june 2002
If you're here, you must have a copy of my June mix. Please leave your comment on the mix -- what you liked, what you didn't -- at the bottom of the page. Album links are to Amazon; if you like something, consider buying via that link so I get a cut and keep the mix club going.
Someone asked me what the theme was this month. It's simple: songs by artists in the A-F section of my CD collection whom I hadn't included on any previous mixes. Seriously.
New feature! The insert card for this month's mix is available in PDF format (270k).
1. Prologue / Dimitri From Paris. On Sacrebleu! (1996). The first Parisian DJ to get a foothold on this side of the pond. The album's only okay; I've heard the Playboy Mansion album is better.
2. I Know You Want Me / Call and Response. On Call and Response (2001). I like the Amazon review: "The Free Design, the Carpenters, the Jackson Five, Air, Stereolab, and Nico all get together to record lost tracks from Schoolhouse Rock, watch the All-Star Laff-a-Lympics, and maybe sip pina coladas in the back of a van somewhere." Blissfully innocent pop.
3. Sentimental Love / The Elevator Drops. On People Mover (1997). A rather unremarkable Boston band, although this album (evidently their last) is fun, if a little too Bowie-apeing.
4. Waking Up / Elastica. On Elastica (2001). For some reason, Amazon claims it's out of print in the U.S. and available only on import; you should be able to find it scouring a used-CD rack somewhere. If you don't already have it, of course. Great wiry (and Wire-y) punk songs. Too bad the followup disc blew; I guess you really can do too much heroin.
5. Hyperballad / Bjork. On Post (1995). Classic Bjork; this is my favorite of her albums.
6. Frontier Psychiatrist / The Avalanches. On Since I Left You (2001). Great collagist dance-floor material from Australia. (If you want to hear more, the whole album is streaming online.)
7. I Wanna Be Your Driver / Chuck Berry. On The Great Twenty-Eight (1982). No explanation needed.
8. Same Old Life / The Flashing Lights. On Sweet Release (2001). Hmm...on last month's mix, track 8 was Matt Murphy's band the Super Friendz. This month, it's Matt Murphy's band the Flashing Lights. Synergy! Sweet Release remains criminally unreleased in the U.S. of A., but it's worth the trouble to order via Canada. (At these exchange rates, buy two!) It's a much more well rounded effort than the FLights' first album (available stateside and also good, although more monotonously power-pop).
9. Race For the Prize (remix) / The Flaming Lips. On The Soft Bulletin (1999). Speaking of mix trends...two straight months with a great Oklahoma band. (Sorry, July traders, I'm all out.) Sweeping, epic, all-consuming, etc. (I didn't worship this disc as much as the rock-crit monolith did, but it's still quite good.)
10. If I May / Blackalicious. On Nia (2000). Jeez, Blackalicious is great. Gift of Gab has what those in the bidness term "mad rhyme skillz," and the beats are block-rockin'. Can't recommend this disc (or the maybe-even-better followup Blazing Arrow) enough.
11. Sexy / Los Amigos Invisibles. On The New Sound of The Venezuelan Gozadera (2000). Venezuelan sex-funk, off of David Byrne's Luaka Bop label.
12. Madness / Deltron 3030. On Deltron 3030 (2000). Del tha Funkee Homosapien can get on your nerves over the course of an album, but he's a fine guest star (like on most things Prince Paul's involved in). This is off the Deltron 3030 project, which was sort of a proto-Gorillaz, complete with Kid Koala, Dan the Automator, and even Damon Albarn.
13. Brief & Boundless / Richard Buckner. On Since (1998). If you're going to buy only one album off this mix, this'd be your best bet. Brilliant, life-changing, and all the rest. Richard Buckner has a great Old Testament voice, and he writes great songs; Since is his best album since he's working with a top-notch backing band. (Much of his other word is a capella.)
14. Brand New Day / Basehead. On Play With Toys (1992). Michael Ivey's project, which got tagged "middle-class black rap" when it came out, until people realized there's not much rapping on it. Genreless, but imbued with a real sense of fun. Sort of a more talented black G. Love and Special Sauce. (Bonus fact: This came out originally on Emigre, the best joint Macintosh-font-design house/record label of all time.)
15. Saved / Mark Eitzel. On 60 Watt Silver Lining (1996). The ex-American Music Club frontman's first proper solo release found him in a torch-song mood. This album could pass for adult-contemporary if it weren't for Eitzel's dagger lyrics. (I find it amusing that Amazon mistakenly lists this as a "cast recording," since it does have a sort of Broadway-drunken-cabaret feel.
16. Felo de Se / Bedhead. On Beheaded (1996). Every time I tried to turn a friend onto Bedhead, they ended up running away screaming. Maybe it's an acquired taste -- languorous, spare guitar lines, whispered vocals, like Low taken to its logical conclusion. But there's a real beauty to it all. (And they were from Dallas; the core of the band is now in the much more accessible The New Year.) Anyway, this was one of their rare lively moments.
17. Trouble in the Message Center / Blur. On Parklife (1994). Speaking of Damon Albarn. Probably my favorite of their albums, although it was tough to pick a track to include here -- everything seems too Kinks-y British-social-commentary outside of the context of the album.
18. I Want an Alien for Christmas / Fountains of Wayne. On a promo EP (1997). Chris Collingwood and Adam Schlesinger make pop so sugary you need a root canal. They're normally a little less kitschy than here, but not by much.
19. Gene Autry / Beulah. On The Coast is Never Clear (2001). This album was released on September 11, so it didn't get the attention it deserved. Sunny, warm indie pop, with a little more self-awareness than much of the genre.
20. Joan Jett of Arc / Clem Snide. On The Ghost of Fashion (2001). People tend to love or hate Clem Snide. (Actually, most people have no opinion of them, having never heard of them. But within the smaller universe of those who have an opinion, they're really quite divisive.) I happen to fall on the love-'em side, because I buy into the notion that beneath that crust of irony and smugness, there's a real, beating, crying heart to the music. I think Eef Barzalay, no matter how annoying his name is, is a damned genius. Give this album a try.
21. Birthday Cake / Cibo Matto. On Viva! La Woman (1996). What great joy these Japanese naifs will bring into your life! The album's all songs about food, and they're all hilarious and danceable. An underrated gem. (Avoid the mediocre, non-food-based followup, though.)
22. Kung Fu / Ash. On 1977 (1996). Doesn't everyone need a little mindless release now and again? Bonus points for name-checking Jackie Chan, before it was cool to.
