Irish-Iranian singer-songwriter and producer Glassio has been delivering lithe, cosmic compositions for several years before solidifying as a solo project with 2018's Age of Experience EP. In the midst of the pandemic, he released his debut album For the Very Last Time in July of 2020 and has since released a prolific series of singles throughout the past year. Today, he shared his latest two singles "Breakaway" and "Everybody I Know Moved To LA," both of which were written during the first summer of the pandemic as Glassio saw a wave of close friends move from NYC to LA. He revealed that the double single taps into "opposing moods, but from different sides of the same coin."
"The song was definitely my emotional reaction to seeing New York change—not just suddenly after March of 2020, but over the 11 years I’ve been living here," he explained about the latter single. "It felt like with each passing year, you’d lose a number of your friends to the West Coast." Meanwhile the former track is for "anyone feeling out of place in a community and needing to find the courage to leave that place in order to fulfill their dreams and self-actualize. It stems from the perspective of leaving a broken home and turbulent childhood behind through self-reinvention."
Glassio, evidenced by the these two recent tracks, has a skill for mining diamond-in-the-rough feelings and polishing them into pockets of kaleidoscopic new wave and melancholic synth-pop. His catalogue follows the long roster of artists turning tumultuous feelings into inspiring sounds that, for listeners all over the world, can literally be life-changing. Below, Glassio has shared some of the songs that have saved him—whether in his creative or personal life—over the years and explains their significance to him. Listen and read his notes below.
Glen Campbell, "Wichita Lineman"
It was the first song I think I ever remember hearing, and it would always ground me whenever I felt disarrayed. My family moved around a lot while I was growing up. I’d always sing it to myself whenever we’d move somewhere new or whenever I was adjusting to a new school or neighborhood.
Yazoo, "Only You"
As a child, I’d visit Iran often, as some of my family on my father’s side were living there at the time. I never spoke the language and would always feel very distressed and out of place whenever we’d visit, so I’d opt to stay home for the entirety of most visits. I found a karaoke machine (basically designed for children) at one of the old Persian bazaars during one trip. My parents decided to buy it for the house. The machine only had 10 songs on it, one of which was “Only You” by Yazoo, a group that would go on to heavily influence my music. This was my introduction to them. It was the dinkiest karaoke machine of all time (basically a toy for five-year-olds), but I fell in love with “Only You.” To this day, it’s still my go-to karaoke song.
Lou Reed, "Perfect Day"
Saved me from never learning to play the piano. Where I grew up in the Middle East, we basically had one Virgin Megastore. I remember seeing a cover of one of Lou Reed’s greatest hits records and being magnetically pulled toward it, without knowing the kind of music he made. The first song on the album was “Perfect Day” and I seriously do feel like the colors of the universe around me changed within that three minutes and 45 seconds of hearing it for the first time. That was my we’re-not-in-Kansas-anymore moment. I immediately began teaching myself piano by practicing that song. It shortly became my goal to, one day, make music that would hopefully have that same effect on others.
Paul Simon, "Another Galaxy"
Saved me from homesickness. By the time I was 10, my family had moved to Central California, from the other side of the world. It was a big step and adjustment. We eventually had to move again, and that was when I came across the Surprise album that Brian Eno and Paul Simon worked on together in 2006. I think, at the time, I was very confused by where/what “home” was for me, and the lyrics in this song really spoke to that experience—not to mention the atmospheric mix of electronica and folk had a huge subconscious influence on me. I still love playing this song whenever that feeling of homesickness kicks in.
Laurie Anderson, "O Superman"
A big song for me in the years following my parents’ divorce. My parents split when I was 16, and my mother and siblings relocated to the UK, with my dad visiting every few months. I finished my first year of college in New York and went home to visit my mom and my brother and sister in this new place. It was a very disorienting time. That summer of 2012 was basically summarized by this song on repeat.
The Magnetic Fields, "Papa Was a Rodeo"
Saved me from shying away from being lyrically vulnerable while writing music. I was studying music production in NYC, and slowly starting to release my own music. This song really spoke to me; the subject matter felt relatable, and it inspired me to be unapologetic and unfiltered in my lyrics. Completely changed everything for me. I owe this group a lot.
Air, "Mike Mills"
Saved me from quitting music production. There was a brief period, around the time I turned 20, when I thought I didn’t want to make music anymore—or more specifically, be a music producer. I was in a program with some pretty talented people, and I think I was experiencing some imposter syndrome. I came across the Talkie Walkie album, and I had never heard anything like it. This track, especially, blew me away. I’d walk up and down the west side of Manhattan on most weekends just listening to this song over and over again. It felt like a new chapter for me. A year later, I was somehow in the same bar as Nigel Godrich (who co-produced the track with Air) in the East Village. He was sitting with Flea and Tom Yorke, drinking and chatting away. After a couple of cocktails, I mustered up the courage to tell him (as I was leaving the bar) that “'Mike Mills' made me want to be a producer.” I think I startled him and confused him a bit, but he was very nice and said thanks.
John Grant, "GMF"
This song was basically a mirror held right up to my 21-year-old-self, and boy did it make me feel ridiculous. Obviously, John Grant is an exceptional singer-songwriter, and the melody alone is enough to blow your hair back, but the words really disarmed me.
Meshell Ndegeocello, "Fool of Me"
Saved me after an early breakup in my life. Pretty insane experience just typing this as it still doesn’t feel real, but Meshell Ndegeocello came into class as a guest speaker for my music production and engineering course during my junior year. I thought she was the coolest (this was me discovering her music for the first time). She played this song in class, and it became something I needed to listen to over and over again during that period of heartbreak.
SANDII, "ZOOT KOOK"
I stumbled across this one via a Haruomi Hosono mix (who produced the song) that Joakim was doing for Vinyl Factory. To me, this track quite literally invents a new emotion—something that is rarely touched upon that borders both paranoia and curiosity. It harbors itself in that space where you’re not quite sure how to feel—emanating the feeling of dancing in a space that you know won’t be around for much longer, and that it's all about to come crashing down. It’s like a tea party before a tsunami. I’ve always been deeply drawn to tracks that do this, and this one took it to a whole other level for me.
Hot Chip, "Take It In" (Osborne Remix)
I used to end my early DJ sets with this one. It taught me that dance music can be sweet and delicate, and that went on to inspire a big portion of the music I make.
The Blue Nile, "The Downtown Lights"
Saved me during a year of change. In 2018, a lot of change came into my life, and I needed a musical anchor (other than the stuff I had been working on). An old friend sent me the Hats album, and this song blew me away. I’d spend many nights walking around Park Slope in Brooklyn just playing this over and over and over again. I think I walked the entirety of Brooklyn listening to it and it felt like I had only been out for half an hour.
Scott Walker, "It’s Raining Today"
Can’t remember how I came across “It’s Raining Today,” but its boldness has been a huge inspiration to me. The combination of those dissonant strings and that beautiful melody blew me away. A song I wish I had written.
Jack Nitzsche, "Charmaine"
Saved me from a fear of flying. During college, I developed a pretty crippling fear of heights and fear of flying, which wasn't easy to avoid considering my family lived in different places. After the first lockdown in May of 2020 (I had been in London), I had to make the choice to fly back to New York for my work. It was the end of May and there were only four people on the flight with me, which added to my heightened anxiety. I remember downloading the [One Flew Over the] Cuckoo’s Nest soundtrack the day before and exclusively listening to that for the entirety of the flight. It was a day flight, and for the first time in years, I was reveling in the experience of looking out the window of the plane. The strings in the song worked so well with the way the wing was glistening in the sunlight. Every time I fly now, and turbulence kicks in, I put this song on.
The Roches, "Hammond Song"
God bless Maggie Roche for this beautiful masterpiece. This song landed in my lap out of the blue when I needed it most. I came across it a few weeks after losing my dad. The way their voices blend with Fripp’s guitar is absolutely gut-wrenchingly beautiful. This song helped me get back up on my feet again.
