Free and legal MP3: Bob Mould (hard-driving yet friendly)

Bob Mould arrives in 2019 like a sudden gust of wind rearranging the porch furniture.

Bob Mould

“Sunshine Rock” – Bob Mould

Pop culture is a cruel mistress; the one uniting and unavoidable fact of life, that we all grow old, is precisely what our culture will not accept, forever worshipping the latest crop of young and pretty people at the expense of those previously worshipped, never mind those artists creating works of lasting quality. The internet has aggravated this already aggravating tendency, creating new categories of veneration (YouTuber, influencer, et al.) in which the generative talent seems mostly to do with an ability to capture attention in an age rife with attention deficits, and to do so most often in a way that older people can’t fathom and/or don’t care about. In a way it may be fitting that in this virtual age of ours the demand for an actual creative product is brushed aside for the pleasure of simply focusing on one evanescent screen moment for some uninterrupted amount of minutes (or seconds); in any case, youth worship is firmly reiterated in the process.

Bob Mould arrives on such a scene like a sudden gust of wind rearranging the porch furniture. The Hüsker Dü founder, now 58, has wandered his way through a varied career, intermittently touching base with the kind of blistering rock’n’roll for which his first band was known, other times venturing into more electronic enterprises. Here, with “Sunshine Rock,” guitars crash and ring, suspended chords suspend, a firm, stuttering beat establishes itself, and Mould comes at us with that yearning but muffled voice of his, a voice that forever sounds like it’s singing in an empty room with maybe one folding chair in it. The melody is clipped and snappy, with cascading resolutions in the verses and one or two spiffy chord changes in the chorus. It’s both hard-driving and friendly.

Now then, the title and the energetic pace suggest something optimistic, as do the strings that materialize most notably in an affirmative flourish at the end of the song. But the Bob Mould vibe is never entirely sunshine-y—even when he, by all accounts, thinks he’s being sunny (“I’m trying to keep things brighter these days as a way to stay alive,” Mould says in an accompanying press release, not the sunniest of sunny statements if you think about it). To my ears, however, to the extent that the lyrics are decipherable, “Sunshine Rock” presents as an “enjoy what you have while you have it because nothing lasts very long” kind of song, Mould singing more with fortitude than delight. In 2019, that passes for sunny.

“Sunshine Rock” is the title track from Mould’s forthcoming album, to be released next month on Merge Records. MP3 via the good folks at KEXP. This is the third time Mould has been featured here, but the first time since 2009; neither of his previous tracks are still available as free and legal downloads.

Free and legal MP3: Dear Euphoria (delicate musing on love and loss)

Over a peaceful, arpeggiated bed of boops and bips, “Our Time” unfolds as a graceful, melancholy ballad, celebrating love in the face of loss.

Dear Euphoria

“Our Time” – Dear Euphoria

Over a peaceful, arpeggiated bed of boops and bips, “Our Time” unfolds as a graceful and melancholy ballad, celebrating love in the face of loss. Singer Elina Johannsen processes her voice in a way that strikes the ear as both slippery and central, with the elusiveness of the effect mirroring the ambivalent emotional circumstance the song presents.

And yes, for the record, I do not reject all vocal processing, by any means; what I’ve always objected to was the combination of faddishness and thoughtlessness propelling the technique (epitomized by Auto-Tune) for so many years. What should be obvious but, it seems, hasn’t been, is this: be human, be compassionate, be inventive, and all manner of musical and technological expression is open to you. Someone like Björk has known this for years. Prop up shallow idiocies with formulaic songwriting and production methods in pursuit of big streaming numbers and okay, have fun, but I’m not interested.

Meanwhile, Johannsen is tackling the big subject here, with a directness leavened by the sweetness of her tone, the delicacy of her declarations, and the soothing melody. I am assuming the loss she is singing about is a loss occasioned by death, and she seems to be singing from the perspective of the dying person; but, it works if the subject is a less permanent loss as well. She employs simple, mostly one-syllable words throughout, which has the subtle effect of amplifying both the gravity and the sublimity of the situation. The vibe is at once uncomplicated and stimulating, with a number of engaging touches along the way, from the life-support electronic pulse that accompanies two-thirds of the song (listen to how it decamps at 1:52), to the brief but wonderful guitar or guitar-like distortion at 1:03, to the all-out false ending at 2:29. And, a trait not to be underestimated, the song doesn’t overstay its welcome, wrapping up in a concise 3:06, easily inviting repeat listens.

Johannsen is based in Stockholm. Dear Euphoria was previously featured on Fingertips all the way back in 2007; the MP3 to that track, “Falling Behind,” is no longer available. “Our Time” is the second single released to date from an album due out in the spring. Thanks to Johannsen for the MP3.

Free and legal MP3: Amanda Palmer (theatrical cry for justice)

While piano-based, the song’s musical palette expands in all directions, with textures both rough and intimate, accompanying a lyrical bombardment that feels all too real and up-to-the-minute, painting a picture of a culture on the brink of physical and emotional self-destruction.

Amanda Palmer

“Drowning in the Sound” – Amanda Palmer

As an artist, Amanda Palmer is such an deft navigator of our brave not-so-new social media world that it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that she is a dynamic and gifted musician. The relentless energy with which she shares herself online in multi-faceted ways—creating one of the only robust and truly successful (both emotionally and financially) artist-fan communities of the 21st-century to date in the process—is as admirable as it is, to me, if I’m honest, exhausting-sounding. I can’t imagine how she manages a life that includes paying heed to 12,000 active online patrons, and would be skeptical if not outright cynical about her efforts were it not for that previously stated reality: she is a top-notch singer/songwriter/musician, and somehow (somehow) doesn’t let the potentially immolating realities of an artistic life lived on social media derail or cheapen her creative output.

Here’s her latest: a song, called “Drowning in the Sound,” that is as raw and scintillating as her best music can be, with an added wrinkle: the song was initially crowd-sourced, with the lyrical ideas and inspiration coming from 600 of her Patreon supporters. Oh, and she wrote it as part of a two-day songwriting exercise in August 2017. While piano-based, the song’s musical palette expands in all directions, with textures both rough and intimate, accompanying a lyrical bombardment that feels all too real and up-to-the-minute, painting a picture of a culture on the brink of physical and emotional self-destruction. It’s not fun, no; but the music, with its sophisticated, stop-start dynamics and Bush-ian theatricality, engages the spirit. Palmer’s voice, an agile alto with a spoken-word quality, is more than up to the wide-ranging performance, which includes portions rendered in falsetto, as if things weren’t dramatic enough. I guess if I’m going to hear about the end of the world, I’d rather it come from a song than from cable news: there’s something in the singing and the craft of it that manages yet to inspire hope, which is a crucial element in any effort any of us can take to rescue humanity from prospects that here in 2019 look on the dim side.

“Drowning in the Sound” was originally released in September 2017 as a fund-raiser for victims of Hurricane Harvey. The song has resurfaced recently as a lead single for Palmer’s first album in six years, There Will Be No Intermission, which will be released on March 8, 2019, which is International Women’s Day. MP3 via KEXP.

Useless, like fists

Eclectic Playlist Series 6.01 – Jan. 2019

There’s no such thing as the “greatest song of all time,” right? I mean, you can’t possibly narrow it down to one song. But if you could (which you can’t), I might just elect “Don’t Worry Baby.” I’m always surprised to remember that this song came out in 1964; it seems to come from another universe of inspiration than, say, the lead track on the Shut Down Volume 2 album, which was the faddy, frilly “Fun, Fun, Fun.” Certainly it hinted strongly at the richness of Brian Wilson’s creative imagination, and greatness to come.

Favorite song of the year is at least a little easier to select, and for my money, I’m going with “Mistake,” from the Australian trio Middle Kids. This entire album, Lost Friends, is the kind of thing everyone would have been listening to and talking about in an age when people paid more attention to albums and had fewer cultural artifacts bombarding their senses by the hour. If you’re inclined to listen to an actual album in real time, go check it out (Bandcamp link, for your convenience: https://middlekids.bandcamp.com/album/lost-friends). There isn’t a weak song in the bunch.

A few more notes of note:

* Michael Penn doesn’t get enough credit. That is all.

* I had entirely forgotten about this Ultravox song until I heard it during a long stretch of 1980s programming on WXPN back in November. How had I let this one slip away? Lament was the last top-notch Ultravox album in their New Romantic, Midge Ure era, and it holds up pretty well.

* Todd Rundgren doesn’t get enough credit either, and by the way, for those who care about such things, belongs in the Rock’n’Roll Hall of Fame already, I mean sheesh.

* I’m pretty sure no one’s ever segued October Project into the Buzzcocks before, and maybe no one will again. RIP Pete Shelley.

* And how about that Laws family? You may possibly know about brothers Hubert (flutist) and Ronnie (sax); but there were also sisters Eloise and Debra, who both have had careers as vocalists.

Oh, and an overall logistical reminder: I operate under the self-imposed limit of not featuring any one individual artist on an Eclectic Playlist Series mix more than once in a calendar year. January wipes the slate clean; all artists are available. And yet, even so, 14 of the 20 artists on this month’s playlist were not before featured even once this past five years. Nature loves diversity; why shouldn’t we?

Full playlist below the widget.

“In Little Ways” – Let’s Active (Big Plans For Everybody, 1986)
“Mistake” – Middle Kids (Lost Friends, 2018)
“Love Factory” – Eloise Laws (single, 1973)
“A Violent Yet Flammable World” – Au Revoir Simone (The Bird of Music, 2007)
“Don’t Worry Baby” – The Beach Boys (Shut Down Volume 2, 1964)
“One of Our Girls Has Gone Missing” – A.C. Marias (One of Our Girls (Has Gone Missing), 1989)
“Some Birds” – Jeff Tweedy (Warm, 2018)
“Strange Season” – Michael Penn (Free-For-All, 1992)
“Smack Dab in the Middle” – Ray Charles (Have a Smile With Me, 1964)
“To The East” – Electrelane (No Shouts, No Calls, 2006)
“Love of the Common Man” – Todd Rundgren (Faithful, 1976)
“Love is to Die” – Warpaint (Warpaint, 2014)
“One Small Day” – Ultravox (Lament, 1984)
“From Out of Nowhere” – George Wydell (b-side, 1966)
“Gotta Get Back” – Shelby Lynne (I Am Shelby Lynne, 2000)
“Sunday Morning Yellow Sky” – October Project (Falling Farther In, 1995)
“What Do I Get?” – Buzzcocks (Singles Going Steady, 1979)
“Turbo” – Kenny Dorham (The Arrival of Kenny Dorham, 1960)
“You Tell Me” – Paul McCartney (Memory Almost Full, 2007)
“Titanic Days” – Kirsty MacColl (Titanic Days, 1993)