Television Sky [album stream]
You’re gonna have to give both sides of this tape a couple of minutes up front, lest you immediately (and wrongfully) allow the words “Neon” and “Indian” to rudely creep into your thoughts and keep you from really exploring the celestial tunnels of Television Sky. So I implore of you, let it be. Have a drink. Blink a few times. Pick your nose. Just give Gemini Trajectory the space and time Gemini Trajectory so absolutely needs and deserves, and soon you’ll find yourself off the couch, pizza boxes magically cleaned up off your coffee table, and instead of staring at an 8-bit video game, you’ll be inside of it. Yeah, Tron-style or something, but better. The intros are like the taxi of the plane just before takeoff — fun mainly in the anxious anticipation of the flight that’s about to come. And quite the ride Television Sky is: through miles of silicon skyway, this thing soars. It’s a night ride, a pitch-black backdrop peeking through beams of Lite-Brite synths. Lightly dance, heavily Kraut, moderately ambient, and 100% dreamy throughout.
I heard a rumor that this may be Gemini Trajectory’s last release. Not sure if the assertion carries much weight or not, but if it is true, you’ll want to get all over this. Stream or download here:
The Music Tapes
“The Dark Is Singing Songs (Sleepy Time Down South)”
Historically, the longevity of melodies has depended largely on their reproducibility. As popular music arose in the 20th century, this reproducibility often hinged on its method of dissemination (via sheet music, player pianos, gramophone players, TV, film, etc.), but running in parallel with these technologies was the oral tradition of folk musicians, which necessitated melodies that were, at the very least, memorable in order to be refashioned and retransmitted.
It’s no surprise that a song like “Sleepy Time Down South” has lasted over 80 years. The song, originally performed in 1931 by Nina Mae McKinney (in a film called Safe in Hell) and later popularized by Louis Armstrong (who, importantly, was the first jazz artist to actually choose which songs he played), is a perfect example of where the two above-mentioned methods of reproduction meet. Not only was the song heard widely on TV, film, and radio, but it also had a downright gorgeous, heart-wrenching melody that has survived its many variations, from Billie Holiday and The Boswell Sisters to Wynton Marsalis and Louis Prima.
With “The Dark Is Singing Songs (Sleepy Time Down South),” the intro track to The Music Tapes’ forthcoming album Mary’s Voice, Julian Koster takes the melody and runs with it. Aside from removing the beats, which already serves to highlight the melody, Koster stretches it the way he does his own melodies, straining his voice to emphasize the song’s dynamic range in the process. By the time he mutters the refrain, he sounds exhausted. Interestingly, the lyrics are altered by Koster too, most notably the second line of the song. Which is a good thing: the original tune is about the Great Migration of African-Americans from the South to the North and featured the lyrics “Darkies crooning songs soft and low.” Somewhere along the way, the line was changed to “Folks are crooning songs soft and low” (which is the version Louis Armstrong sang, but not without losing a portion of his African-American audience). Koster, however, goes back to the original lyrics as a source of inspiration, changing “darkies” to “the dark is,” a play on words that both undercuts the melody’s racist origins and keeps in line with his aestheticization of nature.
While the information age has pushed aside the necessity of memorable melodies for reproduction (I can hear you downloading Merzbox right now), I can’t help but have a renewed faith in the power of melody not only to provide continuities with our past, but also to revise it. Listen here:
Mary’s Voice, the follow-up to Music Tapes for Clouds and Tornadoes (#30 on our Favorite 100 Albums of 2000-2009 list), is part one of a two-album series. The album, due September 4 on Merge, features pop-up artwork (seen above) and is available now for pre-order.
“Peak Behind the Window”
The name Wellington Downs sounds like a country club, doesn’t it? I just think of a bunch of uptight rich guys smoking cigarettes through silver cigarette holders, sipping on martinis, and talking about golf and the stock market, but I get all these stereotypes from movies, so who knows? Either Wellington Downs is a reference to something other than a country club or things get real hot and heavy among all those smug jerks when they unwind after the sun sets and all the women let their hair down.
Check out “Peak Behind the Window” from his new tape on Patient Sounds below, and scuff up those shiny white golf cleats as you dance to that chugging beat underneath all of the galaxy-sized distortion.
Joe Knight (of Rangers)
“Walk in Closet”
Like most of his laid-back pond-dwelling/beach-combing, Joe Knight toasts another slow-burner adrift the rest of them mallards and gulls. Only this time as himself, rather than using his Rangers moniker. Which is straight, whatever. Peeps go through name changes all the time. And all this lingering guitar is starting to remind me more of the trip home, when mom needs milk at the grocery store, and you’re stuck in the car for an hour waiting on… milk. She comes back with a cart full of food; you have sand everywhere; and the dog in the car next to y’all (aptly named Evil Woof Czar) has been killed in your space-age imagination over a dozen times now. “Just grabbed a few other things,” says mom, and now you wonder why such rebellion against spending money and shitty foods exists. Next times ya hit up your local waterfront (when you’re seven or eight), hide in the “Walk in Closet.” Find yourself your own youth.
• Joe Knight: http://soundcloud.com/joe-knight-music/tracks
THIS JUST IN: Azealia Banks’ Fantasea mixtape is available right here, right now.
• Azealia Banks: http://www.azealiabanks.com
The shimmering phrase that opens Pulse Emitter’s “Bioluminescence” sounds like a movie theater’s cue that the lights are going down and it’s time get quiet. The layers of synthesizer that emerge after the initial chime compel the listener to slow down and observe as if something is beginning to grow. Compounded by the imagery of the track’s title, “Bioluminescence” sounds like the score of a nature documentary that borders on science fiction. The song itself is a series of morphing cycles, of swelling synth growls and melodies that wax and wane — a translation of biological expectation. The shimmering patterns recur in variation and become the remarkable moments breaking up expectation, akin to glimmers of light emitting from a creature.
“Bioluminescence” is one of two Pulse Emitter (Daryl Groetsch) tracks contributed to the four-way 2xLP split on Immune Recording. Each of the four artists — Pulse Emitter, Date Palms, Expo 70, and Faceplant (Aaron Coyes of Peaking Lights) — cover a side of vinyl.