Play To Z: Lost In Space to The Moldy Peaches

Some Observations

Listening through Love & Happiness, the Al Green best of compilation, you realise how many fantastic songs the man has given the world, but I don't think anything will ever compare with "Let's Stay Together", which manages to stand head and shoulders above an impressive discography.

I'm still waiting for the Justice League film/TV show I have in my head to be made, which features Florence and the Machine's "Kiss With A Fist" sound-tracking Batman and Wonder Woman having a sparring session that turns into a make-out session. Warner Bros, I'm here when you need me.

Because I have no money but a plentiful supply of blank CDs and cardboard, I'm making mix CDs for my two nephews and niece this Christmas. My niece's is a ladies-only mix, ranging from Nina Simone and Taylor Swift to The Breeders and X-Ray Spex. One artist I couldn't fit on there was Kate Nash, but after re-listening to Made Of Bricks, I'm hoping my niece catches the music bug enough to come to me for more recommendations, because this will be high on my list.

An Internal Dialogue
Tim: Eugh, why do you still have The Magic Numbers album, self? It's by-the-numbers folk pop. Walking down this road will only lead you to Mumford & Sons.
Tim: But listen to the vocal harmonies! They're so pretty!
Tim: I don't know how I put up with you.
Tim: *too busy dancing to respond*

I'm very lucky to have wonderful friends who occasionally send me mixes of their own. One I listened to recently was from university friend Tom (who's been mentioned on here before) called Make Sure You Know What An Off-Colour Sea Lion Looks Like (named for a Blue Jam sketch that was included on there), which is a wonderful selection of tunes from artists like Stars, The Hold Steady, Beirut and The National. It also included on of the oddest songs I own, "The Centaur" by Buck 65. It's well worth a listen.

Sitting at my desk at work and listening to Passion Pit's Manners without jumping up and starting a one-person dance party was extremely hard.

One off my all time ultimate party tunes will always be "Sweet Home Country Grammar", a mash-up of Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama" and Nelly's "Country Grammar" by DJ Mei-Lwun. It hits the perfect balance of laid-back summer cool and hyped-up party starter.

Ssshhhh...apart from "My Girls", I don't actually like Merriweather Post Pavilion that much. Don't tell any of the cool kids, or they'll kick me out of their club.

Midnite Vultures wasn't the most well-received of Beck's albums, with a lot of people dismissing it as a featherweight homage to Prince shot through with Beck's typical genre-fusing madcappery. What people failed to appreciate how goddamn fun it was; a bizarro electric cyclone ripping through a sci-fi orgy. It's a masterpiece of both lyrical gymnastics and musical artistry.

Getting Lost In Space

I wrote last time about my period of finding wonderful new artists through rather circuitous routes, and Aimee Mann was no different. Two of her songs were featured on an episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer (in fact she performed live at The Bronze and mentions that she "hates playing vampire towns") and at around the same time, I saw Magnolia for the first time, my introduction to the work of Paul Thomas Anderson and one of my favourite films. Mann worked extensively with Anderson on the film's soundtrack and the centrepiece of the film's second act sees the cast breaking the fourth wall to perform a version of Mann's "Wise Up".

After this one-two punch of an introduction, I couldn't help but check out one of her albums, and Lost In Space was where I started. It's a hell of an album, a set of perfectly constructed songs written with a novelist's eye for detail, and built around a series of simple but effective melodies that carry the emotional weight of the songs. Mann's voice is wry and intelligent, and can run the gamut from heartbroken to hopeful.

My favourite of Mann's albums, however, is The Forgotten Arm, which I was going to write about at the time I listened to it on this run (a couple of months back, I reckon) but wasn't able to, so we'll talk about it here. The Forgotten Arm is every bit as brilliant as Lost In Space, with the added layer of a story that runs through the album, telling the tale of two star-crossed lovers dealing with addiction and heartbreak.

Mann isn't well known either side of the pond beyond the Magnolia soundtrack, which was over ten years ago now. She's well-connected with the LA comedy scene and has been putting out albums regularly (including a Christmas record of both original songs and classics that's festive without getting treacly) but deserves a much wider audience. I suggest checking out her song "Little Bombs" here - it's one of my favourites and a great introduction to her work.

Rediscovered Gem

"Soul Of A Man" by Beck

Play To Z: Cross to Doolittle

Some Observations

Holy Playlist Interruptions, Batman! This chunk of albums saw my first shift off the alphabetical order due to a new addition to the discography. I downloaded Talib Kweli's fantastic mixtape Attack The Block (inspired by the movie of the same name) and, having listened to Stereogum's Cruel Summer 2011 Mixtape, realised I didn't have their 2012 one, so downloaded that to.

I also finally borrowed a copy of Camp by Childish Gambino off a friend - I've got all his mixtapes but hadn't got round to buying the album, and having finally given it a good listen, I think I'm going to be one of those awful people saying "I preferred his earlier stuff". Camp seems weighed down with his preoccupation with how he is viewed by the rest of rap culture, but doesn't offer any huge insights or truly unique perspectives. A couple of tracks dealing with this topic would have been interesting, but giving over so much of the album to it dilutes the potency of the message.

Listening to just under two hours of Crystal Castles non-stop does strange things to your brain. I felt like I'd slipped into some weird 16-bit nightmare inside a vast haunted cathedral. It made doing photocopying at work a lot more interesting.

Daisies of the Galaxy was the first Eels album I owned, and remains one of my favourites. It's arguably the most positive, radio-friendly of his albums, but still run through with a deep vein of melancholy and despair that serves to heighten the happy moments. I have a very vivid memory from about 7 years ago of walking down St Benedict's Street in Norwich on a warm, sunny St Patrick's Day, bag full of comics and headed to the pub to celebrate my now-housemate Bret's birthday, with "Packing Blankets" on my iPod (or possibly Discman at the time). It was a transcendentally happy moment, one of those perfect instants when music helps crystalise an experience in your mind.

TV On The Radio's Dear Science is a pretty much flawless album. To my mind, it's their strongest record, a fantastic blend of danceable beats, triumphant horns and lyrical mastery. It feels very much "of it's time" (end of the Bush administration, beginning of Obama) but it doesn't let that weigh it down the way other records sometimes do when aiming to comment on modern society. There's enough about it that's timeless to not feel like a time capsule.

Definitely Maybe, Oasis' debut record, is filled with mostly decent tunes that are, without exception, about a minute too long.

In the ultimate karaoke bar, where you have access to every song imaginable, my pick will always be the live version of "Brian Wilson" by the Barenaked Ladies that is included on Disc One: All Their Greatest Hits. The energy of the performance really adds a whole other layer of urgency to the song, and the big bellowing chorus is a classic power ballad wrapped around a portrait of depression.

"Debaser" by the Pixies is one of my all-time favourite songs. I could, and have, listened to it a dozen times on repeat and not got bored. It's a flawless song, beautiful in it's power and economy. It's a little piece of magic.

The Subtle And Mysterious Art of the Mixtape

Among the albums I listened to in this batch were two mixtapes by the music website Stereogum, as well as two film soundtracks (as opposed to scores), Dazed and Confused and Deathproof. Soundtracks and mixtapes have a lot in common, although obviously soundtracks are also beholden to the events of the film they support. They are about creating a mood, and conveying some kind of meaning, sometimes a story, sometimes a sentiment, all of it using someone else's music.

Among my various skills with little real-world application, I consider myself a proficient maker of mixtapes (or whatever you want to call the CD equivalent). For a while, I posted a bunch of friends a new mix every 3 months, sometimes simply a collection of songs I enjoyed, sometimes built around a theme (one was the soundtrack to a film that didn't exist, a nice little link back to my earlier point). I've made soundtracks for role-playing games I've been involved with, created mixes for friends, lovers and acquaintances.

I learned my skills from some of the basic rules delivered in High Fidelity and found I had a good ear for transitions. I often wish I could go back to my teenaged self and tell him not to spend so much money on plastic Space Marines and instead invest in a pair of decks and some speakers - I think I would have made an alright DJ. Instead, I'm limited to mixes and the occasional party playlist (the mixtape's grown-up, meaner brother).

A good mixtape takes you on a journey, like any good album, but it also uses the mix of artists to create a dialogue, a conversation between the changing sound of the album and the listener. Audience is important to bear in mind, as is what effect. Lyrical themes can be carried from song to song, and if your lucky, images can recur and evolve. Put in enough work, and it's like constructing a sonnet from a dozen broken-up haiku.

Rediscovered Gem

"Destroy Rock And Roll" by Mylo