It was brought to my attention that the publishers of the 33 1/3 series were accepting proposals for future titles. The premise seemed alluring, yet still somewhat daunting: the prospect of a glossy, soft cover book devoted to the analysis of the style, content and significance of your favourite album. A book that would be definitive in its scope, a book that would have your name printed on the front cover.

As I passed the link onto friends, we laughed and contemplated the albums we would dissect. We offered up the recordings that we knew absolutely, the ones which have become so thoroughly familiar that they course easily through the veins with every repeated listen. Every solo, every harmony, every lyric can be predicted and yet it manages to induce an unassailable rush of endorphins.

But what to chose? Queen I or Queen II? The Great Escape? The Innocents? Friendly Fire? Logic Will Break Your Heart? Mai god, Happy Nation (US Version)! There's just too much, too much...

When I considered what it would be like to assemble a 40,000 word manuscript, I wondered how analysis would alter my pre-existing attachment to a terribly significant recording. Would I feel that same charge, that same rush of endorphins having ruthlessly dissected every aspect of the creative process? Would such an endeavour interfere (or even damage) the personal value of these recordings?

There are resources available to the listeners who are interested enough to explore the history and development of a recording. There are endless interviews with artists, producers, technicians and teaboys. There are sketchy demos on Casio keyboards which trace the development of a single song. In the instance of the 40th anniversary of the Beatles' Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, there are even artists who go about recreating the entire recording process. Same studio, same equipment, same engineer, everything.

Tomorrow Never Knows
Yet to my mind, the recording of an album appears to be a largely intimate process. After all, only few were privy to the goings-on of those small sound-proof rooms in North London, New York City and Gothenburg. We can only get so close to understanding the creative process of another person. That understanding seems to be diminished especially when it touches upon the creation of something that we hold in considerably high esteem.

Perhaps I am alone in my failure to imagine the creative process. The truth is that I love these recordings to such a great extent that it floors me to imagine rehearsals, arguments or lyric sheets. Perhaps it is a foolish admission, but for me, it is as if these songs are so perfect that I cannot even imagine them being conceived. Perhaps if I could imagine it, I could believe and maybe even anticipate that potential that exists in us all: the potential to create something meaningful and significant to a great many people.

Inasmuch as I fear the prospect of growing weary of these terribly important recordings, I cannot help but think that the only way to answer this conundrum is to commit to that one album and start writing. I can only hope that whatever propaganda, knowledge or damage that may result will be worth it, and that my words may be strong, truthful and effective enough to faithfully honour these silly songs which tend to mean so much.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Indiepop Podcast #40
The Stills - Changes are No Good (Grand National Remix)
Eugene McGuinness - Lion
Jay Reatard - In the Dark
Ra Ra Riot - Oh, La
Alpine - Villages
Real Estate - It's Real
Sea Wolf - Black Dirt
Sean Lennon - Would I Be the One?

Download (44.7 MB)

I've been getting swept up in Italo Disco, listening to mixes and compilations, reading forums and living on Discogs. Yet it seems no matter how many songs I listen to, there appears to be tens of thousands of songs to go. It is easy to be overwhelmed by the sheer number of songs produced in this musical era, inasmuch as it is easy to be confused as to why this genre has never been properly analysed or adequately documented. If you spend enough time with it, it's possible to garner an impression of the most significant dancefloor anthems, but much of the my personal enjoyment of this genre is predicated on taste. The act of actually listening to the songs, far removed from its original context, and finding that moment of perfect resonance.

For others, it is the act of collecting Italo records which is the most enjoyable thing. For any noob, detecting what is obscure in a genre full of obscurities is somewhat problematic. However, the knowledgeable Italo collector never seems to have any difficulty in that respect. I've known of their plight for a long time, the risks they take in pursuing vinyl obscurities. In their pursuit of the Holy Grail of Italo Records, the collector would sometimes part with hundreds of dollars in the hope that the record would arrive safe and intact in their letter box. However, the seller's account would duly disappear, along with the collector's money and any hope that the record ever existed in the first place. How I felt for them.

50 Works Project
My search for perfect Italo had largely taken form in MP3 format, so I never had to deal with unscrupulous dealers. However, as my obsession with these songs dramatically increased, I considered how cool it would be to have Dharma's Plastic Doll, Alexander Robotnick's Problèmes D'Amour or Jimmy & Susy's Come Back. No doubt my desire for these records coincided with my longing to hold a club night for the masses, where we would all dance to such songs (imagine, Rose's clip for Magic Carillion). Yet, still cautious and wary of the many horror stories of experienced Italo collectors, I only ever opted to click on the very cheapest records available. I didn't wish to be another casualty.

Ashamedly, my collection shows few signs that I've become so entrenched in this genre. There's a shamefully small handful of records; a Michael Bedford 7", a Den Harrow 7", a Laserdance 12", a Tom Hooker 12", a Fuzz Dance compilation, a ZYX boxset purchased from Stockholm. I still look on Discogs, not only to shop, but to research. For in a genre so free of narrative, it offers much insight into what is rare and valuable. When I have come across one of those records, 1 for sale from €800, I feel compelled to stake out that song and listen carefully. I attempt to assess its musical value and whether it correlates with market forces. It is a great relief to find the song is average at best and any chance of completely surrendering my bank account to this obsession can be laid to rest.

I present to you a podcast that will convert your bedroom into a darkened discotheque from the back alleys of Genova, circa 1986. I hope there, free of any external influence (ahem, aside from my own), you can fall in love with the sound of Italo and its unique pop immediacy.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Italo Disco Podcast #34
Clio - Eyes
Mania - Shine Shine Shine
Mister Black - Monnalisa
Scotch - Pictures
93rd Superbowl - Forever and a Day
Joy Peters - Don't Loose Your Heart Tonight
Swan - Don't Talk About It
Ross - Coming Up

Download (70.3 MB)