Snailhouse - "Living the Dream".

Hotel M----- ★★★
Once, this dilapidated hotel was known for its lobster-claws and scotch; celebs and politicians came in their furs to dine on white tablecloths. Today, Hotel M-----'s carpets are ragged, its burgundy paint is peeling, the tablecloths are mothballed. Its cheap rooms are OK and the suites are a relative steal, but don't expect luxury - or even a working TV. The resto offers dinner specials and a mediocre breakfast buffet; the highlight is a lunchtime club sandwich. (Stay away from the crustaceans, and the whiskey.) Despite these dilapidations, or perhaps because of them, Hotel M-----'s bar is still a haven after dark. Arrive early, nab a corner booth, and as the night wears on you'll spy several of the city's stars slip in alone. They sit with the throngs, like lonely drunks, to listen to the Hotel M-----'s house band. The musicians are old hands, capable, playing easygoing country, jazz and lounge numbers, the best of Willie Nelson and Carole King. But what makes them stand out - and what attracts the likes of Keith Richards, Garry Shandling and (the late) John Ashbery - are the group's rare originals. Over wah-wah, pedal steel, lazy shuffle, the M------ band's singer saves the world. He utters poetry, profundity, punchlines; each stanza is wry and beautiful, sideways wise. His reputation is as a midnight sage, and gradually he has become relied-upon: you see the movers & shakers sit there, hungry, waiting for the answers to their lives.

[Snailhouse is, of course, extraordinary; buy many things; Monumental Moments, an EP or rarities and outtakes, is a pay-what-you-want download.]

Family Fodder - "Whatever Happened To David Zé?".

A zingy little pop song about the late Angolan singer, filled in with crayola-red flourishes, gorgeous afropop guitar. It feels like a public monument, an open letter, a eulogy in gold - something meant for public eyes. It speaks for itself, needs no explanatory plaque; you can visit, leave flowers, pose for a photo.

[buy]