I made this mix a couple weeks ago. Listening now, it’s kinda tense. Or pensive. It’s dreamy, maybe even romantic. But wistful. It’s mostly instrumental, except for one song, which is a little feral. And the last song, which has talking. But it’s in a language I don’t speak, so it sounds like sound. Joseph Jarman’s saxophone cries. Joel Chabade died recently. Angus MacLise died a long time ago. I recently read that part of the reason it didn’t work out with him as a member of the Velvet Underground is that he didn’t like when anyone told him when to start or stop playing and that did not jibe with performing songs.
I tried to put in moments of rising and falling, organic and inorganic sounds. I haven’t heard the cicadas yet myself this year, but I imagine they sound somewhat like at least a handful of the songs on here, Sunroof, maybe Sarah Haras. I love that song because it sounds like music left out in the sun too long. I also love the Baba Stiltz song. He’s not exactly a “good” singer but that’s what I like about him. And I love the lyrics, though I am not exactly sure how this adds up: “I’m selfish, can’t help it, I love you so much.” The whole track sounds like an idea made for someone else to execute.
I’ve always liked that kind of stuff, seeing the story board or listening to the demo tape, like I think it’s too precious to care about perfect execution. It’s why I’ve liked being an editor. I like good bones and window dressing is just a bonus.
What a year, you know? I think this mix reflects that. Anxiety braided together with some moments of sublimity. The combination of so much time and no time at all has really started to confuse me. I wake up at five AM with my son sometimes now. But it’s impossible to get anything done at that time of day. Or after. Sometimes he plays his toy xylophone, sometimes I do. I’ve taught myself to play “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” which is honestly at least a tangible achievement. Music’s always there for you, thank god.