Playlist 5 – Acid Surf, Peyote Western

Oh, my estranged music mashers from lands east and west. How are you? You wouldn’t believe how electrifying it is to blast you with ironic conversational tone once again. Is this blog back from the grave? I doubt it. Pat’s blowing up your newsfeed with pictures of national landmarks and I’m only about halfway through watching every WWE royal rumble. But as i was daydreaming and weaving through sluggish and dazed Montana traffic today, i thought of this ghost of projects past. There’s so much to update you on, there’s been monumental musical mood swings. I’ve discovered and smashed headfirst into jazz. I’ve sworn off and begged back dream pop, wicker park indie, and burger core. I sold out and bought into the spotify generation, mainly so i could make scatter plot playlists with bizarro titles like “Chicken feed for the children” and so on and so forth. Time goes on. But above all this I’ve been listening. I mean really listening. What else is there? A short summary:



I’ll listen to anything that sounds like Elvis.

Charlie Megira fucked Elvis, dosed him with an eyedropper full, and sent him out into the naked thrashing brine with a surfboard and a guitar. Linked to you via youtube is his album “Love Police.” Take a moment to glaze over those track titles. “Homeless Body” “The Wall of Death” “The strange and bizarre tale of the boy who had one testicle too many.” The man is depraved. The man is possessed. The man is brilliant. Do yourself a favor and listen to this album. Preferably while driving quickly, trying to beat the sunrise home.



Heavy. Laced in fractals and reverb. Meant to be played loud. Probably singing about cloaked wizards brewing bitches in the crags of some jagged mythical peak. This band is the other way Tame Impala could have gone after Lonerism. Linked is Fire on the mountain, which the beginning of my obsession, as well as yours.



Anyone remember when that guy from FIDLAR was really high on heroin all the time and sporadically posting the saddest and most desperate songs you’ve ever heard out of anything even remotely burger records related? This Pesos song is kinda like that, except the lyrics are shining tears of liquid diamond and the guitars are just surfy enough and you can bop around your dimly lit living room or smoking alcove to it and pretend you’re beach chic enough to relate.



Young suburban soul rock wunderkinds The Districts have made what i voted the most punishingly goosebump inducing piece of music of 2015. Listen loud, listen proud.



Snagged this little forgotten artifact out of a book of letters written by the god of gonzo himself. He ranked this psyche world music troubadour’s second album his favorite of the 60’s. And to be frank, ladies and gentlemen, it’s not a bad choice. Such vivid visions pour out of this. Desert campfires. Sun baked stretches of highway. Peyote freakouts through the streets of Tangier or at the Taj Mahal. The sonic slap in the face of epics like Blend or Memphis Tennessee are nothing to be trifled with.


Stay Thirsty – JM



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