Björk – Play Dead
9th October 2012
Elliot Smith – Son of Sam
Elliot Smith has featured heavily in the soundtrack to my week. As you might imagine, this is not a very positive indicator about my mood. I’m not sure why but I seem to have been in something of a funk for the past few days. The initial boost of enthusiasm brought on by a change of scenery must have worn off. I am sure I will snap out of it before too long.
This track is taken off the very enjoyable if somewhat morose Figure 8, which was the last album Elliot Smith completed before his death. On a brighter note, it is one of my favourite album sleeves being simple but quite effective.
8th October 2012
Beth Orton* – She cries your name
Norfolk singer Beth Orton was the first gig I ever went to, at the Queen’s Festival in Belfast in what must have been 2000 or 2001. On reflection it was something or a random choice.
She came into my head this week for some strange reason that I can’t quite put my finger on. I can’t say that I listen to her too often these days but I really enjoyed revisiting this track. The slightly off kilter strings that start the track still make for a killer intro.
Birds which scream for territory can learn to sing euphorically…
/RjK
*Artist #530
7th October 2012
Broken Social Scene – Bandwitch
This is my idea of Sunday night music. Hushed and mellow, it is just the kind of thing to calm a mind racing with thoughts of the week ahead.
Canadian collective Broken Social Scene featured heavily in the soundtrack to the year I spent in Berkeley, California and as such, always raise a smile anytime I hear them.
/RjK
6th October 2012
Aretha Franklin – Call Me
What can you say about Aretha? She makes it seem so effortless, shifting here from mellow warmth to soaring urgency with such ease it is amazing.
Call me the hour, call me the minute, the second that you get there…
/RjK
5th October 2012
Hall and Oates – Sara Smile (GPF)
I’m not sure that really feel all that guilty about this. It is nice and chilled out. My Friday choices seem to oscillate between riotous and mellow depending on the weekend ahead and preceding week. Given how busy the past few days have been I am certainly leaning towards the latter today.
Have a great weekend everyone!
/RjK
Chaweewan Dumnern* – Lam Toey Chaweewan | (NAT)
And now for something completely different! This is taken from The Sound of Siam: Leftfield Luk Thung, Jazz and Molam from Thailand 1964 -1975, which was released on Soundway Records a couple of years ago and I discovered recently.
I can’t quite pinpoint exactly what I like about it but it has a manic otherworldliness that somehow just speaks to me. I promise to turn down the esoteric a notch in the coming days!
/RjK
*Artist #529
Common featuring Kanye West – The Food (live)
Chicago rapper Common makes hip hop that is cerebral. This might seem like an oxymoron and whilst they certainly aren’t regular bedfellows the combination does exist. A couple of tracks (including this one) from his album Be, which is one of my favourite rap albums ever, came on my mp3 player today and happily reminded me of this fact.
/RjK
2nd October 2012
Barbara Lynn* – This is the thanks I get
This is just classic, smooth Northern Soul. I don’t know that I can add much to that, it kind of speaks for itself. One interestingly thing to note about Barbara Lynn is that she plays guitar left-handed, a fact which is rather awesomely captured below.
On a different note there was an interview in the Guardian this week with my musical hero Van Morrison, about his new record. It was conducted by Don Was of the utterly manic Was (not was), who I posted last year.
/RjK
*Artist #528
1st October 2012
LCD Soundsystem – Someone Great (Helen Chandler guest post)
A friend said to me recently, upon hearing Someone Great in a bar in Dublin at closing time – ‘I remember hearing this song for the first time back in 2007 and just feeling really sad.’ I’m not surprised, I think it’s one of the saddest songs going. ‘There shouldn’t be this ring of silence, but what are the options when someone great is gone?’ If you read that like a sentence and not like a lyric, it would floor you.
The beauty of what James Murphy does is that he makes you forget you’re listening to a sad song. He sets everything to a cleverly-constructed undercurrent of electronic bliss, which means that his songs get played in clubs and listened to in bedrooms in equal measure.
The official video for this song is lovely but the track itself is sped up in it, presumably because it’s the single version. I was loathe to include it here, because I prefer the album version, which takes its time.
/HC