Stephen Mejias

On the surface, Sandro Perri’s Impossible Spaces is an ordinary pop album: We hear pleasant guitar, intelligent percussion, and a voice that, while lovely, is easily appreciated, palatable, unchallenging. But there’s a depth and darkness to this music that begs to be uncovered.

It’s the sweetness of the voice and the liquid tone of the guitar that draw me in, but the subtle shifts in key, the clever instrumentation, the aching cello and odd flute, the broken lines and strangely abbreviated melodies that make me listen again, confuse and enchant, charm and intoxicate.

Here’s the video for “Love and Light,” the second track from Impossible Spaces:

I’ve been enjoying “Bambi” and “Red Song,” two new pulsing, angular, seductive tracks from Montreal’s Suuns.

Suuns - Bambi b/w Red Song by DOJAGSC

The band explains:

On the evening of Tuesday, September 27, KEF dealers, friends, and associates celebrated the British loudspeaker company’s 50th anniversary. The event was held in the impressive penthouse residence of British Consul-General, Danny Lopez, where guests were treated to tall glasses of Pimm’s, delicious hors d’oeuvres, and electric views of Midtown Manhattan and Long Island City.

Nite Jewel’s glittery, slinky sound recalls the pop and R&B of the late 80s and early 90s&#151stuff that you might have heard on Hot 97 or Z100 when you were 12 years old, searching for an identity, a groove, or simply for something good on the radio.

I can't help it: I like it.

Twin Sister meets Twin Peaks in the video for “Kimmi in a Rice Field,” from the band’s charming, soulful, and often lovely debut full-length, In Heaven. Like a real dream, the video, directed by Bryan Ujueta and Dan Devine and starring vocalist Andrea Estella, is sort of beautiful, sort of creepy, and sort of ridiculous.

Today is my birthday; it's the blog's birthday, too.

Another year older, stronger, healthier, happier. Thanks for sharing it with me.

I’ve been playing games with myself, attempting to set limits and impose rules around my furious, nearly uncontrollable, record-buying spree. I told myself that for every dollar I spent on a record I would deposit a dollar into my savings account. (I tried it for a few days, but became bored. Saving is not nearly as much fun as record-shopping.) Then, a few weeks ago, after dropping a few hundred dollars during binges at Other Music and the Princeton Record Exchange, I told myself that I would impose a strict moratorium: No more records for me until after the New Year. With few exceptions, I had already purchased just about every new record I wanted, or so I tried to convince myself. But then the new Thundercat album hit stores and I had to have it. And then it was the new Girls record. How could I live without that?

Here’s another: