Here is Buffalo Tom’s video for “Summer.”

Here is Carl Wilson writing about 90s nostalgia for the New York Times.

Go to town, everybody.

Am I crazy here, or is The Gun Club’s “My Dreams”:

an unlikely yet eerily similar sonic ancestor to Built to Spill’s “Goin’ Against Your Mind”?

Prompted by a late-night viewing of my friend Dan’s copy of Live at Pompeii, I’ve been wanting to delve back into Pink Floyd’s discography. They were one of the first bands I was obsessive about listening to, and I’m still fondest of the weirder corners of their body of work. (Seriously: ask me about my Atom Heart Mother theory at a party sometime. Also, I may have once tried to write a novel using Animals as a structural inspiration.)

Much like another much-loved band whose work I began listening to in the early 90s (in this case, Fugazi), the mastering jobs on the albums I picked up when I was in high school haven’t aged particularly well. Just the other day, I was wondering whether their discography had gotten the remastering treatment as so many other bands’ had (such as, say, Fugazi), and came across this bit of news on Pitchfork:

Art rock mega-titans Pink Floyd and EMI have announced an extensive reissue campaign covering the band’s catalogue. The series of releases will include “CDs, DVDs, Blu-ray discs, SACD, an array of digital formats, viral marketing, iPhone Apps, and a brand-new single-album ‘Best Of’ collection,” according to a press release.

Cleverly titled Why Pink Floyd…?, the reissue series is set to kick off on September 26, when the label will release all 14 of Pink Floyd’s studio albums in “Discovery” CD editions, digitally, and as a box set with an accompanying book of photos.

That sounds promising. In related news, I predict that I will be spending a lot of money on reissues come September 26th.

Tonight at Public Assembly, Vol.1 will be hosting a panel discussion of 90s punk. From the description:

On Wednesday, January 5th, 2011, join Vol. 1 Brooklyn editors in this discussion with four authors as they talk about the decade that punk broke, sold out and eventually died – but not before changing the faces of music, politics and popular culture.

Featuring: Sara Marcus (Author of Girls to the Front: The True Story of Riot Grrrl Revolution), Eric Davidson (New Bomb Turks, Author of We Never Learn: The Gunk Punk Undergut, 1988-2001), Norman Brannon (Texas is the Reason, Author of The Anti-Matter Anthology: A 1990s Post-Punk & Hardcore Reader), Maura Johnston (The Awl, Village Voice).

At Public Assembly (70 N. 6th, Williamsburg, Brooklyn), 7 PM, $3 dollar suggested donation encouraged.

There’s more information here. And Flavorpill had some nice things to say about it.

So: a decade and change ago, there was a band called My Favorite Citizen. They played a noisy sort of indie rock, and wrote some incredibly catchy songs. They released one seven inch, and a couple of songs on compilations. Scott (who’s the fellow handling most of the vocal duties in the video below) used to run a record label, so I can’t be remotely unbiased about their music. I don’t much care; these are songs I damn well love.

This is “B-29,” recorded at their last show at Brownies. It was a fine song then and it’s a fine song now. From what I hear, they’ve recently convened to make music again. This is damn good news, as far as I’m concerned.

So: I did a writeup of albums I liked that came out this year for Dusted. I opted to pair each of the albums with another, as I tended to be able to find…at least some common ground when I did this. (Though the Monae/Amidon double bill may have been a bit of a stretch.) This overlaps with, but doesn’t totally equal, my Pazz & Jop ballot, which I’ll link to once it’s up.

Also, I should throw in entirely non-objective recommendations for three albums that I quite enjoyed this year but couldn’t really write about (as the artists in question are or include friends of mine).

For me, writing about Rocky Votolato’s True Devotion necessitates bringing up his previous albums, most of which were characterized by an urgency and a taut style of playing. (Suicide Medicine is probably the apex of this.) True Devotion feels every bit as urgent, but there’s more of a sense of space. In other words, the quiet moments mean as much as the loud ones; the slow parts resonate as much as the uptempo sections.

Bells’ There Are Crashes is a fine six-song EP of instrumental music. On record, this is a fine, rich dose of post-rock, with cello aiding the quartet’s sinewy progressions through shifting moods and tempos. Live, they’re a very different creature, louder, more unrestrained, and even more conscious of space.

And Elk City’s House of Tongues is a terrific pop album, with Sean Eden’s shimmering guitar work aiding songs like “Stars” and “Nine O’Clock In France” towards the transcendent.

Made my way up to the Church of St. Paul the Apostle on Monday night for Credo, a concert held as part of Lincoln Center’s White Light Festival. The main draw for me had been a chance to see selections from Jonsi & Alex’s Riceboy Sleeps performed live, and while those pieces did impress*, the highlight for me came from the Kjartan Sveinsson work that gave the evening its name. Steve Smith’s review at the Times describes it as

resolution repeatedly thwarted in favor of sustained reverie.

Which sounds pretty accurate. I was quite impressed with  Credo: the elements of the piece seemed beautifully matched and balanced, and the overall effect was deeply moving. Needless to say, I’m curious to hear more of Sveinsson’s work (which includes some film soundtracks and — based on the bio — much of this).

*-though, from where I was sitting, the electronics seemed to be mixed a bit high relative to the musicians and choir.

This week’s reviews at Dusted include Antony & the Johnsons’ Swanlight:

Swanlights‘ moves in the direction of accessibility are balanced by more unsettling moments. The pair of songs that close the album, “Salt Silver Oxygen” and “Christina’s Farm,” are each bracing and occasionally shocking. The lyrical imagery in “Salt Silver Oxygen” moves from a childlike sense of delight to something more complex, religiously informed and subversive.

And The Moondoggies’ Tidelands:

Tidelands, the followup, doesn’t necessarily sound like any of the potential followups one might have envisioned. Which isn’t to say that it’s a complete break from its predecessor, either – this is clearly the same band, albeit one that’s shifted away from both the CCR and the Meat Puppets DNA in its lineage.

Very quickly: it’s worth noting that Zach Baron’s “Is It Possible to Sell Out in 2010?” is one of the best pieces of music writing I’ve encountered this year.

Fast forward to 2010. How do consumers vote with their dollar? By not spending it at all. Ask Ted Leo–people are no longer buying enough records to support musicians, period. Major, independent, whatever. No wonder then, as Sisario puts it, “lifestyle brands are becoming the new record labels.” Someone has to pay artists, and increasingly, we’re not doing it. So who is the enemy in 2010? We are. Not the majors. Not Converse. Us.

Give the whole thing a read. If nothing else, it’ll make for a fine conversation-starter.

Following my earlier thoughts for Flavorwire on their new album The Inevitable Past is the Future Forgotten, I have some additional thoughts on Three Mile Pilot up at Vol.1.

There’s a steadiness to these songs that recalls Pinback’s entire discography, and a more complex emotional spectrum to Pall Jenkins’s vocals that hits a different space than his work in the Black Heart Procession. It’s a good reminder of why this band is, in fact, beloved by some, and of how potent Jenkins and Armistead Burwell Smith IV are when working in tandem.

You can read the whole thing here.

I reviewed Buke & Gass’s debut, Riposte, for Dusted. As my invocation of The Ex in the opening paragraph suggests, I thought it was pretty terrific — an album that’s half controlled dissonance and half wary beauty.

…there’s a savagery to the playing here that unquestionably puts this in a punk rock tradition. There’s the low-end squall putting momentum into “Medicina” and the frantically strummed “Bundletuck”; the Branca-as-chamber-pop salvo that’s opener “Medulla Obllongata” and the obsessive, frenetic rattle of “Outt!.”

You can read the whole thing here.

Today at Dusted, I reviewed Mice Parade’s What It Means to Be Left-Handed.

What It Means to Be Left-Handed is less one coherent longform document and more a collection of singles – all of which should probably prompt some sort of rumination on the album as art form, and what that means in the midst of what may or may not be a digital-format-led single-song revival. But those debates can be read about elsewhere.

You can read the whole thing here.

Today at Dusted, my review of The Walkmen’s fine album Lisbon is now up.

The group has, however, always possessed the ability to make beguiling music. Admittedly, “The Rat,” from 2004′s Bows + Arrows, was a frenetic cry of frustration that still resonates. But we shouldn’t forget that one of the group’s earliest high-profiles songs, “We’ve Been Had,” from their debut Everyone Who Pretended To Like Me Is Gone, was not exactly a rager – until You & Me‘s “Red Moon,” it was probably the prettiest song they’d written.

You can read the whole thing here.