“Last One” – Cerrone and Christine and the Queens

Buoyant neo-Italo-disco

“Last One” – Cerrone and Christine and the Queens

If this sounds like quintessential Italo-disco there’s good reason: the artist known simply as Cerrone, a Frenchman with Italian parents, was a pioneer in the pulsating, glistening genre back in the late ’70s. After encountering Rahim Redcar (whose intermittent performing name is Christine and the Queens) when both participated in events during the 2024 Paris Olympics and Paralympics, Cerrone and Redcar came together this year to release a four-track EP in July called Catching Feelings.

“Last One” is a splendid example of what these two can do as a team, Cerrone with his dynamic and shimmering beats, Christine and the Queens with their impassioned vocals and intrinsic sense of drama. The chorus is a particular delight, the one-measure instrumental lead-ins to each lyrical line lending a syncopated feel to what is actually an on-the-beat melody. And while I’m not a groove-oriented listener (at all) I’m ongoingly impressed here by the diversity of sound and feel of Cerrone’s creations–this isn’t just a push-button backing track but a calculated mixture of unabashed electronics and drumming that sounds organic (Cerrone did begin musical life as a drummer so that might even be him with the sticks). That said, I also like the moment mid-song where the beat is stripped away, increasing the theatrics with a less-is-more gesture. Likewise I urge you not to miss the 10-ish-second fadeout, with its subtle assortment of shutdown sounds.

You can check out the EP, and buy it, via Bandcamp. And for those who may not have seen it, I’ll use the opportunity to send you to YouTube to see one of my all-time favorite videos: Christine and the Queens’ endlessly riveting performance of “Tilted.”

photo credit: Thomas Spault

“The Day Is Long Enough” – Claire Barbour

Lovely, vulnerable

“The Day Is Long Enough” – Claire Barbour

“The Day is Long Enough” begins with a lovely sense of spacious vulnerability, and doesn’t take long to show off its fetching chorus. The 21-year-old Claire Barbour sings with both authority and reserve as the song combines lo-fi immediacy with a sneaky sense of production know-how. The simple, engaging melodies provide a throughline for a song that slowly transforms itself from bedroom ambiance to, by 1:47, the feel of a full (if gentle) band playing, a transition preceded by Barbour providing us with an unexpected taste of airy, jazz-inflected singing starting at 1:26.

And remember that gorgeous chorus that gets introduced near the beginning? This smartly crafted song withholds the chorus’s lyrical and musical resolution until its third and final iteration, as Barbour at last completes her thought that begins with “I can’t say it all enough,” singing, at 2:22, with wonderful offhand phrasing, “how the light makes me high.” The song, it turns out, is at least partially about those famously long Scandinavian summer days.

There is not much yet to learn online about Claire Barbour. Her submission letter here identifies her as “Stockholm/New York based” and notes that she was born in New England; her internet trail at this point is all but nonexistent. “The Day is Long Enough” was released last month on Hvilan Grammofon, an independent label based in Stockholm.

I wish I could believe you

Eclectic Playlist Series 12.04 (July 2025)

Yet another overdue playlist! Life issues have been intervening here in 2025 but I remain grateful for the opportunity to continue to share these mixes when I have the wherewithal to plan one out and put it all online. For those keeping score at home, fully 12 of the 20 artists in this month’s mix are appearing in the Eclectic Playlist Series for the first time. Reminder that house rules prohibit any given artist from appearing more than once in a calendar year. Reminder too that, against all conventions on the internet, I aim to distribute the music evenly across the decades. Might as well keep the robots puzzled if nothing else. Here’s what your dog-days-of-summer-2025 playlist looks like here in Fingertips World:

1. “Breathing Underwater” – Metric (Synthetica, 2012)
2. “Too Late” – Shoes (Present Tense, 1979)
3. “Dark Ages” – Eliza Gilkyson (Dark Ages, 2025)
4. “It Didn’t Work Out” – Michael Chapman (Rainmaker, 1969)
5. “Somewhere Else” – Kathleen Edwards (Back To Me, 2005)
6. “Kidney Bingos” – Wire (A Bell is a Cup…Until it is Struck, 1988)
7. “Red Wooden Beads” – John & Mary (Victory Gardens, 1991)
8. “Picture Window” – Japanese Breakfast (For Melancholy Brunettes [& sad women], 2025)
9. “Intermission” – Mary Lou Williams (Zoning, 1974)
10. “Viva La Vida” – Coldplay (Viva La Vida or Death and All His Friends, 2008)
11. “We Don’t Have to Go Out Tonight” – Death in the Afternoon (Death in the Afternoon, 2015)
12. “Et moi, et moi, et moi” – Jacques Dutronc (Jacques Dutronc, 1966)
13. “Sweethearts Together” – The Rolling Stones (Voodoo Lounge, 1994)
14. “Lipstick on the Glass” – Wolf Alice (Blue Weekend, 2021)
15. “A Million Miles Away” – The Plimsouls (Everywhere At Once, 1983)
16. “Turn This Thing Around” – El Presidente (El Presidente, 2005)
17. “Need Your Love” – The Notations (single, 1972)
18. “Come As You Are” – Nirvana (Nevermind, 1991)
19. “Not Today” – Mattiel (Mattiel, 2017)
20. “Break Away” – The Beach Boys (single, 1969)

Random notes:

* In a just world, Eliza Gilkyson’s “Dark Ages” would by now be our country’s unofficial anthem. Do your part, at least, and play it, loudly and repeatedly. She names names (except when she purposefully doesn’t), pulls no punches, and sings like a hero. The 74-year-old Gilkyson has more grit and guts than most performers half her age.

* “Kidney Bingos” is for all appearances a nonsense song: while composed of English words, the lyrics nonetheless make no normal kind of sense even as the song carries you amiably along. I like this combination of accessibility and inaccessibility. If AI managed to spit out these lyrics it would be a pointless glitch; with human intention behind it everything is different. Try to remember that.

* Mary Lou Williams was an American jazz pianist and composer of great talent and stature. Her recording career spanned more than three decades; she was friends and collaborators with many of the genre’s giants, including Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker. Not a jazz aficionado myself, I only recently stumbled on her work, starting with Zodiac Suite, her debut recording, released in 1945. A series of 12 interrelated pieces, each one based on one of the signs of the zodiac, the album is considered a landmark recording for its fusion of jazz and classical elements. “Intermission” comes from her 1974 LP Zoning.

* El Presidente was a promising Scottish band with a short career in the mid-’00s, who seem to have disappeared without a trace. “Turn This Thing Around” is a super confident piece of neo-glam rock; it was featured here on Fingertips way back in 2006.

* The Illinois quartet Shoes (no “the” please) were formed in Zion, Illinois in 1974. They had their moment in the sun in the late ’70s and early ’80s during the brief ascendancy of power-pop-oriented new wave music. This included the band’s being among the first featured when MTV launched in August 1981. Shoes continued in an off-and-on way through to the release of Ignition in 2012, their last album of new material. All these decades later, “Too Late” remains an impeccable exemplar of the difficult-to-pin-down power pop genre.

* There appears to be nothing on the internet to corroborate the fact that there was a British girl group called The Notations–Google’s AI assistant denies their existence–and yet, go figure, “Need Your Love” by a group called The Notations is in fact a track on a compilation album called Right Back Where We Started From: Female Pop and Soul in Seventies Britain. AI does like to make things up. (Just like humans!) Things are muddied by the existence of a male soul group called The Notations; they are often misidentified as the band behind “Need Your Love,” which they most assuredly are not. Beyond the indisputable fact of their existence, however, the female British group called The Notations are a mystery I haven’t been able to solve. Cool song, however!

* I do not need to add to the outpouring of tributes posted in the aftermath of Brian Wilson’s death last month. But what I am happy to do is continue to dive into the man’s vast discography ever on the lookout for hidden gems. “Break Away” was released as a non-album single in 1969, having been recorded during the sessions that produced the album Sunflower. The song was co-written by Wilson and his father Murry, who used the pen name Reggie Dunbar. It’s not clear whether the father and son co-wrote any other songs; what is clear is that Murry Wilson presented as a complex and often troubling presence in his sons’ lives. You can read about this elsewhere if you’re interested.

“Fading” – Steel Wool

Laid back melodic fuzz

“Fading” – Steel Wool

There’s a deep Wall-of-Sound blur to the aural landscape here–try as the ear might to discern what exactly is doing what and when to create the murky clamor of noise that underpins “Fading,” explanations are not forthcoming. No matter: the song’s amiable melodies and Sean Lissner’s laid-back vocals combine with the amorphous noise to create an oddly welcoming environment.

But things change. At 1:37 a trap door opens and the background din shifts forward and seems now to be constructed, at least partially, of intersecting screams. For some 35 seconds we are embroiled in something of a sonic bad dream, where strangled words fall short of comprehension, the listener offered no immediate way out except to focus on the unflappable lead guitar line that competes concurrently with the noise. (The screaming is real, and credited to bassist Jaden Amjadi.) Things slide back to the previously established noise norm but with a residual edge; there’s a sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop. The song goes on to revisit its two previous responses: at 3:04, Lissner reprises his reassuring “oo-oo”s, first heard around 1:07; but, as before, these are followed by the disorienting scream-noise. The song seeks simultaneously to soothe and agitate. As does the world at large.

Steel wool, a material at once tough and fuzzy, seems oddly apt to the sonic palette this Los Angeles-based quartet produces. “Fading” is a track from the band’s five-song self-titled EP, which was released in April. You can listen to it and buy it, for a price of your choosing, via Bandcamp.

“Take It Out On Me” – Smug Brothers

Incisive, immediate, well-built

“Take It Out On Me” – Smug Brothers

The Columbus, Ohio-based Smug Brothers return to Fingertips with more of their durable lo-fi pop rock, in which the “pop” has little to do with its contemporary usage but refers rather to the platonic ideal of modern music that’s incisive, immediate, and admirably well-built. This is the pop of “power pop” and “jangle pop” but less confining. It’s music made by humans with three-dimensional instruments and a reflexive predilection for the Beatlesque.

This song’s particular charms are rooted in the way it ongoingly anchors its melodies away from the downbeat (i.e., the first beat in a 4/4 measure). This creates a slinky, seductive atmosphere in which the song becomes its own backstory–a propulsive backbeat on the one hand, melodies that weave between the lines on the other. Kyle Melton’s sturdy vocals begin the verses within a megaphone filter, inviting us to lean in, before allowing his Tweedy-ish tone to fully inhabit a song that eschews narrative for the stringing together of evocative lyrical phrases. All in all these guys operate so far from what passes for popular music here in 2025 that I can nearly imagine a moment of cultural whiplash that would bring them straight to the forefront of the zeitgeist. Don’t laugh: any indie band forever remains one canny song placement away from if not fortune then at least fame.

“Take It Out On Me” is a song from the 11th Smug Brothers album, entitled Stuck on Beta, released earlier this month on Anyway Records; check it out via Bandcamp. MP3 courtesy of the band. The band has also released seven EPs and nine singles, all of which are also up there on Bandcamp. The band has previously been featured here in 2023 and 2019.

“Solar Babes” – Storm Recorder

Brisk, poignant guitar rock

“Solar Babes” – Storm Recorder

Driven by brisk, clangy guitar chords, “Solar Babes” has an unmistakable poignancy about it, even as I can’t quite put my finger on what’s driving that impression. Some of this seems built into Jesse LeGallais’ voice, with its fetching, slightly nasal timbre. Some of it may be generated by the verse’s insistent, two-chord melody, the sing-song-y quality of which creates an underlying innocence to the proceedings.

The chorus, comprising little more than the word “fight,” creates a passing sense of movement even as it’s still built on the same two-chord foundation. The breakthrough happens around 1:15, after one more round of verses: we find ourselves in an extended bridge or bridge-like section that offers the ear the sorts of chord progressions the song has previously withheld from us, and which sound all but heroic in context. Equally heroic is how the opening chords are re-cast at the end in a brief, quasi-Springsteen-esque conclusion (2:07). Wrapping up in under three minutes, the song invites and rewards multiple listens.

Storm Recorder is the Nova Scotia-based duo of LeGallais and Palmer Jamieson. LeGallais was based in Montreal for 15 years, playing in an assortment of bands, before moving to Halifax; Jamieson is a Halifax-based producer who runs his own studio. LeGallais initially intended to record a solo project with Jamieson. Their level of affinity ended up turning the record into a new, joint project called Storm Recorder. “Solar Babes” is the opening track on the album Always Coming Home, which they position as an homage to the Ursula LeGuin novel of the same name. A particular inspiration for the duo comes from a LeGuin quotation the band has posted on its Bandcamp page: “We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable–but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings.” These are words that feel especially welcome right about now. Thanks to LeGallais for the MP3.

I’m surprised that you even found me

Eclectic Playlist Series 12.03 – May 2025

I won’t continue to bemoan my country’s current situation via these posts, other than ongoingly try to be a voice of reason in the face of the inhumane madness of the man currently occupying the White House–a man so brave and strong that he cannot tolerate even one word of criticism. But we knew that about him. Laid bare, most discouragingly, is how the naked desire for power has warped an entire political party’s capacity to discern right from wrong. I guess it’s been coming for a while (see song #20, below) but here we are. The question now is where are we going.

But me, to avoid the despair, I’ve wrestled this latest set of songs more or less to the ground. Apologies in advance for at least one potentially clunky segue. I try. Meanwhile, from an obscure neo-surf-rock band to a pop megastar (that’s an actual segue), from lost soul nuggets to a hypnotic piece of contemporary classical music, it’s another unusual journey through the genres and the decades, but if you’re still reading this I’m guessing you’re up for it. Down with the algorithm, up with the human touch; here’s this month’s road map:

1. “Outside Chance” – The Turtles (single, 1966)
2. “Over and Over” – Shelby Lynne (Consequences of the Crown, 2024)
3. “Calhoun Surf” – Raybeats (Guitar Beat, 1981)
4. “State of Grace” – Taylor Swift (Red, 2012)
5. “Lay My Love” – Brian Eno & John Cale (Wrong Way Up, 1990)
6. “Stop, Look and Listen” – Barbara Acklin (B-side, 1971)
7. “Deep Red Bells” – Neko Case (Blacklisted, 2002)
8. “Glass: Études: No. 6” – Yuja Wang (The Vienna Recital, 2024)
9. “You Know What I Mean” – Cults (Cults, 2011)
10. “Mr. President (Have Pity On The Working Man)” – Randy Newman (Good Old Boys, 1974)
11. “Seven Steps” – Cassandra Wilson (Traveling Miles, 1999)
12. “Won’t You Give Him (One More Chance)” – Solomon Burke (Rock ‘n Soul, 1964)
13. “One Horse Town” – The Thrills (So Much For The City, 2003)
14. “Tell Me What You Want” – Daryl Hall & John Oates (Private Eyes, 1981)
15. “Want You” – Francis of Delirium (Lighthouse, 2024)
16. “8:05” – Moby Grape (Moby Grape, 2017)
17. “I’m the One That’s Leaving” – Bram Tchaikovsky (Strange Man, Changed Man, 1979)
18. “Back to Life (However Do You Want Me)” – Soul II Soul (Keep On Movin’, 1989)
19. “Box of Letters” – The Ericksons (Don’t Be Scared, Don’t Be Alarmed, 2010)
20. “Soldiers of Christ” – Jill Sobule (Happy Town, 1997)

Random notes:

* So sad and horrific to have lost Jill Sobule in a house fire, of all things. I would like to propose that there was far more to her catalog of music than “I Kissed a Girl” and “Supermodel,” even as those two songs on Spotify dwarf everything else she’s recorded by outlandish proportions. (“Supermodel” has 7.5 million streams; meanwhile, a great song like “One of These Days” has but 13K.) She was a songwriter who didn’t mince words or avoid political engagement, as you’ll see from the song I leave you with here–a song that shows off her toughness and poignancy and the drollness she served up with a large dollop of melancholy. And was she friggin’ prescient or what? This was 1997. I guess it reminds us that our country has always had its share of self-righteous hypocrites using religion as a shield for their bigotry (cf. the Civil War). Sorry about the derogatory word near the beginning; remember that Sobule, very much the LGBTQ+ activist, is singing here as an (extremely) unreliable narrator and this was still the ’90s. By the way, I can’t help thinking that she continually slurs the words “Our lord” throughout the song to sound more than a little like “Allah.” Just to bust some right-wing chops. I’ve always loved her close and quirky vocal style, which is on full display in what I have very purposefully selected as a closer. Poor Jill…but if anything resembling heaven actually exists (doubtful!), she’s a shoe-in, while the song’s benighted narrator and people like him or her would be in for a big surprise.

* Speaking of songwriters who don’t mince words or shy from controversial topics (or unreliable narrators for that matter), let’s welcome back to an EPS mix Mr. Randy Newman. Newman is a national treasure whom we really must keep remembering to appreciate while he is still with us. This rollicking yet oddly touching tune from 1974’s Good Old Boys presents a somewhat downtrodden but actually quite reliable narrator, who wonders aloud why the president doesn’t seem to care about working people. Talk about prescient. The arrangement is exquisite; listen in particular to how Newman uses the orchestration to resolve melodies. Absolutely nobody has ever written songs like Randy Newman when he’s on his game.

* Is that some Edge-y inspiration in “State of Grace”? One might say Taylor went a little out of control there…

* “Outside Chance” was a commercially unsuccessful single by the Turtles, but not only is it an excellent song (reminder: “popular” and “quality” are often unrelated concepts), the music was written by none other than Warren Zevon, long before he emerged as a well-respected singer/songwriter in his own right. I had placed this song here some weeks ago, before the news arrived of Zevon’s long-awaited if sideways induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. To whatever extent that institution is meaningful, Mr. Zevon’s long-standing exclusion was a black eye on the folks in charge of such things. The man in any case is still missed.

* For the uninitiated, the pianist Yuja Wang is as close to a rock star as the classical world (very occasionally) produces. The Chinese-born American performer has played with all the major American orchestras and most of the leading international ensembles as well. And while I have no ear for the seemingly minute but apparently very important nuances that separate one pianist’s mechanics and style from another, I know a good tune when I hear one. When Philip Glass manages to condense minimalism’s signature monotony into something concise and, dare I say, dramatic, he can produce music that’s accessible to audiences well beyond the academy and related cognoscenti, unlike too many of his contemporary classical composer peers.

* Francis of Delirium is not only notable in the rock’n’roll world for being from Luxembourg (a country not well known for cultural exports), they are impressive for their confident and compelling recordings. “Want You” is from the band’s debut album, Lighthouse, which came out in March 2024 and is well worth a listen. I featured “Blue Tuesday” from that album in a track review last year. And I also featured one of their earlier singles, in 2022, in a post that offers a short but effective recap of how this somewhat unusual band came about. Meanwhile, don’t sleep on “Want You,” which is one of 2024’s better if underappreciated songs.

* “Calhoun Surf” is a song with a long tail. It begins in 1980, when the songwriter and guitarist Danny Amis was in a band called the Overtones, who released the song on a local Minneapolis label. Amis left to join the New York City band Raybeats, who recorded the song themselves the next year. In 1988 Amis formed a new band, Los Straitjackets, which pretty quickly broke up but then reformed in 1994. The band included their own version of “Calhoun Surf” on their 1995 debut album. Los Straitjackets went on to much more widespread success and recognition than did either of Amis’ previous two outfits. He remained with the band through 2017; Los Straitjackets are still doing their thing, most recently recording an album with Nick Lowe in 2024.

“Serious Man” – Soltero

Brisk and thoughtful

“Serious Man” – Soltero

A confident burst of thoughtful indie rock, “Serious Man” hooks the ear first with its jangly guitar riff and then witih its characteristic time-signature hiccup, arising first as we hear the titular phrase around 0:13: those two extra beats required to fit the music to the words manage both to interrupt and to reaffirm the appealing flow. Nothing like a little asymmetry to make the world a better place in this age of overly perfected beats and AI-induced conformity. Nothing, too, like Tim Howard’s reassuring, unpolished voice, to remind us that we want and need human beings out there expressing themselves. (Why anyone would want to hear a machine expressing itself remains a puzzle to my organic brain and my beating heart.)

“Serious Man” is brisk and to the point, but also expansive enough to include some incisive octave harmonies, some scratchy guitar work, and, as unexpected as it is welcome, a bass solo (1:35-1:47). Best of all is the underlying sense of humor that subtly supports the enterprise, knowingly undercutting the singer’s effort to assert his seriousness. It’s not laugh out loud humor, at all; it’s weary-acceptance-of-the-human condition humor. Although Howard’s low-register vocal following the bass solo (1:47) does provoke a soft smile, at least for me.

Soltero is a shape-shifting project fronted by Howard, which got started back in 2001. Sometimes a solo project, Soltero is now a trio. “Serious Man” is the lead track from Soltero’s ninth album, Staying Alive, released last month. You can check the whole thing out, and buy it, over on Bandcamp. This is the first album Soltero has recorded since the American-born Howard relocated to Berlin in 2018. Soltero has been featured five previous times on Fingertips, most recently in 2023; see the Artist Index for all the links.

“Fire Sign” – S.G. Goodman

Strong personality and drive

“Fire Sign” – S.G. Goodman

Alternating between a dusty stomp and a keening incantation, “Fire Sign” finds S.G. Goodman sounding weary yet self-possessed. At the song’s heart, the Western Kentucky singer/songwriter changes vocal registers to persistently pose the question “Who’ll put the fire out?” The repetition, lyrically and musically, takes on an aspect of supplication. Is part of her wondering what it’ll take to extinguish her inner drive? Why is she assuming it can/will in fact be extinguished? Unless she’s pondering the permanent extinguishment that awaits us all. Her press material does report that this song was written in the aftermath of the deaths of both her dog and a good friend and mentor while Goodman was out on a grueling tour. Meanwhile, why is it a “who” versus a “what”? (Note that in the same material she answers the question directly: “The only person who can put my fire out is myself.”)

Astrologically speaking, fire signs are characterized by their strong personalities and drive. This song has both. Goodman’s knack for the offbeat turn of phrase–“Shapeshifting through the night of life’s turn rows”? “No curling in the daylight”?–is buttressed by the music’s durable framework. We don’t hear anything but bass and drum under her cold-open vocals until 36 seconds in. The only addition we get at first is a thoughtful, resonant guitar, describing phrases that lag behind the song’s rhythmic center. Halfway through (1:12) we hear a keyboard that’s just as thoughtful and restrained, adding almost subliminally to the hand-wrought texture, moving to the front of the mix only at the tail end of the coda. What the song may ultimately lack in development it makes up for in potency. No one’s putting Goodman’s fire out just yet.

“Fire Sign” is a song from Goodman’s forthcoming album, Planting By the Signs, which will be arriving in June. She was previously featured on Fingertips in August 2020.

“Wherever” – Jonas Carping

Steady melodies, resonant vocals

“Wherever” – Jonas Carping

There’s something about the central descending melody delivered by Jonas Carping’s rich baritone that feels especially satisfying here. Perhaps all the more so because of how Carping teasingly withholds the crucial chord progression that underpins the melody the first time he takes us through it (0:12-0:22). As a listener I feel both intrigued and a little “huh?” at that point. But the context is corrected immediately thereafter (listen for that first, greatly anticipated chord change at 0:27), and throughout the rest of the song.

The other attractive thing about “Wherever” is the way its aural space subtly shifts as the song unfolds. For the first 50 seconds we’re in an unmoored, vacant lot of a space, with vague background sounds accompanying a heartbeat drumbeat. Things solidify slightly at 0:49 as a full drum kit kicks in while a droning electric guitar ringingly expands the landscape. A brief but incisive drum fill at 1:12 flips a sonic switch and we lose the muted fogginess of the opening third. As things progress the song’s simple, steady melodies acquire a sort of august resonance, amplified by Carping’s sonorous vocals. While the song stays mostly within his lower register, the couple of times in the last minute that he reaches slightly higher are each a mini-highlight.

Jonas Carping is a singer/songwriter based in Lund, in the south of Sweden. Interesting story: Carping has been submitting his music to Fingertips since 2012–enough times to be an inbox regular, not enough times to be an annoyance. I’ve always liked his songs but they each time seemed to fall just a little short, due no doubt to my own idiosyncrasies as a listener. “Wherever,” for whatever reason, hits the mark for me; so here, at long last, is Jonas Carping. “Wherever” is a song from an upcoming EP. MP3 via the artist.