Igor German

I like to say that I’m not really into surf/beach rock, but there’s something about finding tracks so pleasant in the deathly hallows of the blogosphere that is immediately encouraging. To be fair, Teen Daze isn’t a project that exclusively wades in this genre, but as the ever-mysterious Canadian points out on his tumblr, “I really came to fall in love with the whole lo-fi pop scene this summer, and I wanted to see what I could come up with. After writing ‘Let’s Fall Asleep Together’, the last three just sort of happened in the span of a few days.” His EP, now available for download at a price you see fit, holds that fluid, emotive quality of a work completed in a constricted amount of time. There is an uncharacteristic distance between Teen Daze and the listener, but the distance isn’t discouraging, it’s seductive. In the fuzz we find space to observe from safety and approach the material at a pace we’re comfortable with. Give it a try for yourself below:

–Igor German

Tryptophan sounds like either a date rape drug or a diet pill. It’s neither. It’s the stuff that makes you sleepy after stuffing your gullet with the makings of an all-American Thanksgiving Feast. Personally, I find repelling the barrage of questions from relatives a lot more tiring: “What year are you in school now?” “Are you going to Law school?” “Why don’t you have a girlfriend? What are you, Gay?” “Where are my grandchildren?” “Why did you dye your hair pink?” “How many tattoos is enough for you?” “In Soviet Russia, Leonid Brezhnev himself would shoot us personally for rebelling.”

Yeah, whatever, old people. You’re questions have made me sleepy, and the GHB substitute isn’t helping. Here’s a lullaby of sorts to help you take the edge off the holiday frenzy and recuperate before another round of interrogations. Click Through for Tunes. Read More »

In a recent NYT times article, Jon Caramanica wrote, “Mr. West speaks until he is done, and only then does someone ask another question.” Nothing speaks more to that point than his fifth album, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. Just look at the length of the songs: 6:38, 7:50, 9:08? When Kanye West is cornered, pressured, interrupted, or drunk he says some pretty stupid and embarrassing shit. But if you give him space and time, he’ll be careful. Most of the time we’re frustrated and bored by nuance and carefulness, but West’s self-conception will inflate to fill the space of its container, and the more it grows the more we’re willing to listen.

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I’ll be honest: I picked Dirty Gold for no particular reason when I was skimming We Are Hunted. But I was glad I did. This San Diego based troupe describe themselves as Afro-Beat, Experimental, and Samba. And that’s pretty much all you’re going to get out of them. They’ve published only tiny, cryptic bits of information about themselves since dropping their single, “California Sunrise.” What is clear about them is that the lead singer has an infectious voice and the band has a subtle sense for percussion that combats the otherwise washed out aesthetic. Where other Surf Rock capitalizes on the cuteness of monotony, there is something soulful about Dirty Gold.

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