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Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, “II/XV”

This song is from my favorite Bonnie Billy album, Get the Fuck On Jolly (different, please, than Get On Jolly). Each song is a rough adaptation of Rabindranath Tagore, a Bengali poet; they are rough in the way of Ezra Pound’s Chinese translations, in that they are highly stylized and more pleasing than accurate translations.

For many years I confusedly thought myself in love with this girl and would listen to this song and it would make sense, because, I thought, “He has a single purpose and he has identified it.” Now I am in an in-between space where I am glad not to feel in love with the person, but I miss the purposefulness.

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Cryptacize, “Tail & Mane”

Probably any song where someone screams “I loooooooooove youuuuu” is an alright song.

Somehow Cryptacize have opened nearly every concert I’ve seen since moving up north. They are such prolific openers that this Saturday you can see them at the Grand Ole Opry supporting Conway Twitty—it promises to be a magical evening of entertainment, and I hope you’ll drop by if you’re in Nashville. But the album’s mix dulls the playfulness and loudness of their live show.

The singer Nedelle has recorded some solo albums that I like despite their preciousness. Her approach can feel sculptured and planned, as if she has an MFA in indie rock and workshopped her songs, but the predictability comes with a comforting quality that lets you sing along. I associate this quality with Sebadoh; they lived into a college rock archetype but were especially good at it. Nedelle makes the music of beautiful, medium-talent girls who sing diary songs at open mics, a category that is usually execrable, but as far as that category goes, her music is very good!

Passive-aggressive music review

Can someone check to make sure the new Beach House album is not actually their last album with new song titles?

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Bill Callahan, “Lapse” (Chris Knox cover)

I ACCIDENTALLY FOUND ANOTHER NEW BILL CALLAHAN SONG. This is his fourth compilation track of the year. The tribute comp for Knox has an impressive roster and is coming out on Merge in Feb.

I wish that “Smog detective” was a viable career.

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Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, “I Don’t Belong to Anyone”

Today I was belting this song in the car and realized it’s one of my favorites of the year—I’ve listened to it dozens of times and sing it when it’s not playing. But the song or the album would never be on any site’s year-end list; they reward novelty above all else.

How many Pitchfork albums-of-the-year do you still listen to? I’m pretty sure none are on my computer.

BPB has been appreciated for so long, and while he doesn’t keep making the same album, he doesn’t stray far from his little patch of land. It wouldn’t be exciting to put him high up a list; it wouldn’t draw clicks or elicit 800 angry comments. Plus, when you pick ostensibly groundbreaking bands, you get a share of the glory if they become more popular or are added to the canon. One day their Wikipedia entry will read, “Jaguar Fart was small potatoes until Stereogum named them Best Album of 2009.”

I don’t want to dump on Animal Collective or Dirty Projectors, but I have no guess as to how those albums will sound in five or six years. Maybe they have broken ground or maybe they are trendy. I’m pretty sure, however, that I’ll still be singing “I Don’t Belong to Anyone.” This song is simple and adult, lonely without being self-pitying, wry without being ‘funny.’

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The Fiery Furnaces, “Cut the Cake”

Being a Fiery Furnaces fan is like being religious, because either one causes people to think you’re crazy and annoying. They are wary of you. Sometimes they squint their eyes when you tell them, as if you might be making up this ridiculous lie about yourself to seem funny.

Last week I saw the FF play in Northampton, MA. The Northampton crowd was small but one of the hipshakingest I have ever seen. (When Jonathan Edwards lived in Northampton, he was greatly disturbed by the youths’ habit of “night walking.” To my knowledge it was not a euphemism.) The band played like a huge machine, a steamroller, and “Single Again” rumbled so loud that I thought the floor would give out. Matthew Friedberger even seemed to be enjoying himself, which is hard to gauge since he keeps his cards close to the vest.

Eleanor’s phrasing is both stranger and more natural on the new album—you don’t notice how fucking weird it is until you sort out the words. In this song she writes to a newspaper editor to supply “all the answers they didn’t question”; the album is packed with wordplay like that that feels pleasing. It scratches a little itch but is never so clever that it becomes obnoxious. The strangeness gives the music a tension.

You know how there are two senses of ‘nostalgia’? There is yearning to return home, and there is yearning to return to the feeling of when you yearned to return home. I heard someone compare the first type to The Odyssey and the second to “Prufrock.”

The best Fiery Furnaces music, including much of their new album I’m Going Away, is suffused with that second type of nostalgia: wishing to return back to something, anxious, sad but conflicted about your sadness—conflicted enough that you start to wonder if you are actually sad after all. Like at the end of this song:

Who cut the cake?
Without any warning
Who cut the cake?
With my special knife
Into tiny little pieces for every fella’s wife

Is that sad? Is that regretful? Does she want to go back to before the cake got cut? I can’t explain what the lyrics mean, but I feel what the song’s about. Not to put too fine a point on the initial religious faith metaphor.

Christmas tears

Many years ago I requested the Flaming Lips’ Zaireeka for Christmas. That afternoon me and my sister went to work on playing it, as required, simultaneously on four separate stereos.

I guess it was the combination of the content and the volume that made our mom scream like I have never heard her scream before. It was screaming—directionless, frightened screaming, as if she was being attacked but didn’t know from where. After 10 seconds she collected her wits enough to make words, “STOOOOOP IIIIIIIIIIIT,” but before we could do anything, she had bolted out of the house. Honestly, it’s the only time in my whole life I’ve ever seen my mom run. She ran down the driveway. We watched her through a window.

Anyway, I think I’ve found a proper sequel for 2009!

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Vic Chesnutt, “When I Ran Off and Left Her”

e: you know a song title of his that i l-o-v-e? “When I Ran Off and Left Her.” you don’t even need a song with it
l: I love that, its so … sad and true and you know you want to do it too
e: yes! it makes it seem exhilarating
l: It makes me wish I could run off on everyone

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Billy Joel, “This Is the Time”

I hate Billy Joel, but I love this song. It reminds me of being a kid in the car with my mom and my sister, probably on the way home from Marshall’s, with Peach 94.9 “smooth hits for your day” on the radio. I love that shit. Peter Cetera? The Cars? Oh yes.

The song pushes on my soft spots: it is theatrical and sentimental but not spine-tinglingly literal.

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kianarama:

disgustingthingsihaveeaten:

Fleetwood Mac - “Dreams” (chopped & screwed mix)

my fave fleetwood mac song. and i’m not even offended.

I tend to be anti-remix, but this is awesome. I love it. I want to make a mixtape around it.

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Luna, “In the Flesh” (Blondie cover)

Aw, fuck.

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Dolly Parton, “Lonely Comin’ Down”

Is Dolly’s comedown more universal than “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down,” since (1) no day is specified here, and (2) not everyone is a torn-up drunk like Cash/Kristofferson/et al.?

This song might seem corny at first, but stick with it until the 1:49 mark when Dolly breaks it down. Sister’s going to make you feel like torching your apartment.

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Make Up, “They Live by Night”

Rocktober=cooing, shrieking, trilling

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Yo La Tengo, “Today Is the Day (fast)”

Shit, do you remember 1996, when Yo La Tengo seemed like the best band in the world? I listened to “Autumn Sweater” the other day, and it is still a stunner. Some songs are solidly built houses, and some songs are shacks, and some songs are just planks collapsed in a mess, but “Autumn Sweater” is like a huge stone castle with 15 fireplaces and comfortable overstuffed chairs.

Actually, no, I don’t think that’s the kind of building it is. But it’s huge and unfuckwithable.

This song is an alternate version of something on Summer Sun. Notice how loud the music is, but she doesn’t sing much louder or faster than on the slow version? That’s awesome.

The lyrics are fuzzy and nostalgic while the music is bitchin’, like salty-sweet, which makes this song not a building but a chocolate-dipped pretzel.

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Themed by: Hunson