Blake Miller has fashioned himself quite a dreamy little jam here. It shares the same slow incline and textural consistency of a Pacific Northwest thunderstorm. Listen for the rain and wind in the layers of drums and string plucks. Sprinkle in Miller’s ghostly whisper stacked atop itself and you’ve got yourself a yahtzee! The ideal co-pilot for those grey wet wintery travels to wherever your destination is.
… And Our Dreams || http://exitstencil.org/blakemiller.php
I don’t sleep much. I’m still sorting out what exactly the cause of all this is. However, I’m certain that a percentage of my insomnia is caused from jumpy dance-eletro-hip-pop jams like these. They keep me juking and moving— I am an unstoppable dancing robot; at home, at the office, in the car, doing dishes— I move, and clap, and sing along, and even when I’m not clapping and singing them, my brain is clapping and singing them, or at least my brain’s brain is thinking about it.
So happy Friday, here’s a grab back of musical awesome for your weekend dance party. And even if that party only consists of you in your footie pajamas vacuuming while wearing a funny hat, it’ll sure be sounding tasty.
Kennedy— Karate: A jam about being a thug, kicking ass, drunkenly driving— but only at night —and just being an all-around gansta, and how about that funky little guitar lick eh?
Kid Cudi— Switchin’ Lanes: This has become my go to jam when driving through the darkened wet wintery streets of P-town. I suggest popping it on the next time you’re swervin’ mervin’ in your ride and need to boost those feelings of bad-assed-ness by about 33.5%.
The Knux— Pop The Cork: This is exactly the sort of jam made for having sex with headphones on.
Kesha— Tik Tok (Fred Falke Remix): Yeah, yeah, yeah I know, this effing song is everywhere, and Kesha is annoyance personified. Thankfully this remix was the fist I heard of this jam, and I’m glad it was, because goddamn it gets the blood moving through the veins.
Tone Trump— Wifey (Ft. Dilemma): So many quality lyrics in this thug love jam, and I’m sure just like me, you will find it difficult not to bust this out for your shorty before the big wedding night.
FIRST RATE PEOPLE— GIRLS’ NIGHT: Sonic R&B influenced boy/girl chanting flirtations— yes please! Hard not to imagine the two protagonists casually— but consciously— circling each other at a party, tossing tiny shy glances and grins at one another. They’ve seen each other around before, but tonight they might just work up the courage to make it happen.
Nana Grizol was born out of the legendary Elephant 6 Collective. The N.G. moniker serves as the lone wolf (with friends) project for Theo Hilton. Taken from the sophomore record Ruth, this is the perfect sort of indie pop gem that speaks with such insightful wisdom, it makes Hilton come off as an old soul who’s been around, pontificating since the days of Socrates. This song alone should earn him an honorary philosophy degree from the prestigious university of his choice.
I Once Had A Lover, I Don’t Know If I’ll Recover || http://www.myspace.com/nanagrizol
The blipy-splish-splashy audio accoutrements that book end “Boy Toy” always makes me feel like a gold fish indulging in the sweetest of raves in my fish tank; my fins fluttering like humming bird wings, making the water the most enjoyable shade of murky. If only that damn suckerfish would come out of the castle and partake in the abundance of dance-friendly hooks this jam has to offer!
In a let’s be a bit friendlier with the kids move, Starfucker recently changed their name to PYRAMIDDD. As far as I’m concerned, they can call themselves Shit Sandwich as long as they keep pumping out fantastic danceable leg flexors and sweet covers like this. If you’re someone who’s really into pharmaceuticals, you may already be familiar with another of the bands dynamite jams.
Sharon Von Etten— Much More Than That
She was a Midwestern violinist from the age of seven. Since she had begun playing she’d had perfect intonation. She practiced constantly— violin, writing, what she would say to him. One day, she would be better; she thought to herself, she would find the words. She wore a small plastic white ring on her finger, even today, even now. He’d given it to her in the kitchen when she was ten-years-old, proposing over a lunch consisting of ants on a log (celery sticks, peanut butter and raisins). He was her childhood imaginary friend, but she believed in him, still, just as she had then. They never kissed, they never had to, it was understood. Instead he held her hand at night while she slept and they just laughed, and cuddled, and rode bicycles, and talked about cartoons. Recapturing that, re-finding him, this became her goal, her mission, and her life. It was simple; she needed nothing else to maker her happy. Just him truly knowing how she felt, what her blood sounded like. One day she would find the words, she would be better, she would be able to make the sound that would make him reappear. So she continued, she practiced, and practiced, constantly.
I Write This Moment Down || http://www.myspace.com/sharonvanetten
Electric Tickle Machine— Part Of Me
Aside from having one of my favorite new band names, Electric Tickle Machine also sport one of the cheekiest album covers in sometime. Combine that with tasty jangly garage jams such as “Part Of Me,” and you’re looking at a trifecta of awesome!
Voted most likely to make your head wiggle while belting “ba—da—ba—da—ba—ba—ba, ba—da—ba—da—ba—ba—ba” “Part Of Me” oddly packs some pretty sentimental lyrical turns into it’s hooky pop-riddled three minutes. Even with a non-traditional pairing of instrumentation and phrase, it still comes of as the most honest and radical of love songs.
“Part Of Me” comes from the New York rockers self released Blew It Again, which is totally worth picking up, and you can do so here.
Buy A Puppy It Will Make You More Presentable || http://www.myspace.com/electricticklemachine
I know, I know. As your eyes glance over the photo to your right you’re sarcastically thinking, “Oh what the hell, I’ve totally seen this guy before.” However, It really is in your best interest disregarding the ridiculous hipster-ness of Mr. Deez. Not only because he’s “the most likeable hipster in the world,” but because the music is worth it. And speaking of the music— dang what a great tune! I mean seriously, I wish I could live in this jam. I want to swim around in the bouncy guitar riff and hand—clappy adorable optimism. It’s a song that makes you want to smile out loud. I may just hire someone to follow me around, jam box in hand (Lloyd Dobler style), playing nothing but this song on repeat, thus making my life a continuous cutesy movie montage.
As a friend of mine so spot on described it, “I guess you could hate this song, if you really, really tried. Or if you were born an asshole.”
For those of you preparing that Valentines Day Mix for your sweetie, you’ve just been given the mix-tape Contra cheat code for thirty bonus make out lives.
You Are Mine To Keep || http://www.myspace.com/darwindeez
