Archive for August, 2009

Sadie Hawkins dance

Sally Shapiro’s first album, Disco Romance, was a cute little Swedish disco-pop confection, introducing the world at large to the shy big-eyed stare and trembling-hand stammers of one of dance music’s least likely heroines. In a way, Sally Shapiro has, since then, become a sort of anti-kitten and anti-Kittin, refusing to allow the fame of chanteuse-dom to star her eyes. Maybe that’s why I’m enjoying her second album, My Guilty Pleasure, so much more than I did her first.

Around the time Disco Romance hit, the space disco phenomena, basically blowing up anything with a vaguely Italo or Balearic sound into mega mega hits and boring the crap out of me in the process, was taking full-swing. As such, other than “I’ll Be By Your Side”, the majority of the minimalist disco trappings producer Johan Bjorn draped around her schoolgirl voice left me entirely uninterested. But in the years since, the music of Sally Shapiro has found her mature from the girl wracked with fear in the corner of the school dance into someone who will walk up to you, cheeks rosy from blushing, meet your gaze for a brief second and introduce herself in a way so utterly shy it’s endearing.There’s even a certain air of mystery about her these days.

Sally Shapiro-Dying In Africa

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“Dying In Africa’s” the best example of the newfound poetic darkness in Sally Shapiro’s sound-over a beat that no longer seems tossed off, that literally pulses with heartache, Sally sings that she “won’t get over you” even if she “dies in Africa”.No idea what that means, absolutely none-but don’t tell me you don’t want to ask her out if only to find out.

The rest of My Guilty Pleasure is like that-in fragmens and snippets, Sally lays hints like breadcrumbs out as to what’s going on behind those frosty eyes, and this time the music compliments her. No longer sleepy but not quite seductive (again, she’s the anti-Kittin, you won’t find any of the activities that went on in the back of “Frank Sinatra”’s limo happening here-Sally’s the girl who brings 2 books to the party you invite her to, the second just in case the finished the one she’s currently reading), the entire Sally Shapiro project has blossomed into an intriguing, grin-inducing half-hour collection of wintery shy-girl dance jams. She’s never been the girl you brought to the party, but now she’s definitely the one you want to leave with.

Sally Shapiro online.





brokedownpalace

It seems everyone’s having the same day today-gloomy, rainy, wet. Emotionally exhausting, good feelings evaporating into graying mist.

As such: Salem’s new video, Skullcrush


I know Cold Cave are this year’s band the sad-eyed girls listen to, but Salem is still where you go when you have real problems and the only way out is down.

(R.I.P. Dr Shlomo Zelig)





MANSION DJ - Gasaida Official Release

MANSION DJ - Gasaida Official Release

Hopefully you know Mansion by know.

They’ve just officially released their first single on Beatport, and its rather exciting to see the duo we’ve supported for so long here @ Res work their way into stardom! Ok, well maybe not stardom per say, but success. Rock it out.

“Gasaida” is total house bliss –classic style vocals, super bouncy, tons of dance floor fun. I’m really digging it, and I’m sure dancefloors will start to rock out to it as well.

We’ve got a 128 version for your listening and downloading pleasure, but, being the audiophiles that you are, you should totally make sure you snag the 320 from beatport.

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Mansion - “Gasaida” (128)
LINKS: Mansion DJ | MySpace | This Media | Purchase on Beatport

Also always, be sure to check our previous Mansion tracks and remixes –they’re all killer.

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to know you in a special way

As a result of my falling head-over-feet intoDavid Browne’s new-to-paperback biography of Sonic Youth, Goodbye 20th Century, I’ve been seriously digging into the fucking weird and absolutely wonderful super-old Sonic Youth back catalog. That might also have something to do with this year’s SY album, The Eternal, being a bit..rote. Lackluster. At least Rather Ripped was surprising and yielded layer after layer of tough underpainting as the flakes peeled away.

Ciccone Youth:Into The Groovey

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As I wrote over at BabyGotBooks (in an article which may or may not be live on that site as you’re reading this), the thing fascinating me most in Browne’s book on Sonic Youth is his treatment of their early, highly-experimental but also surprisingly fun and accessible years. To wit, their Ciccone Youth project, about which Browne writes: “[Sonic Youth’s] Madonna phase crystallized during the EVOL sessions.” Recorded for a split 12″ with Mike Watt’s solo cover of Madonna’s “Burning Up”, Sonic/Ciccone Youth’s “Into The Groovey” is both totally sarcastic and an utter love-letter to a woman who, at the time, was doing what Sonic Youth wanted to do-make challenging, interesting music that was also immediately accessible. Did they succeed? Over at BabyGotBooks I mention the psych-dub freakout “The Burning Spear”, which would work in a Progressive House set today, and then this-this version of “Into The Groovey” is ripped, mixed, from Cut Copy’s FabricLive DJ mix. What you’re hearing is the blending of the Tiga remix of Soulwax’s “E Talking”, “Into The Groovey” and Justice’s “Waters of Nazareth”. Sonic Youth on the dancefloor? Yeah, I think so. And it’s a bit shocking, but not really-at best, Sonic Youth’s noise is hypnotic and redemptive-the verysame qualities that make great dance tracks.So, basically, that girl in Juno can shut up, thanks.





I is Posting. Best I Ever Had (Grandtheft Remix)

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Summer, Moving, blah, etc… Whatever. Things have been crazy. But you don’t care.

Here we go. Starting things back up again.

Fresh as fuck remix?

CHECK.

Grandtheft checks in with some electrokrunk for your bouncing pleasure. Hot outta my inbox, straight to your playlists.

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Drake - “Best I Ever Had (Grandtheft Remix)” (320)
LINKS: Team Canada DJs | Grandtheft | Previous Grandtheft

Bring it.

<hacks/>





Wikkid lil’ rave

 It’s hot in New York. The sweltering, energy-sapping sort of hot that could only come from a city able to have efficient massive underground public transportation but no central heating and cooling. It’s a wake you up in the middle of the night sort of heat, fans do no good, neither do ice cubes on your head. It’s fitting, then, that tonight I stumbled across P4K’s top songs of the 2000s list, and was brought to remember one of the Res Mag anthems-The Streets’ “Weak Become Heroes”.

This, in a convoluted way, has me, tonight, listening to Zomby’s halcyon day of rave throwback Where Were U In ‘92?

Zomby: U Are My Fantasy

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We’ve never hidden the rave roots here at Res-hell, our current color scheme is a testament (as is our very name-think Underworld). Despite the fact that the days of us running like wild-eyed mad cheshire cats from dirty basement party to dirty basement party are long since gone, it’s nights like this, when you have to refrigerate your red wine to keep it from turning to vinegar, that a throwback to hot, sticky nights exorcising demons, passions and outside life itself on a dance floor with intimate strangers is very much in order. Zomby, the crazed wonk madman of the Hyperdub roster, offers just that with his unexpected 2008 album Where Were U In 92?, which bypasses some of the lo-bit wonkstep he’s gotten famous for recently and instead trades solely in the rolling piano hands-in-the-air massiv that’s thought of so lovingly by Mikey Skinner at the Chinese restaurant in “Weak Become Heroes”.

We all smile, we all sing.

Zomby on Myspace.





I can’t give it…up

(Editor’s note: yeah, we took the summer off. Hacks moved. I moved. R Jamz moved. Trixie…is still insane. In the same place, though.  Our first Res music showcase at the Tank post-hiatus will be Sept 12, with bands that are going to shock you sane. We’re doing 2 shows in October. You read that right,  jiminy crispers, 2 shows.  And the web site redesign? It’s coming. Unless Hacks hates me, we won’t lose all content this time. So that’s that. Welcome back.)

I am not meant to see Ghostly International band School of 7 Bells live. I’m just not. After missing them opening for M83 and them then playing a free show, which I’ve been somehow kept from attending, in every city (well, ok, both cities) I’ve lived in in 2009,  I assumed last night would be the one.  A free show in NY, at South Street Sea Port, the final Sea Port Music Fest event of the year, the night after one of the most life-affirming shows I’ve ever seen (from an artist I’ve followed practically my whole life who I unfortunately can’t name or discuss on Res any more, because, despite her 2008 promises to go indie, she’s signed to one of the biggest major-label clusterfucks in modern music. Oh, and her name rhymes with Rory Stamos).

In the words of one mister Mike “The Streets” Skinner, it was supposed to be so easy: get on the train, go to the Sea Port, see School of 7 Bells. New York City Transit, however, it ain’t that smart-or, rather, was too smart for me, and so, while the glorious dreampop band probably handed out free health care and kittens stuffed with hundred-dollar bills on the sea port, I drank with friends miles away and missed S07B for the fourth time in 6 months.

 That would have been enough let-down for one night, if not for the fact that the band opening for School Of 7 Bells at Sea Port last night is, frankly, my favorite thing in the world right now: The XX.

 

It took me forever to hunt music from this London band down, after hearing about them for-freaking-ever ago from The Fader (I love y’all, call me), but it seems in the past few weeks XX fever has begun a slow, creeping, molasses-like spread. Fitting, too, because the music these kids make is based around dripping honey into empty spaces, all sparse snaps and ambient strums and incredibly haunting boy/girl vocal interplay. If The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart are this year’s cute-to-be-in-love-to band, The XX are this year’s thinking couple’s band: old enough to smoke cigarettes, fight outside of bars and utter velvet-tipped killers like “I can’t give it up to someone else’s touch because I care too much”.

The XX:Infinity

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This is one of my favorite songs on their forthcoming Rough Trade self-titled debut, because it takes the sum of some parts-an obvious Chris Isaac nod, a cold winter night, Michael Mayer’s old dark prince of Minimal production-and makes something entirely its own, entirely gorgeous.

I’m sure, pretty sure, that seeing The XX, with the sun setting behind them on the pier last night, would have been absolutely amazing. I’ll never know-the Pimms Cup I had instead was pretty damn good, though.

Video for The XX’s “Crystalised”

Pre-order the XX’s debut from Rough Trade