In a fluorescent motel lobby, a little radio behind bulletproof glass plays the American hit parade. Last night I dreamt of Natalie Wood on an endless loop, leaping and yelling “Hit your lights” on the edge of a cliff, her arms swinging through the headlights again and again. And so I offer this collection of reverberated songs, AM radio chatter, and looping vinyl crackle from the Big American Studio. Satellite fuzz and love among the ruins. These are soundtracks for long drives, cheap motels, and late nights.
Two pitched-down dub 45s that meander through a field of mid-century blues and ballads, paired with big sheets of reverb, vinyl crackle, and five variations on the idea of a blue moon.
Love among the ruins. A dusty Roy Orbison ballad plays from an old radio in an alley but the machines can’t find it.
“They’ll challenge each other to walk five or ten miles into the Mojave or Death Valley without any supplies and then walk five or ten miles back. They wager money on it.”
“Last time he was ever given an expense account.” Overlapping voices. More laughter.
A busted loop of sludgy Coltrane with a shot of Connie Francis plus a wall of static and feedback.