Mixtape 127 • Roll Me Mama, Roll Me
It’s easy to suspect Ray LaMontagne came from a recently unearthed time capsule documenting the folkie scene of half a century ago.
It’s easy to suspect Ray LaMontagne came from a recently unearthed time capsule documenting the folkie scene of half a century ago.
The cryptographer tried to once again estimate the circumference of the lighthouse, asking the question aloud and then naming best guesses. The compulsion to know these geometric factors was strong. The agronomist successfully prevented their eyes from rolling. The history of this place was more interesting, having provided a high point from which to shine a light for centuries, currently for Estonia but briefly for the Kingdom of Torgu. That last bit of trivia was relevant because they were here to meet with the self-appointed Official Court Jester, who had requested they journey to this location on a rented tandem bicycle. They had also requested ice cream, “any color except white.” It waited in a cooler strapped to the bicycle’s ample frame.
The courier unrolled the blueprints onto the brightly-lit drafting table. The basement of the Gomel Regional Museum of Military Glory was not only roomy enough to house several specimens of large weaponry, but also extremely well illuminated. The historian had mused, repeatedly, on how some of the bigger pieces must have been disassembled in the field then reassembled in here for storage, hence the need for the lights. Upstairs, the gala which had served as their cover for entry continued into the night, the band now striking up some sort of Caspian samba. Quite an elaborate operation, but they needed to machine a new aileron for the ekranoplan, and this was the only place they would find the designs.
The mason laid a bare hand on the stone block. It was nearly three hours since the sun had set, yet the western-facing brick, part of the multitudinous grid that made up Port Blair’s Cellular Jail, still retained a significant amount of heat. The cryptographer glanced back at the yelp of surprise, but continued scraping a sample into a container with a microchip at its bottom using a dental tool, humming along with Caribbean tango audible in the distance. They were supposed to meet the man with the elephant down at the beach in only forty-seven minutes. It was still unclear why the plan called for such a journey as part of their extraction to Viper Island.
A set of guitar-centered mid-tempo numbers that live somewhere in the region staked out by jazz, funk, and soul.
Snow was expected, but never showed up. Suits me fine. Surprisingly, this is the third episode of 2019, and I’m warming up to the hectic weekly pace. Thanks to Mark, Generoso, Lily, and Robin for tuning in and triumphing over the depths of midwinter midnight.
Crisp and clear, and kinda weird towards the end… tonight’s episode had many interesting twists and musical turns, and a certain inability to properly pronounce things.
Even obscurists get to form supergroups, and Filthy Friends is one of the top entries in that category, with membership from Sleater-Kinney, the Young Fresh Fellows, the Fastbacks, and more.
At the extreme end of DIY is DEY — do everything yourself. It’s a unique solipsistic sound, and Stoltz is very good at it, blending a variety of rock, psych, and synth influences into his own sound.