Sooo... this is a slightly insanely long playlist, especially coming off the back of five hours of listening in my other 2017 posts. It's around twelve hours of music – 183 songs – that didn't make it onto my best of 2017 playlists. It came about because, when I was trying to catch up on some releases I might have missed during the year, I found so very, very much music that appealed to me, and it was overwhelming to even figure out where to begin listening. I started this playlist to keep stuff I wanted to get back to, and as somewhere to put songs I reluctantly cut from my main playlists when they were getting too long. So this is essentially a playlist of honourable mentions, as well as songs I've really enjoyed from albums I haven't had time to fully listen to. 

In Part One, I shared songs from my most-loved albums of last year. Part Two features highlights from my favourite singles and EPs released in 2017. Enjoy! 

Okay, so it's nearly March, which probably makes this the world's most untimely 'Best of 2017' list! First I'll get to the music, but there's a personal note at the bottom of this post explaining why I'm sometimes much later with posts than I'd like, and why I think they're still worth doing anyway.

Wow, I was really blown away by the musical offerings from last year! There's some truly spectacular music being made by incredibly creative artists who are dedicated to their craft. and to making brilliant music for the sake of it. Though it's easier than ever to find music from all over the world to suit your particular tastes, I'm pretty convinced there's also just more and more amazing music being produced. This playlist features a song from each of my favourite 2017 albums. It's pretty long, with fifty-five tracks, coming in at around three hours and forty minutes of listening. I heard so much great stuff, this was as much as I could narrow it down! And you'll notice this is only Part One.... 

Keith Seatman makes striking hauntological soundscapes up there with the best material from Ghost Box Records. It's the sort of layered, intricate work that rewards more and more on each listen, yet there is also a certain immediate appeal, especially for fans of things like vintage horror soundtracks and early electronica. In fact, the only time I've found myself using the 'Buy the artist's entire discography' option on Bandcamp was shortly after first sampling Seatman's work.

Seatman's latest, All Hold Hands And Off We Go, released in April this year, takes the listener on a surreal excursion that is both comforting and disconcerting. I love the push-and-pull feeling of something being eerie and ominous, but inviting you for a closer look, and this album captures that beautifully. This is exemplified in the title track, where its fast rhythm and bouncy riffs compete with more sinister elements. It's easy to imagine this slotted into a giallo soundtrack by the likes of Goblin.

Buy: All Hold Hands And Off We Go
Links: Test Transmission (Keith Seatman's blog), Test Transmission Archive Reels (mixes by Keith Seatman).

The Galaxy Electric are an avant-pop duo from Washington, DC, whose striking debut was one of my absolute favourites of last year. Creating cosmic pop songs using such an interesting palette of sounds, I knew their influences and tastes would be worth mining. So I asked the band members, Jacqueline and Augustus, if they'd make a playlist for me and they kindly agreed. Listen below to their selections, a superb mix of early electronics, way-out pop and other sound adventures. I love how the first track, Ken Nordine's captivating spoken word tour through an imagined 'Sound Museum', sets up the melange of weird and wonderful sounds to come.

Tracklist

1. Ken Nordine featuring The Fred Katz Group – The Sound Museum (1957)
2. Daphne Oram – Wool (1967)
3. Peter Reno – Secrets of the Deep (1969)
4. Joe Meek & The Blue Men – I Hear A New World (1960)
5. Delia Derbyshire – Ziwzih Ziwzih OO-OO-OO (1968)
6. Jean-Jacques Perrey – E.V.A. (1970)
7. Silver Apples – Walkin' (1998; recorded 1969)
8. The Soundcarriers – Step Outside (2010)
9. Broadcast – Microtronics 14 (2005)
10. Amphitryon 38 - Daphne Oram Single (1957)
11. Stereolab – Italian Shoes Continuum (1999)
12. Francis Bebey – Tumu pakara (1984)
13. Roj Stevens – Bongo Workout (2009)
14. Os Mutantes – Bat Macumba (1968)

Playlist curated by The Galaxy Electric. Mixed by me.

If you haven't yet heard their fantastic album Everything is Light and Sound, you can stream and buy it from their Bandcamp page.

Links: NewsWhistle – Interview with The Galaxy Electric
The Galaxy Electric on: Instagram | Twitter | Facebook

It's my first post of the new year and, though late to the game, I wanted to share my favourite music from last year. 2016 was a notoriously terrible year (not that this year is exactly peachy so far!), but thankfully the same can't be said of the music that came out last year. It was, to quote Lisa Simpson's insensitive future fiancé, like a flower that grew out of a pot of dirt. I feel spoiled by the amount and variety of quality music I've been enjoying from last year's offerings. There are the gorgeous vintage European pop sounds of The Yearning and Lia Pamina, the visionary retrofuturism of Adrian Younge, the moving, classic songwriting of Big Smoke, the raw garage rock of The Mystery Lights, some fresh takes on dream pop, and many outings in psychedelic-influenced, experimental pop. Some of these albums have quickly become all-time favourites, not just favourites of the year. Below is a playlist of songs from my most-loved releases of 2016, including albums, singles and EPs, in no particular order. A list of my top eleven albums (I could not narrow it down to ten!) of the year – again, in no specific order – follows it.

Pop-up player | 8tracks tips

If you prefer Spotify, listen here. Update: By request, now also on Deezer (but missing the Samara Lubelski song).

Tracklist:

Like so many, I am angry, confounded, saddened by the state of the world. 2016 just keeps kicking us in the arse. I won't spill any trite words about the power of music in troubled times. I don't even think making ourselves feel better is entirely the point. I'm wary of self-tranquilising to the point of becoming numbed or complacent; we need that sense of horror and anger to foster meaningful action. Anger, I think, is not something to be afraid of if it is not hateful or violent or self-destructive. That said, I'm aware good people need to draw strength from where they can – to be inspired, to experience catharsis, to feel soothed, to preserve their mental health – in order to be effective, to go on, to heal. And that's where music can come in. What I like to turn to runs the gamut from angry and cynical, to inspiring and thought-provoking, to calming and reassuring. Here are a few songs I thought I'd share.

Jarvis Cocker - Running The World

Starting at the angry, cynical end of things, Jarvis Cocker's blunt song 'Running The World' from 2006 pulled no punches in describing exactly who has the power in the world, and is unfortunately truer than ever. The song is an incisive, darkly funny critique of capitalism and politics.

Barry McGuire's classic scathing protest song, 'Eve Of Destruction', perfectly captured the countercultural mood of its day. Written by nineteen-year-old P.F. Sloan, it was a number one hit for McGuire in 1965, and it's hard to imagine anyone spitting out these lyrics of disgust and frustration better than he does in his blistering growl. Many of the lyrics are, obviously, specific to political circumstances of the time, but much of it still resonates and could apply as readily today. Particularly potent is McGuire's delivery of the line about religious hypocrisy: "Hate your next-door neighbour / but don't forget to say grace." Also, message aside, I am a fan of the fact the word 'coagulating' is incorporated into a rhyme.

It's interesting when a work of art's message feels relevant again and you find its meaning becomes clearer than before. I guess I always saw this as a somewhat fatalistic song about impending doom in an age of atomic fear, but now it's hitting me as a rebuke against complacency, against refusing to see potential catastrophe, and against the normalisation of things that should rightly invoke alarm. Sloan saw it as "a love song to and for humanity" and "a prayer" and hoped it would help "open a dialogue", but instead he and McGuire were ousted from the music industry.

"This is a cold war, you better know what you're fighting for" sings Janelle Monáe so powerfully on 'Cold War', from her 2010 Afrofuturist pop masterpiece, The ArchAndroid. The line 'I was made to believe there was something wrong with me' always chokes me up, and now more than ever, too many are afraid of their children growing up to feel like this. Monáe has said of this and other songs of hers: "I try to create songs that are uplifting because this world can drive you insane". 'Cold War', though it faces a sense of pain and injustice head-on, is not a bitter resignation; it ultimately uplifts: