is the duo of Daniel «Sorcerer» Judd and Sam «Hatchback» Grawe from San Francisco. Both also purvey their own musical careers under their personal monikers. But their styles are so similar that it doesn't really matter which consigner is repsonsible for their balearic-chill-slow-mo-disco. Together or separately they remixed LCD Soundsystem, 9wd, Tycho, Low Motion Disco and They Came From The Stars.
«Birds Of Paradise» was released in 2009 on Internasjonal.
Still can't get the chorus out of my head.
Bubblin to Hawaiin guitar, soft vocoders, flutes and the warmest Kraftwerk music.
Hatchback made a classic beach mix for our summer trip to Mexico this year and we heard this song so many times. Perfect for grabbing a corona and chilling in a beach chair to watch the surfing.
His guitar is so romantic and smooth.
Our friends in San Francisco know how to keep the atmosphere bubblin'.
Captures that giddy feeling of having fun and never wanting it to end.
His music and life was deep and this record is so moody and relaxed, it washes away the blues and reminds you that there is a bigger world out there.
Perfect music for night time cruising over the bay bridge into the city.
The ultimate reach for the gold/skydiving track.
Planes are a sketchy place to be sometimes, so you need music that is calming.
To shoot a rainbow of light at all the evil spirits.
A ten minute submarine journey underneath the San Francisco bay with so many fresh sounds to keep us awake.
Tight, focused, and triumphant yet light enough not to give an early morning headache.
Anything by NWA.
My dad brought this tape back from the States when we lived in India when I was about 8 years old. I had this big crush on a girl in my class and I would pretend all the songs were about her and me.
I always wish this track was 10 minutes longer.
Easily David Axelrod at the Royal Festival Hall in London in 2004. My friend and I had vouchers on Air Canada so we flew out for the concert from California (and got to see Roedelius from Cluster the night before). It was actually painful having goosebumps for the better part of two hours.
I wish this song would follow me out at night.
This song doesn’t really «depresses» me per se, but the vocal overdubs at the end are the most haunting two minutes of music I own.
This is the album Paul recorded in England before the "Sound of Silence" got re-recorded and became a big hit. It had been out of print forever, and every time I went into a record shop I would look for it (kicking myself that I didn’t buy the late 70’s box set that it was repackaged in when I had the chance in high school). One day I got a call from my friend in Boston saying he’d found a pristine version of it the 1964 original for $4 because the shop obviously just thought it was some lame comp. Anyway, I visited him in Boston not too long after and we were up late listening to records and goofing around and as one of those not really funny jokes you make at 3 AM I put it with the stack of vinyl I was taking home to San Francisco with him looking on and not really laughing. Anyway. When I got back home, guess what was in my bag still? He let me keep it because he had never figured out how to ship me the Wurlizter 206 I bought on eBay.
The first mixtape I made for my ex-girlfriend started off with this song which is about 13 minutes long and has all these different sections. We used to drive around in her car listening to it and singing along (there are male and female parts). Dassin is kind of like the cheesier poor man's version of Gainsbourg, but there's this shit hot disco breakdown in the middle. For some reason I'll never fully understand why my parents had this record.
I wore the grooves out on this when I was 4.
They’ll play this as my monolithic matte black casket is rocketed into space. I was born on the winter solstice, so I always figured this was a personal anthem.
I discovered this record a few years back when I would buy anything looking remotely country rock at the flea market, as long as it wasn't more than $2. The album is actually two records that are only pressed on one side each «for continually flowing Sand» (like on your record changer). I love this music so much I tracked down the guy who was the lead singer and guitarist and drove up to his house in Oregon to hang out and shoot the shit. Sand has one of the sorriest stories in the history of rock... everything that could have ever gone wrong did go wrong. Musically though they're incredible: playing this totally unique stoner prog country folk moustache rock. Apparently back in the day in Portland they all lived in a house called «The Sandbox» together. They would wake up, smoke a joint, make pancakes, and then play music for the next 16 hours. Anyway. It's summer sounds with the best pedal steel playing you'll ever hear.
Some of my favorite lyrics around, even though they're pretty morose. You get drowned priests drooling on lawns, a room filled up with mosquitoes, shivering eskimos showing movies, and the dust of a long sleepless night. Cohen clearly gets it.
It's a little unclear and it was definitely a tape. The first CD I ever bought was «The Best of The Doors». I pretty much can't stand The Doors these days, but that disco-style "Ghost Song" they did after Jim died is great.
That's what The Sorcerer said. I make people a lot of mixes. Different strokes for different folks.
«...San Francisco. Catch a cable car to where your dreams go. There’s a lot of make believe...»
You would really have to be on the edge of losing your mind a la Mr. Wilson to write something this baked and yet genius. Also if you know the song, the melody from that whole bit where he's talking about writing a number down on a piece of paper but losing it and then trying to remember it is really fun to apply to every task in your day to day life. Try it sometime.