Lost herself out in the wheel of sound

Anxiously waiting for the baby's arrival leads to fidgety Spotify trolling, which leads to a Byrds rabbithole, which leads to some surprising enjoyment of their transition to country styles, which leads to more surprising enjoyment of this groovy, serpentine deep cut, which leads to cherry-on-top surprise at their ability to navigate a 5/4 meter. Now back to that anxious waiting...

The Byrds — Tribal Gathering

Other moons

Sometimes you have to go put yourself into an imaginary '60s place. I remember getting into these guys a few years ago, when I was apt to snatch up any album if someone told me it was a forgotten classic lovingly/belatedly reissued. Or maybe a rare specimen of exquisite artifice that the masses just didn't get around to appreciating, and then its moment passed. Well, I've still got that instinct, and I still believe all those possible futures are worth pondering. Here are a couple fine examples (links fixed now).

The Moon - Pleasure

The Moon - Pirate

Circular motion

If you've worn out the grooves in your Nuggets...um...mp3s, take a trek over to the other side of the world. This excellent Australian psych-pop comp has been in my possession a few years, and it never ceases to deliver the goods. This one seem appropriate for a ceremony that I would never be invited to, but would creepily observe from shrubs on the outskirts.

The Executives - Moving In A Circle

Cadillac walking

There's funky music for parties, and there's funky music for taking yourself down the street. It's all about feeling classy, and the brassy sass of tunes like this just makes you feel like there's a space you own that no one had better violate. I feel like it would be a great audio aid for babies just learning to get up on their own 2 legs.

Dayton Sidewinders - Slipping Into Darkness

After all the day's away

Here's a palette cleanser. As in, forget everything you want/expect/deserve from music. Just because your band sounds like they don't know how to play their instruments, it doesn't mean they don't have a deeply clear sense of what they want to sound like. Early Red Krayola is one of those bands that I don't put on often, but when I do, it's completely necessary.

The Red Krayola - Night Song

Silver age

The thing about being "ahead of your time" is that you never get full credit for your innovations if time never actually catches up to you. So it went with the Silver Apples, who used a fairly limited sound palette to produce some of the coolest, most distinct music of the '60s (also some of the least '60s sounding). There are so many ways the space age could've gone. These guys charted a course we still haven't even embarked on.

Silver Apples - Lovefingers
Silver Apples - Misty Mountain

English sunshine

I have a weird soft spot for provably British singers who sound like they're putting on the accent. I also love that sunny British psych sound from the hazy '60s. Put them together and I'm a smiling fool. A big hi-five to my friend Ali, who hipped me to this track a couple years ago. Also, fun fact — Peter Frampton wrote it. He should have closed up shop immediately afterward.

The Neat Change - I Lied To Auntie May

Big silence

I keep meaning to drop out of life for a few weeks and immerse myself in Ennio Morricone soundtracks. Actually, it'd take months (I think dude has done over 500 by now), and I'd likely emerge with the kind of intense look on my face that no sane person would want to approach. Short of that level of commitment, here's a beautiful Western theme from the master. I aim to have at least one major life event occur while this is playing.

Ennio Morricone - Il Grande Silenzio (Restless)

Mothers' Day

With all due respect to the moms out there, it's hard not to see Mother's Day as one of those holiday hustles where gift purchases act as stand-ins for actual relationships. (For the record, I got mine some beautiful flowers, as I do every year). In that spirit, let's welcome Frank Zappa back to this space with his singular brand of Motherly love.

Frank Zappa & the Mothers of Invention - Mother People

Stranger in a strange land

I'm in a new city without a job, so I've been feeling a bit lost as of late. I'm taking extra pleasure in the small things, such as hearing a song for the first time and feeling like I understand it completely. At the same time, I'm feeling a bit like a musical ignoramus for not having heard this "psychedelic masterpiece" sooner. And for initially thinking it was the Rolling Stones. Anyway, here's how it went: last night I was making dinner and my boyfriend put on Side A of SRC's self-titled album. What I thought was an obscure Rolling Stones B-side turned out to be "Black Sheep." Does Scott Richardson (as in Scott Richardson Case; as in SRC) not sing exactly like Mick Jagger on "Ruby Tuesday"?

SRC - Black Sheep

Sweet and simple

We were doing an early morning gig at a retirement home (yes, indeed) in Lexington, KY. Playing deep into the previous night, drinking too much whiskey, and getting way too little sleep brought out the most painful parts of the earliness. I felt like I was going to keel over and needed to summon all my stoicism to keep it together. Suddenly, our mandolin player—who always knows his audience—began singing this song, and it was plain old pretty and sweet. The sunshine coming through the window got all warm, and it made sense to want the things that I'm often crudely compelled to dismiss.

While this number should've sounded especially syrupy, given our immersion into Louis Armstrong's classic '20s music, I only heard the light and brotherliness in it. It sounds better with just voice and piano, but hey, I'll enjoy the syrup all the same.

Louis Armstrong - Hello Brother

Cosmic warriors of Detroit

While we're rocking the late-'60s mental vectors, let's move it over to our side of the Atlantic. This one's got Ted Nugent in the co-pilot's chair. That's him on guitar, apparently blissfully unaware of the song's lyrical implications. Unlike the Floyd, these Dukes are held down by their earthbound ways, musically and probably politically too. It's more like a journey to the drive-in or the shooting range, or whatever Ted was into to help him realize his loincloth fantasies. Still, this track is a fine garage psych rocker, and I recall it being put to good use in a dream sequence on Six Feet Under, which is about as un-Nuge as it gets, short of the Oxygen network.

The Amboy Dukes - Journey to the Center of the Mind

Obscured by clouds

Well, it blizzarded again. And except for when the wind picked up (or a kid tried to throw a snowball but fell down and started crying), there was an excellent calmness to the snow blanket. It all made me want to stay home and throw the layers on. So, here's a song for mental bathrobes and innerspace voyaging.

I always thought that this one was mistitled. They keep talking about the sun, but it's all dark spaces with only flickers of light to guide the way. I guess the floor tom mallets help with the compassing too.

Pink Floyd - Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun

Mean machines

Sometimes the song of the day mirrors my state of mind and sometimes it's a way to get far away from it. This is the latter. In 1968, these guys probably thought they were making a pretty profound comment on the direction of humanity. Today it's hard to hear beyond the kitsch, though there's a pretty great, proto-Devo vibe happening. I like the pure resignation in the lyrics. The world is gonna defeat you and there's nothing your hair can do about it.

Lothar & the Hand People - Machines

Preservatives

Like they say, nostalgia isn't what it used to be. Not being English or of a certain generation, I guess something about Village Green will always get lost in translation. The songs are unimpeachable, but I suspect that if I actually knew the places Davies was re-imagining, my memory would probably have a slightly more contemptuous flavor.

Still, I'm on the critical bandwagon about the album — an English masterpiece that Americans can love too, much the way late Soviet era kids loved our blue jeans. The record's closer in particular is sweet, innocent, and goofy. But also maybe a little ambivalent. Why doesn't Ray want to see any more of those pictures anyway? Would actual representations of the past ruin the chemical magic of memory? That kind of preservation needs a little self-delusion.

The Kinks - People Take Pictures of Each Other