Because I can't go long without new things, becuase I can't afford
proper albums, a mix:
Starlight Mints - 'The Twilight Showdown'
Beck's "Odelay!" gave us cool without care, the aloof smooth of lounge
in surf rock's clothes playing off to the side at the great parties
you'll never be invited to. Starlight Mints take the same tools but
with a smile, teaching the art of owning a room you've no right being
in. It's dressing exhausted and crumpled, like this is your third or
fourth event of the night to cover up not knowing how to tie a tie.
It's Steranko spy story and Old West standoffs past their point of
relevance. It's pop music, so stop asking questions.
Ex Models - 'Girlfriend Is Worse'
"I lost my place in your line of vision." Ex Models break down all over
the stage, picking up the point and dropping it again between cannon
fire drums and guitars waiting for their big solo. It doesn't come.
After two minutes as your best friend on his worst night with the
audience just wrapping 'round their fingers, they collapse in an
unceremonious heap, leaving you to guess if it was intentional or not.
Radio 4 - 'Dance To The Underground'
When Pitchfork crowned The
Rapture's "Echoes" best of 2003, it introduced a phrase to the (sigh...)
music blogosphere hovering over their every word in a desperate hope of
writing for the cool kid's table: "Teaching the Indie kids to dance."
as if the shoegazers of the world would suddenly cast down their Buddy
Holly frames and Urban Outfitter bags, stop holding up club walls and
take the dance floor with a rhythmic fevore heretofore unknown because
of someone shouting "HOUSE OF! JEALOUS LOVERS!" over old dance
sensibilities with a modern coat of paint.
"Teaching the Indie kids to dance" makes me want to set the entire East
Village on fire. Twice.
Anyway, of the resulting glut of electroclash bands to flood the market,
Radio 4 stand out as one of the few to not really give a fuck.
International Noice Conspiracy's smokey-shouted lyrics without the dodgy
politics and a beat-guitar hook that's sexier than the first three girls
to show up at your next party. There's no lesson here, nothing to go
away with, just infectious dance demanding you move for once. Are you
taking notes, Jet? You aren't, are you?
The Fever - 'Ladyfingers'
More of the same, with an odd floater of old-school rock chords and
brit-pop lyrics over the mix. Nothing wrong with that.
Hot Hot Heat - 'Get In Or Get Out'
There's no winners or losers, just different teams. You see that, don't
you?
Moving Units - 'I Am'
Not as good as when they opened for Blur in Atlanta, but still. Dancing
to put off when the lights come up and it's just strangers staring
awkwardly. Dancing to put off tomorrow and everything coming with it.
TV On The Radio - 'Staring At The Sun'
Four part harmonies over art school prog rock, building up to a moment
that's never coming. What the lads lack in shaving ability, they make
up for with condient beauty. The Beach Boys forced to grow up in the
Inner City as opposed to sun-bleached suburbs.
Clinic - 'Porno'
Like the name implies: confusing and bored-sounding as any skin flick
with every moan and whisper carefully rehearsed and group tested. Takes
the smoky romance of Portishead and snaps it in two over its knee.
Spoon - 'The Way We Get By'
Teenage love on self destruct as bar room ditty via player piano. Takes
all the importance of that time period and boils it down to
story-over-drinks fodder, because Spoon understands.
AC Newman - 'Miracle Drug'
Showing more control over his abilities than on either New Pornographers
records, Newman proves there's life without Neko Case by drilling into
your skull and fucking staying there. Two or three simultaneous beats
before the handclaps bother to show up with lyrics that don't make sense
but still work so well. Dear God, get him out of me.
Pretty Girls Make Graves - 'Speakers Push Air'
The importance of your first important record. "Do you remember when
you couldn't put it away?" over and over as ray gun guitars fill your
entire world. As over the top sincere as the Replacement's 'Alex
Chilton' and working for all the same reasons.
Rainer Maria - Ears Ring'
Nevermind the guitar hooks, or the fact that 90% of the rest of their
output is horrible emoting garbage desguised as clever noise. After two
and half minutes of beating around the obvious and stupid, blind hope,
it all comes down to the sweeping realizationfilling the last full
minute of song. Hits between the eyes like silence on the other end of
the phone.
Kenna - 'Freetime'
A Fuck Off you can dance to.
AC Newman - 'The Town Halo'
Breaking my own rule about repeating artists on a mix, but hey. 'Jaws'
cellos designed to tear down music halls over shout-sung accusations of
pretty boy self importance. Important as learning to fall properly.
Beulah - 'If We Can Land A Man On The Moon Surely I Can Win Your
Heart'
All the dumb promises of crushing hard none of the shame. If the title
alone doesn't win you over, we're going to have trouble talking from now
on.