Mulatu Astatke & the Heliocentrics: Inspiration Information 3

I’m ill-equipped to describe jazz of any kind. On top of that, the pedigree on this album is from a line I knew nothing about, but I’ll share it anyway: veteran Ethiopian pianist, composer and vibraphonist teams up with English DJ team. The result is a set of funky, cool, modal songs that evoke On the Corner-era Miles with cleaner production and a slew of North African drums and wind instruments. Listening to this album makes me somehow excited and relaxed at the same time. I can’t get enough of it.
Masenqo

Robbie Fulks: 50-vc Doberman

A perfect expression of what the Internet-only distribution model can do. After a long official-release drought, this fifty-song .zip archive is utterly in tune with contemporary listening habits — mine, anyway. You can’t sit down with it like you would a 12-song CD; rather, it’s the kind of thing that works best on shuffle. ‘Cause it’s the songs, man! Cool refreshment wherever you step into the stream.

Fulks throws it all at the wall to see what sticks. His wide-ranging stylistic palette gives you off-Broadway story songs and Northern soul along with earnest, churchy bluegrass and pitch-perfect two-steps. The accuracy and nuance of his lyrics elevate the songs above simple genre exercises.
It Was Love that Ruined Me

Dirty Projectors: Bitte Orca

Proof that Pitchfork isn’t always wrong: Bitte Orca is #2 on their top-fifty list. Whereas Dirty Projectors used to be fairly arch and impenetrable, this album deepens their sound by forefronting the warmth, playfulness and soul in their strange language. It’s their Abacab.
Temecula Sunrise

Oh, and these are nice, too:
Arrington De Dionysio: Malaikat Dan Singa
Mika: The Boy Who Knew Too Much
Golden Silvers: True Romance
K’naan: Troubadour

There’s no other band like Electric Six. Who else could sing about household cleaning products and make it sound so badass? Plus, Dick Valentine can reduce the host of Fox’ “it’s-irreverent-’cause-we-say-so” show Red Eye to a puddle of bootlickery, and thereby free us all from being judged by the company we keep.

Seven years in the business of show, as he reminded us on Sunday night with trademark cynicism, is a long strange trip. What gets them out of bed every afternoon? Love, that’s what. These dapper dons love you. They won’t pander for your applause — or rather, they will, because they trust you to take the lead, to get the joke, to enjoy life and not worry about how ridiculous you look doing so. It seemed perfectly apt, then, to see them on a Sunday night, the least rock & roll time of the week, when boys can be boys, and men can be boys, too, with Valentine’s overcompensating macho persona as guide. And they fucking delivered.

Love, freedom, dancing — these hippies performed all my personal favorites and promoted the new album, just like touring bands are supposed to do. Here’s as much of the setlist as I can remember, not in order:

High Voltage
Down at McDonellzzz
Dance Pattern
She’s White
Improper Dancing (with a long cheesy interlude between ‘Stop’ and ‘Continue’)
Gay Bar
Dance Commander
Dance Epidemic
Egyptian Cowboy
I Buy the Drugs (last one before encore)
There’s Something Very Wrong with Us So Let’s Go Out Tonight
Infected Girls
Formula 409
Body Shot