A place to share my love for obscure pop songs, absurdist flash fiction, and other quirky pop culture miscellany.Tumblr (3.0; @hussalonia)http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/133514684/Wm4zfp96tpdmh2vphEB1uT1M&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>I Forget It’s There: Lay Low (2008)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img vspace="5" hspace="20" border="5" align="left" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/Farewell-Good-Nights-Sleep-by-Lay-L.jpg" width="150" height="150"/>According to <a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Lay+Low" target="_blank">the bio on Last.fm</a>, Lay Low (the nom de microphone of Lovísa Elísabet Sigrúnardóttir) has topped the Icelandic charts with her 2006 debut, <i>Please Don’t Hate Me</i>. Now, I don’t doubt for a second that Icelandic music charts exist – I know they do – but a brief search on the Internet yielded nothing reputable. How are we non-Icelanders to know what’s hot in Iceland?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I prefer to think of Iceland as another planet, a distant place I’d like to go to if only I had a rocket ship to take me there. Lay Low is not only living proof that this planet exists, but also that they have been observing us. “I Forget It’s There” simultaneously invokes Patsy Cline, Howlin’ Wolf, and Mazzy Star. I don’t know about you, but I find this interplanetary exchange of culture inspiring.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But seriously folks, <a href="http://amiestreet.com/music/lay-low/farewell-good-night-s-sleep/" target="_blank">the record</a> is great. Go get it. No rocket ship required.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2645221_6ajoo/01IForgetIt_sThere.mp3" target="_blank">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/133514684http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/133514684Wed, 01 Jul 2009 09:22:00 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/131752874/Wm4zfp96tp9hxqb2sq14PSHe&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Honesty Is No Excuse: Thin Lizzy (1971)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img height="150" width="150" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/Thin_Lizzy_-_Thin_Lizzy.jpg" align="left" border="5" hspace="20" vspace="5"/>There is an undercurrent of classical influences in this song – the synthesized strings, the baroque-tinted guitar solo, the vamping chords. But the overall effect, the emotional impact, is something nonexistent in classical music.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It makes me wonder if rock music hadn’t invented new emotions. I listen to a song like this and try to find a word (or words) to describe the emotion(s) conveyed. Can’t do it. It’s kind of sad, desperate, maybe a little angry, definitely romantic in a tragic sense. But it feels so good in all its head-hanging, indulgent glory – a genuine sense of relief to let all those messy emotions hang out in the open.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s in his voice, in the drums. It’s what composers cannot notate – spontaneity, instinct, impulse, reckless abandon. Like it took Western composers one thousand years to finally get honest.</p> <p><a target="_blank" href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2639395_0kozd/HonestyIsNoExcuse.mp3">Download song</a> </p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/131752874http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/131752874Sun, 28 Jun 2009 12:04:41 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/131030777/Wm4zfp96tp7fosqjTyqTOH4s&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Electric Stories: Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons (1968)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img vspace="5" hspace="20" border="5" align="left" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/258139.gif" width="150" height="150"/>Everyone and everything eventually becomes irrelevant. Somewhere, someone has a drawer filled with S&H Green Stamps. Or skee ball-tickets from an arcade long since closed. A thin strip of paper printed with lucky numbers from a fortune cookie consumed eight years ago. We protect our valuables under lock and key. We must! And even when, one day, it is brought to our attention that our prized possessions have become worthless, well, it’s just impossible to throw anything away. No, not worthless, you’ll tell yourself, just irrelevant. There are worse things to be.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">One could argue that in 1969 The Monkees were occupying the space that was previously filled by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Check the fine print and you’ll likely find the same circle of session players on both group’s records (L.A.’s The Wrecking Crew). The Four Seasons’ sound had become irrelevant. (There are worse things to be.) “Electric Stories” is an unsuccessful, albeit charming, attempt to reinvent, to revive, to rescue Frankie Valli. It seems like it should have worked. Kooky!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ll keep this one in a drawer with my Smurf-Berry Crunch box tops. You know, just in case.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2636976_xdcx1/07ElectricStories.mp3" target="_blank">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/131030777http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/131030777Sat, 27 Jun 2009 01:26:00 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/121932268/Wm4zfp96tolg6hp3My1gP1EW&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>To Keep My Love Alive: Blossom Dearie (1960)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img vspace="5" hspace="20" border="5" align="left" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/1081383_170x170.jpg" width="150" height="150"/>Have you a mean streak? A dark sense of humor? A love of word play? A tendency towards sweet things that bite? Well then! I’ve got an album for you: Blossom Dearie’s <i>Soubrette Sings Broadway Hit Songs</i>. My vinyl copy – pressed under the alternate title <i>Blossom on Broadway</i> – has been enjoyed so much that the only thing left to do is to eat it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A soubrette, in case you wanted to know, is a stock character in opera and theatre. She is a comedic character known for her sauciness. She will love you and maybe kill you and then light-heartedly complain about where to dispose of your body. The audience will love her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Blossom’s small, high-pitched girly voice, an acquired taste for some, is absolutely perfect for these songs. The primary color arrangements (by Russell Garcia) display a predilection for piccolo, xylophone, and clarinet. This combination of instruments brilliantly lend the album a nuttiness paralleled only by Raymond Scott. It’s like listening to a psychotic children’s record.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Favorite lyric (courtesy of Lorenz Hart): “Sir Athelstane indulged in fratricide, / he killed his dad and that was patricide. / One night I stabbed him by my mattress side…” Or wait, is that “matricide”? Hmm.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2600616_flzme/04ToKeepMyLoveAlive.mp3" target="_blank">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/121932268http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/121932268Thu, 11 Jun 2009 16:09:00 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/121257282/Wm4zfp96tojuil9vRdIqQLBJ&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p><b>Jazz: Double Dee/Steinski (198?</b><b>)</b></p> <p><img vspace="5" hspace="20" border="5" align="left" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/41FC4u2wBlL_SL500_AA280_.jpg" width="150" height="150"/></p> <p>She heaps herself onto the end of my bed as if to climb it. “What’s the difference between lying and when you’re making things up?” she asks.<br/>“I know of none,” I say.<br/>“What about stories in books?”<br/>“They don’t count,” I say. “They’re made of writing.” (45)</p> <p>- Mary Robison, <i>One D.O.A., One on the Way</i> (2009)</p> <p><a href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2598807_xsc6b/04Jazz.mp3" target="_blank">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/121257282http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/121257282Wed, 10 Jun 2009 13:14:00 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/119415490/Wm4zfp96tofbmmm17ajBZkeM&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Honesty (live): Billy Joel (1987)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img vspace="5" hspace="20" border="5" align="left" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/Billy_Joel-Kohuept_2.jpg" width="150" height="150"/>Oh my god. I know I’m out of control, but I can’t be stopped. It’s music blog suicide! I’m writing about Billy Joel!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Everything I have to say about Billy Joel can be better said by talking about mashed potatoes. You see, I love mashed potatoes. In fact, I love mashed potatoes so much that I even like <i>instant</i> mashed potatoes. No, they’re not quite the same thing as <i>real</i> mashed potatoes, but they still possess the same <i>essence</i> of mashed potatoes, the same <i>je ne sais quoi</i> that brought me to the white, smooth, starchy food in the first place. Now, hold on. I wouldn’t want to permanently <i>replace</i> real mashed potatoes with instant mashed potatoes. But as a tasty and quick alternative, I’ll take a piping hot bowl of reconstituted dehydrated potato flakes any day.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">While I love Billy Joel, I recognize that he’s largely an imitation of other, more respected, canonical artists. So what? Everyone is imitating someone. Some of us are just a little more transparent (or better at it) than others.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This particular version of “Honesty” bowls me over. The control he has over his voice is absolutely incredible. There are five or six different versions of Billy Joel singing this song – subtle shadings of his voice dispatched to deliver specific lines to their utmost. Listen to the seamless transition into the last chorus (around 3:08). Fantastic! Even the piano playing, though quite simple, is extremely dynamic, inextricably linked to his voice, to the lyrics. How you gonna diss this man? I know, I know. Billy Joel is not cool. But he’s not cool because it’s not cool to be honest or sincere without some ironic, snarky, tough-guy distance. Are you even listening to the lyrics, man? Forget the posturing. Get in touch with the Billy Joel in you. The maudlin, misunderstood, delicately desperate, syrupy sweet, low down lonely you.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2592842_6wyqf/03Honesty_Live_.mp3" target="_blank">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/119415490http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/119415490Sun, 07 Jun 2009 09:15:00 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/119000813/Wm4zfp96toe1s52lUwmoMyG5&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Could This Be Magic?: Van Halen (1980)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img height="150" width="150" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/200px-Van_Halen_-_Women_and_Childre.jpg" align="left" border="5" hspace="20" vspace="5"/>Let me come right out and say it. I love Roth-era Van Halen. There! I feel lighter already.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">If it seems incongruent with other things I post on this site, let me reassure you. I like all the normal things there are to like about Roth-era Van Halen: Eddie’s mind-blowing guitar solos; Alex’s wash of cymbals; Michael Anthony’s high harmonies; Roth’s charismatic (and wholly original) vocals; the punctuating howls; the general fist-pumping, head-banging, kick-assness of the tunes. But what I <i>really</i> like is the campiness, the occasional old-timey vaudevillian touch which repeatedly occurs throughout the Roth-era canon. That guy was a real ham. (See: <a target="_blank" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lN-4lX0QyZc">Dave TV</a>)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This song exemplifies the side of Van Halen that doesn’t immediately come to mind when we’re talking about one of the most successful hard rock bands of the Seventies. At the end of the day, it’s sea shanty. It’s loose. It’s playful. It’s corny. Just before the guitar solo, hear Dave say, “Edward?” Edward obliges. Dave thanks him. How great!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Added bonus:<br/>This MP3 comes from my well-worn vinyl copy. Inherited from my (still) longhaired dad!</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a target="_blank" href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2591317_s2zzp/09CouldThisBeMagic_.mp3">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/119000813http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/119000813Sat, 06 Jun 2009 11:51:35 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/117476966/Wm4zfp96to9yltko8BnIOBY9&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Coolidge: Descendents (1987)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img height="150" width="150" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/96603.jpg" align="left" border="5" hspace="20" vspace="5"/>I don’t know how I would have survived adolescence without the Descendents. And it’s funny, because just as I was ashamed to tell my high school classmates that I listened to Buddy Holly, Frankie Vallie, Carole King and all sorts of music that only parents were supposed to like, I think I was ashamed to be listening to the Descendents in my twenties. The past was still too recent. I squirmed at visions of a young, awkward me – band T-shirts, bad skin, and even worse hair.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But screw it. I’m in my thirties now. I’ve recently rediscovered and embraced my love for the Descendents. It might have something to do with my changing perceptions of adulthood. While I find that it’s less about being cool, it’s also not that much different from being a teen. There’s a whole lot of posturing and fear of your bluff being called.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Being an adult can be good. I’m so relieved that my skin has finally cleared up. And I still think it’s the coolest thing in the world that I can eat candy whenever I want. And stay up as late as I want. I don’t worry about getting beat up anymore. But I often feel just as insecure as I ever did. I’m still burdened with anxiety and doubt and depression. I still feel young in the worst sense, like there are so many people older and wiser out there, just waiting to tell me what I’m doing wrong.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Thankfully, music still works. <i>I’m not a cool guy anymore. As if I ever was before.</i> It still feels so good, after that spastic drum intro, to hear those words come rolling out of my headphones. <i>You can only be a victim</i>, Milo Aukerman reassures me, <i>i</i><i>f you admit defeat</i>. And I haven’t.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a target="_blank" href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2584597_0zkvj/02Coolidge.mp3">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/117476966http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/117476966Wed, 03 Jun 2009 15:11:36 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/116804821/Wm4zfp96to884279CM8JPGFt&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Yassassin: David Bowie (1979)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img height="150" width="150" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/lodger1gg.jpg" align="left" border="5" hspace="20" vspace="5"/>I suspect that I’m allergic to expectorants. Any time that I’ve taken cough syrup, my muscles tense up. But really. Especially when I yawn – they practically freeze. It sounds strange, but it’s an unnerving and wholly unpleasant druggy feeling. I’m also told that, under the influence of cough syrup, I violently thrash around in my sleep. I believe it! I invariably wake up feeling like I’ve been out carousing all night. Needless to say, when I come down with a fit of coughs now, rather than reach for a bottle of Robitussin, I simply cough away.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I mention this because there’s something about this song that reminds me of the way cough syrups makes me feel. That keyboard sounds exactly how my muscles feel – wound up impossibly tight, yet shaky, quivery. And then there’s the choppy rhythm, the woozy strings, Bowie’s spastic delivery, the overall thin, disorienting sound – it’s a direct translation of the over-the-counter malaise I experience induced by two tablespoons of the red stuff.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Unfortunately, unlike the syrup, “Yassassin” fails to suppress my coughs.</p> <p><a target="_blank" href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2582541_4otpx/04Yassassin_LongLive_.mp3">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/116804821http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/116804821Tue, 02 Jun 2009 10:02:00 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/116357725/Wm4zfp96to721el2YpzZXceJ&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Wrote a Song for Everyone: Creedence Clearwater Revival (1969)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img height="150" width="150" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/Creedence_Clearwater_Revival_-_Gree.jpg" align="left" border="5" hspace="20" vspace="5"/>Steve Martin once said that writing about comedy is like dancing about architecture. Sometimes I feel that way about music. It is, at times, an unfathomable beast that cannot be tamed into words. I try, but all my utterances are rendered absurd. Powerless in the shadow of a melody. It’s like those dreams when you’re trying to run and can’t seem to go anywhere.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ve been trying to write about this song for weeks, but the words never came. Even in more loquacious times. So it seems a fitting moment to finally wave the white flag on this one. The best I could say also happens to be the stupidest thing anyone could say about a song: it’s really good and I really like it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a target="_blank" href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2581023_wnapr/04WroteASongForEveryone.mp3">Download song</a> </p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/116357725http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/116357725Mon, 01 Jun 2009 14:24:24 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/115322092/Wm4zfp96to3zcg4pat6fjhEd&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Another Girl, Another Planet: The Only Ones (1978)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img height="150" width="150" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/200px-Onlyonesgirl.jpg" align="left" border="5" hspace="20" vspace="5"/>I just had this dream. Someone was playing music. It was a live album by an artist that I don’t really care for, one of those late 70s post-punk singer-songwriters. But then this really <i>fantastic</i> song came on. I was excited the way one would be excited if a hundred dollar bill was found on the sidewalk. I checked the sleeve to find out the name of the song and resolved to look it up later. (I was really hoping that I could find the studio version since I generally hate live recordings.) And then I woke up.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">At first, I was trying hard to remember who the artist was – still convinced that the song existed, all I needed to do was look up the live album by that artist. But the more I thought about it, the less clear it became, until eventually, I could barely remember anything about the song. And now thirty minutes later, it’s completely gone. The song was so clear in my dream that I could actually <i>hear</i> it. Drums bass guitar and vocals. Lyrics even. It had a title. And an album cover. The details that I was given told me this was real! But the only thing that is clear to me now is the disappointing reality that this song does not exist and never will.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s classic. The subconscious mind, safe in the dark recesses of night, invents things while we sleep, behind our backs. And then it cruelly sends the conscious mind off in merciless, harsh daylight to find it. This is why we are unhappy, stumbling about the material world looking for things that don’t exist. This is what drives artists mad – dedicating lives to painfully recreating what the mind flippantly reveals in the night. This is why relationships fail. The subconscious hangs a wanted poster in the mind’s foyer – an amalgamation of all the desirable qualities of our parents, friends, and celebrities rolled into one, impossible, fantasy face. The mind means well, but it will never understand the limitations of life outside the skull. This arrangement represents a reverse universe, one where infinite possibilities exist within a fixed, finite, and unforgiving planet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a target="_blank" href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2576251_k9sxg/07AnotherGirl_AnotherPlanet.mp3">Download song</a>       </p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/115322092http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/115322092Sat, 30 May 2009 10:45:41 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/114111305/Wm4zfp96to0gf9wj8yzssbJP&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Deeper Than Beauty: Sloan (1994)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img vspace="5" hspace="20" border="5" align="left" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/200px-Twice_Removed_Sloan_album.jpg" width="150" height="150"/>Sometimes I can’t get over the fact that there are no moving parts in an iPod. All those songs mysteriously stored inside. Incomprehensible strings of zeros and ones. There is nothing to see, nothing to set in motion. Songs get loaded in through a cord. Music just kind of happens. Even the name MP3 – so abstract. No vowels!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But then the music itself is but an illusion. Where are all these songs happening? What kind of physical space allows the human voice to sound louder than a drum kit? None. The laws of physics are defied. Wires hung from each ear, we nonchalantly nod our heads in approval.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Drums move, right? They are a train designed to carry songs along a linear track, to some destination, some place of resolution where the chords can rest. I’m convinced. No, wait. Really? Just a guy on a stool hitting things? Huh.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It must be the lack of bass guitar that gives this song its movement. Those long barren stretches of drums and vocals. All that thumping. The ears fill in the blanks and the mind is too easily fooled. Good god, how time dissolves! It’s 1996 and I’m checking my caller ID for your number – the only reason I bought that silly little box. Searching for traces of you and those glasses, those hideous glasses.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2571484_kuidf/09DeeperThanBeauty.mp3" target="_blank">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/114111305http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/114111305Wed, 27 May 2009 23:32:00 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/111876917/Wm4zfp96tntut6o4kZ9WlIE4&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Psapp: The Camel’s Back (2008)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img height="150" width="150" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/3818a6899504dc9e4237a7711b74c9cd.jpg" align="left" border="5" hspace="20" vspace="5"/>We are programmed to love small things. Babies and puppies and kittens and bite-size candies. It’s genetic. The smaller and sweeter the object, we large and lumbering human beasts fall to our knees in supplication, asking one of two questions: Can I take care of you? or Can I eat you?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">This also applies to small sounds. Ukuleles, glockenspiels, and celestes. The human ear hears tiny chime-like sounds and the instinct is to get down on the ground and roll around in the fetal position, weeping. It is scientific. In fact, when Psapp recorded “The Camel’s Back,” they consulted a scientist who specializes in macrosounds. The combination of celeste and kalimba you hear is engineered to send you back into bed, pulling the covers around your head so that you feel yourself ensconced in a large, fuzzy, cotton womb.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a target="_blank" href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2561690_epzfa/1-03TheCamel_sBack.mp3">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/111876917http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/111876917Sat, 23 May 2009 08:41:02 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/108597287/Wm4zfp96tnjv7dnrioCrgTIS&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p><b>La Vie En Rose: Mia Doi Todd (2000)</b></p> <p><img height="150" width="150" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/The-Unaccompanied-Voice-An-A-Capell.jpg" align="left" border="5" hspace="20" vspace="5"/>“At my school they taught you a bit of French, but anyone who attempted to pronounce a word correctly was laughed down. On a trip to Calais we attacked a Frog behind a restaurant. By this ignorance we knew ourselves to be superior to the public-school kids, with their puky uniforms and leather briefcases, and Mummy and Daddy waiting outside in the car to pick them up. We were rougher; we disrupted all lessons; we were fighters; we never carried no effeminate briefcases since we never did no homework. We were proud of never learning anything except the names of footballers, the personnel of rock groups and the lyrics of ‘I am the Walrus.’ What idiots we were! How misinformed! Why didn’t we understand that we were happily condemning ourselves to being nothing more than motor-mechanics? Why couldn’t we see that? For Eleanor’s crowd hard words and sophisticated ideas was the currency that bought you the best of what the world could offer. But for us it could only ever be a second language, consciously acquired.”</p> <p>- Hanif Kureishi, <i>The Buddha of Suburbia</i> (1990)</p> <p><a target="_blank" href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2545915_7hmke/03LaVieEnRose.mp3">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/108597287http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/108597287Sat, 16 May 2009 08:54:23 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/108016682/Wm4zfp96tnhwr8syekKaFIoW&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p><b>Movie Queen: Jobriath (1973)</b></p> <p><img vspace="5" hspace="20" border="5" align="left" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/l49317vvj7a.jpg" width="150" height="150"/>It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.</p> <p>- Ralph Waldo Emerson, <i>Self-Reliance</i> (1841)</p> <p><a href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2541636_icz4y/06MovieQueen.mp3" target="_blank">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/108016682http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/108016682Fri, 15 May 2009 00:02:00 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/107188850/Wm4zfp96tnflgx143MmXUW4N&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p><b>Just A Closer Walk With Thee: All-Star Marching Band (1979)</b></p> <p><img height="150" width="150" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/300x300.jpg" align="left" border="5" hspace="20" vspace="5"/>“To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, one must not love. But, then one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer, to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love, to be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy, therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness — I hope you’re getting this down.”</p> <p>- Woody Allen, <i>Love and Death </i>(1975)</p> <p><a target="_blank" href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2538124_sdnzp/06JustACloserWalkWithThee.mp3">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/107188850http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/107188850Tue, 12 May 2009 00:00:00 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/106709063/Wm4zfp96tne4r4uwFYqCcZjj&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p><b>Yesterday: The Bar-Kays (1969)</b></p> <p><img vspace="5" hspace="20" border="5" align="left" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/Bar-Kays---Gotta-Groove.jpg" width="150" height="150"/>“Among other things, you’ll find that you’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behaviour. You’re by no means alone on that score, you’ll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them—if you want to. Just as some day, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn’t education. It’s history. It’s poetry.” </p> <p>- J.D. Salinger, <i>Zooey</i> (1957)</p> <p><a href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2536221_qjmvp/09Yesterday.mp3" target="_blank">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/106709063http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/106709063Mon, 11 May 2009 08:36:00 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/106065406/Wm4zfp96tnc3g8w4iEDK1DQH&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Freight Train: Laura Veirs (2009)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img height="150" width="150" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/v_lp_lauraveirs_08.jpg" align="left" border="5" hspace="20" vspace="5"/>By false presumptuous hope, the ranged powers<br/>Disband; and wandering, each his several way<br/>Pursues, as inclination or sad choice<br/>Leads him perplexed where he may likeliest find<br/>Truce to his restless thoughts, and entertain<br/>The irksome hours, till his great chief return.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">- John Milton, <i>Paradise Lost</i>, Book II (522-527)  </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a target="_blank" href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2533439_jqwn6/04FreightTrain.mp3">Download song</a></p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/106065406http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/106065406Sun, 10 May 2009 22:23:04 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/102624180/Wm4zfp96tmzyo8ki4X1Wi41v&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Week of Waller: Day Seven</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><img vspace="5" hspace="20" border="5" align="left" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/2007810.jpg" width="150" height="150"/>This Is So Nice It Must Be Illegal (1943)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Seven days of 70-year-old music! I may have lost some readers, and then I’ve gained a few. In the process of writing this week’s blogs, I’ve listened to Fats Waller over 300 times (according to my Last.fm account). Admittedly, it is a little indulgent, but then is there anything more indulgent than a blog? (Answer: Yes. Family photo albums and Twitter.)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">While I’ve tried, in just seven songs, to paint an accurate portrait of Fats Waller, I think I may have ended up painting a better portrait of myself. This happens whenever we try to write about someone else admiringly. It is really ourselves we keep seeing on the page. And that’s okay. I’ve been listening to Waller’s music for fifteen-years now. Fats Waller, long dead, remains frozen in time. It is I who has changed and grown, hearing new notes and interpretations each time I summoned his spirit from a set of speakers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And so we end at the end. Fats Waller’s final recording session for V-Disc. The sessions that depressed me so much that I once vowed to never listen to them again. Well, things change. I’ve come to enjoy the bittersweet taste of these recordings. Especially this one. Waller’s slow, slurred introduction, addressing boys at war, is a little unsettling, like he’s going to break down in drunken tears. But he quickly bounces back and gives us a delightfully whimsical song – a great song! A Waller original and, as far as I can tell, his only known recording of the song. Listen closely and you can hear people talking and laughing in the background.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And so here’s the Rorschach effect. I’m endlessly drawn to remainders, leftovers, afterthoughts, outtakes, rarities, and underdogs. But especially, <i>especially</i>, things that are simultaneously two opposing forces at once. Funny things that make me sad. Sad things that make me laugh. Things that aren’t funny, but elicit illicit laughter.</p> <p><a href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2506144_gna69/5ThisIsSoNiceItMustBeIllegal.mp3" target="_blank">Download song</a> </p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/102624180http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/102624180Sat, 02 May 2009 10:36:00 -0400<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/swf/audio_player.swf?audio_file=http://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/102223006/Wm4zfp96tmyb9ibkCVfvjhzS&color=FFFFFF" height="27" width="207" quality="best"></embed><br/><br/><p><b>Week of Waller: Day Six</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><img vspace="5" hspace="20" border="5" align="left" src="http://i288.photobucket.com/albums/ll183/hussalonia/Fats-Waller-Rediscovered-Fats-36144.jpg" width="150" height="150"/>Honeysuckle Rose (A La Bach-Beethoven-Brahms-Waller)</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal">This recording represents two timeless struggles. The first is a battle between low and high art. One calls the other elitist, secretly wishing admittance into an esteemed and exclusive club. Meanwhile, those <i>in</i> that esteemed and exclusive club will always resent the widespread popularity never earned despite (or perhaps because of) their nuanced styles, refined tastes, and high ideals.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The second struggle exists on a more personal level, and it is quite simply this – every clown wants to be taken seriously. From Woody Allen to Jamie Foxx, a successful comedian eventually tries on a dramatic role, publishes a novel, or releases an album of ballads. Perhaps it’s because comedy begins as an act of self-defense. Funny people are funny out of necessity, diverting attention from some other inner-conflict.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Or it could be related to comedy’s lowbrow connotations. In this way, this second struggle is perhaps just a variation of the first. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Either way, Waller’s success as a clowning showman, in combination with the institutionalized racism of the day, sadly prevented him from pursuing his serious work in the U.S. Thankfully, two trips to London, where jazz was recognized as high art long before it was in the States, produced some fantastic pipe organ recordings (some of which appear in David Lynch’s <i>Eraserhead </i>(What would Fats have thought of <i>that</i>?)) as well his longest and most ambitious composition, the seventeen-minute “London Suite.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">What we have here is Waller reinterpreting one of his most famous compositions in the style of three European composers. But of course! Waller’s strong left hand (practically reinventing what is known as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stride_piano" target="_blank">stride piano</a>) was born out of necessity. Playing piano at Harlem rent parties, Waller had to swing, and swing loud. But his agile right hand, with its dainty trills and mincing, affected glissandos, could practically fill the room with the dust of a dozen powdered wigs.</p> <p><a href="http://www.hotlinkfiles.com/files/2495993_put85/en-Brahms-Waller__PianoSolo_.mp3" target="_blank">Download song</a>   </p>http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/102223006http://hussalonia.tumblr.com/post/102223006Fri, 01 May 2009 06:53:00 -0400