sonic exorcism

note: exORcism, not like, running. I thought long and hard about how I wanted to gather the next eleven songs. I figure, at its best, songs have the power to reach in there, grab hold of the dark twistys, and wrench them out, with a crooked smile. When we need it most, it can be that saving grace, the exorcist of the Bad Places, and a portal to the Swell! These are so all over the place, so genre-ly scattered- but for good reason. It's like you went to eleven different doctors/healers/gurus/voodoos and they all prescribed something equally wonderful and vibrant, in each of their lovely ways. I have got deep admiration for these songs (e'specially 4, 5 and 6) and they come from good places. I really hope y'all enjoy them as much as me, as I know we're all inevitably in need (or, QUITE soon), given the finals-ness.

Sending a warm soul-squeeze out to each of you. Good luck

CATCH THIS MIX #7

this is my personal exorcist (and future husband):

1:14

french eighties ladies

tighty whites

like felipe

For all you fifteen year old guided by voices/os mutantes nerds, and also those who have a fetish for music sung in another language, holy shit! Brazilian label Transfusão Noise Records' website is literally lined with downloads of their recordings (on the right hand side). Internet findings like King Tut. Think it's about high time to restless-leg it down to brazil, check out the situation, lavalier in hand, considering the scrumptiousness. Catch this Mix #6 has one of Transfusão's latest singles, which has (cliche aversion aside) the single greatest 2 and a half minutes of bedroom-dancing accompaniment- there's no helping it. I've only gotten through five album downloads since I read the post by the wonderful Raven Sings The Blues, and they've all been lovely. I think they're all super young. Particularly great is Wallace Costa's Crossing Fields (adolescently velvet undergroundy) and The Fashion Our Club's College Wave EP (like being an aware second grader in seattle mid-90s).

TRANSFUSãO NOiSE RECORdS

their myspace

vacuousness galore!

I really hate this song, and I don't have much respect for the video, but the plethora of these inch-deep indie music videos whose entire purpose is for aesthetic pleasure are so successful that I think I better get down to doing a few. I suppose the infinite introspective silent statement films that I want to be making don't lose any artistic merit if they're side-by-side with flimsy nostalgic bullshit, right? Is that too cynical? Maybe I'm becoming a premature curmudgeon. Music videos have such a power to transform a mediocre song into an integral accompaniment to a visual- how much I enjoy the song itself doesn't need to factor into how much I enjoy the video. So slapping a haze dazey humdrum of pretty girls and boys is just irresponsible filmmaking. What a waste! Anyway, whatever, that chickadee is a modernday Uschi, and examining her bod with a camera is very nice. I can appreciate that. Other recent examples of this I've come across (youth! bangs! running! sunshine! sex! adventure! converse sneakers!):

fringe master

Here's Atlas Sound, cooking up an intimate 4-course internet release of recordings done in the past month or so. They're dubbed Bedroom Databank and are absolutely necessary if you care about the internet, generation y, nostalgia, independent recording or anything Bradford Cox has touched. It's all over the place, so there's no point in breaking down the "vibe" of any particular volume or categorizing according to purpose (dozetime/worktime/walktime/freakouttime/xanextime, etc)- just dive in via whimsy. This man has a beautiful brain, and I'll be first in line when it becomes an experience ride at postmodern disneyworld.

GET THEM HERE