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Singles Mixer

Photo: , License: N/A

Photo: , License: N/A

Photo: Eliot Wuao, License: N/A

Eliot Wuao

Photo: Tim Songs, License: N/A

Tim Songs


Economy of Tricknology

In which Labtekwon delivers the history of money in 10 minutes by way of a sermon on America’s current gold-standard-stripped currency, the bank-run economy, the Illuminati, Satan, the Illuminati again (“a cartel of banks”), and generally how the finance industry took control of everything in a most sinister fashion. On and on, without break. You’ll have a pretty good idea of why society is basically boned in the year 2012, but you will also note to yourself, This is the most insane and weird rap song I have ever heard and, daresay, also a super-important rap song. Behind a breathless flow that manages to build and maintain its own internal logic for record lengths—just when it seems to be flying off the rails, there it is again, putting a two-ton period on something—the beat, as knotty and from-the-future as we should expect from Lab, changes, like, six times. Dude’s been laying low for a good while now; it’s been worth the wait.

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Sal Bando

Suicide Summer;All the lines beneath your eyes/ all the lines that we have tried/ we’re all taking them to Manhattan

Chris Cowan sings in a voice sounding much like a raw version of Craig Finn, with an excess-to-exhaustion message to match. So goes “Suicide Summer,” the title track from Sal Bando’s new 7-inch, a poppy barroom punk/rock track with bounce for years, yet bathed in the sense that something is more deeply fucked. At almost exactly the halfway mark, the up-tempo foot-tapper becomes a big anxious schmear of noisy guitar atmosphere feeling like a sonic whirlpool or otherwise negative space. “No one’s getting out of the suicide summer,” indeed, but as the track launches back into its last couple of minutes and a big spacey guitar riff takes over, you’re maybe OK with that.

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Phoebe Jean and the Air Force

Day Is Gone (Pacbreezy Remix)

The original “Day Is Gone” is great, unexpectedly grimy electro-pop, like the Blow if raised in West Baltimore—hyper-hyper beat patterns and thick, rutty synth bass upping the pressure more and more and Phoebe Jean letting it blow off in a vocal hook. There’s no pressure dropping on the Pacbreezy remix though; it just builds and builds in super-congested everything-and-the-sink production that crams in like every Baltimore club-sample usual suspect ever and more. Raw and destructive.

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(I Prefer) Drugs

Barely over two minutes, lyrics basically limited to the title delivered in a staccato bark, an almost unnervingly even snare stomp—if a song could be more to the point, it’d come in pill form. As a complete punk package, “(I Prefer) Drugs” is almost mathematical, like it came from a punk-rock CAD program. (That’s not actually a dis.) There’s a nice and proper pop-punk chorus smoothing the whole thing out at just the right times and, after about a minute, a break feeling custom-tailored to let Tim Harrington get into some stage antics, some minor flailing perhaps. And then it’s over, except it’s totally not, because “(I Prefer) Drugs” happens to be very well calibrated to get stuck in your head forever; said bark and stomp winds up a Trojan horse for a surprisingly irresistible Ramones-y chorus.

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