I keep a list of CD’s I want, and once or twice a year, or when the list gets too long, I buy a dozen at a time. By the time the big box arrives, I’ve been anticipating its contents for a pretty long time, and developing, in the back of my mind, certain expectations about its potential effects and uses. My last batch purchase matched these expectations perfectly–Erroll Garner made me swoon with swanky nostalgia, Fela provided the perfect springtime driving-with-windows-down jam session, my new early-morning walk to school soundtrack comes courtesy of the infinitely tender New Buffalo, Ellen Allien scratches my ugly late-night Teutonic microhouse fetish to the point of excruciation, etc.–with one exception. What the hell to do with THIS?
How can one record bring to mind the Human League, Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, early Talking Heads, Jim O’Rourke, Tears for Fears, The Chills, 1974 Brian Eno, Silver Jews, Beck, King Crimson, June of 44, Yeah Yeah Yeahs . . . I could go on and on. It’s old and new, nostalgic and futuristic, ironic and sincere, digital and analog, all at once. In short, sublimely confusing and confusingly sublime. I love it because I don’t understand it. How many cultural products have you come across in the past year that you truly didn’t understand?
Here’s a taste, but be advised that every track sounds different.