Slow Listener |
I can't remember the sound that you found for me |
It’s been 19 years since the release of Aimee Mann’s Whatever, but I can still remember the hold it had on me during the summer of ‘93, the way her words seemed so startling and acidic and fresh. It also heralded the genius of a guy named Jon Brion, whose signature sound emerges fully formed here, marked by meticulously crafted layers of whimsy. He was the perfect counterpoint for Aimee, leavening her songs in ways I doubt many producers would/could even dream of, especially for a major label solo debut.
This one, however, is pure Aimee: “4th of July.”
This one has a Thornton Wilder vibe: The Decemberists’ “June Hymn.”
I’ve come to realize over the past few days that my appreciation of Doc Watson—the man and his music—was profoundly stunted during the first three decades of my life. But, after his passing yesterday, I went back to the source and just listened to this magnificent song, as Guy Clark had instructed me to nearly seventeen years ago. Perhaps one must concede that they have scales on their ears before they can properly fall.
Game Theory. “Crash Into June.” Big Shot Chronicles. This is what the 1980s could have been.
Here is the perihelion of the other side of summer, “Summer’s Cauldron” from XTC, flowing mellifluously into “Grass” as the lord and Todd Rundgren intended.
When the Chills dropped their Soft Bomb in the early 90s, my initial reaction was raw disappointment. After Submarine Bells, I thought their promise was simply unlimited and that this was a slick, compromised follow-up. These days, I listen to Soft Bomb more than any other record in the Martin Phillips canon. This is “Double Summer.”
“We Didn’t Get Famous” The Story of the Southern Music Underground, 1978-1990 Camilla Ann Aikin’s film thesis to complete her MA in Southern Studies at the University of Mississippi.
Sultry and Spectorish advice from Lucky Soul: “One Kiss Don’t Make a Summer.”
I meant to post this last night, in honor of Lucky Wilbury’s 71st birthday. “Up to Me” is an outtake from Blood on the Tracks, recorded during the original New York sessions for that album and released a decade later on Biograph (which is when I first heard it, roughly 25 years ago). I’ve never been able to unlock this epic, which may or may not have something to do with Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard.
“Summer Sun” naturally segues into “Where’s Summer B?” from Ben Folds Five. Just a beautiful confluence of evanescence and ennui, set to a bouncing beat.
