that I’m helping matters…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But then you actually listened to it. And you cried. And you danced. And it was a part of your world.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <!--EndFragment-->chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2386342111378910899.post-69470208692044685892008-07-14T14:27:00.000-07:002008-07-14T18:53:04.229-07:00number three. 1970s punk rock<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="">mix number three.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "> the beginning of punk rock at the end of the 1970s.</span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div>Punk, as a musical genre, as a fashion movement, as a way of life, put the power in the hands of those a part of it. It was an entirely self-sustaining culture, run on the hope for and practice of abrasive change in music, art, fashion, politics and thinking. Punk shook the world to its core, and regardless of whether or not you like it, it paved the way for everything that has followed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Punk is the reason why any kid with a guitar can record songs and have an audience for it. Punk made music free and independent again, aggressive and dangerous, invigorating and exciting.</div><div><br /></div><div>Punk seemed to just happen, without any warning. Here it was in New York City, around the same time it cropped up in Australia, and in London, and in the Pacific Northwest, and, of course, in Southern California. It was on the tip of everyone's tongue, and the pioneers screamed it in unison with one another.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was a moment in time, one that has unfortunately passed, one left undefined, but terribly damaged in desperate attempts to do so. As it became more and more about how many studs one puts on their leather jacket, how high one's mohawk can be, how well-versed one was in what was acceptable within the culture (and how hard one rallied against "sell-out" traitors to their cause), the meaning was lost.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Fortunately, the meaning can be found within the following songs, as well as countless others; the short bursts of raw power and snotty energy gave the metaphorical middle-finger to everything that came before. It was intelligent, as it was primitive. It was orchestrated, it was chaos. </div><div><br /></div><div>But above all else, it was what it was.</div><div><br /></div><div>We all know The Clash, The Ramones, and the Sex Pistols. A document of every great band from this era would be impossible for one lone blogger to compile. </div><div><br /></div><div>At the very least, here are some of the other songs and artists that made it happen.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">1. Richard Hell & The Voidoids - "Liars Beware"</span></div><div>Richard Hell became famous as "the first poet of Punk", and the wordplay present in this frenetic song is no exception. Here, a swell of guitars leads to angular riffs, propulsive drums and a perfect punk piece that takes no prisoners.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">2. Gang of Four - "Natural's Not In It"</span></div><div>Currently known as the theme song to Sofia Coppola's kinda-period-film, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Marie Antoinette</span>, Gang of Four's "Natural's Not In It" uses a stuttering beat with staccato guitar riffs and kickass bass line to rally against vice and decadence in the upper class. As the refrain goes: "This heaven gives me migrane."</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">3. Neon Boys - "Time"</span></div><div>Another Richard Hell-helmed project that predates The Voidoids, "Time" finds itself in a similar place of the bands that followed it, both The Voidoids and seminal NYC punk band, Television, and is an interesting document of where both bands divided and where they stayed the same.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">4. Suicide - "Rocket USA"</span></div><div>A sort of ideological brother to The Clash's famous apocalyptic single "London Calling", the nerveracking and claustrophobic mix of Suicide's "Rocket USA" is a brilliantly unsettling usage of sound, particularly in the quivering vocals of Alan Vega, constant fuzz and drums, and the ghostly Farfisa organ in the background. The song is less about evoking a swell of emotions and dynamics, and more about capturing, in its steadiness, the fear and paranoia of looming destruction.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">5. The Accident - "Kill The Bee Gees"</span></div><div>This is a personal one for me, primarily because I'm related to half of this band. Two of my father's cousins formed this band, who became infamous for this song. Though probably born from ordinary annoyance at the shining gloss of disco that overpopulated radio at the time, this Olympia, WA band's song symbolized a greater shift, and kind of a thesis statement for punk at the time--to tear down the decadence of the disco era, spit all over its sheen, and hold up a mirror to the shit and piss of the times.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's also just monstrously aggressive, and still heavy, after all these years.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">6. Television - "Friction"</span></div><div>You couldn't describe punk without talking about Television, an often overlooked band of the era who helped lay down the foundations of the New York punk scene. Its members were involved with everyone from Blondie, Patti Smith to Talking Heads. Television were pushing punk forward, while the Ramones were focused on amateurish frenetic bursts. "Friction" with its almost-new-wave tendencies and terrific guitar work, is art-punk on a plate, and classic Television.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">7. The Slits - "FM"</span></div><div>The Slits, an all-female punk group from the UK, took the pathway of the Talking Heads and The Police, by melding nervy art-punk with reggae/dub influences. Though well-known for the risque topless album cover to their 1979 debut, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Cut</span>, the craft put into their songs took a cue from Television, by making them slicker, more intricate compositions than a lot of the more rough and tumble work coming out of Britain at the time.</div><div><br /></div><div>What ensues in "FM" is a fantastic melding of shaky reggae rhythms with punk elements, (and even a little folk) that doesn't come off as heavy-handed as some of The Clash's songs can. By combining these ingredients, something new was formed in The Slits.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is a shame that punk turned into a hypermasculine boys club in the 1980s and 90s. The female punk spirit created some of the most memorable, liberating tunes of the era.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">8. Siouxsie & The Banshees - "The Staircase (Mystery)"</span></div><div>The doomy goth-punk of Siouxsie & The Banshees continues to impact and influence. </div><div><br /></div><div>In Britain, as in New York, women were central to the punk aesthetic, and Siouxsie was Queen. Everyone from Robert Smith to Sid Vicious were involved with the Banshees at one point or another, and listening to "The Staircase" is easy to see the interest. </div><div><br /></div><div>Its dark, menacing sound is huge. This is music that demands to be listened to, and it is in no small way attributed to the seductive power of Siouxsie. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">9. Patti Smith - "Free Money"</span></div><div>Ending our trilogy of female-fronted punk is this classic from Patti Smith. </div><div><br /></div><div>Let me just shout it from the rooftops: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">I LOVE PATTI SMITH.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>From its shimmery introduction, to its gradual transition to a propulsive anthem, "Free Money" is fast, rocking, as well as oddly emotional. Its structure seems to make no sense, but is absolutely perfect: it builds at just the perfect rate before exploding and hurdling forward, leaving everything in its wake.</div><div><br /></div><div>Patti Smith's lyrical prowess and vocal power remains unparalleled. Every bad rock girl (and some boys) have tried to mimic her vocal tics and imagistic words but consistently fail to capture the nuances and intricacies of Smith's. </div><div><br /></div><div>If you don't already have it, I beg of you: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Buy Patti Smith's "Ho</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">rses". </span>You won't regret it.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">10. Dead Kennedys - "California Uber Alles"</span></div><div>Though typically associated with the hardcore punk of the 1980s, Dead Kennedys first recorded their most famous song, "California Uber Alles" in 1979. Depicting the hypothetical Presidential administration of then-California governor, and 1980 Presidential candidate Jerry Brown, (and likening it to a Hitler-esque regime), "California Uber Alles" is not only one of the greatest songs I've heard, it remains relevant after almost thirty years. It would seem that a song so of-the-moment would remain dated, but "Uber Alles", as with every Dead Kennedys song, can be applied to any frightening political circumstance, and continues to be shockingly hilarious and terrifying.</div><div><br /></div><div>The tense, final seconds of "Uber Alles" are some of the finest in any rock song, evoking an image of Nazi-esque soldiers marching through the streets of San Francisco.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">11. Richard Hell & The Voidoids - "The Blank Generation"</span></div><div>The first punk rock anthem, and apt closer to this collection, Richard Hell's "The Blank Generation" encapsulates what it meant (and means) to be young in a tumultuous time. Its lyrics and ferocity resonate in our current day. The biggest shame of this song is how it was misconstrued by many to be promoting an apathetic, nihilistic outlook that eventually caused punk to implode.</div><div><br /></div><div>In its original connotation, Hell imagined "The Blank Generation" as undefined and thusly free, rather than absentminded, (i.e. "The _______ Generation"). </div><div><br /></div><div>Within Hell's lyrics are what came to be the story of punk: the movement tore itself from its womb, sprawling out fully formed, yet completely premature. Fiery and free-falling, punk was made to destroy and enlighten. It was for the lonely children who set an extra place for the wall at dinnertime. It was for the misunderstood kids, damaged kids, the dirty streetrats who felt like "God's consolation prize". <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The birth imagery suggests music reborn, but images of heroin tracks on arm, "air packed with cash", and vacant lots, and losing your train of thought suggests the very things that led to punk's untimely death.</div><div><br /></div><div>But perhaps, that was the point.</div><div><br /></div><div>***</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.megaupload.com/?d=W01SJL3A">Download (via Megaupload): 69.7MB</a></div><div><br /></div><div>with love, chris osborn.</div>chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2386342111378910899.post-51962376370861581492008-04-26T13:05:00.000-07:002008-04-26T14:31:56.681-07:00number two. UK sike-pop<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">NOTE: Sorry for the long delay, school has gotten in the way. Now that the internet is officially fixed here at the dorms, and school is cooling down, I feel like I'll be doing this more often.</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>***</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="">mix number two. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">UK sike-pop</span></div><div><br /></div>Like their American contemporaries, psychedelic rock musicians in Britain had similar roots in folk-music, with the first bands indulging in it being folk bands going electric. You can hear it specifically on many tracks on this mix, that drench acoustic guitars in reverb and match them against sitars, organs, electric guitars, and even more off-kilter instruments, (such as my personal favorite from the entire collection, The Ceyleib People's "Ceyladd Beyta"). Lyrically, these songs also followed a strong folk influence, often imagistic and nature-centric, often socially-conscious and anti-war, many of these bands sought further than writing songs about love, fully baring their souls and thusly giving the songs a stronger emotional core. For instance, The Gregorians' "Dilated Eyes" is a beautiful narrative that concerns itself with hypocritical parents who perpetuate violence and self-destruction within their children, all while wondering what the world has come to.<div><br /></div><div>UK sike-pop, as it was called, remained undeniably pop, while toying with traditional production techniques and songwriting formats that predated the more psychedelically-leaning works of The Beatles and Cream. These bands merely popularized, (and perfected) the rough pioneering work of the following artists, who were already creating such sounds. Once "Sgt. Pepper's" and Pink Floyd's "The Piper at the Gates of Dawn" had received more exposure (two albums recorded pretty much simultaneously), the floodgates of psychedelic music had been opened. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here were the harbingers of the movement.<div><br /></div><div>***</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">PART ONE.</span></div><div>1. The Scene - "Scenes (From Another World)</div><div>2. Friends of the Family - "Can't Go Home"</div><div>3. Silver Hawks - "All I Can Do"</div><div>4. The Tree Stumps - "Tomorrow's Sun"</div><div>5. The Gregorians - "Dilated Eyes"</div><div>6. The Collection - "Paper Crown of Gold"</div><div>7. Pussyfoot - "Hasty Words"</div><div>8. Rhubarb Rhubarb - "Rainmaker"</div><div>9. The Powers of Blue - "You Blow My Mind (instrumental)"</div><div>10. The Whether Bureau - "Why Can't You and I?"</div><div>11. Davie Allen & The Arrows - "Make Love, Not War (instrumental)"</div><div>12. Mother Nature - "Lost in the Pacific"<br /></div><div><a href="http://www.megaupload.com/?d=8VMRIDZA">Download, via Megaupload: 42.4MB</a></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">PART TWO.</span></div><div>1. The Ceyleib People - "Ceyladd Beyta (instrumental)"</div><div>2. Green Scarab - "Asariah's Dance (instrumental)"</div><div>3. Churchhills - "Too Much In Love To Hear"<br /></div><div>4. Click - "Girl With a Mind"</div><div>5. The Endd - "This is Really The Zoo Plus Two (instrumental)"</div><div>6. Summer Set - "It's a Dream"<br /></div><div>7. Rainy Daze - "Fe Fi Fo Fum"</div><div>8. Captain Groovy and His Bubblegum Army - "Bubblegum March"</div><div>9. Cats Pyjamas - "Virginia Water"</div><div>10. Unknown Artist - "Mystery Track 2" (if anyone has any info on this track, let me know)</div><div>11. Billy Elder - "Don't Take The Night Away"</div><div>12. Bill Fay - "Unreleased, Untitled Acetate"</div><div><a href="http://www.megaupload.com/?d=SVW0QJEM">Download, via Megaupload: 37.2MB</a></div><div><br /></div><div>with love, chris osborn.</div></div>chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2386342111378910899.post-26485858312983920642008-02-04T17:17:00.000-08:002008-02-04T19:57:53.291-08:00number one. an exploration of the french yé yé movement (pt. I)Welcome to Hello, sky. Hello, Earth.<div><br /></div><div>***</div><div><br /></div><div>mix number one. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">an exploration of the french yé yé movement (pt. I)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In France during the 1960s, French pop was taking cues from both American and British bands, and adding their own special twist to it. Girls of the era were picking up guitars and microphones, and making the music they wanted to. What was created was the French yé-yé movement; female-fronted songs with the same gritty edge as British and American rock artists, but with extremely complex orchestrations intertwined around them.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">There's something undeniably charming about these songs, and I cannot place my finger on it, exactly. There is more substance in these sublime, short pop songs, (few even reaching three-minutes in length), than some artists' entire albums. Left-of-center instruments, such as the accordion, flute, sitar and Hammond organ, intermingle seamlessly with the standard guitar, bass and drums, as majestic string and brass arrangements wrap around them both. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The girls, though mostly marketed by record labels, often wrote their own songs after Françoise Hardy began to in 1965. And there's something simultaneously feminine and tomboyish about these cute French girls, regardless of the strength of their voices, (which is often less than perfect), just getting up there and truly and wholly rocking out. The yé-yé girls set the latest fashions, were cultural idols.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But lest you think that they were image-driven artists, just take a listen at the beautifully-complex songs provided in the following mix, and discover the gold mine of brilliant 1960s pop created in the French yé-yé movement.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">*** </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">1. Marie Laforêt - "Marie douceur, Marie colère"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This stunning reworking of The Rolling Stones' classic, "Paint It Black", is an unexpected treat. With its wavering vocals and propulsive ferocity, it packs a stronger emotional punch than the original, with a passion unmatched by any version since. It's rare, and perhaps blasphemous, to say a cover improves on the original, but in the opinion of this writer, Marie Laforêt's "Paint It Black" has.</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">2. Clothilde - "Saperlipopette"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A French twist of the groovy British girl-group sound, Clothilde's "Saperlipopette" swells and explodes with its inventive use of off-kilter instruments such as the marimbas and harpsichord, and undeniable catchiness. I dare you not to smile.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">3. Pamela - "Une autre autoroute"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A sweet little ballad by Pamela, who seemingly only released this 45' for Vogue Records. Her rough voice adds a character to the divine arrangement, found often in yé-yé songs. Pamela, though her career was seemingly short-lived, charms with "Une autre autoroute".</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">4. Serge Gainsbourg - "Le poinçonneur des lilas"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">While the man himself, Serge Gainsbourg, is not technically a yé-yé artist, his influence and presence in the movement was perhaps one of the most profound. A cultural icon in France, Serge Gainsbourg's "Le poinçonneur des lilas" takes the perspective of the man who takes tickets at the subway. The song's bustling pace mimes that of a train station, and juxtaposed with lyrics of the loneliness of the ticket-taker, creates a wonderfully complex Gainsbourg classic.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: bold;font-size:medium;">5. Françoise Hardy - "Je n'attends plus personne"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">My personal favorite, and arguably most influential of the yé-yé girls, Françoise gives a rollicking and unexpectedly fuzzy tune dated from 1964 (!!!). "Je n'attends plus personne" keeps building to an absolutely insane guitar solo and perfectly placed choral arrangement, underneath Françoise's soft voice. All this chaos is happening around her, yet she holds her ground, as usual, and makes it all cohesive. And in its wake is a stunningly powerful rock song, whose experimentation with overdriven distortion predates any British Invader's first foray with gritty fuzz.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">6. Delphine - "Les prisons de sa majesté"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">From its opening sitar drones, Delphine's "Les prisons de sa majesté" holds your ear and doesn't let go. The combination of sitar with punching brass section doesn't seem to work, yet it's just like peanut butter and jelly in this song. The harmonies in the chorus pushes everything to the stars, and before you know it, shivers form on your skin.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">7. Françoise Hardy - "Et même"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;">Another Françoise gem, the simple piano bass notes and acoustic strum constantly move forward towards the song's breathtaking climax. This was the second Françoise song I had heard, and hasn't let me go since.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">8. Charlotte Leslie - "Les filles c'est fait pour faire l'amour"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Roughly translating to "The girls are made to make love", this almost too-fun song by one of my favorites, Charlotte Leslie, makes it impossible not to dance around. The chorus is brilliant, it's catchy as fuck, it's fuzzy, and it has overtly sexual lyrics--what more could you want? Charlotte really lets herself go, nearly screaming her lines. I can just imagine Charlotte jumping around, yelping the lyrics, just going all out with it, taking control of the stage and her audience. Pure sex-pop gold.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">9. Christine Pilzer - "Café crème"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Another sexy song, (well, let's be honest: they all are,) Christine Pilzer's "Café crème" is brilliantly realized with spotlessly arranged brass that accentuates Christine's delivery, and intertwine the entire song's vibrant mood. Wonderful.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">10. Chantal Kelly - "Caribou"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">With its introductory timpani strikes and ominous snare rolls, "Caribou" is haunting, chock full with eerie background vocals, reverb that just feels like a giant empty room. Its pace never ceases, maintaining an emotional impact, all while slowly building and building. As far as I know, this is the only single Chantal realized, going the same way as Pamela, and it truly is a shame. "Caribou" is one of the finest from the era, and fortunately, she left us with this one gem.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">11. Adèle - "Je ne veux plus d'accordéon"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Even though I personally love the accordion, French fireball Adèle really could do without it, and the aristocracy that carelessly dances to it. Adèle's voice is an acquired taste, but her passion and readiness to just kick everyone's ass is present in this song that has serious badditude. Its ending is one of the coolest/shocking upon first listen that I can recall.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">12. Zouzou - "Il est parti comme il est venu"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This folksy tune is just great. That's all.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: bold;font-size:medium;">13. Charlotte Leslie - "Allez tu peux souffrir"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">From the sassy girl who brought us track 8, comes another fiery song that perfectly combines the propulsive danciness of "Les filles..." while maintaining a stunning emotional core to it. The song's refrain, which translates to "Go, you can suffer!", breaks down to an almost theatrical verse of Charlotte's impressive pipes intermingling with a string section that perfectly complements her strong voice. Listening to this after "Les filles..." shows the range of Charlotte Leslie, to go from screaming bad girl to fragile heartbroken girl, in no time at all. This song is absolutely stunning, and a must-listen.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: bold;font-size:medium;">14. Cettina - "Cettina"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Though Cettina has written a song about herself, I presume, its light, happy fun quickly shifts to a slightly haunting descending harmony at the end of the chorus that sends shivers up and down the spine. And then back again. The emotional range of this, and all of these songs, is quite impressive--moods shift constantly and flawlessly, all while remaining undeniably poppy. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: bold;font-size:medium;">15. Adèle - "J'ai peur parfois"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In a slightly uncharacteristic song of hers, Adèle is caught up in a sweet-sounding piano-twinkler that flies contrary to her rough and tumble voice and image. I like this song because it all works.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">16. Chantal Goya - "Ma premiere tendresse"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Chantal Goya, star of Jean Luc Godard's exploration of the yé-yé movement, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Masculin Feminin</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, gives us a lovely ballad that transcends the language barrier, and is a perfect closer to the first installment of this mix.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">***</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><a href="http://www.megaupload.com/?d=GF6PBTV0">Download (via Megaupload)</a> (65.9MB)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">with love, chris osborn.</span></div>chris osborn.http://www.blogger.com/profile/03401077252732028216noreply@blogger.com9