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i'll be getting into this new CA downtempo explosion (implosion?) in more detail soon because it's totally blowing (chilling?) my mind!
...but for now just look at the picture, close your eyes and listen to this >>> hatchback white diamond
///vintage, sun-bleached, downtempo, neon-tangerine dream...
hawksbill turtles can live to be 200 years old. they spend most of that time swimming the oceans by themselves, alone. i wonder if they hum anything in their turtle heads while cruising the oceans, eating jelly fish.i imagine the easy drone-rock organ, reverbed guitars and gauzy vocals of beach house playing on a constant, 200 year loop.
devotion is one of my favorite albums of 2008. ...and it just happens to have a stand out track called >>
beach house turtle island
and
beach house gila
the experience of being underwater is primal. it's terrifying and weightless, silent and suspended. it makes sense that astronauts train underwater before taking off into the stars.
phaseone is from st. louis where there is no ocean. maybe he doesn't even know how to swim. ///based on these three remixes, however, i'd say he knows what it's like to move in 3 dimensions and get very very very deep./// you can almost feel the pressure.
panda bear i'm not. already beach boy-on-acid vocals sound even more like they're transmitting from across a pool, the hand-claps and hi-hat beat rippling the surface.
burial archangel. burial is a master of forcing your ear to strain, trying to catch each small muffled creak, then smothering your brain in bass and static fuzz. like diving to 100 ft., hearing a distant clink of a bottle tapping a head of coral while feeling the vibration of a huge tanker passing overhead. phaseone's mix pushes the tempo, making the lyrics sound more urgent and aggressive.
grouper heavy water. enough said.
>party in the woods is done<. you're contemplating and basking in the cool after-glow. you close your eyes and watch the color show projecting onto your lids as bon iver's lux vocoder vox whispers in your ears. as the harmonies and chords develop and swell you feel his bluesy ache sink in to your chest, building, evolving. at min. 3:30 the falcetto transcends into a cry and the ache becomes a rush, then a fire-burst, radiating out of the top of your head.yeah i know. autotune. but think about this. someone was playing the cello before yo yo ma got a hold of it too. doesn't mean the instrument was bad. it just hadn't yet been expressed in such capable//loving//talented hands.
have you ever wanted to run into ///the woods///, a forrest, or a small copse of trees on mulholland, set up speakers and some turn tables (ipod?), throw cave lights on your heads and perpetrate a throw-down dirty dance party? ok good, because i think this all the time. and i this is what it sounds like, i think.space and the woods(grum remix) -- late of the pier ::removed per label request::in the woods -- woodhands
let's just leave the heartbreakingly emo band-name aside for the time being. come saturday is fast, joyful, jump around fare, recalling the best, propulsive, sad/happiness of bands like saves the day, meat is murder-era the smiths, and early new order. the "oohs" and boy-girl vocals are perfect for rainy days staring out your window at clusters of nature-tourists huddling for warmth, staring at something in the sand. //// what are they looking at?
or more specifically someone else's boston terrier, mookie.radiohead is way funky. this is revealed once you take away thom yorke's vocals and replace them with, ahem, the flow of the century. usually, thom's voice beautifully weaves in and out of the beat like another instrument in the band without creating much in the way of a melody. on wrong prayer, a mashup of i might be wrong off of amnesiac and jay-z's pray, jay's cadence and delivery put the emphasis back on the 1 and squarely on jonny greenwood's dirty bounce guitar lick. the mashup-ist is a kid from upstate ny called minty fresh and the free album is, creatively titled, jaydiohead.
raglan is the best wave i have ever surfed. the whole bay sections into perfect lefts: whale bay, manu bay, and indicators. the air is so clean here that even a half moon provides enough light for a flashlight-free night hike. we took one down the hill from our sustainable eco-"hotel" made of refurbished boxcars and took pictures on the cliff overlooking the bay. i love new zealand.
i also LOVE royksopp's new single. few acts get me the way these two scandanavians can. happy up here bounces with farmilair blips and handclaps; as a friend described, "eple's all grown up and got lyrics!" and it's true. the boys noize remix is expectedly hard and heavy and will have your head banging and your ass shaking.
school of seven bells is the guitarist from secret machines and a set of twins. part age-of-aquarius hippie chant, part blonde redhead beauty-drone. perfect for getting back to nature.this is iamundernodisguise and this is iamundernodisguise remix by prefuse 73.
this is what NZ sounds like. these guys are swedes, call themselves pallers but they nailed this place. it's a green, progressive, innocent humdrum of silver fern blown synths, maori rhythm thumps, and sea-blown salt vocals shaping silver sails between the islands.
hawksbill turtles can live to be 200 years old. they spend most of that time swimming the oceans by themselves, alone. i wonder if they hum anything in their turtle heads while cruising the oceans, eating jelly fish.
the experience of being underwater is primal. it's terrifying and weightless, silent and suspended. it makes sense that astronauts train underwater before taking off into the stars.
maori peace demonstration for sri lanka in auckland.
>party in the woods is done<. you're contemplating and basking in the cool after-glow. you close your eyes and watch the color show projecting onto your lids as bon iver's lux vocoder vox whispers in your ears. as the harmonies and chords develop and swell you feel his bluesy ache sink in to your chest, building, evolving. at min. 3:30 the falcetto transcends into a cry and the ache becomes a rush, then a fire-burst, radiating out of the top of your head.
have you ever wanted to run into ///the woods///, a forrest, or a small copse of trees on mulholland, set up speakers and some turn tables (ipod?), throw cave lights on your heads and perpetrate a throw-down dirty dance party? ok good, because i think this all the time. and i this is what it sounds like, i think.
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