This is not what I thought

Eclectic Playlist Series, Vol. 7 – June 2014

Eclectic Playlist Series Vol. 7

Ready or not here comes another hop, skip, and jump through six decades of something resembling rock’n’roll music: the Fingertips Eclectic Playlist Series, Vol. 7. Mixcloud followers may see that I went back and named each playlist in the series after Volume 1, because I have been feeling that titles would be a nice handhold into the music. But everything is operating on intuition here, so those in need of concrete messages or Beats-music-like “I need a playlist for this precise activity at this specific moment in my day” may simply be confused. So it goes.

I would rank “MacDougal Blues” and “Mama Used to Say” among the more highly-regarded “lost gems” in my digital music library, and I kind of like how completely different they are and that both ended up here. Note that the British R&B singer Junior went on to re-record the song much more recently, but accept no substitutes: the original 1982 version is definitive. And talk about lost, whatever on earth became of Sinéad Lohan? What a fine late ’90s effort No Mermaid was, and it was even all over the radio back before an autocratic pop sheen was required for airplay. After just the one album, Lohan withdrew from the music scene without a peep, and while I completely respect the idea that someone would in fact want to withdraw from the music scene without a peep, she seemed a great talent, and I am sorry for the loss of whatever music she might have gone on to make. And yes, “I Do the Rock” walks a fine fine line between novelty song and legitimate musical contribution, but it put a smile on my face back in the day and is kind of fun to hear again in a day and age that can use some extra smiles.

Note that Mixcloud has now eliminated the capacity to see a song list on its site, no doubt due to licensing complications. In the notes over there I have linked back to this blog post, so that the song list (see below) is relatively handy for those who would like it.

“Fantastic Voyage” – David Bowie (Lodger, 1979)
“The Wind Blew All Around Me” – Mary Lou Lord (Baby Blue, 2004)
“One Chain Don’t Make No Prison” – The Four Tops (Meeting of the Minds, 1974)
“Solid Love” – Joni Mitchell (Wild Things Run Fast, 1982)
“MacDougal Blues” – Kevn Kinney (MacDougal Blues, 1990)
“Mindless Child of Motherhood” – The Kinks (Arthur, 1969)
“Hardships (Gospel Version)” – Jenny Wilson (b-side, 2010)
“Mama Used to Say” – Junior (Ji, 1982)
“Whatever It Takes” – Sinéad Lohan (No Mermaid, 1998)
“I Always Knew” – The Vaccines (Come of Age, 2012)
“Shake the Disease” – Depeche Mode (single, 1985)
“Full Speed” – Claude Bolling (Qui?, 1969)
“This Is Love” – PJ Harvey (Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea, 2000)
“I Do the Rock” – Tim Curry (Fearless, 1979)
“Baby It’s You” – Smith (A Group Called Smith, 1969)
“Pretty Deep” – Tanya Donelly (Lovesongs for Underdogs, 1997)
“100 Yard Dash” – Raphael Saadiq (The Way I See It, 2008)
“So Long” – Fischer-Z (Going Deaf for a Living, 1980)
“Heart is Strange” – School of Seven Bells (Disconnect from Desire, 2010)
“Slapstick Heart” – Sam Phillips (Omnipop, 1996)

As for Spotify, we get a poor version of the playlist there this time around, as the widely-used streaming service is missing four of the songs I have included on this list—five, really, since the only version they have of “Mama Used to Say” is the inferior newer version. I didn’t expect the obscure Claude Bolling instrumental to be available, and am not surprised “I Do the Rock” is missing also. But Sinéad Lohan? Sam Phillips? Both released on major labels?

But, for those who find Spotify more convenient, here is the link, which yields the 16-song version, with all sorts of spoiled segues:

Free and legal MP3: Indianapolis Jones (part discipline, part freakout)

Despite its skittering bass line, centrally employed syncopation, and a smattering of funky guitar riffs, “Not Ghosts Yet” has a pleasing fluidity about it.

Indianapolis Jones

“Not Ghosts Yet” – Indianapolis Jones

Part disciplined indie rocker, part psychedelic freakout, “Not Ghosts Yet” is an accomplished amalgam; despite its skittering bass line, centrally employed syncopation, and a smattering of funky guitar riffs, the song has a pleasing fluidity about it. I’m thinking this has a lot to do with the decisiveness of its two-part verse and two-part chorus, which shift us through the song’s sung sections with energetic finesse. To my ears, the central moment here is the second part of the verse, with the falsetto voice and the delightfully syncopated melody line (first heard at 0:46). There’s something in this that sounds so smart and apt that it reminds me why I personally love leaving music to the professionals.

“Not Ghosts Yet” features two extended instrumental breaks, which might seem either aimless or hypnotic, depending on your mood. The first features spacey synthesizers and prerecorded voices, the second, which closes out the song, leaves off the voices and manages to evoke any number of ’70s bands in a rather pleasant and surprising way.

Indianapolis Jones is an Atlanta-based trio rather over-ambitiously being billed as a “supergroup” based on the various bands with which its members have been previously associated. I’ve only heard of two of the 10 “name” bands mentioned myself; your mileage may vary but I vote for gently withdrawing them from supergroup consideration and just enjoying the music they are now making together.

“Not Ghosts Yet” is from the debut Indianapolis Jones EP, self-titled, which was released at the end of April.

Free and legal MP3: The Shoe (delicate & determined)

“Dead Rabbit Hopes” has a mesmerizing matter-of-factness about it, creating a serious flow with the gentlest of beats.

The Shoe

“Dead Rabbit Hopes” – The Shoe

Delicate and determined, “Dead Rabbit Hopes” is the shy girl who is not really shy at all, just uninterested in attracting attention via normal channels. “I am hungry for you/I am chewing straight through you”—see? Not so shy. The song has a mesmerizing matter-of-factness about it, creating a serious flow with the gentlest of beats. The lyrics, actually, have this odd way of sounding like they might have otherwise been rapped but instead have floated into a sweet, interval-jumping melody.

The vocalist for The Shoe by the way is actress Jena Malone and if you are initially skeptical of her seriousness as a musician look no further than this quote from a recent online interview: “I’m still trying to write like ‘Cortez the Killer.’ I want it to happen one day.” She has me at “Cortez the Killer.” Her partner in the odd, improvisation-fueled musical project that is The Shoe is Lem Jay Ignacio, a Los Angeles area musician and composer who himself was profiled in the New York Times way back in 2000 for being a pioneer in the field of creating music and audio effects for the web. He told the Times: “It’s exciting to think of sound not as a melody or phrase but as tiny frozen and unfrozen specks of sonic sparkle.” He has me at “specks of sonic sparkle.” Clearly these two oddballs are meant for each other; they have in fact been noodling around musically since 2008.

As for the strange normal-ness of “Dead Rabbit Hopes,” Malone in the same previously cited interview gives us a handhold on what she may be singing about, here: “It’s a metaphor saying that sometimes it is hard being a girl,” she is quoted as saying. “It is so easy to feel so far removed from your beauty. You end up valuing other people’s value of it.” Even if that doesn’t completely clarify anything, I respect the insight. The song appears on the debut album from The Shoe, entitled I’m Okay, released earlier this month via Community Music and There Was An Old Woman Records (as in “who lived in a…).

Free and legal MP3: Joe Marson (soulful, w/ great restraint)

“Love You Safely” is an unexpected shot of pure soul music: deep, heartfelt, and effortlessly melodic.

Joe Marson

“Love You Safely” – Joe Marson

“Love You Safely” is an unexpected shot of pure soul music: deep, heartfelt, and beautifully crafted. This last bit is extremely important, at least to me. It’s one thing to set up a soulful groove and emote in a rich and convincing way, it’s another to do it while you happen to be singing a song that is itself rich and convincing.

The minimal but evocative introduction grabs attention immediately, with its muted, percussive guitar lick and terse, strategic organ fill. The verse begins before anything else kicks in, and Marson clearly doesn’t need much more than his voice to command the stage. (That the first word he sings is the name “Sara” sounds like a nice hat-tip to his blue-eyed soul progenitors, Daryl and John.) And yet he keeps the reins on his voice at nearly every moment, understanding how much more powerful understatement is than overstatement. Likewise the song’s accompaniment, which consistently dials itself back in the service of greater power and persuasion. And so the 10 or 12 seconds in the song where Marson cuts loose vocally (beginning around 2:50)—and still, probably, just a hint of what he might be capable of—is all the more moving and effective. Even the song’s title is a sort of understatement, breaking as it does the usual rule of deriving from a song’s most repeated phrase.

All the while the heart of “Love Your Safely” is its sturdy chorus, which unearths great power (not to mention a killer hook) in a simple, down-stepping melody. In music you don’t usually have to reinvent the wheel, you just have to take it for a good ride.

Born in San Diego, the itinerant Marson has ended up (where else?) in Brooklyn. “Love You Safely” is the first song made available from his EP Electric Soul Magic, due out in July. He has previously released one EP and one full-length album. Thanks to Largehearted Boy for the head’s up.

The Narcissism of Free

Rather than seeing pro-piracy arguments through the lens of copyright policy or economic theory or under the all-purpose banner of technological progress, let’s finally view them for what they are: the arguments of unrepentant narcissists.

Not long ago, the widespread establishment of legal streaming services online was seen as a possible or even probable antidote to piracy. If legal options were available for people to access the music they wanted to listen to, piracy would become both less necessary and less attractive, and the music industry could begin a slow and steady recovery. This ideally would involve actual musicians being able to earn money from the music they created, if or when listeners want to listen to it.1

Such was the theory. In practice, legal streaming has turned into piracy’s smaller, more attractive, but still kind of icky younger brother. While this may change in the future (although no one can yet say how2), so far, streaming services have struggled with the concept of compensating musicians with much more integrity than pirates do (and pirates, of course, don’t).

The problem at one level appears to be structural—endemic to the complicated landscape of licensing and rights and things most of us don’t want to think about but which directly affect both the ability and the desire of corporate entities to compensate artists fairly.

But beneath the legalistic difficulties is something at once simpler and more challenging—the fact that great numbers of music listeners in the year 2014 don’t seem to view music as something they either want or need to pay for.

Many consider this, at its heart, a generational problem, as it does seem to be the under-30 crowd who are most committed to a not-buying-music lifestyle. But generational generalizations are tiresome and pointless. First, a news flash: not everyone who is the same general age exhibits the same behavior.3 Second, has there ever been an upcoming generation in the U.S. that hasn’t been scorned for its various and profound inadequacies? Lastly, just who was it who raised these youngsters to be such reprehensible citizens in the first place?

And even if it is younger people who are most disinclined to buy music, I still say the problem isn’t generational. I see it as an issue that digs deep into the uncomfortable recesses of human nature, and the systems we create in an effort to live together.

Vigorously anti-social

I am talking in particular about capitalism and its tetchy relationship with compassion and fairness. Because, unless counteracted via law or custom or both, the basic capitalist desire to accrue wealth has at its heart a vigorously anti-social aspect. To accumulate MY money, I must as often as possible get it or take it, in one way or another, from YOU (“you” being anyone “not me”). The easiest way to effect this successfully is to think as little about YOU as possible, and as much about ME. If I in fact can convince myself that that YOUR concerns are either nonexistent or in any case meaningless, then it’s much easier for ME to do what it takes to keep accumulating money. For ME.

Another way of saying all this is that capitalism is an inherently narcissistic enterprise.

The urge to seek the lowest prices possible on anything and everything is part of this mindset, and so, obviously, is the widespread 21st-century belief that creative output such as music and films can and should be accessible without any cost to the end user. In a way, piracy as practiced on the internet is simply the inherent narcissism of capitalism taken to its logical extreme: I don’t have to spend MY money, and I still get YOUR stuff! How cool is that?

But it’s not just piracy. Now that legal streaming has been established to satisfy the same narcissistic urges as piracy previously has, it is simply reinforcing the self-centered belief in the necessity of free, while acquiring the veneer of respectability in the process. So on the one hand it’s legal, and some people are actually paying for it, which seems positive; on the other hand, free and/or super-low-cost, unlimited streaming leaves the people who actually create the music everyone still wants to listen to poorly compensated at best. Even engaged listeners are often not paying listeners.4

The harm in the situation extends far beyond injustice to the creators. We can’t have inequity at the heart of a cultural system and not harm ourselves in the long run. No good ever comes from bowing to the petulant demands of narcissism. Music as an endless, free, all-you-can-eat buffet? Does this really seem like a good idea? All I can bring to mind are those bloated, immobile humans from the movie WALL-E, who found themselves convenienced and pampered into uselessness. Our appetites are designed to be sated, not given over to without cessation. Nourishment turns noxious without a sense of limit.

The cumulative wisdom of human history

And yet those engaged in the cultural gorging appear to feel little but entitlement. It would seem that the unprecedented appearance of items of value in an effectual state of free—i.e., songs, in digital form—flipped a switch in our collective consciousness that activated the narcissistic tendency that lurks no doubt in all of us, but which most of us are civilized into de-emphasizing. Like looters during an urban blackout, we found the free stuff too tempting. Perhaps all it ever takes for narcissism to bust loose of its inner reigns is the assurance that we won’t get caught when we give in to it.

Among the many reasons I have always found the “music should be free” arguments so infuriating is the self-serving illogic of the basic premise. Freeloaders are saying on the one hand that they value music enough to want as much of it as they can cram onto their hard drives, or pile into streaming playlists, and yet on the other hand that it has no value at all, since they don’t want to pay for it.

And here exactly is where the underlying narcissism is most exposed. For a 21st-century music fan to say both “I value this so much that I am hoarding it” and “I refuse to pay for it” requires him (or her; usually him) to overlook the cumulative history and wisdom of humanity itself, all for the sake of his own personal gain.

Which is to say that since the beginning of human civilization, a basic, necessary rule has been in place when it comes to the exchange of goods and services. The underlying premise is: you want something from me, you pay for it. That payment may be in the form of bartering for goods and/or services of an equivalent value, or it may be in the form of agreed-upon currency. Yes, there have always been people who have decided to reject this system for their own benefit, and we have a name for these people. We call them criminals.

The fact that what a person may want in the 21st century exists as a digital file does not nullify the workings of civilization. A digital file is still a thing, it is still something that someone may desire to have, and, if the owner of the file is asking a price for it, then it is not up to the person who wants the file to decide that he gets it for free.

It is definitely not up to this same person to invent rationalizations to “prove” that he deserves it for free (“Piracy is not theft,” “The marginal costs of a digital file are zero,” et al.).5 But of course this is exactly what a narcissist, ever convinced simultaneously of his own entitlement and infallibility, would want and need to do. Narcissists do not tend to be shy and retiring.

A wave of narcissistic delusion

All of which is not to imply that the only people who have helped themselves to unauthorized MP3s online are full-on, clinically-defined narcissists. A sizable number of empathetic, socially-attuned people have slipped to the dark side of the issue all but unknowingly. I would bet that a lot of folks who have routinely downloaded illegally distributed MP3s not only don’t think of themselves as pirates, but barely recognize they are doing anything at all untoward.

As for those who are simply employing legal streaming services, they are quite literally doing nothing wrong at all in the eyes of the law.

But you don’t have to be a narcissist to have been addled by a collective wave of narcissistic delusion. For it is widespread narcissistic behavior that seems to have tilted the scale here. The extreme position of “everything for free” has been all but normalized—the loudest voices in the room willfully squelching the gentler voices of reason, a radical agenda hidden behind re-defined and incredibly self-serving concepts of “innovation” and “disruption.”6

What’s more, the aggressive force of collective narcissism has rushed in to fill the natural intellectual vacuum most of us would otherwise have on matters of artist rights and such in the first place. This is especially true of the generation of young people making the transition from child to adult here in the 21st century, who only know the environment in which they were born and raised.

So loud and insistent have been the narcissistic voices of “give me what I want for free” that any number of musicians themselves have been swept up in the fever. I encounter bands semi-regularly who seem proud of their determination to offer all their songs for free, because that’s how to get their music “out there.” And yet this is not the public service they seem to believe it is; it is, rather, its own sort of narcissistic misconception, grounded in the self-centered idea that everyone can and should love you, that they should gorge themselves on your music, that the only thing standing in the way of widespread adulation is the minor detail of payment.7

This is a fever that can and must break. Some of us have to have enough perspective to understand that the narcissist’s way is a cultural and societal dead end, much the way the extreme libertarianism that it often aligns with is a dead end. Civilization is impossible if driven by a philosophy fixated on the primacy and the freedom of the Self while consistently resisting any effort to extend compassion or sympathy (or payment!) to other Selves. There’s a good reason we don’t let toddlers run the day care center.

Piracy and/or free music for all is not innovation; it is a breach in the social contract. Narcissists innately do not understand the social contract. The rest of us know better. We need to start using louder voices.

1. Let us all please remember, briefly, that society does not owe all musicians a so-called living wage simply because they are musicians. What we do owe them is money for music that they make if we like it enough to want to have access to it on demand, and if they are seeking payment for it.

2. So it’s probably not going to change.

3. Surely there are plenty of younger people out there who are in fact buying music; we should be encouraging them, not insulting them with blanket assumptions.

4. In point of fact, the streaming system as currently constructed is entirely unsustainable, based on how little those who are paying are, in fact, paying. See a recent post by The Cynical Musician for a much more in-depth discussion of why low-priced, all-you-can-eat streaming is a house of cards waiting to be blown down.

5. By the way, can we put an end once and for all to the ridiculous, toddler-like argument of “Hey, I didn’t take anything, he still has his own copy!” The people who pull this one out hope you will be so dazzled by their legalistic dissection of what constitutes “theft” that you will ignore the clear fact that violation of the law and/or general wrongdoing does not depend exclusively upon “taking” something. (If you set a tent up in someone’s backyard without permission, you are still violating their rights, while taking nothing.) To take MP3s without permission is to gain unauthorized access to an artist’s work. This is a violation of the creator’s rights, plain and simple.

6. Digital ideologues routinely point to the concept of “stifling innovation” as just about the most awful crime imaginable. Never mind that the pro-piracy folks themselves continue to stifle any effort at innovation when it comes to properly compensating artists

7. I am not trying to be harsh here. I know that bands who offer their music for free are really just trying to do what they believe to be the right thing, out of the goodness of their hearts. I use this example precisely to show how mixed up the narcissistic underpinning of the “free music” movement has gotten everyone.

Free and legal MP3: The Van Doos (new rock’n’roll inspired by the old)

Combining melodies that gaze back towards the ’50s with the structural intricacies of 21st-century indie rock and the crowd-pleasing sing-along-iness of timeless pop.

The Van Doos

“Airborne” – The Van Doos

Long-time readers may be familiar with my affection for new rock’n’roll that tips its hat to the old while still standing with its feet planted in the here and now. This is my sweet spot, unabashedly so. The Van Doos pretty much knock the ball out of the park in this regard, combining melodies that gaze back towards the ’50s with the structural intricacies of 21st-century indie rock and the crowd-pleasing sing-along-iness of timeless pop. Instrumentation is rooted in classic rock, but listen closely and enjoy the disciplined crunch of the guitars, the delightfully elastic bass line, and the strategic use of castanets, among other things. I do love the strategic use of castanets.

(Now then, some might claim that any band using merely traditional rock’n’roll instruments, as opposed to laptops and digital manipulations and such, is by definition not standing with its feet planted in the here and now. I scoff at such short-sightedness and ask time to referee this battle. Come back in 30 years and we’ll see how things stand.)

Another wonderful aspect of “Airborne” is how much of a journey the song takes us on, in under four minutes, while still feeling easy to absorb rather than obtuse. The band employs an array of subtle flourishes to add depth while remaining approachable, from the sparse arrangement of the opening verse to the unexpected, simultaneous rhythm and key change at 1:00 to the offbeat structure of a song that seems not to have a chorus but a really enticing secondary verse, heard once (beginning at 1:05), immediately repeated, and then abandoned for the accumulating momentum of the rest of the song. Cool stuff, truly.

The Van Doos are a relatively new quartet from North Yorkshire, in the U.K. “Airborne” is a song from their forthcoming debut album, perspicaciously entitled Fingertips.

Free and legal MP3: Orenda Fink (unhurried and mysterious)

Smoky with simmering passion, “Ace of Cups” is a minimal yet enticing brew of contradictions.

Orenda Fink

“Ace of Cups” – Orenda Fink

Smoky with simmering passion, “Ace of Cups” is a minimal yet alluring brew of contradictions, beginning with the way this clearly articulated song of precise, simple words and sentences adds nevertheless up to an oracular mystery. The “you” addressed in the lyrics is at one point a man, another point a woman. The ocean and/or sea seems at once a place that beckons and threatens. Likewise love is sung about as a force at one moment dangerous, another moment redemptive. Finally, Fink herself sings with a calm lucidity even while delivering the repeated lyric in the chorus, “You can fill up my cup/I’ll take it cool, I’ll take you rough.”

The music, meanwhile, is unhurried and contained, its gentle sheen contradicted subtly by two separate varieties of fuzzed-up keyboards—the soft, blurry sound you can hear at the end of the lines in the verses, and then the harsher, higher-pitched, buzzier synth that punctuates the chorus. Even the guitar solo (2:51) implies more than it reveals; a repeating III interval, its minimalist yearning continues into the rest of the song, adding a pining solidity to the chorus’s final repetition.

Some knowledge of the titular tarot card clarifies a little, but not much. The Ace of Cups is a card associated with emotional expression, including the possibility of love and intimacy, but typically with spiritual undertones. The love we are ultimately opened to with the Ace of Cups is love in the broadest sense, rooted in love of self and extending into love of life in all its facets. But, just as tarot cards themselves resist one easy interpretation, so too this “Ace of Cups.”

You’ll find the song on Fink’s forthcoming album Blue Dream, to be released in August on Saddle Creek Records, where it is now available for pre-order on CD and on vinyl. This is Fink’s third solo album. She remains best known as half of the duo Azure Ray, but on her own has been a Fingertips favorite over the years, featured here in 2005 (for the still-stirring song, “Bloodline“) and again in 2009, and also as half of the duo O+S, who were likewise featured in 2009. Thanks to Largehearted Boy for the lead.

photo credit: Bill Sitzmann

Free and legal MP3: Sam Roberts Band (quasi-funky neo-psychedelia)

An assured piece of quasi-funky neo-psychedelia, complete with ear-grabbing guitar licks and a brain-sticking chorus.

Sam Roberts Band

“We’re All In This Together” – Sam Roberts Band

I would understand if Sam Roberts feels he was born in the wrong time and place. His accessible, smartly-produced, effortlessly melodic brand of rock’n’roll would’ve been all over the radio 40 years ago. Today, such music struggles for air. And it’s not like SRB is selling nostalgia; their songs have as crisp and contemporary a sound as music can have in 2014 while making no effort to pander to the EDM crowd. Good thing these guys happen to be from Canada, where they have a good strong following, and where popular taste remains admirably catholic, at least compared to what goes on here in the U.S.

“We’re All In This Together,” in any case, is an assured piece of quasi-funky neo-psychedelia, complete with ear-grabbing guitar licks, a brain-sticking chorus, and the buoyant vibe of a quintet still happy to be playing together. (I love, as one example, how the spiffy lyric “It’s a phenomenon/That goes on and on” [1:23] is so casually offered and moved on from; this is a band used to having tricks up its sleeve.) While the verses sound like a sped-up retake of David Essex’s “Rock On” (not a bad thing!), the song breaks open on the unexpectedly aspirational chorus, which—neat trick—encourages joining in both literally and figuratively, working as an almost touching reminder in our hyper-partisan times. I mean sheesh, yes. We are: in this together. How oblivious or narcissistic do you have to be to disregard this most basic truth? And sorry. Didn’t mean to get all soapboxy. It’s just a pop song. Have fun.

“We’re All In This Together” comes from the fifth Sam Roberts Band album, entitled Lo-Fantasy, which was released in February on Paper Bag Records, but lacked any free and legal downloads until recently. You can grab the song above, as usual, or download it via SoundCloud. The band was featured previously on Fingertips in 2006.

I was sure until they asked me

Eclectic Playlist Series, Vol. 6 – May 2014

Eclectic-Vol-6

Welcome back to the Fingertips Eclectic Playlist Series, my ongoing attempt to make sense of 50-plus years of rock’n’roll music. It’s a tough job but somebody has to do it. Or not, perhaps—look, after all, at the strictly segregated way music tends to be presented online, broken almost always into playlists devoted to specific genres and/or specific decades. Isn’t it just a tiny bit more interesting, not to mention aurally enlightening, to hear late-’80s Paul Kelly segueing into current Arctic Monkeys banging loudly into a fierce piece of early ’90s singer/songwriter goodness from Brenda Kahn? Isn’t it more interesting to hear a track you might have forgotten (“Jeannette”) from a band you might not have forgotten? Not to mention a cool-sounding song you might never have heard in the first place? (I’m thinking “Iron for the Iron” is this time the most obscure number, especially as it remains unavailable on Spotify; see further discussion below.) I know such eclecticism is not for everyone but I also know that “the public wants what the public gets,” so some of this is just a matter of going against the grain and figuring that increasing numbers of people will catch on over time. Or not, and I’ll still have fun.

Note that as of this month, I will be anchoring the playlists on Mixcloud rather than Spotify. Spotify users will still find the lists available there, but, to be blunt, the Spotify lists are just not as good as the Mixcloud ones, and haven’t been from the start. The main reason Mixcloud is better is that each time I make one of these lists, I end up selecting one or two songs that are not available on Spotify. I try to make substitutions in these cases, but I’m not happy about it. On Mixcloud, I am physically uploading the playlist so all songs remain the same.

As a bonus, the playlists on Mixcloud have genuine, radio-like segues rather than randomly different amounts of dead air.

I encourage you to listen via Mixcloud, which is as easy to do as clicking the button below. You don’t have to visit the site, you don’t have to sign up for anything, and proper licensing fees are being paid. The track listing is available simply by scrolling within the Mixcloud widget, here:

This playlist also exists on Spotify, but in a bastardized version. Two songs come up missing on Spotify: the awesome cover of “You Can Call Me Al” by the band Chamberlin, from 2012, and the largely forgotten new-wave-era single “Iron for the Iron,” from the British band the Planets, which was released in 1980. I replaced the Chamberlin track with a song from the band Zeus but the Planets song I just left out. The Spotify playlist has 19 songs instead of the usual 20.

But if Spotify is your thing, here you are:

Free and legal MP3: Armand Margjeka (brisk pace, laid-back vibe)

Combining a brisk pace with a laid-back vibe, “Hummingbird” likewise merges a warm acoustic aura with electronic effects.

Armand Margjeka

“Hummingbird” – Armand Margjeka

Combining a brisk pace with a laid-back vibe, “Hummingbird” likewise merges a warm acoustic aura with electronic effects. Margjeka processes his voice in a megaphone-y way that manages to bridge all these polarities: he sounds at once urgent and relaxed, confessional and remote.

Ultimately it is the narrator’s brain being compared to the titular creature here, which explains the song’s rapid pulse and the jittery guitar sound that first surfaces in the background at 0:52 and comes back, in the foreground, around 3:10. As motion-oriented as the song is, there’s also a kind of serenity about its focused, recycling melodies and its deliberately placed sounds—again a kind of echo of the hummingbird, which flutters its wings faster than the eye can see even while floating carefully in one place. I am especially drawn to the insistent verse melody and its upturned conclusion, the ongoing repetitions of which accumulate in my awareness with an edgy kind of poignancy.

Margjeka was born in Albania, and was schooled in the basics of rock’n’roll, not to mention English itself, through recordings and videos that made their way into the country in the post-Wall ’90s. At 18, he emigrated to the U.S. and eventually settled in Birmingham, Alabama. After recording two EPs with an alt-country band called Buffalo Black, Margjeka released the solo album Margo Margo in 2011. “Hummingbird” is the title track to his sophomore release, coming out next month via both PIPEANDGUN and Communicating Vessels. MP3 via Magnet Magazine.