Pretty Goes with Pretty

Favorite Downloads, April–June

I'll wrap the week up with some of my favorite songs discovered (or re-discovered, in a couple cases) via rampant downloading in the last three months. As you may know I also began contributing to Star Maker Machine recently, and not only do four of the eleven tracks below come from SMM, but another four come from my fellow contributors' own blogs. Apparently my current tastes are being shaped by an elite group.

• The Hollies, Carrie-Anne (from Epic Anthology: From the Original  Master Tapes!, 1967) [via Star Maker Machine]
  The chorus is my earworm of the year. It plays on perpetual loop in my head all day long. 
• Silver Apples, Lovefingers (from Silver Apples, 1968) [via The Rising Storm]
  The Silver Apples are one of those groups that I've had opportunities hear at various periods in my life and I just... didn't. So, the kicking myself thing has begun. This shit is brilliant, all the more so for coming from '68. Here I'm saying the United States of America were ahead of their time? Check the Silver Apples.  
• Annuals, Sore (from Wet Zoo, 2008) [via Speed of Dark]
  The reverbed acoustic, the strings, the emo vocals in the second verse: there is a lot about this song that is transparently calculated to push some emotional buttons. But what can I say? It came along at a time when I was susceptible to having my buttons pushed.
• Them, I Can Only Give You Everything (from Them Again, 1966) [via Star Maker Machine]
  I feel like someone snuck vegetables into my dinner: I've finally found a way to take Van Morrisson!
• John Hartford, Back in the Goodle Days (from Aereo-Plain, 1971) [via Setting the Woods on Fire]
  I mentioned a month or so back that I was hitting a country music phase, and this just scratches the surface of all the twangy tunes I've downloaded in the last few months. I just love the easy nature of this one.  
• Michael Nesmith, Roll with the Flow (from And the Hits Just Keep On Comin', 1972) [via Jesse Jarnow]
  After hearing Nesmith's name thrown around as someone who might be up my alley, I finally heard some of his solo material just recently. If the rest of it is like this then I'll be picking up a full length soon enough.
• The Flatlanders, Dallas (from More a Legend Than a Band, 1972) [via For the Sake of the Song]
  More country; it was a binge, I tell ya. Take a poke around FTSOTS and you might find yourself a couple more Flatlanders tunes.
• The Rosewood Thieves, Lonesome Road (from From the Decker House, 2006) [via Setting the Woods on Fire]
  Paul wrote up a rare twenty-first-century post for the Rosewood Thieves, and I'm glad he did. Apparently these guys are from New York, though they hardly sound like it. They also have an album out this year, which Paul points to (along with a couple other mp3s)—I just liked this one the most.
• Gerry and the Pacemakers, Ferry Cross the Mersey [via Star Maker Machine]
  I've heard this song a million times in my life—it's one of those hits that's just perpetually in the air—but I've never truly sat down and honed in on it. What a classic.
• Scott Walker, Mathilde (from Scott, 1967) [via Star Maker Machine]
  I love the cinematic drama of this song. It feels like something out a bawdy French musical—I can see the narrator careening through the bar, pointing to the bartender and slapping his fellow drunks on the back as he prepares to see his awful shrew of an ex, whom of course he loves desperately against his better judgement.
• Phil Ochs, I've Had Her (from Pleasures Of The Harbor, 1967) [via The Rising Storm]
  This song could probably be just as good (better?) at half the length, but whatever. It's the chorus that gets me: "I've had her, she's nothing." Has there ever been a crueler line written in a pop song?

My Listening Hours: Looking Forward (and Looking Back)

 

All things considered, I've picked up a lot of really great albums so far this year--but few of my favorites were actually released in 2008. Vampire Weekend's debut holds up as a solid release, and I find myself going back to the Ruby Suns' Sea Lion pretty frequently; but the rest of the 2008 albums I've picked up so far aren't really asking me to return to them. Beach House's Devotion is good but has lost some of its appeal with time, and it's too early to tell how I'll feel about the new Shearwater in a few months' time. I'd estimate that there are maybe two albums from 2008 that might make it onto my end-of-the-year list (compared to last year, when half of my favorites of the year had come out by now).

But I remain optimistic for the rest of the year. I've still yet to hear the new My Morning Jacket, which seems to be polarizing a lot of fans and critics; but then again the last one did too upon its release, and I came down firmly on the side of loving it. Meanwhile I've heard murmurings here and there about new albums from Midlake, Andrew Bird, and perhaps a few others, hopefully all by the end of the year (if not, then 2009 will look pretty good). Here are a few releases slated for the next three months that are piquing my interest--anything piquing yours?

Sigur Rós, með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust (June 24)
Sigur Rós is a band to whom I feel doggedly loyal for some reason. Agaetus Byrjun hit me at just the right time and in just the right way when it came out nearly a decade ago, and it was enough for me to swear I'd support them for the rest of their careers (I feel similarly about Joe Pernice and Elliott Smith, too). That said, Takk... was good if a little pro forma. I've said in the past that one thing I'd really like to see the band do is simply change their production, if not their approach to songwriting. A really raw, less ethereal treatment could make a standard Sigur Rós track sound utterly new. So far I've heard just one song from the new album, released a couple days ago, but from the sound of it they really do seem to be setting out in a (relatively) new direction. I'm excited to hear the rest.

• Sigur Rós, Gobbledigook

Pas/Cal, I Was Raised on Matthew, Mark, Luke and Laura (July 22)
I discovered Pas/Cal by chance many years ago when I was writing for the now-defunct Splendid, and their debut EP turned out to be one of my favorite indie pop albums not only of that year but of the decade so far. Other EPs have since come out though I haven't ever seen physical copies of them. Now word drops that their oft-delayed full-length debut is finally ready for the light of the day, and the lead single has my expectations way up. Screw Vampire Weekend: Pas/Cal might have the indie pop record of the year, if the rest is up to par with the epic prog-pop of "You Were Too Old for Me."

• Pas/Cal, You Were Too Old for Me

Radio Dept., Clinging to a Scheme (Sept. 10)
I could write the exact same leadoff for the Radio Dept... seriously, I could: I discovered the Radio Dept. by chance many years ago when I was writing for the now-defunct Splendid, and their debut album, Lesser Matters, has turned out to be one of my favorite indie pop albums not only of that year but of the decade so far. Their followup, Pet Grief, took some of the rawness away and went for a more 80s-influenced, almost ambient-pop direction. It was okay but not nearly as good as the debut. The first single from the new album doesn't knock me out, but I expect I'll take a chance on them one more time.

• Radio Dept., Freddie and the Trojan Horse

Okkervil River, The Stand-Ins (Sept. 10)
Speaking of best-of-last-year lists, The Stage Names didn't make mine because I was too slow to hear it. It would sit squarely in the top two were I to remake my list today. Hopefully Will Sheff's complementary Stand-Ins will be of equal caliber, so I can feel no guilt should I put this at the top of this year's list. This is currently my most-anticipated release of the year (unless some of the above-mentioned rumored albums get firm release dates).

So how about you? What have been your favorite albums of the year so far? How do you think 2008 rates overall at this point? What upcoming albums have you giddy with excitement?

My Listening Hours: The Worst of April–June

 

Peter Morén, The Last Tycoon
My review of this album pretty much says it all. The Last Tycoon is not a bad album, but it’s not a good album either. It is a perfectly mediocre album—3/5 stars from beginning to end, no exceptions. And in a way that’s a more offensive crime than a bad album.

Enon, Grass Geysers… Carbon Clouds
I got this album the same day I picked up The Last Tycoon, and I feel more or less the same. Though the music is wildly different—it’s spazzier indie rawk—it’s still pretty straight down the middle in terms of what it’s trying to do. Nothing groundbreaking, nothing essential.

Harry Nilsson, A Little Touch of Schmilsson in the Night
I have so much Harry Nilsson on my iTunes library—thirty-five songs or so—yet I own no proper album. It’s all greatest hits packages and stray mp3s when I come across ’em. As with what I said about Lovin’ Spoonful yesterday, Nilsson is right up there—top of the list, actually—of songwriters I can’t wait to share with my (currently nonexistent) kids. His stuff is just unabashedly happy, even when he’s down. That said, A Little Touch of Schmilsson in the Night was not the first proper album I should’ve picked up. It’s all syrupy standards—Nilsson doing things Sinatra-style, drenched in strings, etc.

Carolyn Hester, s/t
This album is notable for exactly one thing: young Bobby Dylan, new to New York and without a record contract, was invited to play his harmonica on just about every track. That aside (or not), this is a pretty mediocre folk record. Lots of standards (“I’ll Fly Away,” “Dink’s Song”) done in a not particularly interesting, sometimes quite irritating, way.

Bon Iver, For Emma, Forever Ago
I hate to be "that guy," but what do people see in Bon Iver? His songwriting skills are average—he makes me wish I was listening to Matt Pond PA instead, which is kind of a strange thing to wish for—and his vocals are just irritatingly bad. He does the same schtick that TV on the Radio does, which is to overlay really grating falsetto harmonies over the vocals. Easily the worst album I've picked up all year. Well, maybe neck and neck with Carolyn Hester, but at least she's got Bob Fucking Dylan on her record.

My Listening Hours: The Rest of April–June

With so many albums purchased in a short amount of time, you can imagine that some albums spent less time in my iPod than others. These are the albums—some quite good, others mediocre—that for whatever reason simply didn't latch onto me all the way. As for the worst of the bunch, come back a little later today and I'll run down that list too.

The Fiery Furnaces, Widow City
Kim Gordon put it pretty well when she was asked for her current playlist by the New York Times a couple weeks ago:

“Widow City” feels like a song cycle, the way some things repeat themselves. One song seems to lead to the next, almost like an opera.... This record is incessant, it’s so wordy and dense, it wakes you up. It’s almost annoying and irritating to listen to, but it’s also compelling. The lyrics seem kind of obsessive. It pulls you along with it. The lyrics are fragments of meaning that you could maybe relate to, but I don’t mind that I don’t know what the heck she’s talking about. The lyrics are very filmic. There are images that don’t make sense. It’s kind of an act of suspended disbelief listening to it...

Really, there's not a whole lot else to say. Okay, I'll say this: I think Widow City is bordering on totally brilliant. I would say I was obsessive about this record except for the fact that it is (intentionally) a little irritating and a lot difficult. It's not an easy listen. I actually have interior arguments with myself about whether or not I want to put it on: "I can't get 'Philadelphia Grand Jury' or 'Clear Signal from Cairo' out of my head! I should put this album on!" "Jesus, don't put this album on. It is exhausting; it doesn't know if it wants to sit or stand." I've only had the album for a couple weeks now; perhaps if I'd owned it longer it would have made into yesterday's batch of albums. It's difficult for me to tell, at the moment, whether I'll keep coming back to this album or whether, ultimately, I'll never go back to it again.

• The Fiery Furnaces, The Philadelphia Grand Jury

The Little Ones, Terry Tales & Fallen Gates
I like this album—I swear!—though I do wish it were just a hair better. I still eagerly look forward to the full-length, to be released some time this summer, supposedly. I am confidently optimistic that their best tunes are still ahead of them—hopefully just a month or two ahead of them.

• The Little Ones, Unlock the Door!

The Byrds, Dr. Byrds and Mr. Hyde
The Byrds are probably my #1 favorite pre-1980s band. (Getting into all-time rankings, off the top of my head, they gotta start wrestling with R.E.M. at the very least.) They’re a relatively new discovery for me—my brilliant wife turned me onto Younger than Yesterday about four years ago—but in the last couple years I’ve slowly been picking up their albums in chronological order. Hence last year you've seen me going on about The Notorious Byrd Brothers and Sweetheart of the Rodeo. Now I’m officially out of the original-lineup territory. Dr. Byrds was the first album for which Roger McGuinn assembled an entirely new band—and rather hastily, I might add. Their resulting first outing is… okay. The title of the album refers to constant shifting between the country direction they’d been heading in over the last two albums and a more psychedelic sound closer in intent to Fifth Dimension. The genre-jumping isn’t too jarring—that’s not the flaw. It’s just not that special. I hear it gets better (then worse). Untitled is next on the list, as soon as I see it used at Amoeba.

• The Byrds, This Wheel's on Fire

R.E.M., Accelerate
So, given what I just said above, you can imagine I was in line for the new R.E.M. My expectations were in check, though. I’d heard “Supernatural Superserious” and thought it was okay but not amazing. It’s difficult to talk about a new R.E.M. album without addressing the albatross that is everything post-Bill Berry, so just for the record: I like most of the post-Berry stuff just fine. Sure, Around the Sun was 90% turd, but Up and Reveal—especially Reveal—get a huge bum rap. So my approach to a new R.E.M. is not “will they ever halt their downward slide?” but rather “I hope their one and only crap album was just an aberration.”

That said, Accelerate. It’s perfectly solid and totally mediocre. I won’t skip the songs when they come up on shuffle—does that count for anything? It gets HUGE props for avoiding anything resembling “The Outsiders,” the trainwreck of a collaboration with Q-Tip from the last album which by the way was the lowest point in the band’s history. At the same time, there’s nothing on this album that is better than “The Ascent of Man,” which was the high point of Around the Sun. Points for rocking, but I’m not convinced they mean it. The suit doesn’t quite fit like it used to.

• R.E.M., Houston

The Beau Brummels, Triangle and Bradley’s Barn
The Beau Brummels were a group of also-rans from the the 60s California scene. Perhaps if they'd moved south from San Francisco to Laurel Canyon they might have had a little more success. Their music fits in well with that scene—a mixture of rock, folk, and country (the latter more apparent on Bradley's Barn than on Triangle). Sal Valentino's voice is the defining trait of the band's sound; it's a deep voice with a natural vibrato (think a more masculine Devandra Banhart), up front in the mix and seldom layered with any harmonies. It's a unique voice but iit can also become a little wearying after a full album. I'm finding that I like the BBs most when I hear single tracks pop up on shuffle, rather than listening to ten in a row.

• The Beau Brummels, Are You Happy? (from Triangle)
• The Beau Brummels, Deep Water (from Bradley's Barn)

Chris Bell, I Am the Cosmos
When I became enamored with Big Star’s #1 Record, I had no idea just how much of that was due to Chris Bell. I guess I just didn’t get how much of a presence he was on the album (it doesn’t help that his and Alex Chilton’s voices are not that distinct from each other). Thankfully a few of you commenters steered me to Bell’s one and only solo album. Any Big Star fans out there who, like me, love #1 Record but are cooler on Radio City and Third/Sister Lover, seek this one out. It’s by no means a perfect record—there’s a lot of religiosity that puts me off, and some of the 70s-isms just don’t work—but when Bell goes soft, as on “You and Your Sister,” it’s like returning to the best ballads of Big Star’s debut. Over the long haul—I’ve had the album for almost three months now—I don’t feel drawn to keep putting it on; but I’ve made a little Fantasy Big Star album, made up of my favorite tracks from this, Radio City, and Third/Sister Lover, which does a good job of simulating the ideal follow-up to #1 Record.

• Chris Bell, I Am the Cosmos

Bob Lind, Since There Were Circles
I came across this album via a post by Brendan at The Rising Storm, where I fell in love with the country-inflected "Loser." Lind's voice occupies similar territory as Neil Diamond or Lee Hazelwood—which I'm inclined to describe as "sandpapery." Lind isn't as creepy as Hazelwood or as robust as Diamond, though. He's got a little more ache in his delivery. The majority of this album is solid if not spectacular, with both "Loser" and the title track being the biggest standouts. I get a real kick out the chorus to the latter: "How long have I loved you? Since there were circles." Wow. That's a really long time. In all seriousness, though, I think the song has a real gravity to it. His love is not lighthearted, nor is it stalkerish; he's simply not joking around. 

• Bob Lind, Since There Were Circles

Fairport Convention, Unhalfbricking
This was my first Fairport Convention album, though they've been on my radar for quite a long time. I'd been advised in the past to begin with Liege & Leaf, but darn it if the library didn't have that one. So Unhalfbricking it had to be. No matter: I quite like the album, or half of it at least. To some degree it's still sinking in with me; I don't feel like I've fully digested it yet, despite I-don't-know-how-many listens. The freer, looser material resonates with me a lot more than the Ye Olde Traditional stuff. Hence I think "A Sailor's Life," with its rustling rhythms in the beginning morphing into a guitar/violin jam are fantastic, while the more traditional folk style of "Cajun Woman" is, for me, less compelling.

• Fairport Convention, Who Knows Where the Time Goes

The Tough Alliance, A New Chance
Not a bad record, though a little repetitive (and cheesy as all get out). I wish the singer had a little more range or knew a few more melodies, as the tracks get harder and harder to differentiate as the album goes on. That said, not a bad workout record, though it's really just not where my head is at right now. Can you tell I'm not the one in the family that picked this album up? I'm ambivalent.

• The Tough Alliance, Looking for Gold

 

My Listening Hours: The Best of April–June

Andrew Bird & the Mysterious Production of Eggs
Just looking at Saturday's post you can probably guess that this is my favorite purchase of the season (not to mention favorite of the year). I've written about this album's effect on me already, so I'll just add that, happily, I think it is so good that it will probably rise above any sort of personal connection to this period of my life. I hope so, at least. Meanwhile, I read Bird's posts at Measure for Measure with great anticipation for his new album, whenever it may be finished.

• Andrew Bird, Masterfade

Neil Young, Everybody Knows This is Nowhere
Five years ago I had zero Neil Young albums in my collection; now I have five. Harvest is still my favorite—I just love the mood of that album—but this one is a strong contender for the top spot, as Young gets a lot louder and a lot jammier. Epics like "Cowgirl in the Sand" and "Down by the River" are mindblowing, while the shorter songs like "Round and Round" and the title track have undeniable hooks. This album is outstanding from start to finish.

• Neil Young, Everybody Knows This is Nowhere

The Lovin' Spoonful, Anthology
The Lovin' Spoonful are one of those bands I didn't know I'd been listening to for pretty much my whole life. I never connected the band to their many, many hits ("Do You Believe in Magic," "Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind," "Summer in the City," and a few others), so it wasn't the obvious songs that finally drew me to them. It was Paul's post at Setting the Woods on Fire on the roots of country-rock, which included "Nashville Cats." I fell in love! A few weeks later I was at the library and saw this greatest hits collection, at which point I realized just how many of their songs I already knew. The collection bounces around between their British Invasion-inspired tunes and their more explicit forays into country. It's the latter songs I respond to the most.

There are a handful of songwriters or bands that fall into a special category for me—i.e., songs my imaginary toddlers will love. I'd say at least half of this collection, if not the whole darned thing, fits in nicely. (Also in this category: Harry Nilsson, a lot of Cat Stevens and Simon & Garfunkel, a few bossa nova tracks and country songs, and probably a bunch others... perhaps a post for another time.)

• The Lovin' Spoonful, Jug Band Music

Les Paul & Mary Ford: Best of the Capitol Masters
Acquired at the library on the same day as the Lovin' Spoonful, I could say a lot of the same things about this wonderful collection, which also fits into my imaginary toddler playlist. Mary Ford's voice (is she overdubbing her own harmonies? I think so) is just so lovely, and I honestly cannot figure out how Les Paul's fingers can dance across the fretboard; his style is absolutely unique and I've never heard anyone after cop his sound.

• Les Paul & Mary Ford, The World is Waiting for the Sunrise

Elvis Costello & the Attractions, Armed Forces
Last year, thanks to Imperial Bedroom, I went from liking Elvis Costello to flat-out loving him. So I've begun filling in the holes in my collection, trying to move chronologically through his ouerve at least until I get to the spotty part of his career. Which brings me to his third album, Armed Forces. I can see the progression between the first two albums, which were buoyed at least in part by a lot of sheer attitude, and Imperial Bedroom, which is wall-to-wall perfectly executed pop songwriting. The songwriting on the first half of Armed Forces is pretty much right up there with Imperial Bedroom: "Accidents Will Happen," "Senior Service," and "Oliver's Army" are all fantastic. Somewhere around the middle things falter a little; I'm not too fond of "Goon Squad," and everything after that falls a little flat for me. Not bad by any means, just not to the highest caliber Costello is capable of. (And for the record, while I like "What's So Funny About Peace, Love and Understanding," it's never been one of my favorites.)

• Elvis Costello: Oliver's Army

Philip Glass, Glassworks
I've been flirting with contemporary composers for years now, in a very shallow way: bought Koyaanisqatsi some time in college, picked up Steve Reich's Music for 18 Musicians five or six years ago, bought a box set of early electronica forbears (which includes the likes of Cage, Young, Stockhausen, and others), and then a few months ago got Terry Riley's In C for a whole dollar. So I don't profess to have anything more than a passing knowledge of the genre, as evidenced by my just now getting Glassworks, which is probably a (rightly) obvious place to start. It's really a fantastic collection of pieces, mostly for piano. Unlike the other material I already own, which is either hour-long works asking you to immerse yourself and listen or brief, literally experimental exercises, Glassworks is short and easily digestible. That's not the best endorsement, but what I mean is that it really does feel like a kind of gateway drug, moreso than the other discs I've tried (and liked) in the past. So, a question for those of you more schooled than I: where to next? Other works by these composers? Other composers altogether? Who are some of your favorites?

• Philip Glass, Opening

Shearwater, Rook
The lone 2008 release to make it into my favorites this time around. And at first I really didn't think it would. Rook requires some patience, to say the least. In terms of songwriting, performance, and production, it is pretty much flawless. It feels epic, and composed, despite running under forty minutes altogether—which in itself is an accomplishment, in an age new releases that include "bonus tracks" on already overlong albums (off the top of my head: Fiery Furnaces, TV on the Radio).

So why did I hesitate, at first, in liking Rook? The voice. Jonathan Meiburg, who is the singer, songwriter, and overall creative force behind Shearwater, has a very pretty, obviously trained vocal delivery. His timbre, tone, and projection are all very practiced, sometimes a little mannered and often careening into the dramatique. At one point during "Home Life" I halfway expect Meiburg to don a little white mask and sing about the music of the night. It's a little offputting at first, in other words. But! Every other element of Rook is outstanding, so you sort of keep going back to it despite the oily bits that make you cringe a little. And after a few more listens Meiburg's vocals stick out less and less, until finally everything clicks. (It took me probably five listens before I realized that the vast majority of my least favorite vocal parts were all in one song—again, "Home Life.") In the end, Rook really works, and it's becoming one of my favorite releases of the year so far (though, I admit, the playing field is not that crowded at the moment--more on that later this week). It's also worth emphasizing that Rook works best as an album; tweezing a single track out from the pack doesn't exactly get across how fluidly the songs work together. The sum is most certainly greater than its parts. Nevertheless:

• Shearwater, Rooks

The United States of America, s/t
I've long been on the hunt for this album, ever since hearing reference to them in regards to Broadcast many years back. In fact it seems like I only hear about the United States of America when they're being namechecked in a Broadcast review—which is kind of a shame because this record is a lot more varied than those mentions would let on. Only the (excellent) first song, "The American Metaphysical Circus," sounds like a precursor to Broadcast. The rest is a simply outstanding psychedelic album full of cacophonous overlapping sounds, otherworldly production, and not a little sense of humor, as on "I Won't Leave My Wooden Wife For You, Sugar." This record is way, way ahead of its time.

• The United States of America, The American Metaphysical Circus
• The United States of America, I Won't Leave My Wooden Wife for You, Sugar

Tomorrow, the rest (and the worst).

My Listening Hours: April–June

It's that time again: this week I'll be running down in depth, including a boatload of mp3s, everything I've picked up in the last three months. And I gotta say, this week couldn't come soon enough. Somewhere around mid-May I started preparing for these posts when I saw just how many albums I was acquiring this season... 23. That's a lot. In fact, it was closer to 30. I also picked up two albums I once owned but haven't had for a long time (but since they're not new to me, they don't count for this post); two albums brought home from the library that were new to me, but I frankly just haven't had the time nor inclination to listen to (for the record: a Yardbirds greatest hits and Thom Yorke's solo album); and another five discs, again from the library, comprising incomplete box sets (3/4 of a doo wop box set and 2/4 of a 1960s-70s reggae set). I've techinically listened to all of this, but most of it has come up on shuffle; I haven't dedicated any sort of thoughtful time to the stuff (though I should mention that the reggae stuff is outstanding).

At any rate, here's the preamble to all I've picked up since the end of March: 23 albums! That's the most I've ever picked up in one three-month period since starting these quarterly posts. Here is the breakdown: Five albums from 2008; three from 2007; one from 2005; and fourteen from the 1950s-70s. In general, a pretty great haul. There are at least three, maybe four albums here that I'll continue to come back to for years, and the majority of the rest are the kind of albums you like to have populating your iTunes library: good, solid albums that will be welcome listens when the right mood strikes. (And to be completely honest, probably another two or three albums I could just as soon trash altogether.)

Come back a little later today and I'll begin breaking things down in detail, starting in a couple hours with the best of the bunch. Tomorrow, the rest (and the worst). Wednesday I'll take a look at my listening year so far and a look forward to what's coming out in the next few months. Keep your eyes and ears peeled for a bonus post or two of miscelleneous outstanding mp3s I've snagged from the blogs in the last three months too. Like I said, a boatload of music this week.

Now may be a good time to remind those of you reading this via rss feeds that I have a handy dandy media player on this blog, so you can simply come by any time, press play, and cycle through my many offerings while you read, as if you were playing my mixtape on your stereo.

Spring Soundtrack