Posts tagged ‘Blitzen Trapper’

December 28, 2011

2011 in review: Mansquatch’s favorite songs (The Conclusion)

Songs 50-26.

And here’s the whole damn thing in a tidy, easy-to-use and scent-free Spotify playlist.

25. Crystal Antlers – By the Sawkill
In a year where we were dodged by new material from the Mars Volta (again!), we were lucky to have one of our many bands with a deer-themed name help fill the freak-out garage prog void. “By the Sawkill” takes you by the balls by opening with a frantic fuzz solo, and the screamed-out vocals make sure you never have a reprieve.

24. Diego Garcia – You Were Never There
A dash of flamenco guitar, some backgrounds borrowed from “Five O’Clock World,” and an impossible-to-forget chorus make for the most infectious song I heard all year.

23. Those Darlins – Screws Get Loose
Bad girls make the best songs. I look forward to hearing this in the next Tarantino movie.

22. Timber Timbre – Woman
Evil. Fucking. Tuba.

Oh, and some seriously great crawling piano, spooky slide, and inventive singing.

But mostly, Evil. Fucking. Tuba.

21. The Black Keys – Mind Eraser
On an album where Akron’s finest seem to be spending a little too much time polishing a Bad Company impression, at least the finale delivers the balance of hard blues and melodicism we’ve all come accustomed to from Monsieurs Auerbach and Carney.

20. SHIM – I Don’t Know Why
If you wonder where all the rock went in 2011, Seattle’s beer-swilling, steak-eating SHIM stole it. All of it. And then they splurged the entire lot on this 1:41-long nugget of speed-freakin’ Foghattery.

19. Legendary Oaks – Grace Underwater
Another well-kept secret from Seattle, Legendary Oaks builds a forlorn guitar-and-fiddle duet up into an electrified shuffle with awesome double-tracked singing and a killer country-stomp guitar solo.

October 12, 2011

My 12 Songs, or Brent Hate-F***s Out A Playlist

Thirty-eight days, four hours, 15 minutes, 57 seconds.

In that time, I could shave my beard and regenerate it to an even manlier version than what currently inhabits my face.

I could hand in a two-weeks notice, slightly more than 2 ½ times.

I could start training for a marathon, turn into a lean, mean, running machine, and then decide after Day 37 to stop training for a marathon when I remember that I’m not a douchebag (OK, that one was a stretch).

More realistically, that very specific amount of time is how long it would take me to work though my entire iTunes library. That’s right — 12,660 songs at 91.62 gigs of memory on Ye Olde MacTop. Of course, that’s not even including the unlimited number of songs I access through Spotify, YouTube, my modest vinyl collection, or the Neil Diamond and Hall & Oates cassette tapes in my car for emergency use only (translation: daily use).

Now, as a way to introduce myself to the hearingade faithful, I’m supposed to pluck 12 songs out of that infinite black hole of music nerddom for a playlist (or I guess officially “mixtape,” though I’m young enough I never did such thing before the dawn of the CD burner) that more or less defines me.

Um… unfuckingpossible.

Un.

Fucking.

Possible.

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