Last Ten Purchases
Yo La Tengo – Fade
Their shortest album in years, but still defined by the placement of its (relatively) epic tracks. Here, they (the blissful, heavy pair of “Ohm” and “Before We Run”) serve as bookends to a Yo La in such classic form, so peaceful, that the variety of earlier albums seems suddenly a little bit mad. Nothing stays the same, they sing, and it’s true, but the rest of “Ohm” leaves no doubt that the good guys won, definitively and forever.
Heavy D. & The Boyz – Big Tyme
Love is a party. One need only look at the group photo on the back of the CD, three ladies to four guys, to get that times are only as big as its lives are fluid.
Little Black Dress – Snow In June
A more subdued album than the great “Robin,” the crispest dream pop anthem you never heard, might have suggested. Still, it’s everywhere overrun with guitar lines as thoughtful as that lone song’s escalation.
The Fresh & Onlys – Long Slow Dance
The great lost country album by The Sound, I thought at first. The pleasures here don’t expire, but the span of a few listens delivers them all, so I don’t know if there’s anything as powerful as Adrian Borland’s fugitive vitality to make this a true Sound LP (longevity player). But if only Jan. ’13 contained this as my favorite album, what a pretty month that was.
Moose – …xyz
British shoegaze: I’m just now checking one of its last unheard major works off my list, and still it’s a world apart, unlike any other album of its era.
Half String – Maps For Sleep
American shoegaze: Even one of its most secretly heralded bands tends more toward replicating hallmarks than creating their own. But that’s also what makes this definitive, in a way the masterworks of too eccentric British counterparts never could be.
Lisa Germano – Magic Neighbor
Somber, pretty preparation for the inconsolable No Elephants. I’ve also been playing Happiness and Excerpts from a Love Circus, clearly the work of the same artist but worlds away, sound-wise.
Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock – It Takes Two
As usual, the lack of more songs as successful as the main attraction is precisely what makes this awesome: The modest lives of the briefly iconic. If you’re embarrassed by the transcendently routine “Crush,” maybe you’re just hearing the sweet echo of your own boring, uncensored thoughts.
Cornelius – Fantasma
The studio auteur/collagist classic of the late 90s has suddenly returned as my favorite kind of album, so of course I had to check in with Fantasma again, and it registers with a sort of trembling feeling (maybe just the weird collision of its large array of sound waves) I never knew. See also: When I Was Born for the 7th Time, Moon Safari, Odelay, Emperor Tomato Ketchup, Viva! La Woman; our technology and communications have been improved upon, supposedly, but these albums never will be. I don’t know how much play some of those get anymore (a quick glance at Spotify would doubtless tell me, a lot), but no other music makes me feel so young and connected. Excuse me while I rock out, which I never do, one two three four five six.
Miguel – Kaleidoscope Dream
Seamless array of effects, Miguel’s voice included. It’s funny that “Don’t Look Back” references “Time of the Season,” because it’s one moment when I wish the album had more in common with that song: sounded more like a live creation; less pulsing and vivid, more evocative and bare; had a cleaner separation of elements; in sum, more 60s, befitting its 60s title, and to put its audacious ABAB structure in sharpest contrast. Still, those studio effects… every moment hits just right.
