prisonship 1/2007 cormp
(edit: i’m having trouble with file compression. i’m on it, though. it’ll be up soon.)
for the second time, plainsong. this is ian matthews’ band from the post-fairport days. both this record and the matthews southern comfort release deserve mention to those who dig the gene clark, john phillips, gram and crosby vibes of laurel canyon weed n’ country.
the aureate, per mission. this is weird collage action from jason noble, semi-legendary sophisticate from louisville institutions like rodan, rachel’s and shipping news.
hazey jane, nick drake. i swear again and again i’m gonna take like a couple-year hiatus from nick drake, but then an astonishing blog like timehastoldme ends up unearthing early demos and outtakes, and in such a thorough way! a new old take on a favorite.
frisco blues, bayless rose. another mind-mugging, inside-fleecing bit from american primitive 2.
autumn sweater, tortoise. that tortoise box set runs real deep, dude.
fool to cry, rolling stones. now we’re talking. gtr, man.
at her open door, dead meadow. dead meadow, labradford and bardo could all tell interesting stories about how being consistently great can result in your being underrated. every time i hear this song i wish that i’d written it.
postcards from scarborough, michael champan. my current fave non-son volt song?
beach red lullaby, flying saucer attack. this song’s on all the mixtapes for me. this is a beautiful song by a musician i really admire. when i rent my rehearsal space next month, i’m going to start churning out stuff that could legitimately be dismissed as fsa-wannabe vanity drone-ballads.
false positive, anders parker. a hard rocker on the great, soft and sad s/t. i love it when he calls out the “hair doo jerks.” god, anders’ live set that mp and i saw was fucking amazing.
monkey with a gun, the yayhoos. this is what it sounds like to get drunk with my uncle ramsey over a pack of camel lights. you skip lunch and forget dinner, getting in a slap-fight cuz randy won’t stop making squealing noises in the sports bar you’ve ended up at. it’s only 7:40 for chrissakes.
hannah and gabi (live), lemonheads. speaking of uncle ramsey.
haunt you down, pavement. i’d still name this one when pressed for top five gtr solos, even though the ‘lo itself is maybe four bars and three notes. god, the vibe on this song reminds me of waking up to god knows what at sixteen.
will to love, neil young. and then let’s wrap things up with bittersweet and pensive canadian dry-humps.