From a Song That Creates Its Own Whimsical Universe to an Album That Took Years to Feel Right
Diego's picks reflect a listener who believes in the transportative power of "Sunshower" and the slow emotional reveal of "The Visitors," the ABBA album he found disturbing as a kid before it became one of the most emotionally impactful records he knows.
Diego (@thesoundisqueer) has been serious about music since he was a child and has become someone who does not treat listening as something you switch on and off. He works with music-related content both as an editor and producer for the LaMusica app and as the host of his own music-history podcast called CHOONS (available on Spotify and Apple Podcasts), so as he says so himself, music is almost the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up.
The September 1 to 3 prompts help him express the different ways he thinks about music. The first prompt asks for the song you would send to someone to show them your taste, and his selection is all about being taken away by what he hears, transported to another place and time, to some otherworldly scenario where it is just him and the song and the universe it is creating around itself. The second prompt asks which album sounds completely different from anything else, and his selection traces an album that disturbed him as a kid before an older version of himself realized how emotionally impactful the whole thing really is. The third asks which artist you would trust to create the soundtrack of a movie, and his selection goes to someone whose cold electronic sounds serve as a canvas for intense and moving singing, someone whose instinct for balancing minimalist hardware with unforgettable melody could strip away Hollywood clichés.
Which song would you send to someone to show them your taste?
As a listener, I want to be taken away by what I hear. I envision myself being transported to another place and time, to some otherworldly scenario where it's just me and the song, and the universe it's creating around itself. Sunshower by Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band does all of that to me every time.
It's percussion-driven, and I love a driving rhythm, but it's also subtle, whimsical, and sublime in its presentation. Its sound is steeped in soul and R&B, but you could be forgiven if you detect some calypso and hints of blues in there, too.
I love how playful music can be in giving me all kinds of influences in a single song, so I gravitate towards imaginative production. And the cherry on top is Cory Daye's voice. I have a real soft spot for vocalists who are true performers, whether they know their power or not. They evoke feelings that somehow fit very well with the music and the lyrics, thus becoming storytellers in their own right. There is childish giddiness, but there's also mature passion and yearning. It's the sound of someone who loves to love and loves to sing...and I love that!
Which album sounds completely different from anything else?
I had become utterly obsessed with ABBA at 9 years old after listening to their music on the radio. It was the early 90s and through the ABBA Gold compilation, their songs were receiving a much-needed reappraisal. I wore that record out and it seemed that it was the only album I ever needed from them, but since I was obsessed, I needed more of their music.
As a kid, listening to The Visitors for the first time was kind of disturbing. It didn’t sound like the ABBA that I grew up with, so I mostly shied away from it. I figure that is the same response it gets from casual listeners, then and now. As an older person, however, I realize just how emotionally impactful this piece of work really is, and yet, from the cover to the songs that comprise the set, you realize this isn’t your usual get-up-and-dance kind of ABBA.
On earlier record sleeves, they’re almost joined at the hip, but when you look at the cover of The Visitors, you see four individuals standing on their own, minding their own business. The music and the lyrics seem to be a huge departure from anything they had done before. It’s always about love of some sort, but it’s more complex than it’s ever been. This is the “Dancing Queen” coming of age, tired of dancing and jivin’, feeling the weight of the world around her, and reflecting on the passage of time. It’s brilliant.
The first song on the album is the title track and that was a huge surprise for me as a young fan back in the day. The mind travels and questions what it hears…are they talking about science fiction? Aliens? The rapture? Certainly it feels new wave, possibly the closest they ever got to Joy Division. It gets dark right away when you realize that the lyrics depict the punishing anguish and isolation of Soviet dissidents as they crack once they hear the knock on the door by the KGB. I mean…it’s a far long trek from “Mamma Mia.”
My introduction to The Visitors, aside from the title track, has got to be “One of Us,” as it was the only selection from the album that warmed its way into ABBA Gold. The chorus is pure ABBA because not only does it stay with you once you finish the song but you experience that singular thing that happens in music once Agnetha Fältskog and Anni-Frid Lyngstad start to sing together—that potent “third voice” that I’m sure causes chemical reactions in people. It’s magic but then again, the production itself is magic too, and that goes for the musicians involved in the track (special shout out to the masterful bass of the late Rutger Gunnarsson, an unsung hero in ABBA’s legacy).
It sometimes break my heart that the last song on the album, and the last song on ABBA’s last album for four decades was “Like an Angel Passing Through my Room.” The track is unique because it’s the only song in their catalogue that features one vocalist, in this case the powerhouse that is Frida. Her haunting voice, mixed in with the brooding synths of her ex husband Benny Andersson, create a fatalist universe where the memories of our life surrounds us in the dark and the clock ticks until it stops for the protagonist in the song, for the record and, literally, for ABBA itself. It leaves you with a distinct sense of wonder and dissolution that no other ABBA song could ever provide.
Which artist would you trust to create the soundtrack of a movie?
I’ve always been curious to see what Vince Clarke could do for a score for a major film. I have been moved by his work with Yazoo and Erasure, especially by the way his cold electronic sounds serve as a canvas for intense and moving singing.
Clarke has a unique skill for creating sound architecture. He has the ability to create rhythm grids that are both short and alive at the same time. In a movie, such tension can enhance an original science fiction plot or a neon-noir detective story.
If he brought in a vocal collaborator like Alison Moyet or Andy Bell, the contrast between human vulnerability and synthesized precision could yield an iconic soundtrack like Blade Runner or Tron: Legacy.
Alternatively, a purely instrumental score would allow his legendary gear collection to act as the primary storyteller, turning every arpeggiated line into a heartbeat and every low-end drone into an unsettling presence. His instinct for balancing minimalist hardware with rich, unforgettable melody would strip away Hollywood film-scoring clichés, leaving behind a stark, hypnotic pulse that builds suspense effortlessly.
Diego says music means the same to him as when an athlete's thirst is quenched after drinking water, or when a chef looks at a dish after doing all of that cooking and the presentation has been taken care of. That's how he puts it. Simply put, it's life to him. And he's had such a strong relationship with music ever since he was a child that it goes beyond being just a form of entertainment. It soothes him when he needs comfort. Sets the mood when he's trying to entertain people. And through record collecting, it's become a new way to express himself, too. He is a record collector who grew up on physical media, a queer listener in San Francisco, and the kind of person who still reads liner notes and lyric sheets because all of that, the words, the special considerations from artists, the written essays, is tied to the experience of owning a record. He says there's something about holding the vinyl and appreciating every corner of it that takes him back to when that was just part of the magic.
If someone only heard his playlists they'd probably pick up on a few things. He's always curious, for one. A storyteller. He envisions music as a journey. Puts playlists together with peaks and valleys, and they always have a soft landing at the end. Not just songs thrown together. They're picked to say something, to provide a message or a meaning. He's open to sounds he's never heard before, and if they fit what he's going for, they go in.
A storyteller, podcaster, San Francisco-based record collector, and queer music fan who has had a strong relationship with music since childhood.
