Tag: The Slackers

Tonight, the universe set off a billion trillion nuclear bombs in order to paint the sky with northern lights. It’s an appropriate light show for Peel Dream Magazine, whose shimmering tones seem to float out of the speakers like undulating curtains of sound.

It's a story as old as robots themselves, and Röyskopp is here to tell the tale.

Peach season is hot and heavy here in the Grand Valley, but I have yet to reach peach oversaturation. Give them to me in anything and everything, sure, I’ll try it. A special selection tonight in the form of The Beat, a one-hour set of music self-referentially dedicated to its own rhythmic components, after which things took their usual turn for the weird.

Normally an off night, but I had work travel. Many thanks to Honey Lady for switching nights so I can keep these hits coming! I am truly digging Audio Book Club and their demented Oklahoma skronk, hugging you warm and tight while they stab you in the back. Here’s hoping the Grand Valley is a stop should they venture westwards.

No matter what you paid, you can consider BIG SPECIAL a true bargain.

The daylight arrivals are now fading into twilight but the season of amnesia continues, this time with forgetting to bring a copy of the playlist with me. The station’s auto-playlister came to the rescue, identifying almost every track. Tonight! We have something particularly aggressive off the Psychedelic Porn Crumpets’ latest release.

Joanna Sternberg is an open book, and you can’t keep from turning the pages.

Things started out normally, with a cover and an excellent new single from Waxahatchee, but took a turn for the unexpected when the highly-anticipated Cat Empire set went missing. Was it skipped over on the player accidentally? Had I forgotten to make a copy to bring to the station? Could I download it from the backup at home? After a couple of sets of troubleshooting, it turned out I had named the file incorrectly. These are the hazards you encounter as a live-in-the-studio DJ, kids.

I always thought Kurt Vile was a play on the name of the German composer that gave us “Mack The Knife,” but that seems to be his given name (bonus: middle name is Samuel). Sonically, he’s more in line with Lou Reed than Weill, topping his awkward nouveau folk with a voice that may not be the most musical but is actually the perfect medium to express this particular malarkey.

It takes a certain mindset to take on a King Crimson song, and clearly black midi is of that mindset. Is it a bugle call for all prog rockers everywhere to take up their Moogs and sparkly jumpsuits and join the New Prog Revolution? I can support that.