John Gushue . . . Dot Dot Dot

Weekend playlist

Some hype that rings true, a Bowie gem and a rom-com-sparked re-release are among this week's playlist.

Vampire Weekend: Walcott. Vampire Weekend got a remarkable amount of pre-release hype before their debut album was released at the end of January ... and it's deserved. To me, anyway. The comparisons you'll hear about - Paul Simon, Talking Heads, etc. - add up, too.

Badly Drawn Boy: The Time of Times. Out this week, Damon Gough has reworked an album track for the forthcoming romantic comedy Definitely Maybe. Definitely listenable.

Robert Plant & Alison Krauss: Rich Woman. From Raising Sand, a hypnotic romp of an old tune, with a fine, swampy atmosphere.

Neko Case: Deep Red Bells. Last year, Case released Live From Austin TX, an album made from a set for the Austin City Limits TV program. It was recorded in 2003, though, which means, of course, that newer material won't be on it. No loss, though - she sounds amazing.

David Bowie: TVC 15. An evergreen gem from the Seventies. 

I post a playlist here every weekend; click on the links below to see more.

Weekend playlist (recycling edition)

Every other Saturday, I spend a bit of time - as much as an hour, it seems - in the garage area, sorting through recycling, getting garbage bagged up, tidying things up. My iPod never seems more valuable than getting through more tedious chores. Here are some of the songs that have been on that playlist lately.

Dave "Baby" Cortez: The Happy Organ Cortez. Included on a compilation of Fifties and Sixties tunes, this two-minute-long instrumental is both cheesy and exhilarating. It comes in a small dose, and is hard to resist. It apparently is the first single to make commercial use of the electric organ; it went to No. 1 in 1959.

Curtis Lee: Pretty Little Angel Eyes. Another mono-era classic, and hard not to sing along with ... including any or even all of the harmony parts.

Björk: The Dull Flame Of Desire. Some years ago, I remember causing one of those stinkbomb moments at a party when I said I didn't much care for Björk. The others, evidently, did. Oh well. Things haven't much changed over the years. The Q best of 2007 album included this track from Volta, a duet with Antony Hegarty of a plodding song that lifts its lyrics from a Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev poem. Oddly enough, I let it play through.

Deodato: Also Sprach Zarathustra. Speaking of surprises, I've been getting a kick out of this Seventies flashback: the funkified workout of Strauss's Also Sprach Zarathustra, post-2001. My head goes into shades or orange, brown and purple just thinking about it ...

The Submarines: Peace and Hate. The L.A. duo are a bit cute, but are worth checking out. (Their MySpace page is here.) Melodic and very hummable.

I post a list of about five songs here every weekend. Click on the links below to see past entries.

Weekend playlist

I had been trying - pretty hard - to jot a short playlist every Saturday of some of the songs I've been listening to lately. Easier said than done; with the boy's activities, chores, shopping and the rest of it, there just hasn't been as much free time on Saturday to do even such as short job. Sooo ... the weekend playlist is born. And I continue to be very grateful to the suggestions that friends have sent in, and for the gems they've suggested.

The National: Fake Empire. In a more just world, The National's latest album, Boxer, would have made a bigger splash last year, other than some well-deserved critical applause. Click here to see The National perform Fake Empire last summer on David Letterman.

Michael Cera & Ellen Page: Anyone Else But You: We went to see Juno earlier this month, and loved it. I made a beeline for the music store to get a copy of the soundtrack, and learned it had been backordered up the wazoo. I downloaded a copy from iTunes, and have been playing it all a lot. This is the performance that closes the film: sweet, but not saccharine.

Black Kids: I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You. I made a note in November about how I had been playing this song repeatedly; I still play it a lot. I was struck to learn this Florida outfit only formed a couple of years ago. It still sounds like a 45 from a quarter-century ago that just got dusted off.

Eilen Jewell: High Shelf Booze. I picked up this tune by the Boston chanteuse on a Word magazine compilation. Replaying it lately reminds me to go find more.

XTC: Living Through Another Cuba. From Black Sea, a reggae-infused bounce of international-relations paranoia. Which never goes out of style ... the paranoia, that is. Maybe the reggae, too...

Saturday playlist (covers edition)

It's been a while since I posted a list of covers that I like. Here's another.

Boy Least Likely To: Faith. Yes, Faith ... the George Michael song ("Before this river becomes an ocean," and other lame lines), made yummy with a singalong version by Boy Least Like To, with banjo, handclaps and a small orchestra of toy instruments. Irresistable.

Fine Young Cannibals: Suspicious Minds. A reinvention of Elvis, before reinventing Elvis was not only cool, but standard. A great use of Jimmy Somerville on backing vocals, too.

U2: Dancing Barefoot. A B-side from the '80s, with an acoustic strum through the Patti Smith song. I can see why U2 left it off Joshua Tree-era releases ... it doesn't fit ... but it's a compelling performance.

Cassandra Wilson: I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry. Something about the Hank Williams song cries out for reinterpretation (Jean Hewson of St. John's does a lovely version), perhaps because it's such an intimate lyric.

Albert Plá: El Lado Mas Bestia de la Vida. Walk on the Wild Side, ex Lou Reed, but given a sinewy new rhythm, and delivered in Spanish. It appears on (and is a highlight of ) the Putomayo album Cover The World. You can watch the video here.

I post a playlist here most every Saturday. Click on the link below to see more.

Saturday playlist (getting back to normal edition)

Christmas lasts a full 12 days in this house, and then some, but we're in a wind-down mode. Thus, a playlist for the mood.

Hard-Fi: Watch Me Fall Apart. One of the U.K. bands to make a splash this year. This song reminds me of an old tune, and I can't put my finger on it. (Frustrating!)

Rico & The Special AKA: Rasta Call You. A rousing tune I downloaded a few weeks ago from iTunes, from a Specials collection of singles, B-sides and such called Stereo-Typical. I didn't have this one, so it was a treat to get it. Rico Rodrigues always amazes; collecting more will be a priority in the months ahead.

Booker T. Jones and Jolie Holland: What A Wonderful World. Often such a sappy song, but here, it swings gently, with Booker T. on the organ. Picked up via KCRW's podcast. The single was released in November to mark the 40th anniversary of the song's composition; you can read more about the project here.

Elvis Perkins: While You Where Sleeping. The son of Anthony Perkins and Berry Berenson: a trivia note to get you in the door. But his songs are great.

Wings: Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five. From Band on the Run, a favourite piano melody. When a school friend of mine played it, I instantly regretted not trying harder to learn to play myself. And, at that point, 1985 seemed so far away!

Click on the link below to see more tunes posted to the Saturday Playlist queue. And drop a line to suggest a song you like. These ears are open.

The 2007 Christmas playlist

Normally - if I get around to it at all - I post a list of five songs or so that have been in the earbuds lately. This week, something different.

Every year, I made a CD of Christmas music for the family and some close friends. This year was the eighth edition; in 2000, I figured I would soon enough run out of Christmas music, but that has not been a problem; I keep finding new albums every year, and I get plenty of pointers to something else worth listening to.

Here's this year's list.

Vince Guaraldi Trio: Christmas Is Coming. From a Charlie Brown Christmas, one of the many themes that is instantly familiar to millions who grew up watching the special and (if you're like me) get to watch it again through children's eyes.

New Birth Brass Band: Santa's Second Line. From a Putumayo collection.

The Drifters: White Christmas. One of the best-known versions of White Christmas, this one got bumped alojng from year to year.

Aimee Mann: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. Our son's favourite song on this year's list.

James Taylor: Santa Claus Is Coming To Town. Our top version of the behavioural modifier of the pre-Christmas season.

The Spinners: The Twelve Days of Christmas. No, not the familiar R&B Spinners, but instead a British folk group I didn't know about until this year. A funny but full running of the counting song.

The Crickets: Deck the Halls. Yes, the old Buddy Holly Crickets, with a song with "holly" in it. That didn't occur to me until a few days after I added it.

Jack Jones: Sleigh Ride. As discussed here recently, Jack Jones's version is heavy on the schmooze, but I like it anyway, especially the horn arrangement, which reminds me of when I played trumpet.

Ella Fitzgerald: Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer. Ella Fitzgerald has appeared on every year's compilation - which seems appropriate, given she made one of the best Christmas albums ever recorded.

Sufjan Stevens: The Friendly Beasts. Stevens's Songs For Christmas was the find of last year, and will keep me stoked for years to come. We love how this version of the Friendly Beasts builds gradually, with everyone chipping in on vocals, regardless of singing ability. (More Sufjan Stevens Christmas stuff is here.)

Dave Panting: Carol of the Bells. From Dave's excellent Mandolin Christmas album of a few years back.

Anúna: Away in a Manger. Anúna reportedly left a few people breathless at this year's Festival 500. They have a Christmas CD, and it's beautiful.

Maddy Prior & The Carnival Band: The Angel Gabriel. Maddy Prior's voice may be an acquired taste, but I love how she does carols.

Mary Margaret O'Hara: Christmas Evermore. Whatever happened to Mary Margaret O'Hara, anyway?

Stevie Wonder: Someday At Christmas. A Sixties pop chestnut, and still relevant, unfortunately.

Sinéad O'Connor: Silent Night. Lush and gentle.

Willie Nelson: Jingle Bells. A wonderful, spirited version that doesn't take itself too seriously.

Sarah McLachlan: I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day. I was going to use one of the tracks from McLachlan's recent Christmas album, Wintersong, until I heard this, on the new Starbucks compilation, Stockings By the Fire.

Pet Shop Boys: It Doesn't Often Snow At Christmas. A Pet Shops Boys single about the dull reality that Christmas Dad can sometimes be, but still a toe-tapper.

LED vs. Panaphonic: My Favorite Things. An electronica-lite take on the Sound of Music tune, which I always associate with Christmas and the onset of winter.

Blind Boys Of Alabama Feat. Shelby Lynne: The Christmas Song. Chestnuts with a slow roasting feel.

Rufus Wainwright: What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? From the McGarrigle Christmas Hour album.

Van Morrison: Celtic New Year. OK, this doesn't have anything to do with Christmas, or even with regular New Year's ... (it's about Samhain, which was in November) but I like the tone of it all the same.

Saturday playlist (checking a list edition)

Each year, I've made a CD for family (and some good friends) of Christmas music. Those who know me know there's a stack of Christmas music by the stereo - to be truthful, there's a few stacks - and I put more thought into the annual Christmas CD than I would have expected. The newest, the eighth, is pretty well lined up, with dozens of songs left by the side - including two new ones that I can place here. (Later this month, I hope to make a list out of the songs that made the cut this year.)

The Killers: Don't Shoot Me Santa. Brand-new from Brandon Flowers & Co., a wicked tune that delves into Christmas, homicide, the desert and a whack of genres. I'd add it, if I knew small children didn't listen to the compilation. I picked it up as a download from iTunes. (You can watch the video here.)

Herbie Hancock featuring Corinne Bailey Rae: River. This year's Starbucks holiday release, Stockings by the Fire, makes an apt note. Somehow, Joni Mitchell's River has morphed into a Christmas song. Several years ago, Linda Ronstadt recorded it, and last year alone, James Taylor and Sarah McLachlan added it to their respective Christmas albums. This year's turn is Herbie Hancock, with a low-key jazz take, with Corinne Bailey Rae warbling along side. Pleasant, but not stunning.

The Psychedelic Furs: The Ghost In You. Proof that Psychelic Furs were more pop than punk, but who cares? A happy memory from 20-odd years ago.

The Tubes: Talk to Ya Later. Similarly, the Tubes got a lift from branding over what was broadly called new wave, if though it didn't really hit. This is from the era when their theme-show included business suits.

Kate Schutt: Glamorous Life. Yes, the Sheila E. song. No, it doesn't sound at all like Sheila E. Another tune I really like from the guitarist (and cohort of Duane Andrews).

Saturday playlist

A few of the tunes I've been listening to lately:

Carbon/ Silicon: Why Do Men Fight? If there's a camp that divides Clash fans between Joe Strummer and Mick Jones, put me in the Jones camp, even though it's definitely more acceptable (read: fashionable) to pick Strummer. Post-Clash, Jones has often been a disappointment, as Strummer usually was, but he's still working it out. Carbon/Silicon is an unlikely collaboration with Tony James, of all people. Excellent tune to start the day, though.

Jill Cunniff: Lazy Girls. I picked up this tune from the ex-Luscious Jackson singer months ago from a KCRW podcast; it sat stored away for months before I noticed it.

Ron Sexsmith: All in Good Time. Ron Sexsmith = best living songwriter. I tend to think that many days. So many of his songs are so finely crafted, it's hard to knock them. All in Good Time has been a staple for a long, long time, and although it's a bit mawkish to admit it, the song's message gets heeded when I feel a bit run down.

The Beatles: Drive My Car. Speaking of tight songwriting ... From Rubber Soul, an album that is so lean and straight-up, Drive My Car - running all of 2'30" - is among the longer songs on the entire record. (Only one song on Rubber Soul, You Won't See Me, runs over three minutes!) Drive My Car is one of those songs I grew up singing along to, and probably one of the first where I sniffed out innuendo on the radio.

Manny Corchado: Chicken and Booze. From a Mojo compilation, a nice slice of jazzy funk that warms up a walk in mid-November.

I (really, really try to) post five songs from my revolving playlist to a queue on this blog. Click on the label below to see more.

Saturday playlist

It's been a few weeks since I've posted a playlist; this week, some of the tunes that have been flowing through the earbuds or (in the case of the first tune) in the car over the last month or so.

Robert Goulet: If Ever I Would Leave You. Here's another way in which Homer Simpson has enriched our household. Earlier this fall, the Simpsons aired an episode called Homer of Seville, in which Homer discovers he has an operatic voice, but as long as he lies down. One of the songs he sings is this. When Ingrid Fraser played Goulet's version from the original cast recording of Camelot (I'm a bit embarrassed to say I didn't know that's where the song came from!) on Halloween, in tribute to Goulet's passing, my son - in his Superman costume - lowered his seat way back, a la Homer, and sang along. I downloaded this that night.

Pat Carroll: Single Girl. Months ago, my dad told me to keep an eye out for the movie Songcatcher, a fictionalized account of the song collectors of Appalachian tunes in the early 20th century. Not a bad movie, and a much more interesting soundtrack, featuring the likes of Emmylou Harris and Rosanne Cash reviving some very old songs. This is right from the film - one minute of Pat Carroll singing in character.

Aimee Mann: Could've Been Anyone. From Whatever, in 1993. A phrase everyone uses, but at least she got in early on it.

Kevin Devine: Just Stay. I knew zip about Devine, a New Yorker, until I picked up this song amid a Paste magazine sampler. It's one of the reasons I buy Paste; a good find makes up for the cost of the magazine alone, and the rest is gravy. A video of Devine performing the song solo last month at Rutgers University can be seen here.

Sam Roberts: Bridge to Nowhere. This has been one of the tunes I like to have on hand when I walk to or from work; good for keeping a pace.

I post (when I can, or remember!) a set of recently heard tunes on Saturdays. Click below to see more.

Saturday playlist

I picked up some new music recently, some of which makes this week's playlist.

Bruce Springsteen: Livin' In The Future. The Boss reunites with the E Street Band with a sound that would not have been out of place on Darkness on the Edge of Town. Livin' in the Future has all the elements: organ, big crashing drums, chiming guitar chords and - best of all - Clarence Clemons ripping through his sax.

Annie Lennox: Ghosts In My Machine. It's been a looong wait for a new album by Annie Lennox, and it turns out to be pretty sober stuff. Not surprising, I guess, as she was moved to write Songs of Mass Destruction by warfare, AIDS in Africa and pains both international and personal. That said, Ghosts in My Machine is a stomper, albeit with accordion where you would expect to hear synthesizers.

Sam Cooke: That's Where It's At. I dropped all of a Sam Cooke anthology into my Nano a few weeks ago, and I don't tire of hearing the songs when they show up in shuffle mode.

The New Pornographers: Myriad Harbour. Challengers is a very good new album. There's something precious about this song, but I play it a lot anyway.

The Velvet Underground: Pale Blue Eyes. A wonderful, slow, swaying slice of Lou Reed.

Click below to see previous posts to the Saturday Playlist queue.