Ok, so: in full disclosure, over the past few years I’ve been feeling increasingly disenchanted with a lot of music that is described as “fourth world”: effectively, music that loosely traffics in the traditions and aesthetics of the global south, but reimagined through the lens of “advanced” or “futuristic” electronics. It’s a fraught category for several glaring reasons, but even without the self-imposed description, the music itself can, at worst, feel like white people playing under-researched dress-up with bits and pieces of other cultures, often because the musicians are too lazy to come up with something of their own. (And yes, I participate in and celebrate this kind of work on a regular basis! I’m obviously not a passive bystander here.)
I’m not resolving to draw clean lines in the sand about engaging in this kind of thing going forward, because: any attempt to do so would be arbitrary and ridiculous, given that music always involves cross-pollination and borrowing, and much of it is done in good faith and with deep artistic reverence. And because this stuff is messy, and there isn’t always a clearly discernible hierarchy of ethical creativity! And because I love too much of it to ever try to impose one, and because I’m obviously not the right gatekeeper to decide what is and isn’t colonialist.
I’d love to be just a passive set of ears, and to be able to say that I love Total purely for its aesthetic value, regardless of its cultural position. But nothing exists in a vacuum. Total was made by four Germans, and it borrows heavily from across continents: steel drums, didgeridoo, sub-Saharan polyrhythms, maybe a guzheng, a kalimba, Calypso, “from Cuba to Mocambique” [sic]. I’m not going to argue that this is good or bad, but I am going to argue that what Om Buschman brings to the conversation–which may be a sloppy conversation, or possibly even more of a weird monologue–has musical value. These musicians employ a post-Krautrock scronkiness, a Western spiritual jazz ethos, and an extremely stoned sense of humor (I’m pretty sure there’s the sound of a toilet flushing hiding in “Prima Kalimba”) to a largely percussive record. The effect is, to me, a synchronicity that exceeds copy and pasting. It’s perfectly stuporific, sprawling, foggy. Luckily we don’t have to choose between listening to Nigerian apala, Cuban jazz, or something like this, because they’re not the same and there’s no comparison. But perhaps for a new listener, one can be an entry point to another.
If I sound defensive, it’s because I’m still not sure how I feel about the whole thing, and because I have a knee-jerk reaction when music that isn’t made by a literal tribe of people is described as “tribal.” But I like the music! It’s deeply purple, playful, and very trippy. It borrows from, but it becomes something wholly different along the way. So here you go; maybe you’ll love it too.
This is a mix of mostly Spanish, Brazilian, and American orchestral pop music, largely from the 60s–cinematic songs that you would want to listen to while driving along a sunny coastline. It also includes some recent field recordings that I did on the Maltese coast, sounds of the mountains in the outskirts of Barcelona, inside the Barcelona subway, the jungles in Puerto Rico, and the mangroves of southern Florida.
Tracklist:
1. Waves in Dwejra Bay at the collapsed Azure Window, Gozo Island, Malta. June sunset 2018
2. Antonio González “El Pescaílla” – Chica de Ipanema
3. Antón García Abril – Sor Citroën
4. Breakwater in l’Escala, Spain. July afternoon 2018
5. Los Stop – El Turista 1.999.999
6. Augusto Algueró – Será El Amor
7. Frogs and a fountain in the Abbey of Montserrat, Spain. July night 2018
8. Henry Mancini – Party Poop
9. Canoeing in the mangroves, outskirts of Hobe Sound, Florida. August evening 2018
10. Papa Topo – Milano
11. Evinha – Estorinha
12. Alfonso Santisteban – Brincadeira
13. Crickets in a night hike by Collserola mountains just before raining, outskirts of Barcelona. July night 2018
14. Elsa Baeza – Dubeque Dublin
15. Antón García Abril – El Turismo Es Un Gran Invento
16. Taking the subway to rehearsal, Barcelona. July evening 2018
17. Alfonso Santisteban – Manías de María
18. Flipper’s Guitar – Coffee-Milk Crazy
19. Wildlife in Toro Negro rainforest, Puerto Rico. August night 2018
20. Me singing a vocal harmony
21. Le Mans – H.E.L.L.O.
22. Cicadas in Devil’s Millhopper, Gainesville, Florida; and weather forecast in Spain. August evening 2018
23. Marcos Valle – Êle E Ela
24. Stereolab – Miss Modular
25. ユキとヒデ (Yuki & Hide) – 白い波 (White Waves)
26. Los Mismos – Puente A Mallorca
For fans of The Coconuts who haven’t yet dug into their origin story, this is an excellent place to start. Kid Creole was the brainchild of August Darnell, a Bronx-born composer and an absolute genius with big band sounds, Latin jazz textures, and cuttingly clever lyrics; The Coconuts were the band’s trio of backing singers. It was difficult to choose between Tropical Gangsters and their excellent 1981 release, Fresh Fruit in Foreign Places, but this record includes some of my favorite singles from the group, including the stupidly good “Annie I’m Not Your Daddy,” previewed below. Elsewhere, find stomping, four-on-the-floor disco (“I’m A Wonderful Thing, Baby”), samba-funk breezer “I’m Corrupt,” and closer “No Fish Today,” a smirking account of class struggle cleverly packaged as a breezy tropical funk sailboat soundtrack. Steel drums, lush string arrangements, irresistible percussion, and an omnipresent sense of humor, this is ideal May listening.
So good. Cristina was a Harvard drop-out who was working as a writer for The Village Voice when she met (and eventually married) Michael Zilkha, who was in the process of getting the now-legendary ZE Records off the ground. He encouraged her to record a song called “Disco Clone,” written by a former Harvard classmate of hers, which became ZE’s first release in 1978 and featured John Cale production (and, moreover, is really good).
Cristina (later reissued as Doll in the Box) was the first of her two full-lengths. Short and sweet, it was produced by August Darnell of Kid Creole & The Coconuts, and you can hear his signature brassy tropical camp all over it. The heavily textured Latin-jazz percussion brings to mind some of New York no wave’s more polished, dancefloor-ready groups, except it’s fronted by a snarky, jaded Betty Boop. Cristina’s vocals are simultaneously flippant and flirty, often splintering off into multiple personas in dialogue with each other. She leans into that heavy-handed sardonicism even more on her follow-up, Sleep It Off, a grittier piece of electro boasting a proto-Slave to the Rhythm Jean-Paul Goude cover. While Cristina was met with moderate acclaim, Sleep It Off was a commercial flop (so dumb! it’s really good!), leading to Cristina’s musical retirement (though she’s still a writer). Thank you Caroline for putting me onto this!
I shared Badarou’s Echoesa while ago, and will probably share Words of a Mountain at some point, but I think his most recent solo release tends to get overlooked. Though the title pegs it as yoga music, there’s very little conventional new age to be found here–it feels more like the hotel lobby music of my dreams. I’ve never used it as a yoga accompaniment, but I have done a lot of deep cleaning with it, and I would imagine this would be great driving music. Alternately playful, tropical, nostalgic, reggae-tinged, meditative, cinematic, and as one would expect, endlessly smooth. Badarou himself seems to be conflicted about the work, citing poor promotion and “intimate” distribution. He disavowed it as an instrumental record, instead calling it a compilation of high-quality demos that were put together quickly for a friend’s project. Nobody needs me to say that Badarou is a genius; this is just a reminder that his wizardry holds fast even under unideal circumstance. (If you also listened to CFCF’s Colours of Lifea gazillion times, you’ll love this–the sonic palettes and titles are so akin that I suspect it’s a direct nod.)
Listen to my sixth episode of Getting Warmer for NTS Radio below. I thought a lot about musical migration as I was making this: cross-pollination as a result of colonialism; exotic fantasy, escapism, and essentialism; and Brazil, both as a place of origin and as a source of inspiration. If you like it, you can download an mp3 version of it here. Enjoy!
Tracklist:
1. Carpenters – Invocation
2. Fé De Sábio – Crepúsculo
3. Isabelle Antena – Otra Bebera
4. Yellow Magic Orchestra – Shadows On The Ground
5. The Beach Boys – Til I Die (Alternate Mix)
6. Caetano Veloso – Gua
7. Mudd – Summer In The Wood
8. Orchestre Raymond Droz Avec Pierre Cavalli Et Son Orchestre – Passarinhos
9. Light House – 南太平洋
10. The Coconuts – If I Only Had A Brain
11. Googoosh – Sahel Va Darya
12. Brenda Ray – Another Dream
13. Miharu Koshi – 逃亡者
14. Nightingales Recorded by Jean C. Roché – In A Waste Ground Beside A Stream In Provence, June
Listen to my second episode of “Getting Warmer” for NTS Radio. Tropical, balearic, ideal poolside or sunset listening. If you like it, you can download an mp3 version here. Happy summer!
Tracklist:
1. Joëlle Ursula — Position Feeling
2. David Astri — Safe And Sound
3. Byron — Too Much
4. 10cc — I’m Not In Love
5. Linda Di Franco — TV Scene (Extended Version) (Excerpt)
6. Mike Francis — Features of Love (Apiento Edit) (thank you Jacob!)
7. Isabelle Antena — Laying on the Sofa
8. Black — Wonderful Life
9. Laid Back — Fly Away / Walking In The Sunshine (Excerpt)
Slinky, balearic perfection from Linda Di Franco, who was a DJ in the Turin underground circuit (a scene about which I know absolutely nothing) before releasing Rise Of The Heart,her only full-length. Hard to pick a favorite track, but the unbelievably hard-hitting “TV Scene” has been stuck in my head for years. Her blissed out, bossa-tinged cover of Dusty Springfield’s “The Look of Love” is a peak, as is the tropical jazz anthem “My Boss” (which, oddly, was released in Italy as a 7″ split with Rod Stewart’s “Love Touch”). This isn’t a great quality rip, but it’s the best I could find as the record is way out of print. If anyone has a better copy they’d like to share, let me know! For fans of Antena, Brenda Ray, Sade, and Gina X Performance.
Ok, so: in full disclosure, over the past few years I’ve been feeling increasingly disenchanted with a lot of music that is described as “fourth world”: effectively, music that loosely traffics in the traditions and aesthetics of the global south, but reimagined through the lens of “advanced” or “futuristic” electronics. It’s a fraught category for several glaring reasons, but even without the self-imposed description, the music itself can, at worst, feel like white people playing under-researched dress-up with bits and pieces of other cultures, often because the musicians are too lazy to come up with something of their own. (And yes, I participate in and celebrate this kind of work on a regular basis! I’m obviously not a passive bystander here.)
I’m not resolving to draw clean lines in the sand about engaging in this kind of thing going forward, because: any attempt to do so would be arbitrary and ridiculous, given that music always involves cross-pollination and borrowing, and much of it is done in good faith and with deep artistic reverence. And because this stuff is messy, and there isn’t always a clearly discernible hierarchy of ethical creativity! And because I love too much of it to ever try to impose one, and because I’m obviously not the right gatekeeper to decide what is and isn’t colonialist.
I’d love to be just a passive set of ears, and to be able to say that I love Total purely for its aesthetic value, regardless of its cultural position. But nothing exists in a vacuum. Total was made by four Germans, and it borrows heavily from across continents: steel drums, didgeridoo, sub-Saharan polyrhythms, maybe a guzheng, a kalimba, Calypso, “from Cuba to Mocambique” [sic]. I’m not going to argue that this is good or bad, but I am going to argue that what Om Buschman brings to the conversation–which may be a sloppy conversation, or possibly even more of a weird monologue–has musical value. These musicians employ a post-Krautrock scronkiness, a Western spiritual jazz ethos, and an extremely stoned sense of humor (I’m pretty sure there’s the sound of a toilet flushing hiding in “Prima Kalimba”) to a largely percussive record. The effect is, to me, a synchronicity that exceeds copy and pasting. It’s perfectly stuporific, sprawling, foggy. Luckily we don’t have to choose between listening to Nigerian apala, Cuban jazz, or something like this, because they’re not the same and there’s no comparison. But perhaps for a new listener, one can be an entry point to another.
If I sound defensive, it’s because I’m still not sure how I feel about the whole thing, and because I have a knee-jerk reaction when music that isn’t made by a literal tribe of people is described as “tribal.” But I like the music! It’s deeply purple, playful, and very trippy. It borrows from, but it becomes something wholly different along the way. So here you go; maybe you’ll love it too.
For fans of 
