Mojave 3 - Starlite No. 1

Recent readers of my posts here on We♥Music may notice that I'm falling into a trend of sorts.  The past few songs I've reviewed (well, okay. Not so much "reviewed" as much as I have "blathered on about") have all seemed to orbit that gas giant we call Summer.

If you're expecting a reprieve, I'm sorry to disappoint.

When I recall my own summers, everything seems to come back to me in Polaroids and hazy golden snapshots -- maybe it was just the pollen that killed my allergies June after June that lent that golden hue to everything, or maybe it's just the bittersweet twinge of nostalgia creeping into the corners of my mind.

Whatever the case, Summer to me has always been a stretch of freedom and near limitless childhood.  Even in the past few years, where I've spent the entire three month block of the sunny months trapped in my cubicle at odd hours of the night, I haven't been able to shake that abundant feeling of giddy fireflies-in-the-stomach eagerness that the month of June brings with it (this year, it's for different reasons; I'm turning 21 in mid-June, and will be finally legal to drink here in the States).

And with me, everything necessitates a soundtrack.  First kisses, nights on the town, rainy days -- everything demands I throw together a playlist or mixtape or... well, just about anything.  So it should come as no surprise that the most epic of seasons requires an epic playlist; songs that ensconce that fleeting, glowy warmth that is June, July and August.  There are of course teeth-hurting songs of saccharine sweetness for those days at the pool, and ear-bursting punk rock anthems for the ubiquitous house parties, and slow-core ambient beats for those nights on the town.  But for me, Summer has been defined in those quiet, somber moments when the sun is just below the horizon, and the crickets sing the Earth to sleep.  You know the nights.  The last smell of barbecue is falling off on those cool breezes, and the discarded bicycles of neighbor kids line the street outside the houses where everyone is staying the night.

It's in this thin veneer of nostalgia that Mojave 3 find their sound.  If I could sum up the whole of my summers past in an album, it would undoubtedly be Mojave 3's Spoon and Rafter.  The band -- founded by once-Slowdive members -- focuses a lot of effort in generating a sound that is all at once here-and-now and way-back-when; ghostly saws moan over steel guitars and ooh-la-la-la choruses, backed by crystal clear electric guitars and summer-breeze vocals that coo out "Judy I can see your smile / Running with your hair all wild / Running for the weekend / Looking for the daylight in our eyes."

If I could, I would put the entire album up for mandatory summer listening, I would.  But I can't, so I'll just beg and plead you to check out their website, and buy their record, and get lost in their dreamy, starlit soundscape.

Spoon and Rafter is released on 4AD, label of fine music since the dawn of time.

P.S. - I know my posts have been sickeningly flowery lately, but I can't help it; I'm caught in the Summer spirit, and I'm taking you all down with me. One song at a time.