Sneaking this one in at the end of the month, just under the line. Just so I can call it April. Just so I can maintain that precious ~monthly regularity I’ve promised.
Reason being: I’ve been feeling pretty awful. I’ve just resurfaced from a weird two-week seasonal-COVID-daycare sickness, while simultaneously facing some truly maddening, draining life things. Oh, and taxes, too. That being said, there is much to be grateful for. Music of course, but also Frog and Toad (from which the title of this month’s issue derives).
In light of my recent tribulations, and considering the next two months of my life will be very busy, I’ve decided to take my first Regular Break. I’ll be back in July with more music and better mood/health. Until then, stay curious!
click on the covers to listen or go your own way ~~
Connie Converse - How Sad, How Lovely (~1954)
I’ve fallen in love with Connie Converse all over again. I’m placing this one at the top of the issue to make 👏 sure 👏 people hear it. Her idiosyncratic folk songs have always struck me as somewhat out of time. However, it was only in writing this that I learned a bit about her timeline/backstory (mostly from this informative BBC article referring to her as the ‘first singer-songwriter’). My advice: listen first, then imagine how improbable it is that she’s writing these songs circa 1954, and then read the article. Bonus points to Connie for writing the only song I’ve ever heard mentioning lobster salad. And I’m from Nova Scotia so I’m preeeeetty sure I’ve heard all the lobster songs.
Enji - Ursgal (2021)
This sophomore album was my first encounter with Enji, a Mongolian-born, Munich-based vocalist. Ursgal is rooted in trad vocal jazz + lounge trio forms, with sparse guitar, bass, and occasional brass accompaniment. As a voice, Enji has a knack for singing directly to the listener, building intimacy with conviction while gently pulling the composition out into the stratosphere. It’s personal work that suggests an unfolding universe. Best suited for after sunset, when things have settled.
Bogdan Raczynski - Muzyka Dla Imigrantów (2001)
I ordered the Mondoj cassette reissue of this last November after hearing about 30 seconds. There’s something really immediate about the feel of this music in comparison to its origins, which feel somewhat elusive on first brush. It hits somewhere between minimalism and trad folk without really being either. It’s a largely instrumental, brass-led meditation on the rupture and displacement of immigration by the Polish electronic producer and Planet Mu / Warp / Björk associate. Really moving stuff, absolutely drenched in longing. At the risk of sounding glib in the hopes of being evocative, it kind of sounds like dubplates of Neutral Milk Hotel.
Ned Milligan - Enter Outside (2021)
This work is so wonderfully open, distilled and direct. Ned Milligan captures weather and chimes live on tape. That’s it. And when Milligan does it, that’s EVERYTHING. Enter Outside is entirely encompassing and seductive. Music for mist and consideration, loss and finding. Slow, luxurious clang.
Carlos Maria Trindade and Nuno Canavarro - Mr. Wollogallu (1991)
I definitely wasn’t ready for this when I first heard it a decade ago, but I & time have certainly caught up with this one-off collaborative album from these two Portuguese adventurers. I dare say everyone and their art school bf(f) are trying to make records like this these days: vaguely outernational, new age muzak with touches of collage. It’s full of odd pairings where mood and melody shift in unlikely patterns. It pulls the listener up into brightness and then reveals the shadow. Lately, I’ve been wanting to reach for bonafide warm weather music, but damn if this spring isn’t one long, cold-ass drizzle. Mr. Wollogallu was a good companion amidst this seasonal dissonance.
Kahil El’Zabar’s Ritual Trio - Where Do You Want To Go? (Live) (2005)
I’m going to leave things on an unusual note: a video. Specifically, this video of Kahil El’Zabar’s Ritual Trio performing ‘Where Do You Want To Go?’ live at the River East Art Center in 2005. The first time I came across it, I was totally captivated for its entire 12+ minutes. I revisited it recently and uhhh… yeh, there’s A LOT to appreciate here. But there’s also very specifically one thing going on: one intensely perfect performance of one incredibly hypnotic piece that closes with one very important question.
I’m super interested in feedback / dialogue / suggestions. If you have ideas about the newsletter, want to share music with me, have specific questions / requests, don’t hesitate to get in touch. And please: share this newsletter with a pal if you feel so inspired!
Yrs.,
Andrew P.
andrewdanielpatterson [at] gmail [dot] com