by the School, George Washington Brown
(Slumberland)
The last thing I figured would help make my 2009 brighter was New York indie-pop label Slumberland. But everything I sample seems to have something to it I wasn't expecting, while, of course, remaining securely soldered to a shambling, C86-style template. That's true of the most recent volume of Searching for the Now, the label's series of various-artist 7-inches (also digital). It leads off with Welsh band the Schools' version of the Left Banke's "And Suddenly," as gray-sounding an ode to sunshine as there is, while on the flip, George Washington Brown offers a pair of psych-pop goodies, one fast and fuzzy ("End of the..."), one midtempo and alternating between glittery and stomping ("Twin Towers"), all fetching.
by the Juan MacLean
(DFA)
In which six new remixers take on a year-and-a-half-old club chestnut that shows no signs of aging. The "Radio Edit" simply chops the 12-minute original down to 3:08—not something I figured to like, except that it accompanies the best video of the year, which frames vocalist Nancy Whang and a selection of instruments with eye-popping color before a full-on dance party erupts. The reconstitutions each offer a snazzy variation: classicist disco from VHS or Beta, Chateau Flight's lean tech-house, Lazaro Casanova's clarified trance, Will Saul & Mike Monday tightening the original groove with rubber-band synth-bass, Paul Woolford drenching it in old Asteroids noise, "Matthew Dear vs. Audion" (wait, aren't they the same person? Weird) stretching it out into a slow-rolling, slo-mo acid buildup and freak-out. None of them tops the original 12-inch, with its Prince Language and Lee Douglas versions, though.
by Carlos Niño & Miguel Atwood-Ferguson
(Mochilla)
The posthumous cult of J Dilla reaches its nadir: string, flute, vibes, chimes, and woodwind versions of the late producer's work. The effect is like being stuck in a series of tedious slow-motion film montages from the late '60s; this is touchingly bad.
by Bon & Rau
(Smallville)
From the forthcoming And Suddenly It's Morning compilation, the first from the Hamburg dance label Smallville, this is dream techno: endlessly ascending four-note loop that sounds like it's played on glass bottles filled with varying amounts of water. The bass bubbles up with it and helps make each of the iterations seem like a cloud dispersing in stop-motion. 
