Staff Playlist #1 - Earworms

Despite Passion Pit’s unfortunate penchant for children’s choirs, squealing synths, strident falsetto and hyperbolic exuberance, this remix of Sleepyhead – easily Manners’ strongest song – is ludicrously catchy, offsetting the shrillness of Angelakos’ voice with blasts of static and a driving beat. The drop and subsequent synth bridge at 2:16 is simply bliss. Michael Skinnider

 

Sometimes you get the feeling that a band was created just for you. Slow Club employ youthful exuberance, boundless enthusiasm, striking girl/boy harmonies and a liberal dose of twee pop; all things of which I’m a great fan. This track - the best song from their 2009 album, Yeah, So? - races through its three minutes and forty-five seconds like a child buzzing on E-numbers. Sure, it’s about the demise of a relationship, but breaking up never seemed like so much fun. Joe Rivers

 

I’m usually pretty cynical about the validity of covers, and believe they are only admirable when they present a song in an entirely new fashion. Peter Gabriel’s rendition of David Bowie’s iconic anthem strips the track down to its bare bones. The subtle instrumentation, paired with Gabriel’s fragile yet fervent vocals allows for newfound emotion to emerge. And when the chorus kicks in and the rich orchestral sounds are added to the mix, the song swirls heavenwards. Lukas Clark-Memler

 

Sounding economical but accurate, husband/wife duo, Tennis, really know how to revolve around a likable melody without wasting a single moment. Cape Dory's two minutes breeze by like an indie pop song should, featuring familiar elements such as reverberating guitars and crescendo chord changes beneath an overall lo-fi production. Nonetheless, their romantic flair for sixties inspired pop is nothing short of endearing, enticing one to soak up the bright shimmering sun. Juan Edgardo Rodriguez

 

Haunting harmonies and a melancholy guitar motif provide the ideal foundation for this touching ode to a much-missed record shop. In this day and age, it's a subject we can all relate to, and I can't think if an artist that's captured that unique sense of loss as well as indie-folk newcomers The Daydream Club. David Coleman

 

The single to define The Manics' debut album, Generation Terrorists, Motorcycle Emptiness was to later be partially and unfairly eclipsed by songs like A Design For Life and the masterpiece of The Holy Bible. Despite this, that smouldering riff and Bradfield's yearning tones make it one of the most gorgeous and emotive guitar tracks of all time - fact. Joe Iliff

 

Whenever Gregg Gillis puts out another marathon mashup there's bound to be this moment. In 2006 it was Biggie's laidback bounce and Elton John's reminiscent falsetto, on Feed The Animals, Rich Boy's fuzzy drawl met Aphex Twin's crystalline Girl/Boy Song, and here All Day arrives with Twista and U2. There's no irony, no commentary, just pure euphonious glory. Twista's bright-eyed hedonism and With Or Without You's timeless, stadium-crushing beauty isn't the most obvious or subtle union, but it certainly hits the ear hard, erupting in a chorus for the ages. And then it's gone as quickly as it enters, leaving our mouths hanging open and our fingers on the rewind button. Luke John Winkie

 

Swans’ Stay Here has proved vital to me in recent weeks in terms of utility: mitigating, eclipsing my frustrations. This is one of the most violent songs I have ever heard, with two pounding drumkits, antagonistic discordant guitars, whilst Michael Gira snarls “be strong/be hard… stick your hand in your eye …flex your muscles.” Terrifyingly addictive. Neil Insh

 

Currently soundtracking television license payment reminders in the UK, at first glance this track appears to be a sing-song ode to useful technology. But peer behind the fey veneer, and something much darker emerges. If technology is ubiquitous and we’re so reliant upon it, doesn’t that take the romance out of everything? What’s worse, does it mean we’re actually only one little button press from complete destruction? In other words, I’ve spent the last few weeks humming a catchy tune about an impending nuclear holocaust. Joe Rivers

 

If Justice and Phoenix had a love child, it would probably sound something like rising Parisian duo Jamaica: rumbling bass skronk, poppy guitar, four-on-the-floor, and over-the-top air guitar solos. Michael Skinnider

 

Elliott Smith is never far from my mind, but the recent release of An Introduction To... has re-ignited a love affair. The song that I cannot escape currently is Between The Bars; it rattles around my head like a pinball from dawn to dusk. It embodies everything I love about music in that it provokes a chemical reaction in my body that I am unable to control or explain. The song itself is perhaps an all too pertinent encapsulation of Elliott himself. The song only coming in at two minutes and twenty-two seconds, we are given a glimpse of genius, a haunting song that radiates beauty and bleakness in seamless and equal measure before it disappears, fading out of our stereo and out of our lives. Most songs that get trapped in your head are perhaps down to an irresistible hook or melody, but with Between The Bars it won't escape my mind simply because of the depth of which there is still to explore within it. Daniel Dylan Wray

 

Urgent, nervous rhythms pump this track along; "I'm waiting for my man", Lou Reed begins carefully. And it's all build up, all anxious energy, forced into casual deference: "He's never early, he's always late / First thing that you learn is you always gotta wait". It's filled with clarity and detail that makes for a tense, uncertain five minutes so effortlessly conveyed to the listener, and it's a reminder of why The Velvet Underground & Nico was so much more than a record sleeve. Joe Iliff