Maybe it’s been a foolish endeavor, and maybe I’m the only one who misses the blog ol’ days, but I’ve been giving it a shot. I’ve been working on restoring some of the old content, though much of it was lost. I’ve slowly been rebuilding the old remix sunday archives, and even posting the occasional new edition. And I’ve been writing again.
You can find all the label’s releases here, on bandcamp, or most anywhere you listen to music these days. I’ve still got copies of some of the old vinyl releases, and I recently released the first in a set of charitable cassette compilations to raise awareness about the continued [mis]use of broken windows policing methods.
Plus, I put together a playlists section with a handful of spotify lists that hopefully start to capture a [slightly] updated version of the moods we used to peddle. Give those a listen and a ❤ if you would be so kind. If you want to get in touch, just give me a holler.
Why Be is one of those artists who probably has innumerable songs wasting on old hard drives that no one will ever hear, but are probably really good. When I met him once or twice in the late aughts, he was a part of HVAD‘s Syg Nok collective in Copenhagen. These are two from 2020’s Caged Animal on Berlin-based Yegorka.
Why Be – “Impossible Drops1” (bc)
Why Be – “Impossible Drops2” (bc)
And since I mentioned him, I may as well share one from HVAD, another Dane who releases far less than he creates, and whose records I treasure. From 2014, when Syg Nok was still active.
I first met Cæcilie Trier when she was playing cello in Atoi, a band I blogged about a few times, years ago. She’s since released a handful of records under the name CTM, and is current with a collaborative album under that name with pianist August Rosenbaum on Posh Isolation. She’s a superb songwriter, and the production on all of her work is as inventive as it is immediate. For as delicate as much of her music can seem at first blush, it also feels distinctly physical; sort of body music for air signs.
In addition to the title song from her latest with Rosenbaum, Celeste, I’m including a favorite of mine from her most recent solo effort, 2018’s Red Dragon, as well as the title track from 2013’s Variations.
CTM & August Rosenbaum – “Celeste Song” (sc)
CTM – “Paloma pt. 2” (sc)
CTM – “Variations” (sc)
And just because, here’s the video for another one from Red Dragon.
Soho is a dear old friend. We used to be in a band together when I lived in Denmark, though that’s not saying much; she’s collaborated with so many others in the time since. She was a regular member of Lust for Youth’s live band, she’s been in bands like the short-lived but excellent Gold Lip, and she’s made records with the likes of Croatian Amor, Kasper Bjørke, and many others. But it’s really her solo work that strikes my nerves most; her voice is beautiful and an obvious blessing, but she’s also a gifted composer and producer.
She’s been prolific in recent years, but since things were dormant here, I didn’t have the chance to post any of her wonderful work. Above, I’ve posted a video of one of my favorites, from her 2018 album Six Archetypes, which included five video treatments, all of which are really worth attention. I’ve also included a selection of other songs from recent years that may inspire you to dive deeper into her catalog.
Soho Rezanejad – “Greed Wears a Disarming Face” (2018) (bc)
Soho Rezanejad – “December Song” (2018) (bc)
Soho Rezanejad – “Two Women Bucolics” (2020) (bc)
Soho Rezanejad – “Memory Shell” (2019) (bc)
Soho Rezanejad – “Everyday’s Another Holiday” (2015) (bc)
And for good measure, another video from 2016, for a song that isn’t available on bandcamp.
When I moved to Denmark for the first time as an adult, I fell in with a bunch of sweet people all at least tangentially connected to one another through music. In this little micro-scene, there was one person who stood as a sort-of elder statesman, at least symbolically; and one song that served as a guidepost for what Danish electronic music could do. Bjørn Svin‘s 1997 song “Mer Strøm” was by no means a worldwide hit, maybe not even in 8-bit or IDM circles, nor was he a household name anywhere outside of Denmark (or even in Denmark outside of certain circles), but the song had made an impact in the country and abroad in a way that others of its kind hadn’t yet. I haven’t been back to Denmark for a number of years now, but I suspect the song still symbolizes something for Danish musicians, about Danish music. Something anti-jantelov, exuberant, and free.
A couple of years after the original song was released, Bjørn released this reprise. The best known version of the song often bears a #2 following the title, but this reprise is tagged as #0, so maybe it existed first. I’m sharing it here as a way of kicking off a series of posts focusing on Danish music, music I’ve always championed in the course of doing Palms Out. I’ve done so partly because my Danish half demands it, but also because the country’s music is so perpetually ignored–maybe because its neighbors are such powerhouses of pop and electronic music, or maybe because of its ingrained societal modesty. In any case, my American half makes me partly immune to that hyper-modesty, so I insist on doing my small part to share the country’s music more widely.
Earlier this year, as prelude to the gentle resurrection of Palms Out, I decided to release a small handful of old songs that have been burning holes in my hard drive for far too long. Split into two releases, We Had That and Flatbush, all the songs are available for whatever you wish to pay (including zero$) on bandcamp, and streamable wherever else you listen to music. Listen to selections from each below.
A few months ago, Palms Out had the pleasure of releasing the second formal album by DonChristian, the self-produced Don, which features appearances from Shanekia McIntosh and TM Davy. Don is a ray of light, a truly generous soul, and an incredible artist. Some of the music on this album was incorporated into Don’s recent piece Volvo Truck performed at The Shed as part of their summer open call series. Don also spent most of the panini building Public Assistants, a mutual aid network for and by BIPOC artists, creatives, and makers, primarily focused in Crown Heights, Brooklyn.
One of my personal favorites from the album is streamable below, but I really urge you to have a listen to the album in full wherever you listen to music (or buy it on bandcamp).
I was legitimately excited to find out that Main Phase, whose work quality has been unwavering in recent years, used to be a member of a crew of Danish 14 year olds that would regularly submit remixes to Palms Out in the way back whens. While I wouldn’t do him dirty by sharing any of those old submissions, I will tell you he always had the spark. He recently announced his latest record, Lost City Archives Vol. 5 on the homonymous imprint, which includes the song below. Pre orders are open now, but it’s gonna sell out quick.
This song is from Sola‘s recent self-produced record, Feels Like a War, out on Jamz Supernova’s Future Bounce imprint, and written in collaboration with Moses Boyd, Ife Ogunjobi, Raven Bush, and Tora-i. Since Sola told us we don’t have to, I won’t say any more, except that this is good music.
As another artist whose name doesn’t necessarily evoke quite the right imagery to describe the music I make, I have personal appreciation for the moments of dissonance listeners may experience when discovering 1-800 GIRLS via his more recent work. Digging a little deeper into his catalog, the name might make a bit more sense. The first two songs are from from his latest, the self-released Your Love or Mine?, and the last one is the title track from last year’s Slipping on Lost Palms.
I know virtually nothing about DJLP, except that they’re based in London, and they’ve only released a handful of songs so far. I’d like to think that BLSSMS is a reference to the holiness of the text message, but I don’t know that either. I stumbled across this song somehow a couple of months ago, right after it was released in July, and it’s just another example of how perennially effective this type of midtempo breakbeat will always be, at least to me. The mp3 is available below, but make sure to show your support on DJLP’s bandcamp.
While I’m on the topic of Los Angeles powerhouses, Young Art also just released Transmission, an album from old friend of the site Kingdom with songwriter Rush Davis. It includes this excellent song with Rochelle Jordan.
Kingdom & Rush Davis – “Anyway” (ft. Rochelle Jordan) (bc)
On a day like today, it’s hard to feel like the world isn’t repeatedly sending us the same gruesome message.
That justice isn’t real; murderers will go free while innocent people will languish. And we’re supposed to be thankful that at least the state didn’t sanction the murder of one innocent black person today, it will only keep him in prison forever; even while it simultaneously gleefully rewards an actual killer for his whiteness.
That no amount of collective work and personal responsibility will save the world; if the powerful continue to insist on sacrificing the world to pursue their own mania, it won’t. And we’re supposed to be thankful that one of those maniacal villains decided to share 1/3rd of what he’ll leech today with actual humans, instead of only building spaceships for his friends–but only today.
I don’t have any words to alleviate any of these feelings. They’re justified and terrifying. All I will say is that it’s no less ethically excusable to route those feelings into something superfluous or numbing than it is to muster the energy required for active vigilance.
A segue here is impossible, but I want to at least mention what an impact this song had on me a couple of years ago, when it was released. Among others I picked up at the time, it gave me the itch to start writing about music again. There’s something simple and right about it, and its name seems to imply that Shinra might have been using it as a way to express his own apocalyptic anxieties. He’s one of those artists that should be a household name, so here’s me contributing to that just a touch.
James Shinra – “At the End of the World” (sc)
For good measure, here’s another older song of his that I’ve also gotten comfort from.
Ross Fish makes synthesizers and pedals and songs. He names his things after a WWII-era radio jamming eliminator that allowed Dutch citizens to listen to Radio Oranje broadcasts during the occupation.
These songs are from a tape he put out last year. He says the songs are about about absolutely nothing, but I read that to mean they’re probably about that something that’s really nothing; that thing that leaves you sitting, broken hearted.
Also listen to this 15-minute thing he did in 2016 on a split tape with Kyle Landstra on Oxtail Recordings. Some of the best music released by a fish ever.
Club Cab is from Dallas. He contributed this little bop to the fourth volume of Club Designs‘ CDMUSIC compilation series.
In other cab news, NYC taxi drivers recently won a hard-fought battle to restructure their paralyzingly large medallion loans, after the value of those medallions plummeted in the transformed landscape of unregulated ride-sharing-behemoth dominance. Driver power. Union power!
I really can’t describe this better than Liminal Garden already has.
Some view parody as merely making fun of something, but in the right hands parody can actually serve as a pretty powerful tool to drive home a particular point or narrative. Case in point: Everywhere At The End Of Bikini Bottom by The Spongetaker.
They say parody is the sincerest form of flattery, and that certainly holds true for this album, which is spoofing Leyland Kirby’s emotional masterpiece Everywhere At The End Of Time, setting it in a universe that most people in this audience have an intimate familiarity with and feel genuinely nostalgic about.
Producer Vappasko (as The Spongetaker) absolutely delivers on the humorous side, because the album is simply hilarious: everything from the whimsical track titles, the sample choices, the heavy effects perfectly emulating EATEOT, to even the cover artwork itself are just a lot of F.U.N. But at the same time it’s a genuinely haunting listening experience, making you painfully aware how memories of days gone by are unavoidably washing away in the steady stream of time.
If we are the protagonists of our own memories, then I don’t think Spongebob is any less relevant a foil for many than Al Bowlly is for Kirby’s characters.
Venus absorbs and tempers the masculine essence, uniting the masculine and feminine in mutual affection. She is assimilative and benign, born of sea foam, a charm, a magic philtre.
You’ve no doubt heard this Loleatta Holloway-sampling 1990 classic by the polyonymous Dutch trio composed of Eddy de Clercq, Gert van Veen, and Erik van Putten. If not consciously, then probably on a dancefloor somewhere. But it’s out of print now, and doesn’t appear to be available to stream, at least not stateside. I’ve got a few higher quality versions of this, but none sound quite as good as this vinyl rip. It’s got too much noise and crackle, but whoever ripped it had some kind of nice natural compression going on in their system that cut off the edges of the 909 in the right places and gave it the kind of heft it deserves.
“Every perfect day starts with a lie-in, no alarms, just sunlight. No one texting, calling or emailing me. Garage in the evening. A party with me and my friends playing, no pressure on anyone. A good afters, and the next day in the park. It’s like when I went to uni and first realised I wouldn’t get in trouble if I didn’t go in, and literally watched Ferris Bueller’s Day Off instead.”
That sentiment is pretty consistent with the way this song makes me feel. Hard to disagree. Listen below, and check out a little more of George Riley after the jump.
I remember in the Napster and Limewire days how often I’d find tracks that were mislabeled in order to mislead people into thinking they’d stumbled across the long lost Boards of Canada or Aphex Twin song, or whatever, and how hard my young ears would have to work to discern if these were in fact the real thing or a hoax. Those dummy songs would take on lives of their own, and without an app like Shazam, would establish their own value as they persevered in anonymity among those of us in blissful ignorance.
It’s nice that some out there are willing to totally embrace the nostalgia of those times, heedless of all who might say art is only worth doing if it centers currentness completely. It’s also not surprising that some of them would be those same diehard Boards of Canada fans, still so eager to find that long lost BoC song that they simply decided to just write it themselves with no pretension or pretense about so-called originality. Kahvi Collective has, in spirit, collected 28 of those dummy BoC songs, all made purely in celebration of BoC’s innate nostalgia. I’ve selected a few for you here, and you can download the rest on their bandcamp for whatever you wish to pay. Actual nostalgia over “future” nostalgia.
I don’t know much of anything about qwqwqwqwa, except that they’re from St. Petersburg. This is apparently the only song they’ve released in this style–which they’ve told me is one they’re no longer exploring. That’s unfortunate, because you rarely hear this kind of ominous and measured take on the breakbeat delivered so well. “Untitled” is taken from the We Hate Breaks compilation released in 2019 on urwaxx, all of which is very much worth a listen.
Maracujas are related to passion fruit. When they’re ripe, their skin goes all shriveled and leathery, leading many people to believe they’ve become rotten. But that’s really when they’ve become sweet. It’s been so long since I regularly shared music here that a lot of the music I’ve been loving lately isn’t exactly brand new. But even if a song like this one by Haider is a year or a few old, it might be so good that it’s actually especially ripe for sharing.
It seems fitting enough for the first post in upwards of ten years to feature an old blog house favorite. Boys Noize was not only a favorite of blogs during that now oft maligned period of music history, but he was also kind enough to release my record with Le1f back in 2012. Moreover, the sound of this song, featuring Abra, also aligns nicely with the girly freestyle/electro style that was a consistent undercurrent for many years on Palms Out, sometimes to the chagrin of readers who came for the bangorz, but always to my own delight.
In case you missed The Fader premiere, here is the gorgeous video for DonChristian‘s “My Crew” — from his debut tape, The Wayfarer — out on Greedhead/Camp&Street. It’s real good.
