One final challenge awaits: swim through the Reservoir of Bliss, filled with honey, liquid moonlight, and endorphins, then dance in slow motion across the infra-disco, as BRONCHO's underwater guitar syrup and whispered falsetto choruses are playing.
Sure, bring your slick neon-tinged indie rock in here. I don't care that you sprinkled keyboards and saxophones all over in addition to the stabbing guitars, distressed vocals, and plucky bass. It just needs a beat we can dance to.
Beak> welcome you into their world of strangely organic robots.
It was a night for mazzy music, starting with a startlingly woozy track from Maya Hawke and following up with entries from many other exemplary female vocalists with a unique sense of melody and delivery. Also, it’s now light when I leave for the radio station, and midnight when I return, which adds a sense of interdimensional time travel to the broadcasting ritual, I’m going to enjoy that for a few more shows before it’s back to operating under the cover of darkness.
Club Makumba is hot, the drinks are strong, and you’re not ready to leave just yet.
Sometimes, you’re in the mood for something unrelenting and obsessive, and Meatbodies has what you need.
Tonight, we start with a special presentation of My Favorite Lies, a one-hour collection of songs about untruths, deception, fakery, and more. Moving on, we filled the rest of the evening with the usual variety of genres, mostly from the last few months. Of particular note are new releases from Holiday Ghosts, Adrienne Lenker, and Alejandro Escovedo.
Welcome to Kim Gordon’s angular world, equal parts plush down and sharp razor.
“Is this the music, is this the music you like?” yell The Bug Club above a robotic repetitive riff. Yes, this is the music I like. Tonight’s special seems to be bands with names too sensitive to read over the air in Rural Colorado, like Pissed Jeans, Mannequin Pussy, and STRFKR. No matter, we’ll turn it into a game for the listeners.
A flamboyant tip of the hat to Charley, who shared Being Dead with me only recently. I am smitten and kicking myself for missing their debut album’s release last summer, but I am fiercely making up for lost time. This evening’s Velvet Potty Mouth award goes to STRFKR, whose distinctive FUCK sat like a rock in a river of glitter and was carefully edited out for the Grand Valley’s sensitive ears.
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