I wish I had known about Sweet FM's mix for "Death to America" off of
Every Day Is Valentine's Day this past Fourth. Bumping it would have been the apogee of an unceremonious commemoration of a culture and country in decline, which has remarkably endured 250 years only to capsize as an indecorous kleptocracy-
Adieu, salaud. However, I stumbled over it on the 5th while checking out some local line-ups at the Bottle, so I'll have to cue it up for next year's barbecue—provided we all don't get baked to radioactive baklava on account of a global nuclear conflict in the interim. Assuming you're not going to spend the next year hoarding beans and fuel in a fallout shelter (and even if you are, why wouldn't you hook up a Wi-Fi router and/or wireless speaker down there?), you can bask in the discernibly hunky, raw-sync romance of Sweat FM's LP, which crossfades (or rather, gracefully camel-clutches maybe) pop-hit-perfection with deep cuts of nuanced new wave and sleaze-greased indie into a collar-elbow tie-up that affixes these disparate genres to rare, neon euro-splash electronica, finding inspired intersecting reciprocation between the Soft Boys, Rilo Kiley, and Rod Stewart on "Emptied" in one instance, while interjecting new shades of blue into Eiffel 65 with a dose of the Cure and binding them in the slimming anaconda-patterned grip of a Mix-a-Lot-anointed beat on "I Can Only Go Too Far," and using Backstreet-born harmonizations and a smear of swampy Sanford sneer to light up ol' glory on "Death to America." It seems certain that Sweat FM's producer provides some original vocals to these mixes, splicing in SoundCloud-rap-quality chants and croons (non-derogatory, merely descriptive) for emphasis where needed, making this electro-consortium of unlikely bedfellows a spiritual extension of the presently reposing-in-power electro-punk project, Real Dominic. Some of the transitions in these mixes are a little on the clunky side and could use some smoothing out, but as is, the compartmentalized flow gives breathing room for the listener to attempt to retrace the process of inspiration and unravel the meaning and intention behind the interspersed layers, while the blockier nature of these syncs is aesthetically invariant with the visage of the DJ himself, a bronzed human canvass of chiseled contemplation. Whether you're out cruising for a rail to ride or pressing for a clutch of confectious currents to crunch in the curve of your sonic sweet tooth,
Every Day Is Valentine's Day will hop you up on what feels like a sugar high with no requisite crash until the needle runs out of groove to tickle.
