For BJ

My friend died two weeks ago.

I’d never had a friend die before. The day I found out (The day he died), I called Diana. I sobbed into the phone. She said some things to calm me down, and she also said what I needed to hear most.“This isn’t about you.”

I went home and I did what I needed to do to get my feelings in check. I wrote this, for one. Since then I’ve grappled with whether or not to make this rumination public. BJ’s death wasn’t about me, and it isn’t about me still. It is about him, and those who survive him. I worry about trivializing a family’s suffering by posting my own unsolicited feelings on my mostly-defunct music blog. (What is the protocol here?) But BJ always seemed to care about LL; he always asked about it, was ever eager to share a new song he’d fallen in love with, and even let me feature his photography (pictured here) a few times. He was one of its first and best supporters. So I think this is ok. At least, I hope it is. (But how can you be sure? The dead don’t talk.)

BJ fought cancer for over a year. During that time he asked that I make him a playlist, just of things I’d been listening to recently. I put it on my to-do list and put it off perpetually. He asked if we could catch up on the phone, said he appreciated my friendship and wanted to stay more regularly in touch. I got busy and never called. He finished a round of treatment, and I asked for his address so I could send him a card. I never found the perfect card and so I never sent one.

My mom was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer this winter. Within an hour of hearing the news, BJ sent me a veritable essay on chemo tricks and tips. (You didn’t even have to ask.) Months went by. I didn’t make a playlist, I didn’t call, and I didn’t mail a card.
When he died I felt a lot of things, but mostly crushing guilt. (This isn’t about you.)

It may sound trivial. Indeed, in the grand scheme, a playlist, a phone call, and a post card don’t add up to much. But it’s the little things that matter. It’s the little things that get us through the day, that help us live with ourselves. It’s the little things that set friends apart from acquaintances, loves apart from lovers, and memories apart from the haze of the quotidian. Can I call myself a friend if I can’t or won’t make time for the little things? (You can’t be sure. The dead don’t talk.)

I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe in a higher power, or heaven, or hell, or spirits, or the afterlife. I believe that we have the time that is given to us, and that is all. So I sit with the fact that my friend is gone—to dust—and in the time that mattered, I didn’t give him time.

Even if I am completely wrong (Often, you hope you are), and there is in fact something past death, I sincerely doubt the departed are checking the internet. (Post-mortem Facebook posts are the saddest exercise in futility.) So posting this is little recourse. But I think I owe it to him to at least pretend. Or hold out hope that maybe, just maybe, there’s something else out there…
And they have wifi.

My friend’s death isn’t about me, but through it I’ve learned some thing about me: the relationships I want to cultivate, the little things on which I want to concentrate. This is late, it’s not enough, and I am truly, deeply sorry for not giving you time when we had it.
But hey BJ, here's your playlist.

While we're here:

I know this is the opening track on the playlist, but I want to make double-sure you listen to it. I've cried at least 4 times while doing so. Also of note, the lyrics include the word "asunder," which is something you really don't see every day. (Check out Allies For Everyone on Facebook.)

Mainland

I stumbled upon this track during one of my regular, 2am binges into the depth of Soundcloud. Its discovery only justified my insomnia.

Cape Lion are a duo hailing from Sweden, consisting of Carl-Johan Sevedag and Martin Wiklund. They classify themselves as electronic pop; I think of them as a Royksöpp + M83 hybrid. Upbeat electronic melodies are coupled with quality lyricism and vocals, with a splash of epic. But Pop. Epic Electronic Pop.

All of their their songs are well-produced and catchy, but Mainland sticks out to me the most. It kicks off quickly, with descending drums leading right into the hook. I’m particularly fond of the lyrics:

now we’ve grieved enough – time to let it go
we’ll be drifting off – time to let it go

Que sera, sera vibes all the way, the song stresses the importance of living in the now, ignoring the temptation to imagine how things should/could be within different circumstances. It’s this coupling of serious, emotional lyrics over an upbeat, catchy electronic melody that defines this group’s sound.
All this, delivered in a beautiful Scandinavian-pop package. I’m sold.

Listen to Mainland below, and check Cape Lion out on Soundcloud/Facebook/Sweden.

Circles

Ennui has come a long way. What was once a criminally underappreciated four-piece recently morphed into a criminally underappreciated solo project, and with that lineup change has come a sort of renaissance. A loss in member quantity hasn’t proven detrimental to music quality, and in fact Jim Doutrich’s solo transformation has rendered Ennui’s already shimmering soundscapes grander, the atmospheric loops even dreamier. Ennui may have shrunk in stature, but sonically speaking it is soaring to new heights.

While Doutrich’s wistful, often aching vocal lines continue to serve as the cornerstone of Ennui’s output, you’ll notice a marked difference in accompaniment: The fuzzy guitars and a sparse drum kit present on 2011’s (excellent) Formation Of Tides have been traded in for an endless procession of lush synths. It’s an interesting progression, given that this is Ennui’s third album. Typically, synth-driven projects incorporate more traditional instruments later in their discography, as though making a push towards becoming a *real band* through the introduction of a full-piece live show. Here Doutrich has done the opposite, paring down a tighter, more manageable package. In doing so, the album feels almost like a half-decade throwback—the style harkens to the Hipster Runoff-christened “chillwave” movement. I loathe to categorize it was such, given that Doutrich’s musicality far surpasses any given 19 year old bedroom producer, but if you’re looking for that golden oldie sound of 2009 cultivated by the likes of Washed Out and Toro Y Moi, well, look no further. Anyone in need of a soundtrack to a day at the beach should have Telepathic Beat (due out in September on Mush) at the top of their list.

Ennui’s new work might feel somewhat nostalgic, but Doutrich is clearly looking ahead. On the album’s first single, Circles, he laments “I’m wasting away my years”, before launching into a credo of sorts, ”Turn away don’t give up / All the lines that you’ve crossed…Turn away, drift apart / Don’t go back to the start.” Given the history of the band, and Doutrich now embarking solo, it almost seems as a call to action; a self-motivating rallying cry. Change is hard, but Ennui is doing it for the better. Have a listen and see if you don’t agree.

With The Winds Of Despair

While yesterday's topic was the phenomena of avoiding a band based solely on their name, today's is the antithesis of that. When a certain "Tiger Forest Cat" showed up in my rarely-checked (sorry) submissions inbox , I downloaded the promo immediately. Normally to make it on to my precious hard drive a strict vetting process of internet streaming occurs, but I went out on a limb here because I just knew that any band with a name like that was going to be amazing. You may think I'm sounding silly and arrogant but you know what? I was so right.

Turns out in addition to having a great name, Tiger Forest Cat is from the greatest country - Sweden. So it's no wonder that his whimsical, breezy pop single With The Winds Of Despair seems destined to soundtrack the next great commercial spot -- Swedes are built and programmed since birth to make hits. This is fact. Even if you're skeptical of my sources, once you get to the chorus you'll agree with me. That run on "little darling of mine" is the stuff that dreams are made of. Kudos to me for finally checking a submission email, kudos to TFC for having the best name ever, and kudos to you for telling all your friends about him. I just knew you would.

With The Winds Of Despair

Where Have You Gone [Cause This Is Not Enough]

If I say I want it back, would you meet me with the same eyes?
These days seems long, where have you gone?

A year or so ago, Soundcloud underwent a huge interface revamp. They introduced a shuffle feature, and whenever the song you were listening to ended, the site would shuffle you to a random "related" song from any one of the thousands of accounts they hosted. The only problem was 99.99% of the time this random song was completely unlistenable. An accidental case of "where is that open window playing music I have too many windows open AGH" led me to discover that it seems they've finally figured out their algorithms, and instead of shuffling me to nu-jazz flute recordings, Soundcloud has started delivering gems.

Today the site read my mood/mind as it started playing a dreamy pop song from a band called Carousel. Turns out these guys are from LA and the shuffle couldn't have come at a more serendipitous time, as their new EP, Palms, is set to be released just around the corner, on August 5th. With breezy melodies and that circa-2008-Dreamwave vibe, Carousel gets an immediate addition to my list of indispensable poolside tunes. A round of applause for Soundcloud, everyone, and lend your ears to Carousel.

Old Single:
Where Have You Gone - Carousel


New Single:

Sweetness Alive

Our dude Goldroom is back with another practically perfect piece of dreamy electric pop. This time he enlisted the help of Swedish/Australian (what a combo) twins St. Lou Lou, who contributed vocals and vibes. It's called Sweetness Alive, and sweet it is. The girls' voices breeze above sun-kissed synth work, evoking lazy days in love. The only time I ever want to move to LA is when I hear a Goldroom original. Supposedly his songs draw inspiration from his hometown and the LA way of life, and if thats true it really does sound like the best coast.

Stream Sweetness Alive below, and buy it if you like it.

Selena

Alexandra Valenti

Keeping on with today's Australian trend, we have RÜFÜS, who we've featured only briefly before, but love. RÜFÜS are from Sydney (like, who isn't?), and apparently one member is a friend of a friend's ex-boyfriend so like, small world huh? I wonder how Kevin Bacon plays into this.

RÜFÜS are coming up in a big way, after forming a mere two years ago, they recently released their second, self-titled 8-track EP. [Dudes why wouldn't you just get two more songs and do a full-length?!] It blends spaced out synths with crooning, often almost gloomy vocals and the kind of pop hook that only those from down under seem to know how to master. They are now embarking on an Australian tour before heading to the states for some CMJ action. They're hoping to score a couple more shows while here in the US, so if you like what you hear, call your best promoter friend (be honest, everyone has one) and demand they be added to a bill or two.

Listen to their single Selena below, and prepare to fall in love too.

Bonus: A remix of their last single, This Summer
This Summer (RÜFÜS Remix) - RÜFÜS


Double Bonus: Their older We Left - a personal all-time favorite.
We Left - RÜFÜS


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Hands

Erik Mowinckel

We've already established that Goldroom is awesome, right? Just a year ago he was borne on the waves of the pacific ocean like the goddess Aphrodite, carried to the shores of Malibu by a giant clam, compelled to bring to the world the light and love of…discobalearichouseambienttropical beach pop. Fact.
Despite being released this past winter, his remix of Melbourne outfit Apline's grooving Hands has somehow made its way on to every summer mix I've made thus far. His rendition is so infectious, so perfect, that even the most hardened of electro dissenters fall under its spell.

Alpine - Hands (Goldroom Remix) by Goldroom

And if that weren't enough (it wasn't), Goldroom's remix of Shelby Grey's Wild Youth was released just today. It's an upbeat, sunny number, perfect for that apartment pool party you're having. The remix is a part of the Wild Youth Remix EP, released by Holographic People, a label that we haven't given enough love in the past. That will change. It's a boutique dream pop (think songs akin to the Drive soundtrack) label with some pretty impressive acts given its size. It's run by a Swedish girl who now lives in Barcelona, which basically means she has the best life ever.

Shelby Grey - Wild Youth (Goldroom Remix) by Goldroom

Be sure to buy both tracks, and in the meantime tease yourself with this original: Hands - Alpine

Coconino

love, we don't talk anymore
why can't someone listen?

Photo by Travis Summer Deuel

Have you ever fallen in love with a band? It's a lot like falling in love with a person. First, there's trepidation. Is this moving too fast? Is this really the greatest thing to ever happen to me? Then, there's infatuation. Your pulse quickens when your iPod shuffles to a song. You exhaust their album on repeat, unable to get enough. And then finally, there's the warm comfort of familiarity, of knowing the music inside and out: every lyric, every tempo change, every chord.

I've fallen in love with Ennui. The Pittsburgh trio take their name from the French word describing a feeling of weariness and boredom, yet their brand of languid pop maintains a dreamy hopefulness--a lighthouse in the fog. Their lush sound is characterized by aquatic synths, fuzzy vocals, and longing lyrics tinged with nostalgia. Essentially they are the embodiment of all that is good in the dream-pop genre, and yet, for whatever reason have remained criminally under-appreciated. The release of their sophomore album, Formation of Tides, passed in April with merely a ripple of recognition. It's a shame, because the record is a luscious, atmospheric journey--its themes of temporal melancholy enrobed in a sanguine, silver lining--and deserves higher accolades. Take the record's standout single, Coconino: a commencement of regret, Love, we don't talk anymore, followed by a gradual uplift by gilding keys and soaring synths, and finally an optimistic end, Young girl, up to my window.. Beautiful, ethereal, and relatable? Yeah, it's love.

You can buy Formation of Tides on Ennui's Bandcamp. I highly suggest you do.

Coconino


Bonus: Balance and Motion