| 3. Chris &
Cosey, “Put Yourself in Los Angeles.” It makes a person
get nostalgic: the simple contrast of cold electronic landscapes against
warm human voices which themselves are trapped in the amber of the
comparatively-warm but still ultimately frozen medium of analog tape.
Here, two former members of Throbbing Gristle put samples of Dr. Gene
Scott (if you don’t know, you’re better off not knowing,
it’s a bottomless pit, but here)
over a beat that sounds like oil bouncing off of wet grill. Synths
& everything, you know. Not spaced-out: spaced-in. 4. Brazen Hussies, “Crawfish.” The most delightful surprise of the year so far, from a guy who haunts a music discussion list where I hang out when I do in fact have plenty of better things to do. The song itself begins as a sort of DB’s-gone-lush moment, but two minutes into things it becomes the best Ziggy Stardust outtake that never existed. Lyrically it’s quite brilliant, better than much of anything I’ve heard in months, though the real story here is the webmonster teaching me how to shave off the bleed-through from the second track by converting the file into an AIFF, editing, and converting the results back to MP3. Fascinating, no? No? Fine, then. Onward. 5. Elmore James, “It Hurts Me Too” This is one of my favorite songs of all time, and I have dreams of assembling a mix CD consisting of 74 minutes’ worth of different versions of it. I have two versions stored on the computer, and the other one’s kind of better -- better because more even, more steady; it’s by Tampa Red -- but Elmore James has the power of ten men, and the sudden fade-up of this file, four bars in, is a nice segue from the Brazen Hussies into much more naked territory. When, in the history of human beings, has a man who says “It Hurts Me Too” had any fewer than three discreet meanings to what he’s saying? This song, an attack on somebody’s boyfriend or husband which disguises itself as an offered shoulder for crying on, is raw enough to wake the dead. |
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