Mixtape 139 :: Moving On
The Gaslamp Killer earned his nickname by ruining the vibe of clubs in San Diego’s Gaslamp district with his incongruous DJ sets, so we must conclude those clubs were lame.
The Gaslamp Killer earned his nickname by ruining the vibe of clubs in San Diego’s Gaslamp district with his incongruous DJ sets, so we must conclude those clubs were lame.
Among the lockdown detritus of 2020 is this gem showing the introspective jazzy musings of one of the most important dub and post-punk bassists of the last 40 years.
The best place to hide seemed to be, ironically, right behind the ballot box. The numerologist and the baker had been underway on a wholly distinct mission, having already secured the deflated knifeboats inside a conveniently placed culvert. They now seemed to be caught in the crossfire of two opposing factions, each intent on some inscrutable and erratically violent purpose that seemed to be nothing but foiling the other side’s efforts. The roving skirmishes had drawn away participants and created a fairly event-free circle of balance where the pair could hunker down and plan their next move. It was going to be a long night.
Tricky’s approach to music, with subdued tempos and striking contrasts (like pitting his industrial grit voice against Marta’s honeyed vocals) has not dulled over the years, glinting in the streetlight like an out of place scalpel.
The name would lead you to expect old-school riff-heavy fuzzed-out psychedelia with a strong southeast Asian accent, and it would lead you true.
Callahan’s deep gruff voice meanders through acoustic non-linear arrangements like a limo driver telling a story, completely oblivious to their own cowboy poetry.
The insurance inspector shook her head. She’d never seen a fire consume a structure so quickly and completely; this must be some new form of accelerant. Most curiously, the inferno seemed to have started at the stereo speakers.
Supremely independent for going on three decades, Superchunk’s incisive nervous energy is still one of the purest indie highs you can find.
To make illuminati hotties for your gathering, splash melody and harsh noise into a tumbler, drop in some production trickery, and shake until you hear a dizzying howl emerge
The celebrated funk guitarist releases this collection of R&B and/or big-band inflected compositions, featuring some notable guest stars, but it’s all just wrapping paper on a big cinderblock of groove.