The Midweek Mixtape

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we're all about the big-band progressive post-punk alternative reggae new-wave minimalist soul east-coast folk dub latin west-coast rockabilly britpop-bitpop classical du-wop classic-rock electronica jazz blues. we like music - The Midweek Mixtape Wednesday's 4-5

Beth Jeans Houghton is, all things considered, quite a remarkable songwriter. Born with extremely rare synaesthesia, a disease which results in senses being involuntarily joined, Houghton struggled to read. Forcibly disconnected from conventional education and with a penchant for resisting authority, Beth dropped out of school at fifteen and bought a guitar for £500 without being able to play a note.  As a story, it’s almost the stereotypical mythological tale of the birth of a singer-songwriter. In reality, Houghton’s musical ambitions faced near-insurmountable obstacles.

Yet it is these very obstacles which combine to make Yours Truly, Cellophane Nose a fascinating record. Synaesthesia allows the young Geordie songstress to communicate her wild and whimsical thoughts through visuals, colours, noises and symbols. At the age of eight, she invented her own alphabet. With her debut album, twenty-one year old Beth presents a simple record, one epitomised by childlike innocence and fascination. Yet whilst it may be a crawled crayon sketch, the depths of imagery and colour which emerge with every listen make this a truly beautiful self-portrait.       

Lead singles ‘Sweet Tooth Bird’ and ‘Dodecahedron’ highlight the near-fluorescent ambitions of the album. Both ethereal wails, heady riffs and kaleidoscopic keys, they are undoubtedly comparable to gentle young things like MGMT, Bat for Lashes and Kate Bush, but are stunningly woozy and vivid in their own right.

More impressive are ‘Atlas’ and ‘Liliputt’. The first a gothic doo-wop with African finger-picking, the second a true vocal performance, so rich with folk it descends into a fiddling, foot-stomping gallop across an English countryside decked with dock leaves and dandelions.  The record is as visually stimulating as it is audibly.

There’s no argument that Beth Jeans Houghton shines when she is daring and glamorous, unafraid to be diverse. Closer ‘Prick AKA Sean’ is little more than a throwaway punk slur, but thrills the blood and leaves you desperate for more. Comparatively, ‘Veins’ seems like a dull and murky Florence and the Machine tribute, whilst ‘Franklin Benedict’ is nothing more than a nod to the celestial Anna Calvi.

No track here is bland. Yet in a debut where all that is different sparkles, everything that seems similar is lost. Reassuringly, Beth Jeans Houghton is so determined to be an individual; it is a certainty that we’ll see a second record.

The Midweek Mixtape

— 2 years ago with 1 note
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #Music  #Beth Jeans Houghton & The Hooves of Destiny  #Yours Truly  #Cellophane Nose  #Sweet Tooth Bird  #Newcastle  #MGMT  #Kate Bush  #Florence & The Machine  #Review  #Album 
An appeal on behalf of the Radio →

Whilst I know that radio forms an essential part of my own existence, I genuinely believe radio possesses the qualities to be universally appreciated. It can entertain, educate, inspire, inform, persuade and improve.

Radio’s great asset is its diversity.

For music, there is no greater platform. Music can be personally thrilling, but shared it becomes something far more monumental. The act of devoting time to discovering an unforgettable new sound and rediscovering forgotten records is only further enhanced by communicating and sharing your feelings about music. More importantly, it doesn’t demand attention or crave focus. If anything, the records on the radio sound better as they envelop your bedroom or bathroom or kitchen, the wallpaper backdrop to conversation or creativity. Every genre is generously covered, at best without condescending insult or unnecessary interruption, but with genuine appreciation and love. From the alternative, independent and contemporary of BBC 6Music to the dulcet and divine Classic FM, the 80s Soul of Smooth FM, the drum and bass and black music pioneers at BBC 1Xtra, the unashamed swagger of 97.4 Rock FM, to the chart-conscious BBC Radio 1 entertainment factory, music is utterly available for everyone.

Yet radio consists of so much more than music. Challenging political debates, concise and clear news reports, harrowing and heartbreaking documentaries and dramas, farcical comedies alongside razor-sharp satire, passionate sports discussion, science queries, theatre reviews, historical narratives, gaming, rambling, gardening, lunar exploration and foreign language – radio encapsulates virtually every enthusiasm, whim and fancy of every person. Once again, it does so for the most part with great dignity and delicacy, reflecting the enthusiasm of those who create it.

This isn’t a long considered post, rather one written extremely quickly on the back of an article which I’ve just linked. It’s not intended to sound high-minded and indulgent. I appreciate not everyone enjoys listening to the radio. Anyone who knows me will know the majority of the time I have my headphones glued upon my ears, listening solely to my own music library.

But should you not listen to much radio, I can only hope this might inspire you to listen in, if only for a few minutes. If you are interested, here’s a short list of a few stations and shows which have particularly improved my days:

§  BBC 6Music – intelligent, witty, whimsical and somewhat wry, it’s musically my favourite combination; indie, alternative 80s, soul and breaking live sessions. Wakes me up and carries me through, providing the musical score to studying and reading.

§  BBC Test Match Special – Indefatigably British and utterly charming. Full to the top tweed drawers with whimsy and gentle anecdotes, its skill is being both compelling for the cricket naysayer and stimulating for the addict.

§  Absolute Classic Rock – Simply brilliant fun. Though the only station my phone can pick up whilst on the bus in Edinburgh, I’d listen regardless; eclectic, fast-paced and fret-destructively-excellent.

§  Gaydar – Though I’ve only ever listened to the station once whilst at my uncle’s in Brighton, I’ve never heard radio delivered with more enthusiasm and joie de vivre. Essential and obscenely cheering, though in very small doses.

§  BBC Radio 4 – By far and away the best provider of quality drama and comedy, wrapped around news and provoking arguments. So very often it provides genuinely enlightening listens.

§  TalkSport – Whilst it perhaps lacks the listening prowess of TMS for the non-sport fan, it is the platform for a nation to celebrate its love of sport. Constantly flourishing with a devoted listenership.

§  Metro Radio – A staple of going home, with its focus upon North-Eastern thrill-seekers and party-addicts. I’m certainly not in either camp, but its brash sound is reassuringly nostalgic of car journeys spent with my sisters controlling the dials.

§  XFM – Steadfastly dedicated to sharing new music, giving emerging talent a fantastic and credible platform to play to a huge audience.

These are merely a few of a plethora of stations which I have enjoyed for a number of reasons. I encourage you to find more, and if you have any recommendations, I’d love to hear them.    

I’d just also like to share the last few words of a beautifully endearing book by John Osborne, Radio Head. The confessed radio fanatic reflects on a month spent listening to a different radio station every day for a month:

“Radio has given me everything I have needed. I’ve never wanted to stop listening. I’ve felt I’ve learnt more about myself and the world just by playing with the dial on my radio.”

I’d say that quite nicely sums it up.

The Midweek Mixtape

— 2 years ago with 1 note
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #Music  #Radio  #BBC  #The Guardian  #Radio Head  #TMS under the covers is one of lifes great joys 

A quick word on this review - I realise this is the second time I’ve talked about King Krule in as many posts. Whilst this isn’t a problem because I think he’s a genuinely exciting young talent, I’ve always tried to share as much variety as possible. However, I appear to be coming down with some horrible illness, and, painfully aware that my posting of late has been slow and I’m unlikely to get much done over the coming days, I just wanted to share what I do have written now. Apologies for the repetition, but I hope you don’t mind too much. If you do, feel free to write and complain, but please send packets of multivitamins and paracetamol with every letter.  

Maturity is the instantaneous and overused point of reference for the music journalist. An artists’ record can no longer be considered on its individual merit, but must be laboriously compared to everything they and their peers have done before. The word helps the writer to explain how music is progressing, thereby proving their own innate and irrefutable expert understanding of music. By writing about maturity, music journalists condescendingly categorize and pigeonhole, and dictate that if it isn’t growing in the right way, it’s wrong.

Which makes King Krule, formerly Zoo Kid, a rather difficult matter; Archy Marshall is seventeen, and this is his first proper release. There’s no denying he’s critically adored. Yet should you attempt to mathematically deconstruct someone who is so young, who still has so much development to do, yet is striving to sound so very, very different? Personally, this doesn’t seem to be a record that can be analysed by discussing maturity.

Sowe have to approach itfor what it is. 363N63 is a mess of picked electric guitar, minimalist reggae beats, and the hum of extractor fans, radiator groans and snarling road rage. Lead Existence is a nihilistic minute long trip, with lyrics taken straight off the scrawling made on a paper pad in the dead of night. Bleak Bake sounds like the vocals have been added at the wrong speed, which, over primary school rainbow coloured chimes, make for a disorientating blur.   

At the first listen, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that King Krule has made a shambles. On the second listen however, you realise the boy is just quite ludicrously unconventional.  

Portrait in Black and Blue sees the King Krule snarl emerge good and proper; a track of distorted simplicity with the constant sense that every lyric could descend into a tortured and lusty howl, with echo and reverb so thick every drip of confidence becomes assonance. Standout track The Noose of Jah City is stoic, gruff and cynical, a wearied riot of influences and drawing board dreams.

This isn’t a perfect EP, but only because it’s so brief. Musically, it’s exceptional. When King Krule returns, we shouldn’t discuss how much he’s grown, and we shouldn’t look to pinpoint where and why and how. This record excels by being singularly different, and that is what we should celebrate.

The Midweek Mixtape

— 2 years ago
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #Music  #King Krule  #Noose of Jah City  #Sorry for the Repetition 

Seventeen year old Archy Marshall captures angst, disillusionment and the essence of cynical youth in beautifully succinct and sparse tracks. His drip-fed tracks continue to astound; Out Getting Ribs is off-kilter electric fuzz, delivered with a resonant snarl belying his disconcertingly tender years. Fusing his rockabilly roots to intelligent Jamie T wit, King Krulewill be the standard on which this year’s singer-songwriters will be judged.

More disconcertingly, I think I just found my body-double.

The Midweek Mixtape   

— 2 years ago with 3 notes
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #Music  #2012  #King Krule  #Zoo Kid  #Jamie T  #Out Getting Ribs  #Clever clever Ginger 

Restrictive, seductive, and utterly alluring, sister duo 2:54 offer macabre XX style dirges, laced with frenetic riffs and claustrophobic clangs. Current single Scarlet is a Machiavellian maelstrom of sincerity, sass and a subtle degree of peril. There’s no argument it’s all rather lurching and bleak, but 2:54 are also ridiculously infectious. One for the headphone brigade.

The Midweek Mixtape

— 2 years ago with 7 notes
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #2:54  #Scarlet  #The XX  #2012  #Music  #Lips 

Right, let’s rifle through some outstanding new stuff, carefully selected to make your knees tremble.

Lo-fi and wide-eyed, The History of Apple Pie are five young merchants of Yuck-esquedistorted, scuzzy guitars, topped with dreamy slurs of winsomely romantic lyrics. Though clutching only a tiny fistful of singles, on the woozy recollections of misspent days offered in Mallory and You’re So Cool alone,these young pups could well be the providers of blissful summer anthems all year long.

The Midweek Mixtape

— 2 years ago with 2 notes
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #The History of Apple Pie  #Mallory  #Punk  #Grunge  #Music  #2012  #Cake Fights 

As I was running earlier tonight, the vast musical repertoire of Ska pioneer Lord Tanamo began to loop continuously in my head.

It was a rather impressive and unexpected earworm. This morning witnessed a fateful event; the long-awaited third album of The Maccabees, Given to the Wild, dropped noisily through the letterbox. Following its arrival, the vast majority of the day passed with my feet on the aga immersing myself in something deliriously sensual and utterly captivating.

Yet, around the start of the second mile, the lilting and fuzzy vocals of the once-Skatalites frontman kicked in. A rhythmic collision of calypso, jazz and soul, Come Down is uplifting, infectious and simply charming; a timeless record, hailing from an age far beyond my experience, but one that still makes your knees and elbows wiggle. If you’re looking for a starting place for Ska or Reggae, or just for songs to complete a marathon to, you could do a lot worse.

As Lord Tanamo sang himself, sometimes you’re just in the mood for Ska.

The Midweek Mixtape

— 2 years ago with 3 notes
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #Music  #Lord Tanamo  #Come Down  #Reggae  #Ska 

For me, one of the major rites undertaken with every homecoming is digging through the shambolic mess that is the CD collection of a six-strong family.

Upstairs, there are the polar-opposite-offerings of a single CD tower in my parents’ room. From my Mother (a once punk and a New Romantic) there’s Siouxsie and the Banshees, Japan and The Teardrop Explodes. Conversely, my Dad likes Bette Midler, Dire Straits and the Lighthouse Family. It’s rare that my sisters proffer something that catches the ear, but the real Aladdin’s Cave is the kitchen cupboard. Within a jungle of stray disks, roaming free of broken cases and abandoned covers, characterised by no discernable sense of ordering or taste, there is always an album hidden away ready to spark up my iTunes.

This year, as I made a futile effort to rectify years of carelessness, I came across an old Mixtape I’d made at school, full of the best unsigned North-Eastern bands I had gather during gargantuan trawls of the internet. Hearing the familiar guitar thrashes and Northern wails after so many years threw me headlong straight back to the days where I was absorbed in my local music scene, studiously analysing every band and pursuing every lead like an obsessive musical Morse. Upon inspection, most have disbanded or moved on, but I figured I should still share them. Music doesn’t get old.

Newcastle has a unique musical identity. Identifiable not merely for the accent, Northern music has long been individual; as with all local scenes, personal experiences of struggle and celebration denotes our music. It is often stubborn, fiercely tribal and bitter, but always overwhelmingly passionate, proud and distinctive. Our modern hallmarks are a fascination with carefree harmony, a headstrong and resolute intelligence, and unquestionable wide-eyed optimism. Little Comets, Maximo Park and The Futureheads do us so very proud.

Yet these characteristics define not just the mainstream. Though this CD was probably made in about 2006/2007, every artist shares these unique qualities. The disjointed finger-picking of Balao on their track Overflow ebbs and flows in perfect parallels to the ubiquitous Northern fascination with the rivers and coast. The Week That Was and their track The Day Today is a crescendo filled barn-stormer, as pulsating and vibrant as our windswept, rain-lashed city cobbles.  Crack in the Clouds by The British Expeditionary Force is a gentle electronic murmur, layered, lush and rich. Demonstrating our diversity, the fabulously named Razmataz Lorry Excitement creates Hot Chip-esque dancefloor fillers stuffed with muffled beats and Daft Punk digital harmonics.

Every local scene has a wealth of undiscovered brilliance that all too often fades away. I urge you to get out there and see what your city has to offer. I promise it’ll be unique and ingenious, evocative and endearing, and undoubtedly a series of love-letters to your hometown.  

My favourite track of the Mixtape was the stunningly titled Sam Sang a Song for the City,by young noise rebels and once-heavily-tipped Catweasels.A surging and confident ditty thick with gorgeously nostalgic Northern idiosyncrasies, a rabbit-warren of unexpected twists and turns, it sees the best five part harmonies this side of the river. Listen and love it. If anyone wants the track emailed, just send a message and ask. Music like this should to be shared, lest it be forgotten.

Proper northern love to you all.

The Midweek Mixtape

— 2 years ago with 3 notes
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #Music  #Indie  #Newcastle  #CD  #Japan  #Siouxsie  #Teardrop Explodes  #Little Comets  #Maximo Park  #The Futureheads  #Balao  #Hot Chip  #Daft Punk  #Field Music  #Catweasels 

The January Blues have hit hard this year. Stuffed with turkey, cranberry and chocolate, low on ambition and creativity, my last few weeks have been a slump; one in the afternoon wake-up calls and lazy days spent sliding down the gaps in the sofa. After incessant hours spent neck-deep in essays last December, I felt I deserved it.

The greatest joy, aside from stubbornly refusing to leave my covers, has been the BBC 6Music Vinyl Revival series, a whimsical and unadulterated celebration of music by people who confess themselves utterly addicted to collecting vinyl. What makes vinyl remarkable are the anecdotes and remembrances, the stories that are connected around every single purchase, the memories which are marked upon every track.

The series epitomised why I want to work in radio, and utterly inspired me to continue my own nascent vinyl collection. It was beautifully crafted by those who could barely contain their passion for music, who celebrated variety and excellence, and didn’t care for cliques and criticism. Every song, every style and every artist in some way contributes and enriches. Though it’d be foolish to try to share and celebrate them all with you, I guess the New Year’s resolution is to try.

 Though my own vinyl collection is only forty-one records deep, I’m delighted by its diversity.  The second joy of Christmas was receiving three more beautiful and different records on vinyl, not just those I’ve dug out of bargain bins and charity shops crates.

The Christmas season demanded something musically appropriate, so what better than the greatest Christmas album ever made, A Christmas Gift for You, featuring The Crystals, The Ronettes, Darlene Love and Bob B. Soxx and The Blue Jeans, all drawn from the legendary roster of producer Phil Spector.It’s simply perfect, twelve gorgeous, soulful and harmonised renditions of the ultimate Christmas records. During a year where seemingly every artist alive demanded they soundtrack our festivities, nothing could possibly replace Darlene Love’sdreamy White Christmas or Bob B. Soxx’s effortless The Bells of St. Mary’s; a timeless and irreplaceable album.

I’ve long shouted from every rooftop, church tower and minor hillock about my love for The Maccabees. Whilst the first album Colour It In was a teenage heart-throb handclap sing-along, the second album Wall of Arms made me fall hard in love, and nothing satisfied the eager anticipation of third album Given to the Wild like having the second record on vinyl. Mature and brooding, riddled with clanging guitars and passionate lyrics, to me it is perfect. The tracks Seventeen Hands, Young Lions and Love You Better have beennothing short of formative in my musical interests. Hearing the tracks on vinyl, where every fragment is amplified and intensified, only cements the adoration.

Last up, Sheffield pop-nerds Pulp with their standout album, Different Class. The inner sleeve tells you all you need to know of these delightful upstarts; “Please understand. We don’t want no trouble. We just want the right to be different. That’s all.” It’s a record that demands you pay attention; besides politely asking that you “do not read the lyrics whilst listening to the recordings”, the sensual lusts of Common People, Disco 2000 andriddled come-downs of Sorted for E’s & Wizz arehip-thrustingly infectious pop blurs designed to make you shake. Trust me, you will.

So begins another year of collecting vinyl then. Here’s to it being a plethora of old and new, with a few reviews and one or two worthy asides to boot. I leave you with a link to the incomparable and indefatigable Darlene Love. Good lord above I love this track. Just don’t tell anyone we’re still listening to Christmas songs. (Merry Christmas)

The Midweek Mixtape

— 2 years ago with 3 notes
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #Christmas  #January Blues  #Vinyl  #Record  #Phil Spector  #A Christmas Gift For You  #Pulp  #Different Class  #The Maccabees  #Wall of Arms  #Given To The Wild  #Music  #Photo  #Youtube 

In an unashamedly conscious effort to subvert a series of recent posts dedicated to all things American rock, tonight will be all about a Birmingham trio and their simple brand of noise-pop-punk.

Johnny Foreigner never really created great waves in old Britannia. In spite of the snarling-electro-guitar-thrash and machine-gun-tsunami of spat lyrics, the 2008 debut Waited up til It Was Light made little more than ripples. That year during their rain-soaked set at Leeds Festival that year, I could count the numbers in attendance on my muddied hands and wellington-boot-covered toes.

Yet that debut had real guts.

The lovingly handcrafted artwork, arcade-game aliens astride the grim and gritty modernity of grey Birmingham, summed up an album desperate to be heard. Erupting from the suffocation of lousy modern life with a wail, Johnny Foreigner were three kids who liked their music deafening and pulsating, colourful and unpredictable, and who created a record imbued with the influences of their youth and the anxieties of their age. For a kid stood in a field, looking to escape the drudgery of exams and essays, it was unadulterated pleasure.

Worryingly, the record still resonates today; take opener Lea Room. The terrified howls of “get off before the ship goes down” are the exemplification of youth in revolt, complete with the threat to “fire-bomb crowds”. Johnny Foreigner represents dissatisfaction and disaffection in a way few others dare.

It’s an incredibly beautiful (if destructive to the eardrums) record. Eyes Wide Terrified and DJ’s Get Doubts are more gentle documents for the sea-change emotions of the beleaguered teen, but Cranes and Cranes and Cranes and the perfectly-named Salt, Peppa and Spinderella are yelping blizzards of anger and anguish. I’ll never forget joining about five other people in a pint-sized mosh-pit during Our Bipolar Friends in 2008, and grinning from ear to ear for the duration.

I haven’t got a clue where Johnny Foreigner is today. I don’t want to look them up, in case their starry-eyed dreams of urban escapism didn’t come about. Yet at the very least they made a sizeable impression upon an impressionable kid. For my money, not many bands have had quite as much snarl and bite since.

The Midweek Mixtape

— 2 years ago with 1 note
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #Music  #Johnny Foreigner  #Waited Up Til It Was Light  #Lea Room  #Birmingham  #Noise-Pop  #Punk  #Leeds Festival 2008  #an unashamed return to childhood 

If you find the prospect of an indie orchestra exciting, here’s something pretty exciting.

Typhoon and the rather enchanting 'The Honest Truth', taken from the New Kind of House EP, are a rather intriguing prospect. Producing shimmering and visionary deep-throated sing-a-longs, littered with homage’s to the handcrafted choristers of Arcade Fire and the European jangling of Beirut, the sometime-fourteen-strong horde of talented Salem-folk have created a five-track EP that is too short to satisfy, but just long enough to bewitch. Seemingly more immersive and compelling than debut album Hunger and Thirst, 2011 could well see the real emergence of Typhoon.  

Grab the EP, and cross your fingers.     

The Midweek Mixtape

— 2 years ago with 7 notes
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #Music  #Typhoon  #Arcade Fire  #Beirut  #EP  #Review  #New Kind of House  #The Honest Truth  #Orchestral Indie 

2011 was a rather significant year for the reunification of bands.

Pulp failed to be secretive and stormed Glastonbury, rekindling our love of lamenting youth. The Strokes managed enough deep breathing and biting their tongue to give us Angles. Even The Darkness dug out the spandex and began re-shredding.

2012 offers even more. Most significantly, the return of The Afghan Whigs

Ending a thirteen year absence, London and New Jersey will see Greg Dulli returning to head one of the great 1990’s American rock groups. This is, simply, brilliant news. The Afghan Whigs combined explosive beats, cinematic guitars, thudding basslines and embittered, self-depricating hoarse lyricism to stunning effect. Debonair, taken from the standout 1993 record Gentlemen should give you some idea of what I mean.

It’s shaping up to be quite the year.

The Midweek Mixtape

— 2 years ago with 4 notes
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #Music  #Rock  #The Afghan Whigs  #Debonair  #Gentlemen  #1990s  #2011  #2012  #Pulp  #The Strokes 

El Camino is set to be one of the soundtracks for the coming year.

The Black Keys live very much in the shadow of their predecessors and contemporaries. For Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney comparisons to The White Stripes are sure to be ever-present; that bluesy-garage-rock sound, beaten and hammered and thrashed out blacksmith-like by a drummer-and-guitarist-duo will inevitably draw connections. Relocation to the Tennessee home of Kings of Leon immediately demands reference to the unashamedly anthemic choruses.

Yet El Camino isn’t pretending to be anything other than the same reckless fretwork and posturing swagger. This is an unapologetic rock record. And it’s a very good one at that.

Opener Lonely Boy is simply a whirling dervish. Guitar, Drums, Chorus, Dance. Channelling a Creedence Clearwater Revival’s style-riff, it explodes out the traps and keeps running hard. It’s fast, sexy and assured. Backed by the seriously tight Run Right Back, Nova Baby and Mind Eraser, The Black Keys have created a record of complete and coherent pulsating rock tracks.

It’s a tried and tested piece of revivalism. What gives El Camino real edge is the intricate Little Black Submarines. Auerbach misleadingly murmurs and Southern drawls over some lazy finger-picking, before a glorious and unanticipated surge. Infectious listening ensues.

These eleven tracks will make The Black Keys known. Purists will mourn a change, accuse the abandonment of authenticity. Yet, for better or for worse, they’ve been tightened and polished. The outcome is some scintillating music, and there’s not much better than that.

The Midweek Mixtape

— 2 years ago
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #Music  #The Black Keys  #Lonely Boy  #El Camino 
The Midweek Mixtape →

The Midweek Mixtape isn’t just a whimsical list of song suggestions, but also a little radio show. Clicking on that link will transport you to what we do. So go have some fun.

— 2 years ago with 10 notes
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #Music  #Radio  #Mixcloud 

Just in case you need any convincing as to the unquestionable cool of Dylan.

The Midweek Mixtape

— 2 years ago with 5 notes
#Midweek  #Mixtape  #Music  #Bob Dylan  #Interview