23 posts tagged “sunday songs”
But, damn. Where's the light and funny and free? I might be focused, man, but today, I'd love it if I could get myself into a wind parade.
- Rolling Brownout Hits LA by Oliver Wang, Soul Sides, 01.23.08I've recently been enjoying the sounds of Brownout, a Latin funk outfit out of Austin, Texas. They've been around for a minute in the form of Grupo Fantasma except here, they're strictly instrumental. What I like about these guys is not only that they have their chops down but rather than following a strict revivalist route, their sound has a clear Latin influence but isn't holden to simply trying to sound like it's East Harlem 1968 again.
That smoothed out Latin Funk has given way this morning to the Samba. Bah Samba to be exact. But this post isn't about the spontaneous dance party in my apartment early this Sunday. No, I've been thinking a lot about public spaces, particularly, the differences between those in LA and SF.
A week ago, I was in San Francisco for the long weekend. Every time I'm up there, I do so much more than I do here. We traveled the city by bus! by muni! by cab! by foot! by BART! We went in search of giant donuts and art spaces and street art and drinks and delectables! I went to a random hippie party! We spent long swaths of time in Dolores and Golden Gate parks and at the de Young and in each instance I was struck by the vibe of the city and the timbre of the people. There's a rhythm. I felt immediately connected and, as Felicia remarks often, delighted by it.
At the de Young, for example, after taking the bus the wrong way--and figuring that misstep out by the GPS in our phones because, hello, nerds--we found our way into the museum's fountain area where a local artists' bazaar was taking place. We found ourselves a bench and people watched for awhile. We remarked on everyone's unique styles (particularly the comfortable yet stylish shoes that adorned everyone) and the smiles on their faces and the diversity, not just of ethnicity, but of age and sexuality and economy. Then we finally went inside and checked out the Gilbert & George exhibit where my mind was blown.
As I remarked to Lauren yesterday as we walked through the new BCAM building at LACMA, I never took art history. I don't really know how to parse contemporary art but what the Gilbert & George exhibit showcased was their ability to shine a light on their current affairs through photography and paint and their own beings and all in these giant set pieces that take minutes to take in. San Francisco is like that for me. I need more than the fleeting moments I get with that town and it's people. It's why I visit monthly now. My mind and heart are tugged there in an attempt to soak it all up.
Cut to yesterday's afternoon. It started with a car ride. Obviously. And a haircut. And traffic. And dodging award ceremonies. And a wonderful 90 minutes at LACMA with a good friend. It also included parking woes. And a trip to The Grove. And a celebrity sighting--Rebecca De Mornay enjoying the Transform exhibit alone--and none of that rhythm or sense of interconnectedness that I felt just a week prior doing similar things. Nor any of that sense of wonder.
There's a great view from the top floor of BCAM. You can see much of Hollywood and Beverly Hills but what we noticed was the 99 Cent store. "I've never seen it from this high, " she said.
"Neither have I," I agreed. We
We had fun, sure. We laughed at the Giant Balloon dog, discussed Damien Hirst in depth, were awed by Cindy Sherman, became kids again with the oversized kitchen table, and got vertigo in the first floor maze. We also rapped Mama Said Knock You Out and spent too much money in the Apple Store. It was enjoyable but it was fun we shared only with each other. In LA, in our public spaces, our rhythm is our own. It's one of the reasons people love Los Angeles. It's often one of the reasons I love it.
Lately, though, I'm hungry for that shared movement.
Samba!
- Numero GroupEccentric Soul: The Bandit Label takes a look at the underside of Chicago soul through twenty tracks of blistering R&B, sweet soul, and discofied funk. Hundreds of hours were spent researching, interviewing, re-mastering, and compiling the history of Bandit and the life of Arrow Brown. Unearthed in the process were two cassette tapes worth of acappella rehearsals that we\'ve done our best to preserve in their lo-fi, in-the-red state. Numero 003 might be the deepest we\'ll ever dig. No map, no shovel, just a stack of 45\'s and a city of three million people.
This space, in which I usually talk about my week, my head, my heart, my future, intentionally left blank. This week, this is my private life.
Now, on with the show.
-quango.comBerlin got a new show in 2006, Belle et Fou realised by four star chef and event caterer HANS-PETER WODARZ and producer/director ARTHUR CASTRO. Besides dance, theatre and refined culinary delights, this new project from the makers of Pomp, Duck & Circumstance has one very special highlight to offer: the soundtrack is by JAZZANOVA.
This track is of particular interest because it was originally sung by Vikter Duplaix. Clara Hill gives it a completely different vibe. I dig it. The whole soundtrack, however, is stellar. Jazzanova can do very little wrong.
I'm staring at the screen, distracted by the corny profile that 60 Minutes is doing on Facebook (although I'm impressed that after the first half of puff, Leslie Stahl is digging into Beacon a bit), and thinking about what I want to share about my week. That's what these song for sunday posts have become. For some odd reason, I want to talk about how I've been postponing cleaning my bathroom all week and using remember the milk to do so. That's not a good story.
I feel like I should say something about the week I had with my sister - it began with us leaving Vegas, the middle was having Ethiopian at Nyala, the end was dropping her off at the airport for her to return to school today - but I'm not trying to get all sappy up in this piece. Especially when I know she's reading. The highlight, however, was switching iPods with her at McCarran Airport and getting her into Björk. She left town with a CD packed with my favorite tracks from across her entire catalog. Bomb.
I could talk about the Murakami Exhibit (that needs it's own post) or the trip we took to Pink's yesterday (but I might turn that into something for laist) or my initial thoughts on the first two episodes of the final season of The Wire or on all the signs that I'm starting to act like a grown-up that showed themselves this week. I could talk about all those things but I don't feel like it.
It's Sunday, Andy Rooney is being crabby, my feet are up and I'm still not going to clean that damn bathroom.
It's enough.
if it's the reclusive life that Burial seeks, he might just be his own worst enemy, because his new album, Untrue, bests Burial's fans' wildest hopes for the followup. Burial was a worthy, sometimes thrilling record-- an impressive debut-- but it sometimes lost focus, particularly when it attempted to carve out something closer to "proper," clubwise dubstep. But Untrue maintains the style and the vibe of the first album and yet does it better. It's a deeper album-- richer, more complex, more enveloping. The irony is that almost nothing has changed. Burial still makes his beats (at least, so he claims) with relatively lo-fi audio editing software, eschewing the comfort of sequencers and MIDI clocks. His string sounds, which on Burial let many a critic to call his music "cinematic," sound as unabashedly canned as they did last time, and his manipulated vocals-- warped, time-stretched, pitch-corrected-- are just as unabashedly emotive.
-Pitchfork Record Review (8.4/10), 11.13.07
I've only had this album for a week so I'm not ready to call it "Album of the Year" but it just might be. It's haunted me since the day I bought it (8.99 in the Amazon mp3 store, also available on eMusic) and I find my mind constantly returning to its complicated rhythms. Right now, it falls as #3 on my 2007 album chart.
It's just that good. When listening to this track, I want to sing along. I randomly break out in dance. I head nod. I listen intently. I listen casually. I listen all the time.
I haven't sat with the album enough to form a compelling review and maybe I'll get to that later. For now, I just want you to enjoy as I am.
Similarly unique is 'Remember Me' by female soul group, The Trinikas. A rolling bass with a nice 'n' fat backbeat eases in behind an overwhelming lead vocal; this track acts like trailer for the entire repetoire of cult band The Village Callers, merging the melodic perfection of 'Stoned Soul Picnic' with the grinding power of 'Hector'. Dripping with emotion and profound, arresting soul, 'Remember Me' burns and sooths at the same time; it chills you like Roberta Flack and warms you like the Staple Singers. Like Sandi & Matues, The Trinikas combine the incredible church-borne vocal talents of the US' lesser-known soul & gospel vocalists with the impressive musicianship that we have come to expect from a country that has so much to say.
This song is the sample that opens Jurassic 5's Quality Control. The last 7 days have been an exercise in maintaining quality control. I worked out 5 of those 7 days. I ate right 6 of the 7 (Saturday is "eat whatever you want" day and I did with chicken nuggets and fries from Mcdonald's, nachos from Sharky's and a light meal at the Grossman Burn Center Holiday Dinner where I voluntEARed). I posted here just about every day. I kept my apartment pretty clean and I got a lot accomplished at work.
Hell, I even returned just about every call I received and it is well covered territory how the phone is my kryptonite.
There were some low points. I maintained no control Friday night and drank way more -- at a work event no less -- than I'm comfortable with these days. Just Say No to tequila shots.
So, this upcoming week is about staying disciplined and stepping my game up at work. After we promoted a few people this week and effectively lessened my load and responsibility, I no longer have the excuse of being over-taxed. So, longstanding goals like creating universal process and policy, writing style guides and operations manuals, defining our core philosophy and setting developmental and business goals for my staff are at hand.
No excuses.
If I'm for real, I'll start my team down the path of being Actors instead of Reactors and we'll all be better off for it.
So I ask myself again, this week, am I for real?
- C'Mon Baby - "Light My Fire" Sample, The 37th Chamber, 10.29.07The song can be found on YHU’s penultimate LP Just A Melody, one of the only albums from their discography that has never been granted the reissue treatment. This is a real shame, because the album is a wonderful collection of songs permeated by the group’s funky, upbeat audio aesthetic, a quality aptly demonstrated by the ‘Light My Fire’ cover.
I'm trying to light a fire under my own butt. I've never been good at discipline. Self-discipline, to be exact. I have little problem, most of the time, doing the yeoman's work for others but, generally, I don't do a good job of taking care of myself. I'm awfully round these days. I'm a lazy git at home. I've had increasingly hermit-like tendencies. I'm not writing.
These are all related.
I don't like it.
So this weekend has been about catching a blaze. It took me all day yesterday but I cleaned my place. This morning I worked out (it's the return of Hip Hop Abs, y'all), had my vitamins and some Airborne. I'm back on the "eating right" thing. I'm going to accomplish what I set to accomplish for myself today - a car wash, an IKEA run, the photowalk - and, if I do, I'll treat myself to a movie tonight.
Then, if I'm for real, I'll wake up tomorrow and do it all again.
Am I for real?
I'm going through my Amoeba purchases and audio blog downloads for the week and while there are several gems, this one, as Rilo Kiley tends to do, just smacked me right in the face.
For those of a certain age, John Dankworth will always be stood slightly behind the massive perm of his missus Cleo Laine, quietly huffing on his tenor sax as he accompanied her on a spot on whichever light entertainment show Brucie or Tarby were hosting that particular week; but there is far more to him than that-not least some cracking easy beat albums! A graduate of the Royal Academy of Music in the 1940's, John's modern jazz combo was the top of the pile in the UK for the whole length of the 50's and well into the next decade. When top stars like Oscar Peterson or Ella Fitzgerald visited these shores, they turned to one man for the backing, and for good reason. The later 1950's saw his first moves in scoring for film, which proved to be a popular sideline for many years and extended into the world of theater and stage shows. To offset the increasing amount of variety bookings with his wife, his own work seems to have taken a more highbrow path in the 70's with commissions from the London Philharmonic Orchestra and the Royal Shakespeare Company to name but two. Awarded the OBE in the early 80's Dankworth's work subsequently took him across the globe as musical director for just about every major orchestra on the planet, and to this very day he is still very active in the field.
- Lords of Lounge Volume 5, Vinyl Vulture
