Just wanted to give Pavement a little bit of love and appreciation. This song is originally by Echo and the Bunnymen, but they put their own, slightly more melancholy spin on it. I don’t really feel like I have the ability to describe this song at all adequately enough to illicit in you the admiration it deserves, so just press play.
It’s Wednesday of 3rd week. I’m on the I-25, crawling through rush hour traffic foggily towards Denver. The Cranberries ask me over the stereo if I have to let it linger. A little anxious pit in my stomach starts to open again; I push it down. My day, up to this point, has been a sort of tug-of-war between feeling really excited about the Tyler, The Creator show I’m currently on the way to see and the weird, soul-sucking feeling people’s responses have prompted in me when I told them I was going to the show alone.
Faust’s fourth and arguably best album, Faust IV is one of the best krautrock records ever recorded. Full of the usual frenetic, psychedelic, free-form jams Jennifer is a gorgeous psych ballad. The lush, repetitive guitar arpeggio and oscillating bass drones meld into a reverberating soundscape, only to be interrupted by a wonky riff that seamlessly flows back into the verse. Jennifer is Faust at their most meticulous and refined, without loosing their experimental nature. As the weather gets colder and winter sets in, I keep coming back to this song. Dig it.
Friday playlist time! This week’s theme is dance around. Once again, you can find this playlists on the SoCC’s Spotify account “thesoundsofcc”.
Playlist inspired by the sun that finally peeked out from behind the clouds this morning! Makes me want to dance around, that’s for sure. Get your groove on this fine Friday evening listening to these tooners.
Image credit: Emily Komie
Austin fuzz-rock outfit Most Likely has just released a new single about a cat. Formerly known as Planet Manhood, these dudes have been putting out music for a few years already. The new track is the first release off their upcoming LP, and its production blows previous work out of the water. Fans of (Sandy) Alex G. will almost certainly dig it – the first chords immediately evoke the sound of 2015’s Beach Music. Give it a listen below:
Dog Years is a “heart-shaped box”-esque slowburner. Its lyrics steam with hate. Dog Years reveals the vitriolic aftermath of a relationship. In its soul-crushing relentlessness, the song captures how the subject of the song meticulously ruined life’s simple joys. Jenna Moynihan begins by singing, “If you could do anything / You would ruin the best things / You would spoil the ending / You’d dissolve cotton candy.” Later on she seems to find sadistic pleasure from imagining the death of whomever she is singing about. The pain and disgust are palpable.
I’ve always had mixed feelings about math rock. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the genre, here’s my stripped-down definition: experimental rock made up of layered rhythms that really should not sound good together. In my experience, math rock can range from utterly abrasive to mind-blowing. Palm lands on the latter end of that spectrum.
I saw this band play at an itty bitty coffee shop up in Boulder a few weeks ago. The performance had me fully immersed – it almost becomes a game, trying to figure out when the downbeats land or when the keys change. It’s impossible to concentrate to this sort of music, yet it tickles the brain in an inspiring way.
Palm is full of contradictions. I should really stop trying to describe it, and you should really just listen to their newest track below. Enjoy.
Friday playlist time! I am going to start posting these every Friday, centering each playlist around a different theme. You can find these playlists on the SoCC’s Spotify account “thesoundsofcc”. This week’s theme is vastness.
These songs are for when your thoughts seem too expansive to fit in your brain or when you are awestruck by the immensity of the universe around us. Inspired by my current road trip to a frisbee tournament through the never-ending plains of Kansas.
Image credit: Emily Komie