Happy Halloween!

Good luck sleeping after these videos!

In case you don't know who Fever Ray is, here she is receiving the prize for 2010's best dance artist at the P3 Gold awards show in Gothenburg.

A Note from the National Affairs Desk

In something you can't say everyday, today the former campaign manager of the sitting American President surrendered to the FBI.

To go even further, so did the campaign manager's business partner.  Both were charged with conspiracy against the United States of America.

Also today, a former advisor to the president was arrested for lying to the FBI.  About his connections to the Kremlin.

Yes, it's been a bad day for the short-fingered vulgarian, and to make matters worse, on top of all that a court today overturned his ban on transgendered persons serving in the military.  

In unrelated news (or is it?), today Netflix dropped the Kevin Spacey series House of Cards following discovery that Spacey sexually molested a minor.   

Yes, the noose of justice is slowly tightening beneath the many chins of little Donald Trump and his pussy-grabbing ilk (or Ball Palmers, as the case may be), and lest you think by the "noose" reference we're advocating death by hanging for them, consider this:

"He that is wounded in the stones, or hath his privy member cut off, shall not enter into the congregation of the lord." - Deuteronomy 23:1

A Note From the Sports Desk

This season's success by the Georgia Bulldogs football team has not gone unnoticed here at WDW.  Yesterday, the then No. 3 Bulldogs beat Florida by a commanding 42-7, and to make things even sweeter, No. 2 Penn State lost to Ohio State.  Today, the AP rankings have Georgia at No. 2, right behind No. 1 Alabama.

The 8-0 Bulldogs have a good chance to go undefeated this season, and at this point., it seems almost inevitable that they'll face Alabama in the SEC Championship Game.  That will most certainly be a tough game to win and if they do they should be ranked No. 1 in the country, but here's the rub: it's not entirely impossible that given Alabama's success, and even more their reputation, that if Alabama loses to Georgia in the SEC Championship, they may only drop down a few spots in the polls and still be ranked No. 3 or 4 in the country.

That would mean that Georgia would have to play Alabama a second time.  If Georgia is No. 1 and Alabama No. 4, they'll play each other in the National Championship Playoff Game, facing each other again for a second consecutive game.  Two Georgia-Alabama games in a row!  If Georgia is No. 1 and Alabama No. 3, and Alabama wins their playoff game against the No. 2 team, then Georgia and Alabama will face off in the National Championship (assuming of course that Georgia wins its own playoff game), which will basically mean that the National Championship Game will be a repeat of the SEC Championship.

In other words, for Georgia to be national champion and the No. 1 team at the end of the season, they may very well have to beat Alabama not once, but twice. The road to the National Championship for the Bulldogs apparently goes through Tuscaloosa, then turns back around and goes through Tuscaloosa again (both games will actually be played here in Atlanta, but you know what we mean). 

Of course, if Georgia does lose a game this season, including the SEC Championship, the chances are good they won't still be ranked in the top four and all the above considerations are off (they don't enjoy Alabama's reputation and weren't ranked No. 1 for the entire season like the Tide).  If Georgia does lose and finishes out of the top four, predictions are they'll probably face Miami in a bowl game, provided that Miami, who are having a remarkable, undefeated season themselves so far, doesn't wind up in the top four and in the National Championship playoffs themselves.  It will be especially interesting if Georgia and Miami do play in a bowl, as it will be a revenge match for Coach Mark Richt between his current team (the Hurricanes) and his former team (the Bulldogs, who let him go two seasons ago).

So yes, it's not all music and meditation here at WDW, and we here at the Sports Desk have been watching these games and keeping a close eye on things, and what with this season's success of the Georgia Bulldogs, and the New England Patriots seeming to regain their poise after a few early-season hiccups, it's not a bad year at all here at the Sports Desk.    

Back to you, Shokai!

Addiction

For almost a year now, I have been addicted to playing video games.  I know that sounds like an over-statement, and I don't want to belittle the very real struggles and problems facing those with worse addictions, say to opioids, but game-playing has become a very real compulsion and I've spent untold hundreds of hours the past year playing at the expense of many other things in my life.  About two weeks ago, I finally stopped cold turkey and have been amazed at how many other things I've gotten done since quitting.

Once again, sincerely and unironically, I blame Trump for my addiction.  I started playing right about at the time of last year's election, and I found the news, not just of his election, but the press coverage, his interviews, his tweets, and his rallies, not to mention the inevitable naming of a cabinet and so on, so dispiriting and depressing, that the escape to virtual worlds of post-apocalyptic zombies, medieval dragons, and charging rhinoceri was a welcome relief from the soul-crushing news coming over the television, web sites, and my phone.  Even before the inauguration, I found myself jumping into the games just as soon as I got home from work, and playing all evening until way past my normal bedtime.  On weekends, it was not at all unusual for me to spend 12 to 16 hours each day playing games, even at the expense of preparing meals, housekeeping, and paying bills.  I even didn't go to shows for which I had already bought tickets so I could stay home and play, and if that's not addictive behavior, what is?

Oddly, the moment of clarity that led to my going cold turkey wasn't a realization of the effect it was having on my life, it was frustration with the game playing of Far Cry 4.  In many ways, the game was possibly the most compelling and exciting of the games I had played earlier in the year (Minecraft, Fallout, and Skyrim), and arguably the most beautiful (above is an actual screenshot from the game), but so many of the "quests" one has to complete in order to progress through the game are so tediously difficult, having to be played over and over again in order to complete them just right, that it became more frustrating that fun.  That, plus the fact that if you stopped playing during a quest, even if only to get some sleep and resume the next morning, you'd have to restart the whole quest from way earlier in the game and repeat all the battles and tricks and parkour moves necessary just to get back to that tedious, frustrating task you couldn't perform the previous night.  I've blogged here about this problem before. I hate to quit at anything, but finally I admitted that it just wasn't fun anymore and that I had enough, and just like that, I went cold turkey for two weeks now.

I cleaned the house, I got my finances back in order, and I took care of the water leak beneath the house.  I downloaded some music and went out to a few shows.  Life was normal again.

However . . . . there was a sale on Steam (a PC game app) and tonight I relapsed and purchased The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, another medieval fantasy game,  and Wolfenstein II, a World War II game set in a fictional  America controlled by German Nazis.  These games take several hours to download and install, so I probably won't be playing tonight, but if I don't return phone calls tomorrow, you'll know why.  

Look at it this way - if I'm going to suffer through this addiction, I might as well suffer playing games that are fun.

This incredible piece was recorded during the same 1972 St. Louis recording session as Dogon A.D., but only released later on Hemphill's subsequent 1975 LP, Coon Bid'ness.   I don't know why it was shelved, because the funky soulfulness of Abdul Wadud's cello and the inventiveness of Hemphill's soloing take this composition to the next level, and the combination of composition and improvisation, not to mention its epic length, arguably make this the most remarkable cut from that historic session.

I've got 99 problems, but listening to The Hard Blues makes them seem less significant.  RIP, Julius Hemphill (1938-1995), you mad genius.

True Story (Life Blogging)

There's a drain, there's always been a drain, from my hot water heater down through the floor to direct water away from the house in case the appliance ever overflowed for some reason.  The drain discharged out behind the house as it was originally built.

The house was apparently expanded at some point, and the new master bedroom, my bedroom, was built out over the original foundation wall and above the discharge point for the hot water overflow. The funny part, the really hilarious part, is that they didn't extend the discharge line to out beyond the new exterior wall when they built the extension, but left it right where it was underneath the master bedroom.

That apparently worked fine for some 30 years or so, as the hot water heater apparently didn't overflow.  However, it stopped working about a year ago and I had a replacement installed.

The installation didn't go well and that's a whole other hilarious story that we can get into some other time, as it will just distract us for now.  But the point here is that when they hooked up the new hot water heater, the plumbers never bothered to see where the discharge line went but just hooked it up as it was, so that the outflow was still beneath my bedroom.

Next, in probably the most obvious inevitability imaginable, the new hot water heater began to overflow.  Apparently, the incoming pressure valve for water to the house failed, then the water pressure in the house got too high for the hot water heater, so the heater's pressure-relief valve blew. That stopped the pressure of hot water in the holding tank from building up too high and kept the tank from exploding (that's a good thing), but it also allowed hot water to start pouring out the drain line and discharge beneath the bedroom.

I didn't notice anything at first.  I still had hot water for showers, dishes, etc., so everything seemed normal,.and besides I had some kick-ass water pressure.  But I did sometimes notice a trickling sound late at night when everything was very, very quiet, and then I noticed that the floorboards in my bedroom were starting to warp for some reason, and finally, when the seasons changed and I didn't need to run the AC any more, the whole house started becoming uncomfortably humid. And then I got the monthly water bill. $425.

A new plumber came by today.  He diagnosed the problem, determined the history above, and redirected the discharge line away from beneath the bedroom and for some reason out to the front of the house right by the front door, where it's ugly a.f.  He replaced the two busted pressure valves and the house is already noticeably more comfortable.  But he told me that there's massive mold buildup beneath the bedroom, that the wood down there has been severely damaged by the water, and by the way, did I notice that my floorboards are warped?  

To add injury to insult, his bill was $850, and I've got another $400-plus water bill still coming my way (I checked on line), plus whatever the mold abatement, foundation repairs, and floorboard replacement are going to cost.

I blame Trump for all this because why not?  This sort of thing never happened to me when Obama was president.

Pickwick at The Earl, Atlanta, October 23, 2107

So this happened: after a four-and-a-half year absence, last night, Seattle's Pickwick (the best band you've never heard of) played a near-empty Earl. Where the hell were you?  

Before we get to that, though, we had a set by Toronto's The Elwins.  The Elwins play fun, high-energy rock 'n' roll, but to my tastes, they sound just a tad bit too much like some house band from an Orlando, Florida Sheraton Inn or from some suburban Chicago roadhouse, who've developed an adoring but local fan base due to their frequent appearances at said Sheraton or roadhouse, but who, when they have to stand on their own in front of an audience not already predisposed to partying down with them, don't really have that much to offer.  Don't get me wrong - they were fun and they were energetic; unfortunately, they were also fairly generic.   

So, Pickwick.  The band's gone through some difficult times and as noted above, it's been almost five years since their last record or last tour.  The last time we saw Pickwick was at the 2014 Bumbershoot Festival in their hometown Seattle, where they played unquestionably the best set I've ever heard by them, and with a five-man horn section backing them up to boot.  The last time they played Atlanta was at this very same  Earl back in April 2013.

They played a great, 60-minute plus set of their blue-eyed soul set at The Earl last night, including a cover of the Talking Heads' Take Me To The River, despite the fact that there were only 20 or so people in attendance, a heartbreakingly small turnout for such a great band. And only about half of that 20 were really into it, watching from near the stage for the entire set.  I don't know if it was a lack of publicity by the promoters, the nearly 5-year absence by the band, or a general lack of knowledge by the Atlanta community of this band, bu I've seen more people in the clubs for open-mike karaoke nights. 

We can do better than this.  We are better than this.

To rub it in a little, here's what you missed:

We've been calling Pickwick "the best band you've never heard of" ever since we first heard them back in 2011, but we didn't mean it as a self-fulfilling prophecy.  If you don't discover this band - and soon - you're only depriving yourself.

Perspective

from John J Fugelsang.

Dogon A.D.

The Dogon are an ethnic group living in the central plateau region of Mali, in West Africa, south of the Niger bend, near the city of Bandiagara, in the Mopti region. The Dogon are believed to be of Egyptian descent and their calendar goes back thousands of years to 3200 BC. 

According to their oral traditions, the star Sirius has a companion star which is invisible to the human eye. This companion star has a 50-year elliptical orbit around the visible Sirius and is extremely heavy. It also rotates on its axis.  The star, known now to modern astronomers as Sirius B, wasn't even photographed until it was discovered by a large telescope in 1970.

The Dogon claim they know of the twin star from the Nommos, a race of people from the Sirius star system that visited Earth thousands of years ago. The Nommos were amphibious beings that resembled mermen and mermaids. They also appear in Babylonian and Sumerian myths. The Egyptian Goddess Isis, who is sometimes depicted as a mermaid, is also linked with the star Sirius. According to the Dogon legend, the Nommos landed on Earth in an "ark," and they informed the Dogon of the existence of Sirius B, as well as the four major moons of Jupiter and Saturn's rings, discoveries not known to Westerners until Galileo invented the telescope. The Dogon also understood the heliocentric nature of the solar system.

But that's not the point.  The point is that back in February 1972, the musician Julius Hemphill went into a recording session in St. Louis, Missouri and performed a composition called Dogon A.D.  We used to listen to this song on the radio very late at night while studying or pulling all-nighters back in college. Forty five years later, we still consider the song to be one of the most thrilling, not to mention coolest, pieces of music ever performed. Props go out to Abdul Wadud's powerful cello on this piece as much as to Hemphill's brilliant alto and Baikida E.J. Carroll's trumpet.  

We've seen Hemphill perform live several times over the years at various jazz festivals and concerts, usually with the World Saxophone Quartet, but although we were always hoping he'd break into Dogon, A.D., we never heard him perform the piece (we think you'd really need to have Wadud on board to perform it properly).  Sadly, Hemphill reached the other shore back in 1995 at the age of 57. 

In case you don't know how to listen to this kind of music, don't just play it in the background and then go on about your day (or night).  Give it your full attention, and if you try to hum or sing or whatever along with the saxophone lines, you'll better understand the way Hemphill was expressing himself and who he was and what his spirit was like.  And when you understand that, it will transform you, just like reading a novel by a brilliant author infuses your own consciousness and changes the way you are.

What we're trying to say (and here's our point) is that if you listen to this closely enough you'll hear some strange and wonderful things, and if you listen closely enough times, you may become someone strange and beautiful yourself.  

Give it a chance.

And for Donald Trump - How to view your penis without a microscope as it nears Melania tonight

Meanwhile, Back In the Military/Industrial Complex . . .

To the soldiers, out standing in their field!

Ever since Kelsey Lu opened her set at The Earl last week with a recording of the Art Ensemble of Chicago's Certain Blacks, I've been thinking a lot about that band and the type of music I used to listen to back in college.  I wouldn't go so far as to say that Malachi, Roscoe, Lester, Jarman, and Famoudou Don Moye were the John, Paul, George and Ringo of my college years (as that would omit Anthony Braxton), but that wouldn't be completely off the mark either.

I won't post the AEoC's Certain Blacks here (it's a little too avant for most people's tastes), but here's the very accessible and enjoyable Dreaming of the Masters.

Sadly, I was shot and killed before I could take the next picture in this sequence.

Just kidding!  Not dead yet!  But these are some photographs from my inspection today of a small portion of the Military-Industrial Complex. 

Alvvays at Terminal West, Atlanta, October 11, 2017

Last Wednesday night, Toronto's Alvvays played a sold-out Terminal West.

We arrived before the doors opened at 7:30 and there was already a line in front of the box office, a rarity for TW, but we still managed to get a good spot from which to watch, only about one row back from the stage.  If we had any doubts about whether or not we were in for a good night, those concerns were assuaged by a medley of Yo La Tengo songs played on the house PA before the show began.   Anything that begins with a medley of Yo La Tengo songs is probably going to be alright.

The Halifax-based band Nap Eyes opened the show and proved we were correct.

We know Nap Eyes for only one song, No Fear of Hellfire, but we've wanted to see them for a while now.  The last time they played Atlanta that we know of just so happened to be on the same Sunday night as Hinds was playing at The Mammal Gallery, so unfortunately we missed them back then, so it was good to finally make their acquaintance on Wednesday night.  On their first song, they sounded like vintage Velvet Underground, and on their second, vintage Talking Heads, and for the rest of their set, they sounded like Nap Eyes. They closed their set with a blistering guitar solo that lead into No Fear of Hellfire.

So that was cool.

Part of the enjoyment of going to shows is that you, individually, can disappear and become part of a larger community - the appreciative audience of fans.  We think it's the same on stage, where individual musicians disappear into the collective band.  Each band member is contributing something to the overall sound, and knows the audience is there for the sum total of the parts, not their individual contribution.  Even the front-person knows that she sounds good only because the other guitarist is filling in all the important parts, the keyboardist is fleshing out the sound and adding texture, the drummer is keeping it on the right rhythm, and the bass player is holding the whole thing together. We think there's a spiritual unity there, an intimacy, and it shows when ego gets in the way and one musician or another forgets their place in the collective whole.

It's like that for the audience, too  Collectively, you can inspire the band with applause and timely reactions to particularly timely passages, and individually you can come to appreciate a band even more by allowing yourself to get caught up in the collective enthusiasm.  Resist the enthusiasm and you're just standing there, arms crossed, out of it and not having a good time, or fantasize that you're not part of a larger crowd and the band is playing only for you and you alone, and then you're like those two drunk girls at Tuesday night's Hundred Waters show.

The truly sublime moments come when both the audience and the band enter into a shared collective identity and everyone disappears, on stage and on the floor.  Wednesday night's set by Alvvays was like that.     

We've seen Alvvays before, twice opening for The Decemberists during their two-night stand at The Tabernacle, and once opening for Yuck at The Earl back in 2014.  They sounded pleasant enough back then, and got a nice reaction from the audience with their signature anthem, Marry Me, Archie.  But since that time, they've released a new record, this year's fabulous Antisocialites, and damn if they don't sound ten times better - crisper, more melodic, and perfectly balanced.  Lead singer Molly Rankin's voice not only rose nicely above the band, but her enunciation is such that you could even follow along to all the lyrics, even to those songs you hadn't heard before   

Alvvays sounded great and the new songs from Antisocialites sound even better live than they do on disk (and that's saying something).  As implied earlier, the audience was incredibly supportive (without being obnoxious) and everyone had a great time.  Alvvays ended their set with their hits Marry Me, Archie and Dreams Tonight, followed for some reason by Party Police, although after the triumphant one-two punch of Archie and Dreams, Party Police was a bit underwhelming.

Listening to these two songs back-to-back is as good an explanation as any of the leap Alvvays seems to have made from a good band (Archie) to a great band (Dreams).

Final note:  Being an old man, and a working one at that, I was pleased that I got home from the show well before 11:00 p.m.

Another note:  What the hell is wrong with Archie, anyway? Why doesn't he just marry that girl, already?

Hundred Waters at The Earl, Atlanta, October 10, 2017

This is not our complaint: the doors at The Earl opened for Hundred Waters' show Tuesday night at 8:00, and the show itself started a little after 9:00.  We're not complaining, but it makes for a long evening on a weeknight for those us us lucky enough to have a job.  

And we're certainly not complaining about the opener, North Carolina's Kelsey Lu.  She took the stage to a taped recording of the Art Ensemble of Chicago's 1970 composition Certain Blacks (a song we didn't discover until 1979 or so) and started her set by accompanying the AEoC with a little atonal cello bowing.  But soon, some tonality emerged and then later, rhythm, as she began plucking the strings and using a repeat pedal to build up layers of loops.  Only after a good while of this did she begin singing, and we certainly didn't expect the strength or the beauty of her voice.  It was only today that we learned that her opening piece was in fact the composition Dreams from her album Church.     

We are amazed by this woman's voice, by her art, and by her music.  She had no backing musicians and her entire set consisted of just her alone on stage, singing and accompanied only by her own cello and occasional electric guitar.  It was simultaneously both austere and majestic.  Best new discovery of 2017, by far.  Check out her music and buy her records - you'll thank us later.

We have a feeling we'll be blogging about Kelsey Lu a lot in the upcoming months or years, so her opening set is most definitely not anything we're complaining about.

This was probably our fifth or sixth time seeing Hundred Waters, after previous sets at The Earl and 529 and opening for Alt-J, and the band has changed over the years.  At 529 back in 2012, they were a quintet, and by the time they got around to their Earl sets, they were down to a quartet.  We've been listening to their latest album, Communicating, and their sound is now less about the lush textures and harmonic interplay of the various band members, and more focussed on the electric piano and singing of frontwoman Nicole Miglis.  So it was not surprising that they're now down to a trio - just Nicole singing and on piano, one synth to provide the signature sounds on some of their older songs and some bass and texture for the newer, and a drummer.  It's a different sound for them, to be sure, but it's still more than recognizable as Hundred Waters and we're not complaining about that, as it's a good sound and we'll never begrudge creative musicians the freedom to explore different sounds, or a working band to cut their costs by trimming their touring act down to the bare essentials.

Unfortunately, Nicole's voice, which is whispery and seductive at it's best moments, was quite weak, and she seemed to be really struggling against voice loss and to sing.  She even swallowed her own words during an attempt at stage banter and wound up just smiling at the audience and returning to her keyboard.  And we're certainly not complaining about that, either, as she's a professional entertainer and despite whatever cold or sore throat or too much time on the road was dogging her, she made the best of the instrument she had, however limited, and still performed a good set.

So, okay, we're not complaining about the show times or the opening act or the changes to Hundred Waters' sound, or the condition of Nicole Miglis' voice, but there were two drunk girls standing behind us during Hundred Waters' set.  They were obviously fans, but when they weren't constantly hollering their approval and adoration of the band or just talking loudly to each other during the set, they were "singing" along to the songs, loudly and off-key, often right in our ears.  This went on even during the quiet moments of Hundred Waters' set, of which there are many, and as it was, Nicole was struggling enough to make her voice heard anyway without having to compete with drunken white trash in the process.  During the song Murmurs, when Nicole sings "Yesterday was your birthday - Happy Birthday" (1:37 mark above), naturally, the two girls responded with cheers of "Woo-Hoo!," "Yeah, Birthday!" and, of course, "Happy Birthday!," totally missing the poignancy of that particular lyric (she's admitting she missed the subject's birthday and is compensating with a belated wish).  The drunk girls also fell down against us a few times, spilled drinks on us, and generally just ruined the show, oblivious to those around them as they kept others from enjoying the show. 

I know this makes us sound like cranky old folks shouting "Keep off our lawn" at some young people, but damn it, they really did ruin the show for us and everyone else, and THAT is our complaint. 

But we did discover Kelsey Lu, so that's good.

She Shot Andy Warhol

Country Death Song, from the 1984 Violent Femmes album Hallowed Ground, was based on a true story from an 1862 news article about a man who intentionally threw his daughter into a well and then hanged himself in his barn. It was written by Femmes' frontman Gordon Gano during a 10th grade study hall. 

By Matt Bors 

Matt Bors Joined in 2011

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What Is Racism? (Truth Hurts, Part 2)

Harper's Weekly, May 10, 1873

The Colfax massacre occurred on Easter Sunday, April 13, 1873, in Colfax, Louisiana, the seat of Grant Parish.  Approximately 150 black men were murdered by white Southern Democrats in the bloodiest single instance of racial carnage in the Reconstruction era.  The Colfax massacre was an example of the lengths to which some opponents of Reconstruction would go to regain their accustomed authority. Among blacks, the incident was long remembered as proof that in any large confrontation, they stood at a fatal disadvantage.

Not to take anything away form the victims of the tragic shooting in Las Vegas, but 58 or even 59 dead is not even close to the largest mass murder in American history.  Considering the deaths of 150 black men in Reconstruction Era Colfax, Louisiana and 250 Lakota Sioux at Wounded Knee, it's only the largest mass murder of white people in American history.  

But judging by the media's reaction, it's only the white head count that matters.

Truth Hurts

Lost Vegas

Words cant't express the sorrowful emotions I'm feeling about yesterday's mass shooting in Las Vegas, so I won't even try.

The latest tolls I've heard have 58 people dead and hundreds more wounded after a gunman opened fire with an automatic rifle from the 32nd floor of a hotel into the audience of a country music festival. 

This mass murder/act of domestic terrorism follows the Bataclan shooting where gunmen opened fire at an Eagles of Death Metal show in Paris, and the suicide bomber attack at an Ariana Grande pop concert in London.  A few years before all this, someone drove a car into a crowd at Austin's South By Southwest festival, killing four.

As someone who attends festivals and concerts fairly regularly, I can understand the horror that these audiences must have experienced.  Even under the best of circumstances, it can be claustrophobic being in a big crowd like that, but once mass panic sets in, the experience must be absolutely terrifying.   

It also angers and disgusts me that terrorists seem to have now discovered concert audiences as their latest "soft targets."  People are drawn to concerts out of a mutual love for art, for the feelings that music evokes, for companionship and camaraderie, and to be part of a larger community.  The terrorists in their sick and hateful minds seek to annihilate all of that, and that's the biggest disappointment of all.

No cancel that - the loss of 58 lives is the biggest disappointment.  It doesn't get much worse than that.   

Plunderphonics Explained

Okay, this, I think, is pretty amazing.  What we have above is a pleasant-enough sounding pop song and an accompanying video that is surprisingly poignant and has some pretty good dancing.  I would like all of this even if that was all there was to it.  Watch the video above and take in the story, but then read on to get to the amazing part.

This song is by Australia's The Avalanches, who construct their songs entirely out of samples and clips of other music and play no actual instruments of their own.  There is not a note in Since I Left You, or any Avalanche's song for that matter, that hadn't already appeared in another recording.  That little guitar picking at the very beginning of the song?  That's from Anema E Core by American jazz guitarist Tony Mottola.

The flute sounds heard in the song are sampled from Mottola's cover of Glen Campbell's By The Time I Get To Phoenix.  The main vocal samples are a mash-up of the backing vocals from The Dupree's 1968 doo-wop single The Sky's The Limit beneath the lead vocals of The Main Attraction's 1967 Everyday. 

To be sure, the vocal tracks have been chopped and screwed and rearranged to fit the new composition, sped up or slowed down as necessary to keep the beat, but that's the artistry of The Avalanches and what makes Since I Left You an original composition and not just a mere re-release of oldie recordings.

But wait, there's more:  those funky beats during the dance sequences?  They're appropriately enough from Let's Do The Latin Hustle by the wonderfully named Klaus Wunderlich and His New Pop Organ Sound.

Many of the drum samples are from Take Off Your Makeup by Lamont Dozier of the Holland–Dozier–Holland songwriting and production team responsible for much of the Motown sound and numerous hit records by artists such as Martha and the Vandellas, The Supremes, The Four Tops, and The Isley Brothers. 

So if you have the time and the patience, and a taste for late 60s-early 70s soul and R&B, listen to all of these source recordings and then re-listen to The Avalanches' Since I Left You, and then appreciate how all of it came together for the bittersweet video about how sewer worker Arthur found his true calling in life, and how his buddy, although excluded from this wonder-world by his apparent inability (or unwillingness) to dance, is still happy for his friend.

Post-Script: A few years ago, I was at a performance by Seattle experimental hip-hop duo Shabazz Palaces at Atlanta's Terminal West, when some older white guy (not me, honest) started just bugging out, rushing the stage with "thumbs down" hand gestures and yelling something like "Learn to play your own instruments and stop copying others."  His rude actions not only reflected poorly on his manners and sense of decorum, but are emblematic of the ignorance by some of a certain generation and ethnicity that for some artists, the recordings of others are their instruments and if you care to listen, they're doing some pretty amazing things with those instruments.

Post-Post-Script: "Some of a certain generation and ethnicity" . . . . Full disclosure - this song (Since I Left You) was released in 2000, so it's now officially 17 years old.  If like me, you're just now beginning to catch up to and appreciate this, congratulations, we've finally arrived at the end of the Clinton presidency.