February Mixtape

Highlighting the songs I've discovered, rediscovered, or repeatedly played each month. The order reflects an attempt to create a cohesive mixtape, not to rank the songs in any way.

This is unfortunately half-assed because there are too many songs this month and, surprise, surprise, I'm overloaded with work.

1. Elliott Smith - "Between the Bars."   For some reason, I always imagined prison bars when Elliott sings "I'll kiss you again / between the bars," but I recently discovered the more obvious image of the song: drunken kissing while walking from bar(/tavern) to bar.  Yet, unsurprising for an Elliott song, there are several layers to this line, like the musical pun: a kiss between the bars of the music.  Elliott's music is often about himself, and I suppose all three of these images (self-entrapment, like the awesome Arcade Fire song; alcohol-induced romance; and singing/songwriting) can be read self-referentially. I also forgot how wonderful this song is, how Elliott can sound both angelic and damned at the same time.

Top Albums of 2012, 5-3

Part Two of Three.  Thanks for caring.

5. PASSION PIT - Gossamer.  Although it retains the schizophrenic electronica and otherworldly vocals from Manners, Passion Pit's sophomore album sounds wholly unlike its superb predecessor.  As I discovered earlier this year, Manners layers sugary pop music over its devastating lyrics, allowing, perhaps even gesturing, a listener to dance unwittingly to Angelakos's deepest miseries: "you've caused all this pain / and you proudly shame / your whole family's name," he sings on the infectious "Little Secrets."  Yet Gossamer refuses to bury its pain, making for a surprisingly confrontational listen following the superficially joyous Manners.  While a song like "I'll Be Alright" revels in its maximalist approach, from crashing percussion to layers of synths to those glitchy, chipmunk vocals, it's nevertheless hard to miss Angelakos admitting: "I drink a gin and take a couple of my pills . . . I'll be alright."

"I'll Be Alright" leads into the insipid "Carried Away," but then the album picks up with "Constant Conversations," where Passion Pit  pares down its electronic eccentricities to offer something that is both straightforward and rewarding.  By removing these sonic layers, though, PP forces its listeners to confront Angelakos' morbid lyrics, which ominously recall the self-deprecation and helplessness found in Elliott Smith's bleakest songs:

"Well you're wrapped up in a blanket, and you're staring at the floor.
The conversation's moderated by the noisy streets below.
'I never wanna hurt you baby. I'm just a mess with a name and a price.
And now I'm drunker than before; they told me drinking doesn't make me nice.'"

Yet when Angelakos implores, "Everybody now! Oh-oh-oh-oh-ohhh-oh-ohhh.  Sing it now!," you want to sing along and forget what you've just heard -- to be like Angelakos and conceal his pain with melodies and songs and noise.  "Conversations" then leads to my favorite song, "Mirrored Sea," where the depths of sound return.  In one of the most gripping intros I can ever remember, "Sea" opens with a wave of ghostly synths which then bleed into the frenetic keys on the verse.  These discrete parts ultimately intersect at the chorus in the album's best moment.  Sounding like a gothier track from the Manners sessions, "Mirrored Sea" marks a return to PP's opaque lyrics (what's a mirrored sea?) and vocal delivery, though delving deeper reveals some of Angelakos' most illuminating poetry: "He could look good in the light and look bad in the dark / Good men are scarce and few / But always passing through."  

For a few months I stopped listening to Gossamer, thinking it failed to live up to Manners.   Maybe the change from album to album seemed to drastic, or maybe I couldn't handle delving into Angelakos's miseries while reading stuff like Hiroshima and "The Tell-Tale Heart" (but now I can, Merry Christmas!).  But Gossamer is a great album, a more than worthy follow-up to Manners.  And for all its painful moments, Gossamer still stresses its exuberant music over its sad lyrics, like on "Hideway," which starts with staticky, fragmented vocals and then speeds into a huge chorus that commands as much dancing as it does headbanging.  It's a warm, flickery, and all-around pretty song with an encouraging chorus, "someday everything will be okay"--words we so badly want to believe, even if the album gives us a hundred reasons to think otherwise.

November Mixtape

Highlighting the songs I've discovered, rediscovered, or repeatedly played each month. The order reflects an attempt to create a cohesive mixtape, not to rank the songs in any way. 

I've written ten of these this year, so I'm not going to falter this late in the game.  Hopefully writing this will distract me from checking my email neurotically/growing increasingly hateful.  So, with one month to go(!), here are the sounds to my November:

1. Bright Eyes - "Time Code."  I went jogging one night to clear my head and escape my research paper, and listening to Digital Ash in a Digital Urn--Bright Eyes's audacious, experimental electronica album--really helped me escape myself for a little bit.  I always appreciated the album's opener, "Time Code," but I was especially struck this time by Oberst's sung/whispered line: "sh-- don't talk, don't talk." I think it's interesting how the song becomes instrumental after that, as Oberst silently hovers over the world his album will subsequently explore: we hear the screaming baby from "Ship in a Bottle," murmurs from the crowds from which Oberst withdraws, and the bells from "Gold Mine Gutted."  While the intro could be foreshadowing or previewing the album's songs, I think it's more about picking up transmissions of "noise."  (Note: thinking about Don DeLillo's White Noise completely changed my interpretation of this song).

DeLillo shows how our consumerist, media-saturated society worships commodities and replaces religion with shopping.  Compare, for instance, the everyday activities of people living in a Puritan versus a postmodern culture: the former observed God everywhere and in everything, while the latter observes the hyper-saturation of advertisements and media.  Because we are incessantly bombarded with TV, ads, radio, media, etc., we begin to speak unconsciously its language of consumerism: the media has altered our consciousness.  I think Oberst sees this, and his opening song is a fantasy about escaping the world's noise (ironically on his noisiest album to date).  Thus, on "Time Code," we can only hear bells, screams, or murmurs, not the tainted language of postmodern culture.  This retreat from spoken language is intriguing since Oberst is so renowned for his songwriting -- maybe he's trying to escape himself, too.  But then the alarm clock rings and it's back to reality; he must speak.  And probably not coincidentally, his next words are: "It was Don DeLillo."

September Mixtape

Highlighting the songs I've discovered, rediscovered, or repeatedly played each month. The order reflects an attempt to create a cohesive mixtape, not to rank the songs in any way. 

In one month, Spotify has opened my eyes to so much new music, especially recent work from artists I've enjoyed in the past but recently neglected.  So let's get to it:

September Mix from kevstevxx on 8tracks Radio.

1. Passion Pit - "I'll Be Alright."  Another devastating song whose title could end up being the ironic epitaph of troubled lead singer Michael Angelakos.  Like almost all of PP's music, though, this bubbly pop track is catchy and enduring.

2. Crystal Castles feat. Robert Smith (of The Cure) - "Not in Love."  I always liked the original of this song because of the waves of synths that kick in during the chorus.  But it felt understated (as does the large majority of Crystal Castles's electronica) because of Alice Glass's murmured vocals.  Smith's addition totally reinvigorates "Not in Love," transforming the pessimistic line "I'm not in love" into a triumphant anthem.  I've listened to this song over and over again; it's so catchy, builds up gradually, and has a huge payoff at the chorus.  I need check out The Cure now.

Crystal Castles (left) with Robert Smith.

3.  Passion Pit - "Mirrored Sea."  The ghostly yet zany synths that open this song are perfect.  It's such a unique, evocative sound that somehow blends seamlessly into the frenetic keys on the verse.  These discrete parts then intersect at the chorus, and it somehow works.  Sonically, this may be as dark as PP is going to get, but it's impressive new ground to tread, and it importantly balances out the sugary, "gossamer" sounds on this sophomore album with something weightier, more brooding.

July Mixtape

Highlighting the songs I've discovered, rediscovered, or repeatedly played each month. The order reflects an attempt to create a cohesive mixtape, not to rank the songs in any way.

July seemed like an extraordinary long month; even though the time appeared to pass by in an instant, I feel like it's been ages since I drove my brothers to Fordham while blasting Built to Spill's Keep It Like a Secret.  That July does not feel like the same month that I was jamming to Frank Ocean in Vegas or discovering Passion Pit's newest album on my couch after work.  Because of my newfound time this summer, much of which I devoted to exploring new music, I belive this is the most diverse mixtape yet, from DIIV's shoegazey dream-pop to The War on Drugs's folksy Americana to Chromatics's drugged-out electronics.  It's been a fun month for listening; I felt like I was discovering all these new great things, and everything sounded great.  Here's some of that now:

July mix from kevstevxx on 8tracks.

1. DIIV - "(Druun)."  [not included on above playlist because 8 tracks does not allow more than 2 songs per band per mixtape.]

2. DIIV - "Past Lives."

3. DIIV - "Human." Dream-pop often garners praise for being atmospheric, brooding, summery, and other mood-evoking adjectives, yet it sometimes is all mood and little substance: short songs merge to create a cohesive album, but the songs themselves float gently by, rarely jarring the listener off-course. Listening to DIIV's ear-pleasing debut, Oshin, I feel that only "How Long Have You Known?" stands out as individually memorable; the rest of the songs blend to make a smartly-sequenced and beautifully-orchestrated collection of euphonies. This initially appealed to me, but, after several listens, I have not been compelled to return to Oshin. I think I will eventually, so this is very much a to-be-continued.

4. Built to Spill - "Carry the Zero."  I've listened to BTS so much this summer that I fear I am running the risk of forever overplaying them (which I've done before...I listened to Cursive's Happy Hollow so much during the Summer of 2006 that I have no desire to ever play it again).  The beginning of "Carry the Zero" just tears at my heart; I don't know why the guitars have such a powerful emotional effect on me, but they seem to be gushing out some terrible feeling of desperation.  Doug Martsch's brooding, nasally vocals compliment all these evocative noises, especially during his half-singing, half-shouting climax where he bitterly criticizes, "you're so occupied with what other persons are occupied with and vice versa." I've listened to this song so many times, and it's yet to lose its effect on me. That's pretty awesome.

April Mixtape

Highlighting the songs I've discovered, rediscovered, or repeatedly played each month. The order reflects an attempt to create a cohesive mixtape, not to rank the songs in any way.

1. The Shins - "The Rifle's Spiral." James Mercer, the lead singer and mastermind of the Shins, said that this "song is written from the perspective of somebody funding and paying for suicide bombers to engage in that horrible activity. Just the perverse and grotesque thing that that is, and you know, living in the age we live in and my disrespect and fear of religion in general just fueling that intense hatred and appalling violence.” I would've never fathomed this interpretation, especially for such a sunny opening song, although that does explain the chorus's beautifully-written prophesy: "Long before you were born / You were always to be a dagger floating / Straight to their heart."  The Shins really do know how to open an album: "Caring Is Creepy," "Kissing the Lipless," "Sleeping Lessons," and now "The Rifle's Spiral" are all catchy, pop-infused gems -- some of the group's best tracks to date. These opening songs also demonstrate the band's progression from its lo-fi, indie roots to its glossier pop sound.  The gradual change to a more mainstream genre hasn't compromised the group's music in any way -- in fact, as Mercer's quotation shows, the subject matter of the Shins' songs appears more serious than ever. I haven't given this album enough attention as I should have, but I believe Port of Morrow will, like Chutes Too Narrow, be a staple on my summer playlists.