Burnt Vinyls

November 23, 2014

Yeah, it’s been a long time. However, a second child takes precedence over this digital backwater posing as a blog. It might be another year or just a few days until I post again, but I’ve been transferring some of my records to mp3s lately and it seemed only fitting that I stumble back onto here for a spell. Anyhow, here is a smattering of songs that have enflamed my very soul to press record and stare at the computer screen until the tune is over.

New York Endless

Strategies EP

“Scale Those Heights”


This song dabbles in so many things I enjoy so very much. It’s a melange of melodic IDM of the Warp and Kompakt persuasions, Kraftwerk, Giorgio Moroder and a sprinkling of early New Order at the very end that floors me. This particular song just gobbles up the best electronic music of the 70s, 80s and 90s and regurgitates something stunning.

Ozark Mountain Daredevils


“Colorado Song”


Starts off with some earnest sensitive 70s balladry of the most primo stock, but slowly picks up steam as they start delving into some fable about a man who rediscovers his mojo when he drops everything to dwell on the mountains of Colorado. Shit gets real when they start multi-tracking harmonies and a hellacious slow burner of a guitar solo steps into the spotlight. Hell, it’s even got an interlude of twinkling bells to class things up a bit before a climactic coda takes us home.

Chris Smither

Don’t It Drag On

“Lonesome Georgia Brown”


No one ever gives this dude his due. His first two albums are essential, but Don’t Drag It On is the better of the two because it somehow weaves a scenario where a cover of “Friend of the Devil” bookends a slow-motion take on the Rolling Stones “No Expectations” and it seems like the best idea since sliced bread. However, “Lonesome Georgia Brown” takes the cake since it kind of evokes the vibe of Terry Allen’s Juarez as Smither creates an entire fictional universe in song. It’s one song, but it traces Georgia Brown’s slow descent into hopelessness and you find yourself pulling for the underdogs in life.

Kenny Rankin

Sliver Morning

“Killed a Cat”


Most of his music borders on total 70s folksy cheese, but this particular album elevates itself to cave-aged status in comparison to his others. “Killed a Cat” rules because it is such a nihilistic stab surrounded by lush fluff. The whole album is on some 70s Alan Alda trail of sensitivity and then Kenny Rankin decides to get real on us. “Killed a Cat” taps into some damaged Tim Buckley vein and Rankin starts proselytizing about the hopelessness of life in 70s New York City where faceless hooligans kill stray cats and the citizenry die a slow death of a thousand cuts as our protagonist reminisces about a time when he romanticized a city which now seems humdrum and doomed.