Memory Tapes - Wait In The Dark

Bon. J'écrit cette poste en français.

Les Memory Tapes existe dans une sphère de indie rock qui est très populaire dans ce moment. C'est du chillwave, une type de musique qui est forte recommandée pour toutes les BBQs "alfresco" cette été. Wait in The Dark est nébuleux, mais c'est assez sonorifique. J'adore.

On brasse, on s'enfuit, on s'énerve. C'est mardi matin dans le metro. Ça fait chaud. Humide. Montréal dans l'été. Éxaspérante. J'utilise les Memory Tapes à la place d'une verre de Nestea froid. On se calme.

Antlers - Putting The Dog To Sleep

I always found David Bowie's "Space Oddity" a bit too literal, too earnest, to be a truly great song. The popping sound effects and the Bowie harmonizing with Bowie refrain just became dated. It only got worse during the best scene in Mr. Deeds.

Enter the Antlers with "Putting The Dog To Sleep". OK, so the track may have little to do with space travel, save its first forty seconds of warbling organ, and the rhythmic star exploding KLANG of electric guitar throughout. But it sure feels like being stuck in a capsule out in space. The lone cosmonaut hurdling towards Saturn in 2141, going crazy from isolation, watching old home movies of kids who have now grown old, begging the screen to let him go back to Earth, to see somebody, anybody, to be given the chance to crawl back, but then regaining purpose. Unlike the boys at mission control, incessantly shouting "can you hear me Major Tom?," this protagonist is shouting back at Earth, "I'm not going to die alone," but still, does anybody hear him?

Paul Simon - The Obvious Child

I don't remember much from being a little kid. Wait, that's a lie. I selectively remember. I remember eating nothing but fudge-ee-os and chicken McNuggets until the age of 12. I remember standing really close to the tv screen with my NES duck hunt gun while my mother placed the McNuggets in my hand, which I would instinctively eat. Multi-tasking, check. I also remember a long road trip down south which was marked by 1) me and my sister setting off car alarms at a Svedish car dealership in Jacksonville, F L A, 2) my 9 year old self arguing with my dad that I needed something to drink, him refusing to pull over, and me eventually vomiting (out of nausea or spite, don't know - selective memory), AND, most importantly, 3) Graceland. I would drift off, and my dad thought he could change the cd, or the track, but if he did, I would wake up and say "Graceland! Graceland!", and repeat track 2 he would. (OK, I am painting a very bratty portrait of meself, I have changed, no really, I'm different now, I listen to more than just Paul Simon, although Paul Simon is really all I, or anyone else, really needs.).

I'm different because I am now angry at my dad for not standing his ground in a more constructive way. He could have swiftly switched Graceland for The Rhythm of The Saints: An equally tribal Paul Simon, if anything more mellow and far more amenable to a long road trip - I'd have been none the wiser. As we rolled out of Jacksonville, all of us sitting up front of a near 18 wheeler with the tow truck driver who claims to have seen "Speed" over 20 times in theaters, my dad could have slipped on "The Obvious Child" in some sort of sweet, twisted irony to symbolize my (and my sister's) hard work and results: a triumphant cacophony of Saab alarms ringing off in the distance of the rear view mirror...

Fleet Foxes - Someone You'd Admire

A "Helplessly Hoping" for our generation, "Someone You'd Admire" is my favorite track on (off, off the album or on the album? Album goes IN the slot, music comes OUT the speakers, bah.) the new Fleet Foxes album. It reminds me of early winter, think November 24th, waking up in the morning, still dark out, you're struggling out of bed, struggling with the coffee maker, but you're humming, in spite of the dreariness, you are humming, like a blue bird lost in the darkness of a deep well, singing.

So rare to hear a very simple acoustic ditty that transcends derivative and actually just hits it. Robin starts off on his own, spare guitar, spare vocals, but my, a lovely melody. The band couldn't resist the gang land harmonies, that's ok, but I almost wish they weren't there. This is Robin's show.

Bon Iver - Creature Fear

Some songs were just made to be played on rainy Sunday mornings. Not a Saturday morning - it's too easy to enjoy a song on a Saturday morning. And certainly not on Monday morning - nothing sounds good on Monday morning. Period.

Bon Iver's Creature Fear, especially the slick version they performed for their Daytrotter Session, bleeds Sunday. It wakes up slow, with a plaintive and bluesy guitar solo which would never have seen the light of day on the studio version. This version feels untucked and loosened. It doesn't care if you got in early and are waking up late.

Tom Waits - Union Square

I caught a Tom Waits tribute night last Friday. It was the best $5 I spent in a long time. I missed Tom Waits, but I didn't even know I missed him. It's like The Kinks or Nick Drake - you hardly ever purposely listen to their albums, but when you stumble upon one of their songs, you wonder why not? Yes, Tom Waits is not for everyone. Yes, everyone knows that already. He went from crooner, to jazz crooner, to weird jazz crooner, to just plain weird. Union Square, off Rain Dogs, is my favorite Waits. A growling Waits. A Waits that sounds like a half-crazy homeless man that you can't take your eyes off of. Makes me want to go back to downtown Manhattan, in the 80s, at night, in the rain.

Fleet Foxes - Helplessness Blues

I was raised up believing, that I would never hear a song about conformity that made me be the man I wanted to be. But alas, this intrepid quartet from Seattle, WA, never ceases to amaze me. Their eponymous debut doesn't just stand head and shoulders above all other 2008 releases, it lives in another world. "Helplessness Blues" is the road-weary first cousin of the Foxes' previous releases: thumping, moving, yearning, unaware yet serene, assured yet apprehensive, rhythmic, forward-looking and optimistic. "If I had an orchard I'd work 'till I'm sore" croons Robin Pecknold; you can pretty much taste the sun-kissed juices flowing out of that nectarine. Their music is more than just sweet, and the upcoming album will be anything but helpless.