This is a great cover of the Tears for Fears song. I don't think the original holds a candle to this version. Simple and soulful, you can find it on the Donnie Darko soundtrack or take a listen at garyjules.com on the Trading Snakeoil for Wolftickets CD.

metro area brings a lot of things together. there is the oldskool discovibe. there is retro-electro. there is detroit. and there is always organic stuff within like in this track, the nice flute-riff which appears only once or twice.
the whole album is highly recommandable. all tracks are arranged in a deep disco mood, as i would describe it. but you can't compare it to real disco from the 70s as there are a lot of other ingredients. for example a 909 fourtofloorbeat in many tracks and synthiepads sweeping in and out. nice mixture.
i think some tunes should be familiar to club-goers (miura, athmosphrique) but this one is more for your home-audio-experience...=)

Multi-layered tranced out head nodder. Ticks all the boxes for ambient tribal techno house. Easily available on a mix cd by Anthony Pappa, which also includes the excellent Solstice by James Holden. You will like these if you like music by Orbital, Future Sound of London, Orb, etc.

It's manic. Snapped wires. Screaming at the boxcars as they go by. Kid listened to too many Joy Division records in high school and not only did he pick up an attraction to crazy, but he learned how to freak out to that crazy in melody as well. And freak out he does. But he'll tell you why he's freaking out, he'll make you feel it too. And turns out, he has good reason to freak out. Dude's in deep with a bad chick who's, well, she's pretty bad. He waits until the chorus before shrieking for help, "She can't read!" There are those intimate little details that make you realize he's caught in this relationship, he's in love, he loves crazy, he's not getting out any time soon. "It's in the way she pulls it." and the amazing line, "Her stories are boring and stuff /she's always calling my bluff." Sears my frickin' heart.

There's something about Devendra Banhart you can't put your finger on. Becuase your finger's turned into a talon or a claw or a hoof and the song you were trying to pin down has squirmed away under the table, or has turned into a gaseous dream vapour and floated out the window. He's got a scattered, witchy, completely original voice that whispers little kid secrets, then belts passionately with a heart been done-wronged, then tries to put on the withered seduction of a wrinkled hag lost on an island for years. Then comes the workaday little chorus. La dee da dee AH! How does this song still remain so allusive, so cooool, after so many listens? I got no clue. Do you?