Grass Widow - "Time Could Bend". "There are six ways to sing," the teacher told her. And so for the next two years, she learned the six ways: highsinging, lowsinging, clearvoice, falsetto, nightingale, hog. Every week, she studied the six forms; with lectures, in workshops, at home with a textbook and a tape-recorder. Her notes were smudged phrases, blotted treble-clefs. Her meals were composed of simple, separate elements: starches, proteins, fibre. Sometimes, for dessert, she would prepare a perfectly-layered yoghurt parfait. The woman dreamed of voices - separate voices, harmonizing voices, overlapping voices. She dreamed of clearvoice that was lowsinging, falsetto gone hog. She imagined her teacher looking through a telescope, staring at the moon. "Sing like a moonbeam," he said, "a moonbeam through a lens." [buy
11:09 AM on Sep 29, 2014
Hani Zahra - "Ma's In A Vaze"
Hani Zahra are different shapes of sticky rice, and they're in hidden places all over. You find them and it's food.
release show tomorrow at The Knitting Factory
Jeff Bird - "Souvenir Flutes". A baby blue tug goes putting down the Amazon. It is a battered boat, seaweed-stained, but its tiller still works, its radio, its hand-cranked orange juicer. There is a crew of three: a captain, a navigator, a cook. One of them is a ghost; they know one of them is a ghost, hear the rattling chains every night, but the other two haven't figured out which of them it is. At every meal, at every anchor, every time they spy another ship on the river or a bird of paradise on the shore, two are thinking, Are you a ghost are you a ghost are you a ghost are you a ghost? The third, the ghost himself, is not thinking anything. He is the perfect imitation of a man, afloat on the water, travelling somewhere. He sups with the humans, plays cards, talks dreamily about family back home, their distant destination. When they go to sleep he lifts his phantom chains, rattles them, stalks the deck. He feels lucky to be here, where it is humid and noisy, where the air smells of red flowers. The insects are chittering. The birds call. Around dawn, three men will sit up in their cots and stare across the room at each other and wonder.
[Jeff Bird plays music with Cowboy Junkies and a thousand other people. He also plays the theremin. "Souvenir Flutes" is from Rhythm & Entertainment. More music here.]
(image by Nicolas Amori)
11:22 AM on Sep 26, 2014
Thus Owls - "As Long As We Try A Little". How far do you have to go before the world changes? A train bulleting through landscape; a balloon rising through jungle canopy; a drill boring through ice. Maybe the light begins to change, before the breakthrough, and you know you are close. Maybe there are sounds, promising Soon... But maybe not. Maybe the light changes but the world dos not. You can't know when the transition will occur, the change of state, until suddenly the lake has turned to ice or the world to fire. Suddenly you are in our out of love. "As Long As We Try A Little" is just voices and piano, a woman answering herself. There are some warning murmurs but truly nothing happens until everything happens. The train skids onto snow; the balloon crosses into monsoon; the drill hits frothing water, wagging anemone, coral. [buy]
(photo by anne deniau)
Sun Kil Moon - "By The Time That I Awoke" (live at Haldern Pop Festival 2014). I have no recording of Sun Kil Moon's Wednesday night performance at Pop Montreal. Their "By The Time That I Awoke" sounded nothing like the album version, which Mark Kozelek made with Jimmy LaValle. This was a greater wonder, a gift sent out into a darkened hall, a comet in a Montreal autumn. Instead of cascading computer synths, Sun Kil Moon gave galloping drums, glimmering piano, a blade-edged bass guitar. Kozelek stood with one hand in his jean pocket and sang into a handheld microphone. He sang and shouted, crooned and shouted, bathed in swaying reverb. The darkened hall, the comet, the Montreal autumn - everything felt buffeted by that swaying, disembodied reverb. Sometimes it was hard to know if we were listening to a moving music or ourselves being moved through the music, our spirits pulled roughly across another material, water or glass or smoke. The song stopped and it started again. We understood some lines and others came across all blurred, incomprehensible, their meaning reduced to intonation. Kozelek's music has always been a lesson in the way intonation can overwhelm: as Red House Painters, as Sun Kil Moon, as himself, he sang in a voice that sounded almost like a moan. He sang in a voice like a right hook gliding steadily through space. We never saw it coming; we never saw it 'til we were hit, 'til it knocked us down.
[audio source / buy albums by Mark Kozelek]
11:44 AM on Sep 18, 2014
Blonde Redhead - "No More Honey"
Edmund was breaking into Alison's house. They hadn't spoken, not face-to-face, in a year-and-a-half. They'd seen each other in the sides of their eyes, in the peripheral run-off of looking at their son Frank. But not face-to-face. And now Edmund was putting a garden stone through the back porch window. "Paid for that window anyway," he thought, as he wrapped his jacket around his hand and cleared out the jagged edges from the frame. He pushed his body carefully through the opening and was suddenly reminded of his stomach, bloated from beer and not much else. It was hard to tell when he'd started to sweat; was it after five minutes of struggling in the window opening, wondering how his legs must look out the back? or was it the very minute he decided to come to the backyard with bad intentions? Finally his gut, which was now compacted into his body like overpacked luggage, let loose over the edge of the frame inside and his legs crumpled in a paralyzed slump to the floor. Edmund rose with a kind of triumph particular to the slow-boiled criminal: little victories, the clear-and-present-fuck-you. He was in, and he could do whatever he wanted, for a little while.
10:56 PM on Sep 16, 2014
Rob Schwimmer - "Stormy Weather". In places, Schwimmer's solo piano version of "Stormy Weather" feels easy-breezy, comfortable. At other times it is full of disquiet: a life, a song, undone at the seams. A storm rolls in, streaked with lightning, and it begins to rain. There is dissonance and coda, a saunter smearing sideways. There is playfulness and droop. There is not heartbreak, I don't think; but acceleration, deceleration, flagging spirits, decay. Entropy at work on a spirit, weariness on a soul. All that loveliness, fragile as a cloud.
[Rob Schwimmer is one of the world's finest thereminists. This song does not feature theremin; other songs on Beyond the Sky do. Buy it.]
Montrealers: Join me (for part of this week at least) at Pop Montreal. My guide to the festival is here.
Toronto: Hope you'll consider coming to see me at this weekend's Word on the Street festival. I'll be reading from Us Conductors and/or talking with panelists at two events on Sunday, September 21 - noon and 4:45 pm. And signing books, too! It's free. Details here.
10:13 AM on Sep 15, 2014
about said the gramophone
this is a daily sampler of really good songs
. all tracks are posted out of love
. please go out and buy the records
to play a song in your browser, click the
. to download a song, right-click the link and choose 'Save as...'
all songs are removed within a week or two of posting.
said the gramophone
launched in march 2003, and added songs in november of that year. it was one of the world's very first mp3blogs.
if you would like to say hello, find out our mailing addresses or invite us to shows, please get in touch:
montreal, canada: sean
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toronto, canada: dan
please don't send us emails with tons of huge attachments; if emailing a bunch of mp3s etc, send us a link to download them. We are not interested in streaming widgets.
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if you would like the song taken down early. please do not direct link
to any of these tracks. please love and wonder.
"and i shall watch the ferry-boats / and they'll get high on a bluer ocean / against tomorrow's sky / and i will never grow so old again."
about the authors
lives in Montreal. He is a writer, critic and author of the theremin novel Us Conductors
. Follow him on Twitter
or reach him by email here
is an actor and writer living in Toronto. Any claim he makes about his life on here is probably untrue. Email him here
lives in Toronto. He is an opinion editor at the Toronto Star
. Jordan's posts appear at Said the Gramophone only on the last Wednesday of every month. Email him here
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. The header graphic is randomized: this one is by Neale McDavitt-van Fleet
our favourite blogs
(◊ means they write about music)
Back to the World
A Grammar (Nitsuh Abebe)
A London Salmagundi
Gorilla vs Bear
Clouds of Evil
The Dolby Apposition
Awesome Tapes from Africa
Pitchfork Reviews Reviews
i like you [podcast]
Wattled Smoky Honeyeater
The Clear-Minded Creative
Passion of the Weiss
Juan and Only
Then Play Long (Marcello Carlin)
Coming Up For Air (Matt Forsythe)
my love for you is a stampede of horses
It's Nice That
Song, by Toad
In FocusAMASS BLOG
The Rest is Noise (Alex Ross)
My Daguerreotype Boyfriend
The Hood Internet
things we like in Montreal
le pick up
au pied de cochon
vices & versa
+ paltoquet, cocoa locale, idée fixe, patati patata, the sparrow, pho tay ho, qin hua dumplings, café italia, hung phat banh mi, caffé san simeon, meu-meu, pho lien, romodos, patisserie guillaume, patisserie rhubarbe, kazu, lallouz, maison du nord, cuisine szechuan &c
drawn + quarterly
+ bottines &c
casa + sala + the hotel
blue skies turn black
montreal improv theatre
cinema du parc
yoga teacher Thea Metcalfe
The Morning News