December 2008 Archives

The fifth night of Christmas, the final night of Hanukkah and the first night of black ice on the roads in Vancouver, already caught in the crossfire of every possible winter storm system (as evidenced by the wonky radio programming last week; my fill-in whilst I was out east, fighting the flu, was unable to get to the station due to a foot of snow her way). All this converged on the ultimate episode for the year 2008. UBC campus was pretty much closed, meaning all the DJ's after 5pm relied on each other to get into the station.

I was reluctant to pull yet another list of the best songs, best albums, best music, best whatever else to add to the pile. After juggling several lists, I slid more towards songs I had neglected to play in the past and then fuse a few threads together to give a narrow focus on songs you would've heard in the year but mixed in some harder to find gems to flesh things out.

Naturally, it was time to pull one of the best soundtracks of the year out; after debating on using WALL·E as the hub around a children's music themed episode, or waiting to see if Thomas Newman's score would be nominated for an Academy Award, I opted for it after a recent rewatch during one of my prolonged flights. Amongst the fantastic graphics, the surreal story and feisty robots, the sound design behind the film was phenomenal and all credit goes to Ben Burtt, a veteran audio auteur.

Due to the empty nature of the building, as the hosts passed the booth onto the next host, there was often a great deal of chatter over the holiday season's events and what the future may hold. It's great to have a moment to bond with people you only have fleeting moments with as the shows change, so if there were moments where songs didn't properly lead into each other, just know it was intentionally negligent. Based on the weather and usual yuletide activities, it's hard to say how many people would be listening live. As well, with the weather outside icy, most radios were tuned to the news, like the taxi I had to take home after the buses couldn't make it up the hills along West Point Grey.

The last tidbits of sound were thrown together at the last minute as a quick audio snippet of the 1985 leap second was added (since 2008 will have its own, otherwise known as 23:59:60 UTC), along with the standard Auld Lang Syne by Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians, leading us to another Scottish treat, the sound of ships sailing along the North Sea during Hogmanay, the New Year's Eve celebration. I like a little audio pastiche every once in a while, so I'll try to come up with a few more as time permits.

And with that, the songs that close the year.

Nothing helps calm the rising tide of holiday anxiety than by listening to a really frantic collection of strange music somehow pegged to the baby Jesus' birth.

Actually, this episode was completely horrific in the early stages as I tried stuffing the show to the gills with every possible genre and funny bit I had. Considering that early Saturday, I maybe had two Christmas songs in my iTunes and by the evening, it had turned to twenty hours worth, there was a veritable avalanche of carols that made me twitchy.

Because, like most of you, I can't stand the same thirty or so songs you always hear. If it was up to me, there'd be more sacred hymns, tearjerking ballads and bizarre murder stories in the holiday canon, but ninety minutes of all that along with the usual spattering of deranged nuggets of joy sounds atrocious. Christmas mixes are tenuous things since most of the time, it sounds incoherent.

I scaled back, allowing the first half hour to be kinda psychedelic, segueing brilliantly from what the previous show was doing with noise pastiches from local heroes the Value Village People. The second half hour started off electronic before the stylistic overload crept up into the final third.

For a handful of my friends, the Star Wars Theatre (3000?) rendition of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas kicks off the holiday season, though starting off with that random slice of yuletide splendour will scare most people off. Also in the stable are Low's sublime Christmas release, Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet's quirky quicky and Morphine's drowsy B-side.

Not helping matters was the fact that a half hour until airtime, I was still at work, downtown, stuck on a phone call that went on for hours. Thankfully, I had all my toys with me, so I hailed a taxi to the campus for the first time (which ain't cheap) and managed to get there in time to collect my wits, check the records, say hello to everyone who was still there and test the turntables.

The cool thing was that the music department hauled out the super collection of tinseltown tunes; there were hundred of shiny discs, black discs and other musical media. I used a spate of them during the background randomly. Messing around with so much music provided ample distraction and you can tell in the first half hour that I was still wound up from the rush of the day, tripping over words like my tongue was swollen. The clocks in the studio were widely varied, making time estimates wonky and I jettisoned my Italian tracks at the end for more Shadowy Men, just 'cuz I wanted to.

I'm sure there's more but my net connex is proving wonky tonight, so let's cut to the chase.

I wish this show could've gone a bit longer, but them's the breaks. Seems like any of the programs before me get their time eaten by the show before and I'm left with the tightest 90 minutes to wiggle with.

Nevertheless, this was a solid piece of the genre cake as I stayed mostly electronic. Fittingly, so was the music as most of the discs I found in the library were old and fairly unplayable (compact discs do not age gracefully), so the bulk of the show came off the iPod. However, it was only yesterday that I found a used vinyl of the Thief soundtrack (the trailer as heard during this week's broadcast), which helped greatly since all I had from Tangerine Dream was the Heartbreakers soundtrack, which is nice on its own but that film was rather insignificant, especially in contrast the blazing white glow of Michael Mann's debut film. There was a lot more I could've tackled regarding Mann and his audio æsthete, but you have to hear the music from time to time and not so much from me.

The Modular Recordings snapshot was semi-intentional; I had hoping to drop a remix of The Presets' This Boy's In Love but sometimes, people need to be able to find what song they hear easily. At some point, I'll play you Cut Copy's remix work of the Presets, one long languid day. (As eluded during the show, here's the Exclaim! profile on Cut Copy in wake of their 2008 best-of lists.)

Not sure what else to say but man, I play a lot of Amon Tobin. I need to switch over to Richie Hawtin for Canadian electronic music, or find other sources of fresh national technologies.

This is my playlist; tell me yours.

Going into this week's show, I thought the entire proceedings would have gone overly whimsical. (Starting with Tiny Tim can do that.) The first half hour had a serious eighties college radio vibe, despite the fact that most of the recordings came from the past few years. The station had a single by These Electric Lives that I hadn't heard before, so coming up with Soda Water as a replacement was a fantastic upgrade. The Oxford Collapse song had been burrowing in my mind for a while, which is odd since most of their stuff straddles the nostalgia line too closely for me to truly appreciate.

CITR's archives had plenty of options for most of the artists I had lined up, though sometimes what I brought with me worked better. It's unfortunate that Bat for Lashes isn't in the library, since their debut stands as one of the strongest in recent memory. As the college sound floated up into the darkened clouds, I had to locate a few Canadian acts to both fit in and then lead us elsewhere. The recent fund drive delayed new playlist adds for a few weeks, so a great backlog is finally clearing, allowing me to tear into the new work from Sebastian Grainger (formerly of Death from Above 1979) and The Buttless Chaps, allowing me to land back in the salt of the earth.

...and dive into the Sacred Harp choral style, as featured in the recent documentary Awake, My Soul. CITR's music co-ordinator Mr. Meat had told me that he added the soundtrack specifically for me, which was gracious. Upon first listen though, I snapped to attention as the a capella choirs half-chanted, half-sang their notes. Taking a good chunk of hymns I knew — for those who may have known, one fact I don't advertise all the time is I used to be a church organist, though in the Lutheran tradition — the melodies and arrangements became almost Gregorian though brilliantly imprecise. I love the fact that the recording sessions were treated as field recordings, whereby the song leader (who changes each song) calls out the song or page number and everyone goes through the first verse in solfege then barge into the actual words on the second verse. Add to the fact that the songs are known by their melody instead of the song title, which better reflects the flexibility that hymns have as songs can take lyrics from other hymns, and standards such as Amazing Grace are known by locations (in this case, New Britain), the Sacred Harp tradition seemingly remixes the entire canon I'm familiar with.

The new-folk versions that followed weren't as immediate but it's great to see how the old gospel influence develops over different genres. And in many cases, certain artists gained their first exposure to this style as part of this project and discovered a way with music they hadn't necessarily been exposed to before. I can imagine some of you may be daunted with the idea of hearing religious themes; in that case, you can always unlisten to the words and pick out the character and unspoken message or history of what's being sung. If I had time, I'd like to sketch out a series of shows that explore the various parts of music and this soundtrack stands as a great way to highlight the human voice.

And with that, the playlist.