People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don’t believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and, if they can’t find them, make them.

George Bernard Shaw (via tmblg)

Spike Jonze & Friends Drop Free Mixtape, Feat. Arcade Fire, Jens Lekman, & More


Arcade Fire’s partially re-recorded version of “Wake Up” pulled on all of our heartstrings recently in the Where The Wild Things Are trailer, but the song isn’t actually in the film, you see, nor is it on Karen O and the Kids’ official soundtrack.

No worries, though, director Spike Jonze feels your pain: The trailer version of “Wake Up” and 19 other jams are available for free download as Sound Advice 23: We Love You So, a mixtape curated by Jonze and his blog contributors (Dallas Clayton, Graham Kolbeins, Molly Young, and Matt Rubin).

Click here or head on over to The World’s Best Ever to download the hour-long mixtape from Jonze & company, which features the following killer tracklist (via Melophobe):

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I go to sleep to Eluvium almost every night.


Eluvium /// “Everything To Come” /// Talk Amongst The Trees

What You Should Have Heard, 2000-2009, day three: I can think of no genre with a bigger gap between accomplishment and acclaim this decade than ambient music.  Without Kranky doggedly releasing the likes of Stars of the Lid, Loscil, Windy & Carl, Tim Hecker et. al., who knows where drone-seeking, overly anxious and orchestrally minded listeners would turn after deciding to give Eno’s Music For Airports a rest.  Well, probably to Eluvium (née Matthew Cooper), whose ghostly Talk Amongst The Trees is equal parts golden afterlife and earth-bound sorrow.  Opener “New Animals From The Air” is eleven minutes of hypnotic smoke curls.  Centerpiece “Taken” climbs an endless, spiraling M.C. Escher staircase for a quarter of an hour.  Haters gonna say it’s the same stuff repeated ad nauseam, but they’re paying too much attention.  Eluvium’s best work is something to marinate the room in, to play (as Eno would have it) on the very border of your consciousness.  Only when you’ve forgotten it’s still on will you be able to enjoy its imperceptible shifts and virtuosic decays.  Loops recycle and degrade, coalesce and split, elemental against a backdrop of pure white annihilating fog.  In a word: prehistoric.