25 Tracks from 2018

“My mind tells me this is cliché, but my heart tells me I am fundamentally unique”

A playlist featuring Against All Logic, Lewis OfMan, Khruangbin, and others

Reading & Re-reading

Some articles and a book I keep returning to—

• Elif Batuman - The Murder of Leo Tolstoy

  Coming from someone who knows nothing of Russian literature, this piece passes the test. It was the first thing I read in an excellent nonfiction writers’ workshop this fall and does everything you’d want a good piece of longform to do: laugh, scratch your head, and become deeply interested in something which was previously totally off your radar. You can sense the author herself falling down a rabbit hole, and it’s full of great anecdotes (my personal favorite being the time Chekhov ran out of a sauna into the street because he heard Tolstoy was in the building and didn’t want to meet him under such circumstances). If I’m ever a grad school student looking for a grant and have a little extra time on my hands, maybe I, too, will head to the International Tolstoy Conference and meet some worthwhile figures.

• William Finnegan - Barbarian Days

  This book has become something like a holy text to my brothers and me over the past few years. Any time I’m planning to travel somewhere for longer than a week, I bring it along. Bill has done all the things I secretly and not-secretly crave—to travel a great many far-flung locales and live to tell the tale, to surf untouched waves, and, of course, to eventually write about it all. A good primer comes from the piece that would eventually turn into the book, ‘Playing Doc’s Games’.

• Joshua Rothman - The Sage of Yale Law

  Here’s something I never thought would affect me as deeply as it has: a short profile of a theologian in New Haven. Rothman introduces us to Anthony Kronman, the former Dean of Yale Law School, “arguably the world’s most fulfilled man”, and the foremost authority on Born-Again Paganism, Kronman’s personal ideology that centers on a deep appreciation for the the minutia of day-to-day life. It’s a look into a life of the highest academic privilege, where one’s only concern is to think the big thoughts. Once, I presented it in a senior seminar on ‘the future of work’, trying to contend that Kronman has the right idea and maybe we should all just stare at ivy growth patterns for a while (?)—everyone hated it. Nevertheless, it always makes me think of what my own form of absolute contentment may look like.

4 Squares of Saigon

Sweating it out.

De Luxe

On a sunny Schöneberg afternoon in early September, an Italian man grabbed my arm and said this bike fit me just right. I’m glad I fell for his pitch. Long live the Montana De Luxe!

IRL

I don’t think, unless I was really bored or had mono or something, that I’d gleefully spend 35 minutes on Instagram looking at photos of right hand breaks off Portugal. And then another 20 perusing Kitchen Toke, the first magazine devoted to Cannabis cooking. Plus a leisurely leafing through Do! It! Yourself! (the thought of building a stool by hand is most abstract).

Thankfully, through a chance encounter with Soda Books, I was, if only briefly, reinvigorated by the visual-physical medium and the pleasures of non-algorithmically curated discovery.

Sure, I guess it’s nice to have people tell me what’s cool and beam filtered images directly into my eyes from the comfort of my bed each morning, but the more organic editorialization in a place like Soda is a helpful reminder of the power of deliberation

Soon, it was dark outside, and I didn’t have the usual regret or neck pain that comes with having stared at my phone for two hours and forty five minutes. Magazines: they’re good.

Regulars

I used to see the same group of men drinking at the bar inside a grocery store around the block. They reveled, slapped backs, and enjoyed two dollar pints. Yes, I guess it’s a bar. But it’s in a grocery store. What an odd place to be a regular, I thought, peering over my beer each time I saw them. Why, I could never spend so much time at such a place.

There’s a man I often see juggling a soccer ball with a cigarette in his mouth at the air field around the block. Today it’s windy, grey as can be, and looks like it may rain. Why would anyone even be here, at this air field, right now? That’s beyond me, and I lay back down on the damp, cigarette-butt-littered grass.

There’s a woman hitting tennis balls against the backboard at the courts around the block all the time. Who has the time to be playing tennis, of all sports, with such regularity? Has she seen the news? And all that whacking on the backboard is kind of loud when I’m trying to serve.

No Laptops, Some Exceptions

It’s a cool, crisp, early fall evening and I’m at Nathanja & Heinrich, an impossibly cozy café and bar in Neukölln. The walls are muted tones of red and brown resting between brick and a most agreeable form of ambient electronica plays as bartenders shake cocktails; it is just past 6:40, which, on this Saturday in Berlin, means it’s time to start warming up with something besides espresso. Beanie-adorned thirty-somethings dot the main room and, as I stroll toward the back corner carrying a backpack and a tall, golden beer, I see several small signs with kind cursive atop tables: “no laptops, please”.

This is normally a request which I not only honor but one that is met with a hearty nod of approval. Again, I really am into it. Some cafes (see: Astro Coffee in Detroit) have even gone as far as to deliberately withhold wifi information from patrons — I’m still into it.

But, at this moment, I find myself in a predicament in which, while not explicitly against the stated rules of the establishment, I must go against my own conventions. A few justifications:

The only book I have on hand is Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and I find Hunter S Thompson’s work far too manic to enjoy in this type of setting.

I’m all caught up on Fresh Air interviews and my phone will die soon.

I want to listen to this Khruangbin record.

I need to, every 35 minutes, google if an infected hangnail can kill you (don’t ask).

I think I forgot to unsubscribe from those emails inviting me to for-profit college honor societies and need to do so immediately.

Plus, I’m in the throes of a seemingly-impossible apartment hunt and I fear two hours spent away from wg-gesucht.com, sending 92 messages that say I’m “laid back, creative, but can also probably pay rent on time”, will put me out of contention for a room next month.

And I guess I’m writing this, too.

So here I sit, and, you know what? I feel bad. Do as I say, not as I do.

Endless Spring

An initial offering for the return of lo-fi season:

Area Minimal Producer Just Kind of Lazy, Volume II

Maximum minimal, minimal patience. 

Music for the Skateboard

It's uncharacteristically warm in Michigan, which means that I'm skateboarding! Here are a few fine minutes of music which soundtracked 2018's first lap around greater Burns Park.

                                                  Tempelhof push

1.) An excellent moment of French House comes from the 19 year old producer Lewis Ofman in 'Plein de Bisous' at 2:20. He makes some very fun electronic pop tracks that, more often than not, go right where I want them to.  His stuff is on the lighter side of what one finds from Parisian label Ed Banger. From Ofman I'd also recommend 'Flash'. 

2.) Nicolas Jaar released a surprise album last week (!) under the name 'Against All Logic'.  Among its highlights are a track called 'Now U Got Me Hooked', which I was excited to have recognized from his outstanding 2013 Boiler Room set. Here's a taste (1:54) of the new record.

3.) Moment of zen. Manuel Göttsching, the man behind E2-E4, brings us some addictive ambient offerings in addition to his more experimental, minimal work. The quintessential Berliner has a prolific catalog, but I think 'Oasis', released under the project Ashra, is a good place to start. This track is also my favorite way to finish off a morning cruise (wenn die Sonne scheint).  

What I'm Listening to in February

Here's what has been occupying the 'recently played' page of my Spotify app lately in the form of an eclectic (eccentric?) playlist.  New points of interest include Nick Hakim and the pianist and producer Kiefer.  And, as is expected, there's still some Scandinavian electronic disco from the likes of Lindstrøm and Todd Terje. 

A playlist featuring Lewis OfMan, Project Pablo, Bjørn Torske, and others

Rare Groove

I recently had the pleasure of hanging out with and writing a profile of Marc Taras, the co-owner of PJ's Used Records on Packard Street in Ann Arbor, Michigan.  He has run the shop since 1981 with his brother, Jeff; it's a real treat to get lost in a space of physical music for a while. We discussed the ins and outs of owning a record shop in 2018, what it's like to see Ann Arbor change before your eyes, and some tips on steering clear of music snobbery.

Read more here 

Erlend in '03

There's a great record by the Norwegian singer-songwriter, bandleader, DJ, and definitive #MildBoy Erlend Øye called Unrest.  Of most interest to me from this 2003 release are the production credits: 10 tracks, 10 producers, 10 different cities.  From Bjørn Torske in Bergen to Morgan Geist in NYC, Mr. Øye croons over some very nice techno-influenced, tastefully-synchronized dance tunes (other cities include Barcelona, Rome, Berlin, and, strangely enough, Shelton, Connecticut). The song 'Ghost Trains' also features a closing riff that, I argue, should probably be made into a 10 hour loop.

Although the year is 2018, I often find my own music to still be influenced by this record, especially numbers like 'Sympton of Disease' and 'Sudden Rush'.  So, in case he makes a follow-up that needs a track from a left-leaning, Midwestern college town, I offer this:

Area Minimal Producer Just Kind of Lazy

4 tracks, straight to cassette :)

What I Talk About When I Talk About [electronic music], Volume 1

The umbrella term of 'EDM' is not a particularly helpful one when it comes to music description and categorization, yet it remains.  I used to try to parse it out in order to put a definition to the electronic music most dear to me, but that's a tiring exercise that didn't really lead anywhere.  While the beginnings of my relationship with electronic centered on obsessing over Nicolas Jaar, Todd Terje, and French House oddball Breakbot, it hasn't been one without turbulence and identity crises.  And, to clarify, there's nothing wrong with a little loud room here and there (I do, however, feel obligated to mention Ryan Dombal's delightful account of a Chainsmokers song featuring Coldplay's Chris Martin -- "clickbait collaboration... fair-weather drops built for Cancun's tourism association".  I digress).  My high horse having been abandoned for a Trabant, I'm going to try to just enjoy electronic music for what it is without going crazy.

If you really do want to get theoretical about it, though, you should start with Nick Paumgarten's stunning 2014 essay Berlin Nights.  While the piece deals mostly with techno, he offers a description that perfectly captures the complexity of trying to assign a single acronym to all these sounds.

Electronic music spans many genres, from the experimental bleeps and blurts that you might hear at the fringes of Berlin’s CTM Festival to the mega-popular sets performed by famous d.j.s like Skrillex and Avicii... The music isn’t pop, although many elements of it derive from and inform pop. It isn’t punk, although it owes something to punk, in spirit and scene. It isn’t high art, either. It is, fundamentally, Gebrauchsmusik—“utility music,” as Paul Nettl, the Bohemian musicologist, described dance music, in 1921. The utility, in this case, is mostly that of providing succor and pleasure, a sense of direction and purpose, to addled bodies and minds.

Okay, now that we have that out of the way I'd like to share some fine pieces of electronic music that provide succor and pleasure to my addled body.  For this installment I've selected a tune from Metro Area, the duo consisting of Morgan Geist and Darshan Jesrani, who offer a seminal record of ultra-smooth, blissed-out nu disc... scratch that - EDM.  Their self-titled album from 2002 saw a re-release last year.  Here's my favorite track from that, Soft Hoop:

Men Øf a Certain Age: Han Kjøbenhavn's Modeling Crusade

Like any great cultural discovery, this one begins on the Instagram explore page.  During the peak of a short-lived viral fashion phase, of which I'm not particularly proud, I came across a puzzling picture.  It was of an older gentleman wearing some cool sunglasses, staring me directly in the face.  Fascinated and unsettled, I poked my roommate and stuck my phone in his face.  He told me to please never show him that again.  I was hooked. 

The über hip Danish menswear label Han Kjøbenhavn is, in many respects, adherent to the conventions of modern Northern European fashion.  They tend toward a minimal aesthetic, favoring neutral tones, apocalyptic bomber jackets, and so on.  There's just one striking peculiarity: their models.  Familiarly skinny, young, sleeve-tattooed men with undercuts and high cheekbones?  Not exactly.  The brand has taken things in a fascinating direction by featuring, for lack of a better term, old guys.  But the clothing is not attached to this fact, nor does the company make a particular point of saying, "hey, look what we're doing over here!".  It is, somehow, seemingly organic, but also kind of otherworldly, showcasing two perfectly cast characters from an apparent universe where elevated dress is state-coördinated and everyone is deceiving you with a smile.  Limited by a rudimentary understanding of the intricacies of menswear and a cone deficiency that renders me unable to differentiate between purple and blue, I'll simply say this: it's cool.  

We're not, however, left totally in the dark on Han Kjøbenhavn's vision as it relates to their models.  In a 2016 interview with the annoying-but-sometimes-helpful blog Hypebeast, co-founder Jannik Wikkelsø Davidsen provides a brief explanation: 

It’s not about their age but about the life they have lived. It is important that we work with people who have stories to share, which also can be seen in their facial appearance as well... They are confident, they know what they are. That’s the most important thing. You can dress the biggest douche in the good stuff and it will still be wrong. 

The brand has clearly done something right; although I am likely never to buy anything from Han Kjøbenhavn, I'm nonetheless fascinated by their products and stylistic choices, perhaps as a result of a profound lack of context. Even if the details of the past lives of these models were available, I think I prefer the mystery.  

Diet Ideas 2018

It's not Keto, it's not Paleo, it's... Breatharianism!

Actually, scratch that, I don't really care to dictate what you eat.  Breatharian, however, is the title of and concept behind one of my favorite beat tapes.  It comes to us from LA producer Mndsgn (pronounced mind design), and it's an expertly-sampled journey through the worst and most dangerous diet fad/religion in history.  Don't let that turn you away, though, as the producer surveys the wild world of Wiley Brooks, Breatharianism's eccentric, enterprising modern leader, in 15 simultaneously relaxing and stimulating tracks.  

First off, I should explain, Breatharianism is a school of thought that postulates humans can survive without food and water, taking our nutrients from air alone.  Just Air.  While Mndsgn, whose real name is Ringgo Anchetta, offers only a few moments of insight into the bizarre belief system through interviews and dated news clips that transition songs, it's all that is really necessary ("in other words, eating is an acquired habit. Just like drinking alcohol or smoking cigarettes").  What follows is an array of urgent yet behind-the-beat offerings that may just offer some form of, despite the inherent absurdity of the subject matter, enlightenment.  An exercise in repetition and careful pairing of the hunger-hallucinatory with the quantized, Breatharian is as cohesive an album as it is experimental.  

What made this tape all the more interesting to me upon first listen was Mndsgn's own fabricated backstory.  As lore had it, Anchetta was raised on a commune without electricity or running water; this only added to the mystique of Breatharian.  In reality, he grew up in New Jersey (I'll refrain from comparing these conditions).  Regardless, I was hooked on his work as a producer.  As it happens, this was a meaningful discovery, as I've followed his music since with interest.  Subsequent releases, Yawn Zen and Body Wash, remain in heavy rotation.  

Dietary restrictions or not, this is a contemplative, worthwhile listen.