By Craig Gates
When I first heard about the wordless collective, I thought to myself, “Cool!” A collaborative playlist beholden to no particular genre and with only one simple constraint. A project in a state of perpetual growth, nourished by the contributions of friends and strangers alike… that’s cool!
I immediately dumped some of my favorite tracks into the collaborative playlist, occasionally triggering Spotify’s pop-up “This song is already in the playlist” – indicating I was among like-minded company.
Although my initial reaction to creating my own playlist of 100 instrumentals was one of pure anxiety, that is – quite frankly – my initial reaction to most things. I took it easy, adding songs slowly throughout the year, and came to enjoy the process – especially refining the flow from song to song, once all the material came together. I’ve been trading mixtapes since the mid-1980s, shifting from cassettes to CDs and eventually Spotify playlists, and that editing process is always meditative and quietly joyful.
The songs on this mix come from sources as arcane as mixtapes from penpals back in the 90s, vinyl records bought for a quarter at thrift stores, and calls to AM-radio station DJs – and more familiar sources like Spotify Discover, YouTube links from friends, frantic Shazams in restaurants and bars, and countless “hey, what’s this we’re listening to?” asked of record store employees.
For example:
“Blue Sands” – Chico Hamilton Quintet
Twenty years ago a work colleague invited me to a screening of 1959’s Jazz on a Summer’s Day at the High Museum in Atlanta, featuring a stunning live performance of this song – anchored by Hamilton’s hypnotic, looping mallet work and with byzantine solos by Eric Dolphy on flute and John Pisano on guitar. My colleague jokingly referred to the song as “Chico’s Chiquitas,” but I took the joke at face value and looked for it under that name for years. But the search was a happy accident, leading me to the idiosyncratic guitar work of Hamilton’s collaborator Gábor Szabó, who appears elsewhere on this mix.
“Oh Yeah” – CAN
First, allow me to get ahead of any potential scandal by fully owning up to the fact that yes, this paranoiac masterpiece is not completely wordless. It’s definitely cheating, but the vocals are scant, many of the lyrics are in Japanese and/or reverse, and those that aren’t are impossible to parse even if you’re looking at the lyric sheet. So the words more or less serve as another instrument. Back in the mid-90s, “Oh Yeah” immediately followed Silver Apples’ “Program” on a mixtape from my friend Jason – and the two songs will forever be married in my head as the soundtrack to my bleak, grey commute from Silver Spring to Alexandria.
“Locked, But Not Hidden” – Tin Foil Star
In 1997 I saw the Asuza Plane at the Black Cat in Washington, DC as part of the Tropic of Metallotronic festival. I bought a 7” they had for sale, but the song on the record sounded nothing like their performance at the festival. I liked it anyway, even though I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be played at 45 rpm or 33 ⅓ rpm – and the lack of vocals didn’t help. Ditto the song on the flip side, which was an instrumental by Tin Foil Star. For years I listened to both sides at 45 or 33 ⅓ depending on how the mood struck me, and it was only in the past few years that it occurred to me to check Discogs (the answer is 33 ⅓ rpm).
As with any mix, some selections had to be put to the side in favor of the overall flow. As a little lagniappe, I’m linking to some of those other favorites below. I hope you’ll find something new and exciting here, and that you’ll enjoy listening to this mix as much as I enjoyed curating it.
Check out below the gorgeous full-res version of Craig's custom-designed playlist cover art! Above & beyond...
If you've got your own favorite wordless music to share, check out our open and public collaborative playlist where you can drop songs. And if you want to create one of these 100-song mixes and write a blog about it, send us a note! wordlesscollective[at]gmail[dot]com.
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