Really feeling this music. So glad I stumbled upon this fella while I head into a day of non-stop studying. Other than to feed the necessities I experience as a human (geekiest way of saying other than when i'm a hungry, hungry hippo! - yes, I speak as if I'm a kindergarden teacher).
Ladies and gentleman, the aching, crooning, and damn smooth Chet Faker. His voice is laced with heart break, and each of his tracks falls into this mellowed out electronic vibe that I can't get enough of.
Become a little bit cooler by being in the presence of his musical godliness.
Chet was elaborating on what drove his inspiration in an interview for, well this is perfect, Interview Magazine, and he mentioned that it was a medley of his parents' taste in music. If that were true for me, I'd be listening to a Leonard Cohen and Bruce Springsteen combo. Don't know how well that'd work out for me. The snippet of the interview is here:
WHEN MOTOWN MEETS MINIMALIST HOUSE MUSIC: I was lucky, my parents had really different tastes in music. My mum was listening to a lot of Motown. I think the most played record in our house was the Big Chill Soundtrack—so Smokey Robinson, Aretha Franklin, the Temptations, Otis Redding. I think that's where I got my love for a good hook, a good soul hook—really smooth and warm and from the heart. And then my dad would listen to the chilled out Ibiza CDs; all that super down tempo female vocal kind of stuff. It's like my parents' musical tastes are the mother and father of my music. [laughs] It's their fault for making me so emotional and in tune with my emotions!Chet actually calls his name an ode to Chet Baker,
He had this really fragile vocal style—this really, broken, close-up and intimate style. The name is kind of just an ode to Chet Baker and the mood of music he used to play—something I would like to at least attempt to play homage to in my own music.Ya did good, Chet. Ya did good. Here's the fellow he's talking about. Lots of soul.
And on a side note, before I embark on my glorious studies, I have a three line story to tell you.
'Twas not Christmas Eve, but the eve of exam week, and young men and women alike were gathered round a gingerbread house. I envisioned windows trimmed with icing and gum drops galore, and I shouted out with glee, "Let us create a rustic house, for our gingerbread family!"
...two young men from across the room greet my idea with blank, soulless faces: "What is rustic?"
AND MY STORY IS OVER! HOW CAN THIS BE?
I shall elaborate on the beauty of rustic homes in my next post. But first, studying (sorry, my textbooks are gettin' their bitch face on).