Overdue - Triple Threat
I was thinking
of building the ultimate playlist with one simple rule. One artist. One song.
Each day will feature a song by an artist whose birthday is that day and then
nine other songs by nine different artists just because people like things to
be in tens.
The playlist
is here - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4exU9MUJMWaouOgnu7zmSl?si=I5fqk7VpQX6aDGec7xvqsQ&pi=e-IfIWXc5GT56R
So, the idea was
that you might want to follow and share and either have the playlist yourself
or do your own or chat about it with me, you could use the hashtag #EHGOGS.
I’m on Twitter X
thing as @fourfoot
Today’s selections
is dedicated to birthday peeps Timberlake, Styles and Shakira.
Mirrors – Justin
Timberlake. Eight minute pop songs should not really be my bag but this is the
Timbalake Effect. Filthy 2000 era synths, handclaps and strings and the kind of
drawn out ending that is basically throwing every idea they had that morning into
the proverbial mixer and seeing if they got lucky.
Trying Too Hard
(Lullaby) – Noah Yorke. Nepotism be damned. Old Dogtanian’s young pup does
mid-period Radiohead, a Street Spirit-ish guitar line with Kid A era electronic
doodling and the kid can clearly hold a tune even if the title is guilty of ahem
trying too hard.
The (Over) Song
- Nelson. French post punk revivalists. I said in 2009 this would be huge.
I was wrong.
Afterglow – Arthur
and Yu. Imagine the Velvets covering These Boots Are Made For Walking and
you’re practically there.
El Rey y Yo –
Los Angeles Negros. Blame Fishguard Dave (previous posts) – he fills my
head with this sort of thing and it’s always addictive.
Yegelle Tezeta –
Mulatu Astatke. If you haven’t already watched Jim Jarmusch’s Broken
Flowers, perhaps that director’s most accessible film starring as it does Bill
Murray as the kind of bloke Bill Murray has played since Lost in Rushmore, then
this parping, hypnotic piece of Ethiopian jazz will provide further good reason
to.
Call Me A Fool –
Valerie June feat Carla Thomas. The kind of lush Southern soul that will
make you want to be holding someone close on a bourbon-sticky dancefloor at the
end of a sultry night’s kiss and make up…
Badala Zamana – Zohra. It was in an advert. I forget
which one. It’s some sort of French African disco thing and I love it.
So What? – Little Wings. I always Shazam the music in
between bands at gigs if I can. Big Thief had this on and if it’s good enough
for the greatest songwriter of her generation it’s going to be good enough for
all of us.
I Paint A Design – Michael Hurley There’s nothing I
like more than finding some new artist with a prolific back catalogue of
obscure, barely noticed output. And so it is with this dude, purveying a kind
of lo-fi folk and making me wiki the bastard and finding out he’s made 89739
albums…
Sign of the Times – Harry Styles Oh the hopes were
high when the Robbie Williams of One Direction made his inevitable switch to a
solo career. The title said Prince, the tune said Life on Mars. And we were all
won over for a moment. For now, a genuine career high…
Castle in the Clouds – Cut Worms Soon as I hear a bit
of lap steel I’m in. It don’t matter what it is, I’m going to at least let my
ears sniff around. And this is country Beatles to my mind.
Accused of Stealing – Delgados. The Delgados should
have been fucking huge. Although a song like this, with its all over the place
arrangements and time changes, betrays the cleverness that made them commercial
also-rans whilst Joe Public, that fucking rotter, emptied his spunk-stained
wallet for Muse albums.
Floating Features – La Luz Surf-rock psychedelic
instrumental from the best girl band on the planet. Or your money back.
Cumbia del Desierto – Los Destellos. More magic from
South America.
Hotel Blues – Last Ex. Sinister but whimsical
atmospherics from a band I know nothing about. If you like Portishead, Boards
of Canada, John Barry, Beak – it’s all there.
Futurismo – Saloon Like Stereolab covering an early
Tindersticks song. That’s what I’ve got written down and if that doesn’t float
your proverbial water vessel, you probably deserve to drown.
Rubber – Yuck Epic drawn out druggy shoegaze music to
soundtrack your next disappointing bus journey.
Worth It – Haley Heynderickx More epic stuff, from
one of my favourite (and favourite titled) albums of the last few years. Like Adrienne
Lenker’s solo output but with a Pixies-esque dynamic.
Miss You – State of Grace I heard this once on the
radio in 1993 and I went to Musiquarium in Swansea and I ordered it and it took
a while to come in and I left it on the train home. There’s a lesson there
somewhere. Or there isn’t.
Hips Don’t Lie – Shakira. TUNE!!! And it reminds me
of happier, more content days. A romantic holiday in Turkey when I could still
pull….
Hip Hop – Dead Prez. Talking of hips. Yeah it’s
everywhere now but this was a thrilling old moment in hip hop back in the day.
Hey Now – When I Give You All My Lovin – Romare. I only
just heard this and it’s fantastic.
Dirty Epic – Underworld. Their finest hour. Christ on
crutches, sainted rhythms, trains to Romford and all that phone sex. Nobody documented
the 5am sadness and strangeness better.
Calculated Reactive Space – Voice Actor Another instalment
of our Strange Interlude Corner
Go Fuck Yourself – Hamell on Trial. Uncut magazine
went all in on this dude and put this track on a free CD. It’s easily the best
thing he ever did.
Good Dancers – Sleepy Jackson. One of those songs I
thought was a massive hit somewhere but it wasn’t. I just heard it a lot the
summer I got married and I loved it to it’s reflective, hopeful, slightly battered
bones.
Babe I Know – Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats AKA
my most played song this decade. Ray Charles-esque vocals, alt-country/soul
melodies and it’s yeah it’s too good to try to describe.
How Does it Feel to Feel – Creation Early distorted
fucked up British proto-psychedelic rock brilliance as recommended by local Wayne
Coyne lookalike Steve who despite being in his 70s dresses like Evel Knievel
and I have no problem with that.
National Shite Day – Half Man Half Biscuit. Could
have gone with anyone of about 40 HMHB songs. Nigel Blackwell should be immortalised
in marble, celebrated in textbook and fucking living it up in Monte Carlo
despite him probably hating that sort of thing. The man’s a god.
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