Lounge lizards rarely get more reptilian than this. Another brilliant example of Ferry�s cover mad, song-stylist solo work outside of Roxy Music in the early to mid 1970�s � totally rethinking some well-known standard, yet grasping something intrinsic about the song�s core. Here he gives the tune just the hint of a Philly-soul groove, and keeps the production/arrangement as open/eerie as an empty parking garage. Very sexy, and more a little creepy � its like being hit on by the ghost of Bela Lugosi in the toilet of a disco in 1975.

deceptivly simple, eerie melancholic electronic piece from the soundtrack to the (frankly disappointing) soderbergh remake of "solaris".
half clinical, half emotional. pretty good stuff.
sounds a bit like something off radiohead's kid a, only more reflective and less pretentious.

An eighties incarnation of the epic sadness and yearning that the Walker Brothers did so well with the songs of Jaques Brel and Bob Gaudio(Sun aint gonna shine Anymore).This band was a rare thing at this point ,they had aspirations to write great timeless songs when drum machines ruled the world.On this ,they suceeded ,the songs heartbreaking climax could make a man cry,awash with brave brass and orchestral tears leaving a man broken in two and drowning in his own tears by the time the song fades into an eerie percussive silence .

A fascinating out-take from the "Diamond Dogs" sessions, �Dodo� can be seen as the starting point of Lady Stardust�s shift from glitter space-boy to paranoid, plastic soul stylist. Like almost everything on D. Dogs, the lyrics are inspired by Orwell�s �1984�, but the music seems to be profoundly damaged by sleek, eerie production style of Willie Mitchell.
Thus the song plays like Al Green in Hell, w/a great groove and deeply creepy feel. The Thin White Duke starts here.

OK, OK, OK........I know that many of you hipster types out there are probably wincing at this recommendation, but...deal with it. I'm sure that most people are all too aware of this track, and probably avoid it at all cost, but in my humble opinion, this is one of the best pop radio songs ever recorded. I think I heard it first when I was about 12 or 13 while on summer break from school. I was immediately drawn to the eerie, repetitious, heavy delayed intro guitar line. Granted, it has some cheezy lyrics, and a fairly melodramatic tone overall, but this song will forever hold a special place in my heart....awe.

This one fits well with with my previous reccomendation in the melancholy/eerie vein. I read somewhere that the song was in the African JuJu style, but discofied of course given its 1976 production. It was this song that proved to be the Dr. Buzzard . . . was not your average disco band. Cory Daye's vocals are beautiful and harken back to an earlier era of classic jazz vocals, like Ella and Billie. The children's backup vocals are what gives it the spooky quality, probably because the intrumentation is dark, like seeing those cute (but scary) kids come out of the corn fields in Children of the Corn. The last chorus just sends chills down my spine as Cory digs into the lyrics and dances around them as the everything sort or brightens up, like the sun coming out after a summer rain. This makes the title all make such perfect sense.

The multi-talented Dutch artists Kraak & Smaak shine in their unprecedented, soul-shaking compilation, �The Remix Sessions� due out May 29th. Named by IDJ as "one of the most incendiary live outfits," Kraak & Smaak take that crackling energy and infuse classic jams with their signature style. Music lovers everywhere will rejoice as hard-to-find tracks, many of which were only released on vinyl, join each other in this boogie-licious showcase.

From banging dance floor "Mimezine � Can't get Enough (Kraak & Smaak Remix)," to funky, midtempo "Jamiroquai � Electric Mistress (Kraak & Smaak Remix)" to eerie, internationally-infused "Skeewiff � Man of Constant Sorrow (Kraak & Smaak Remix)," Kraak & Smaak reveals their astounding vision for the possibilities of electronica. This beat-driven assembly is an invaluable resource for re-tracing the various pathways of this modern musical expression.

The multi-talented Dutch artists Kraak & Smaak shine in their unprecedented, soul-shaking compilation, �The Remix Sessions� due out May 29th. Named by IDJ as "one of the most incendiary live outfits," Kraak & Smaak take that crackling energy and infuse classic jams with their signature style. Music lovers everywhere will rejoice as hard-to-find tracks, many of which were only released on vinyl, join each other in this boogie-licious showcase.

From banging dance floor "Mimezine � Can't get Enough (Kraak & Smaak Remix)," to funky, midtempo "Jamiroquai � Electric Mistress (Kraak & Smaak Remix)" to eerie, internationally-infused "Skeewiff � Man of Constant Sorrow (Kraak & Smaak Remix)," Kraak & Smaak reveals their astounding vision for the possibilities of electronica. This beat-driven assembly is an invaluable resource for re-tracing the various pathways of this modern musical expression.

I loved this song the moment I heard it. The melody is really nice, and Leonard Cohen does his standby trick of singing slowly and hauntingly about mysterious women wearing "rags and feathers from Salvation Army counters." Very romantic in a seventies way. if you like Bob Dylan's voice, you'll probably like Leonard Cohen, although the content is different.

This is taken from an album of spaghetti western themes that came out on United Artists records in the late 1960s. It has a similar sound to other releases of the era on that label, probably because Leroy Holmes was a staff arranger. I can definitely hear Al Caiola's guitar playing.

To my ears, the arrangement also has a hint of Quincy Jones's work on 'The Italian Job'. It's an upbeat, jerky track with a bassline so percussive that it almost sounds like part of the beat. The melody is carried by guitar, horns, and also some nice wordless vocals (right near the end there's an incredible descending vocal swell that's really something).

Overall, this has a slightly menacing, very hip sound. It might even work on the dancefloor!

An intense and beautiful epic, this track is the opener on the band's superb 1998 album, 'Deserters Songs'. I'm quite fickle, and usually prefer two to three-minute songs, but this track is so brilliant that it seems short at 6 minutes. It builds up beautifully, starting with just an echoey string aura, with vocals, synth (a Supertramp-like wurlitzer sound) and guitar coming in one by one. The music finally explodes after a couple of minutes, with full drums and eerie oscillating noises. It's incredibly beautiful and dense, and the song has a melancholy air that is very affecting. Mercury Rev have a habit of putting incredible tracks at the beginning of their albums. I'm glad they are now getting more of the attention they deserve.

eerie & beautiful.

The DIY ethos of punk served to liberate performers from the obligation to have a great deal of technical ability. The unfortunate corollary was that any display of already-acquired virtuousity instantly marked one as part of the Uncool Wankerage, forcing nascent guitar gods like Andy Summers to play as though suddenly arthritic. Possibly the first artist to successfully bridge Old World training and New World raucousness was Nina Hagen. "New York New York" is the East German-trained singer's signature tune. Over a clipped, dry Morodor techno-dystopia background, the verses present Hagen recounting her then-current regimen of glamourous excess in a harsh, metallic raven's shriek. Then, as though descending from the heavens at the end of a Wagnerian opera, comes the chorus -- a meltingly warm (yet uncomfortable) wave of minor chords, then a soaring, yearning, superbly modulated mezzo-soprano...which, after a jolt of realization, is understood to also belong to Nina Hagen. And so on.

instrumentally, it's extremely simple. it seems to have nothing more than simple percussion and a haunting, eerie piano. and then comes the voice that makes this song just so thick. it's my favorite version of the song. the version i have is live and actually sounds pretty lo-fi. look for that one. i got it off the internet and have no information for it.

Damn, the new Portishead LP is good!
This song mixes eerie theremin tones, acoustic and surf guitars, Kraftwerk-esque keyboards and a swell kraut-rock drumbeat.
Meanwhile Beth Gibbons drifts in from above, doing her best "Sandy Denny sings the Nico Songbook" impersonation.
Outstanding!

So anyone who's seen The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou or City of God will recognize Seu Jorge as the handsome, dark-skinned actor with the gravelly voice. In Life Aquatic he plays Pele, the Brazilian safety officer on board Zissou's boat and the bard that plays Portuguese language covers of David Bowie songs. Although this is changing, even in Brazil he's better known as an actor than a musician. His second solo album (he used to be in a band called Farofa Carioca), Cru, was released last fall in France and was impossibly hard to find until recently. Tive Razao was the first release from this album and is fairly representative and is the shining peak as well. Based around an acoustic guitar riff and Seu Jorge's multi-tracked vocals, the song just floats in this melancholy haze like some of the best Chico Buarqu de Hollanda ballads. The production on this song (and the album) is much more sparse than the previous album, but much more original as well. Jorge even uses what I think is a theremin to add a slight spookiness to the preceedings. The lyrics mean something like, "I had an excuse" or "I had a reason."

This song is a classic of the psychedelic era, by a group that later became known as the Peanut Butter Conspiracy. I first discovered it years ago on a 1967 compilation album called "West Coast Love-In" which featured about four of the Ashes' songs. It was "Dark on You Now" that really wigged me out-it is an awesome, slow-paced, moody number that features the spine-tingling vocals of Sandi Robison and the prominent 12-string guitar of John Merrill. The song is incredibly atmospheric and reminds me of a combination of the Byrds and Jefferson Airplane when both of those groups were in their prime. It is also at four minutes plus quite long for the era. I listed this as being recorded in 1967 but it may have been waxed in 1966...at any rate it is surely one of the great songs of the early psychedelic era.

I have the first Peanut Butter Conspiracy album which contains a re-recorded version of this song, harder rocking and not nearly as good. The original Ashes version was recorded as a 45 for the Vault label (which also issued "West Coast Love-In").

Opening with a brat beating bass and melody that is scarily reminiscent of some late 70s euro disco pathos, it�s only when Brian James� raunchy guitar kicks in that you know you�re well away from the lights of that dance floor and in the grips of a very different master. A hedonistic web of Bators� beloved conspiracy theorizing, the logical successor to the Wanderers� paranoia-packed repertoire, �Open Your Eyes� previewed a closet of horrors that embraced organized religion, the impending World Tour of Pope John Paul II, Bolshevik plots and Ronald Reagan�s apparent rush towards nuclear Armageddon. With session man Matt Black�s synthesizers giving the whole thing a classic rock feel that merged edgily with the band�s own punkish sensibilities, it was, as always, Bators� viperous lyrics that brought the whole thing into the twilight zone of pre-Internet intrigue. The 80s politicking of Margaret Thatcher�s Britain and Reagan�s cold war America pretty much ensured that both sides were far happier not having to open their eyes. A gleeful Bators was there, though, to make sure they did.
(AMG)

"Dressed in black, he walks alone, a shadow in the night." The Shangri-Las death trip reached a powerful climax in this eerie song of loss and lingering. Funereal piano chords balanced by surging choruses and a closing spoken section that leaves you as weak as the sadly wounded narrator. If this one doesn't get to you, you ain't got a heart.

A superb twangy, bongo-ridden theme from Tony Hatch. It's hard to believe this is the same man who wrote the themes for soap operas like 'Crossroads' and 'Neighbours', but it is... Overall this sounds kind of how I once expected/hoped John Barry's early 60s work might sound - harpsichord, twangy guitar etc. It opens with some eerie effects, bongoes and spare harpsichord sound before breaking into a fully fledged shadows/spy theme style masterpiece, stopping abruptly after just over two minutes. Since I heard this on a compilation, I have no idea as to its origin, which is a shame, as I would love to track down any similar work Tony Hatch may have done. I did some research, and it seems that the session guitarist on this track was none other than Big Jim Sullivan, who cut a couple of sitar LPs on Mercury in the 60s.
n.b. this is not the same tune as the much recorded and superb Harold Arlen/Johnny Mercer 'out of this world'.

The driving force of this trip hop/nu jazz oriented song is the Chet Baker sample, "this isn't sometimes, this is always, this isn't maybe this is always," that exquisitedly weaves its way through the various waves and troughs of the rhythm underscoring the track. For those who have never heard Chet Baker sing, think of Chris Montez, who like Chet epitomizes the he/she question - is it a she or he singing? The sultry and relaxed vocals have endeared me to this song. This track was released in late Feb 2001 on 12" but is believed to be on Waldeck's forthcoming lp, The Night Garden, scheduled for release in late May 2001 on Emagine Music in the US.