There’s something wildly life affirming about this song, and it’s not the title lyric. It’s the pure sound of it, the melody played out in chiming bells and wordless coos. It could be the centerpiece of a hit pop song, but it’s buried in the gothic fire of Swans‘ best album.
Today is my birthday, and in celebration I’m sharing the incredible stop-motion video for The Smashing Pumpkins‘ timeless love song, Thirty Three. It’s not just one of my favorite tunes of all time, but one of the best videos from my childhood.
It’s almost October and I’ve been biking to work every day in a tee shirt. It’s been glorious. I’m luxuriating in the best Indian summer in memory here on the coast of Lake Michigan and I’m taking the opportunity to share the best song named after this rare phenomenon.
I present to you Indian Summer, by Spectrum (aka Pete Kember, formerly Sonic Boom and half of Spacemen 3):
Despite Kember’s affectless delivery and detached atmosphere, this Beat Happening cover is incredibly warm, an enveloping bear hug that’s equal parts comforting and unsettling. He might be known for a deadpan take on psych drone, but his organ swells and horn blasts feel like the sun on your closed eyelids compared to the original recording’s caveman minimalism. While the sonics reach a nearly anthemic pitch, the lyrics rip the air from our sails.
We’ll come back for Indian Summer
We’ll come back for Indian Summer
We’ll come back for Indian Summer
And go our separate ways
Seriously this song. I always feel like I’m beaming until the last few lyrics cut through. It’s a good, well-earned deflation though. It feels good in its cool letdown. The kind of sadness I can get behind on any sunny, oddly warm day.
I think I should post a lot more about the 80s and 90s rock that I’ve loved for years. While you’re here, why not check out the original too? Which do you prefer?
On a weekend in August of 2015, I discovered Maggot Brain. I may have been 44 years late, but I’m just now realizing the depth and power that Funkadelic were capable of.
I’ve been on a funk kick, spurred on by the incredible new Dam-Funk album, and stumbled up on the evocative cover of Maggot Brain, with a woman’s head planted in the dirt, face frozen mid-scream.
It’s deeply unnerving, an iconic image that immediately sears into the memory. It fits the music completely.
Listen yourself:
I had a conversation with a friend today about Christian music and why it mostly bothers the hell out of me. (ha) I realized it’s that sense of overt politeness, the way it’s crafted – an official Christian musician seems to have all rough edges sanded off, as pious as a politician tries to look – that takes away any depth and feeling in the lyrics or music itself. It lacks almost anything that I could normally grasp as enjoyable.
They say people never change / but that’s bullshit; they do
Tame Impala‘s new album Currents is flat out fantastic. You can hear the synth-laden psych rock epic before it’s officially released or stick with the official singles for a couple weeks.
Or you can check out one of the best tracks from the album right now. It’s a deep cut called Yes I’m Changing, and it gives me some serious feels.
Thanks to a friend’s reminder, I’m spending early Friday evening at home jamming Lonerism, the surprisingly deep and eminently repeatable album from psychedelic rock ninjas Tame Impala. While I’ve never gone hard listening to these guys, I’m reminded tonight that I probably should have.
This song catches me hard every time, and I’m compelled to peek at the track list: yes, it’s called Music To Walk Home By. What a fantastic name for a tune that sounds like this.
Optimistic Underground 