My Little Corner Of The World – Volume 41

by Vinh on January 26th, 2010

Idlewild – 100 Broken Windows (2000)
Music can be a very seasonal thing and the most attention is usually given to everyone’s favourite tunes for when the sun is shining and everyone is out and about enjoying the pleasures of a summer’s day. That’s all fine and well but for me, you can’t beat a good winter album. Some of my fondest records are ones that sound their best when accompanied by your favourite coat and a warm scarf as you walk briskly down the street to catch a bus or train with a cold unforgiving breeze whistling in your ear. The winter chill of snow and ice fantastically complement these sharp guitar-driven indie anthems from Scottish outfit Idlewild and I don’t want to listen to music about being somewhere tropical when outside my front door, the streets are basically sheets of ice. Escapism is one thing but ‘These Wooden Ideals’ or ‘Little Discourage’ will leave you in a happier place when you’re digging your car out of the snow. The effective vocal harmonies of Roddy Woomble and Rod Jones inject some warmth into the proceedings and ‘Let Me Sleep (Next To The Mirror)’ is downright glowing. This is an album you can bundle up with when your bastard of a landlord insists that the heat levels are adequate even though you’re watching TV in your parka. – Matthew James

Mr. Dibiase & P.U.D.G.E. – Los Angeles 1/10 Split (2010)
Dublin’s All City crew are back once again with a wonderful split 10″ from LA’s Mr. Dibiase and P.U.D.G.E.. The South LA native Dibiase covers his glowstick-drunk funk all over the first half of the split, conjuring five sparse cuts laden with neon-electric synth lines, obscure film samples, and beats that are reminiscent of Ras G. Conversely, P.U.D.G.E. contributes six tracks that fuse his wickedly sloppy-jallopy style with opium-induced hazy psychedelia. This is a must listen for downtempo-starved instrumental hip hop fans. – Todd Kearns

Devendra Banhart – Nino Rojo (2004)
Though Rejoicing In The Hands will always be Devendra’s most important album, it was a shame that in 2004 it had to overshadow Nino Rojo. While a little less cohesive than its predecessor, try holding that against him during the haunting vocal delivery of ‘Ay Mama’, or the happy-go-lucky ‘At The Hop’ as he sings “put me in your tongue-tied, make it hard to say, that you ain’t gonna stay”; not to mention ‘Little Yellow Spider’, an ode to animals that probably remains his best track to date. While it’s likely safe to say he’ll never again match the profundity and originality that flows through either of these albums, he will always be known as the leader of the acoustic freak-folk movement, regardless of his more recent endeavours. With the disappointingly shallow approach to his latest release, we’re left with nothing to cling to but his past. We can remember the acoustic guitar, and the eccentric vocals purring through sparse instrumentation that gave his clever lyrics room to soak in. He certainly isn’t who he used to be, and it’s kind of strange the way he changed. But then again, we all did too. – Rick Southwick

McLusky – McLusky Do Dallas (2002)
I came to McLusky in a backwards sort of way after hearing last year’s album from the Future Of The Left, the new project from McLusky frontman Andy Falkous and drummer Jack Egglestone. In the FOTL album, I was pleasantly surprised to find a punk album that was worth listening to and wasn’t simply a rehashing of themes and sounds that haven’t been relevant in almost twenty years. I was even more elated to find this, a contemporary punk classic from some Welsh malcontents. Unrest and social satire permeate every track, reminiscent of a time before campy and cliche pop-punk dominated the airwaves and the label of “punk” actually bore some weight. It doesn’t hurt either when the album’s opening track is a heart-stopping burner called ‘Lightsaber Cocksucking Blues’, and that’s just the beginning. – Paul Bulow

Daft Punk – Discovery (2001)
Lately, I’ve been bored to death with most new releases and find myself scrolling through my iTunes in search of older treasures that I’ve neglected of late. A few days ago, news hit the internet that a possible new Daft Punk song was floating around. Even though the new song ended up not being Daft Punk, the news still prompted me to spin some of their albums. Discovery finds the French duo trading in their Chicago art-house sound for a smoother, more fluid approach. The results yield gems like ‘Digital Love’ and ‘Aerodynamic’, not to mention the celebrated anthem ‘One More Time’. This record is just plain fun and that’s never a bad thing. – Joe Mateo

Rev. Gary Davis – Harlem Street Singer (1960)
The ability bluesmen and folk troubadours possess of opening portals to days gone by is unrivaled. This isn’t nostalgia — we’ve never lived these moments so there aren’t specific memories to recall — it’s a far scarcer, more elusive quality. We’re carried to a foreign time during which woes and worries were aired by the weary with no pretensions of art or accomplishment. This is merely an expression; sonic primitivism. Among the most tuneful songwriters of the 60s, Gary Davis comprises the full package from that grainy, grizzled voice to his deft ragtime-rooted guitar work. His spectacular 1960 LP Harlem Street Singer is positively transportive, enveloping us in the golden era of blues without relenting once throughout. The bubble never bursts, floating by a New York fraught with been-done-wrongism at every turn. Opener ‘Samson And Delilah’ is a brilliant touch-up of Blind Willie Johnson’s ‘If I Had My Way I’d Tear That Building Down’, driven by Davis’ stalwart vocals and spirited strums. Part gospel chant, part sour street-soaked rumination, the tune strikes as a vivid portrait of life amidst skyscrapers and the regrettable notions they represent. Harlem Street Singer was recorded in three hours, and frankly, even that seems to be pushing it as Davis’ renditions are so authentic and convincing that any more than one take for these dozen tracks is hardly fathomable. Whether he’s donning his vocal powerhouse hat (‘I Belong To The Band’) or one of the mannered storyteller variety (‘I Am The Light Of This World’), the Reverend is simply spellbinding. Every word he utters, every string he plucks has been marinated in hardship for decades. This is the past peeking its head into the present, and it’s so unflinchingly accurate that it’s become timeless. – Vinh Cao