Mixtape 254 :: Please Don’t Call On Me
Barry Adamson delivers soundtracks to cinematic masterpieces that don’t exist.
Barry Adamson delivers soundtracks to cinematic masterpieces that don’t exist.
We’re starting out with new music from Beatsteaks, who are taking on the Fun Boy Three’s “The Lunatics (Have Taken Over The Asylum)” for our opener. Tonight’s show featured both Molecular Steve and Delicate Steve, both of whom have new albums out, so I expect another couple of Steve-heavy shows in the future.
Tonight’s show kicks off with a long overdue hour of Version Control 10 — our special blend of songs that you might call “covers”. About a year ago, I filled three hours with covers, which leads me to believe something is messing with the covers ecosystem, and I have my theories. The middle hour was a regular Mixtape (if such a thing can be allowed), and the Final Hour was its usual rocketride mindtrip, a big thank you to all that came aboard.
Out of all the songs to receive Animal Collective’s swirling dayglo treatment, “Jimmy Mack” might be the most unexpected yet the most deserving. Elsewhere tonight, loyal listener Underdog, usually located in the wilds of Georgia, was able to tune in around lunchtime while traveling in Japan, making the second show in a row with a listener based in Asia. Get me marketing!
It’s been about six months since the previous compliation of music that was played on the 11pm-midnight section of the Mixtape — the late-night temporal space that receives music that is strange, harsh, and/or repetitive that is known as The Final Hour. This is the second anthology from this pool of music, presented through the entirety of tonight’s Mixtape to allow those whose schedule leans towards the earlier hours a chance to experience. Hark!
Sometimes it takes a while for an album to be recognized as a classic, sometimes the shock of recognition is instant and universal. This is the case for Spoon and their latest release, Lucifer on the Sofa, which showcases much of what has made the band a constant source of solid material, but in a concentrated way that will make you start all over as soon as you hit the end.
Multilayered excursions into the analog and digital realms, blurring everything into a psychoactive tapestry.
It was a quiet night... I believe an unearthly materializing of liquid water from thin air had people on edge. Elsewhere, the phenomenon is so common it has its own word -- "rain" -- but here in the Grand Valley, it's so rare as to trigger suspicions of alien interference, chemtrails, or bitcoin market manipulation. Sometimes all three.
Is it experimental psychedelia or is it the soundtrack to a fragmented dream? It is not necessary to decide.
Off-kilter washes of synth and gothic vocals amidst psychedelic folk, rushes of prog rock, and incredibly delicate moments.