Author Archive

Dijon “Coogie”

Dijon has an extremely raspy but soulful voice, the kind where I think part of what makes it so appealing is feeling like they’re pushing hard through limitations to sound as expressive as they can. Little details in inflection and tone seem even more intentional with a voice like this, and the weathered and gravelly sound of it implies a lot of hard living. “Coogie” is a well built showcase for Dijon’s voice – it feels a little loose and impromptu, and there’s plenty of negative space that allows your ear to focus in on the nuances of his phrasing. The minimalism also makes the hook, in which Dijon vows “I’ll do my best to bear it,” hit a bit harder as there’s nothing to get in the way of his rising and emphatic voice, but enough to support and underline it.

Buy it from Amazon.

Cornershop featuring Pinky Ann Rihal “Disco’s Main Squeeze”

“Disco’s Main Squeeze” is essentially a radical remix of the London band Pinky Ann Rihal’s “Jabse Dekha Hai,” a peculiar South Asian country/new wave hybrid from 1985 that was reissued by Naya Beat last year. Cornershop take the melodic core of the song and give it a disco makeover complete with cheeky laser sounds and ample groovy drum fills. This is an impeccable vibe – super laid back and joyful, crisp yet loose. It’s a perfect spring/summer sort of song, the kind of thing I promise if you play it in a group setting at least one person will stop and be like “what is THAT?”

Buy it from Amazon.

Squid “Undergrowth”

Squid songs always seem like they’re moving through space, traveling across some implied distance through sound. This makes sense for a band led by a drummer, since if a band is a car they’re usually the driver. Many of the songs on Squid’s first proper album felt like long distance journeys, and not necessarily because they were on the long side. The imaginary space on that record felt like zooming on long highway miles of nothing in particular, whereas the new song “Undergrowth” sounds like a more eventful journey as a fairly steady central groove is the connecting thread through a few changes of scenery. It’s a musically adventurous song that feels like an actual adventure, with moments of tension and danger balanced out by thrilling dynamic shifts and a playful spirit.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Whyte Fang “Deep End”

“Deep End” basically sounds like it should be a heavy dance remix of an Adele hit that’s never come out, a banger-ballad hybrid with serious vocal firepower. Whyte Fang is another name for the Australian musician better known as Alison Wonderland, an artist who has typically placed the emphasis of her work on DJing and production with the vocal aspect of things not necessarily downplayed, but not exactly foregrounded either. Which is kinda funny when you consider how few star EDM DJs can credibly serve as their own house diva. “Deep End” is a dynamic and incredibly earnest song about trying to live to your fullest potential, it’s all sung as though “becoming what I want to be” is a life or death circumstance, which it often is. That do-or-die intensity is what pushes this song from good to great – if this was merely “inspirational” it would feel more narcissistic and less dramatic.

Buy it from Amazon.

Little Dragon “Slugs of Love”

I like the lyrical idea of writing about a search for love, lust, and joy and having it personified by slugs, a humble and kinda gross creature that it’s hard for humans to relate to in terms of biology. It’s easy to imagine being a dog, a cat, a monkey, or a bird, but a slug? There’s not a lot of shared attributes there. But in the context of this song focusing on the humble and the gross is part of the idea, to bring it down to earth so much that you’re just this slimy thing crawling around, devoid of any majesty or grandeur. But that’s the freedom of being weird and silly, right? It’s a very childlike and playful song, one that bounces on a punky groove and adds a little bit of dubby echo to bits of the vocal for a little style and spice.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

King Krule “Seaforth”

I like how Archy Marshall’s lyrics often grasp at romanticism while grounded in a dingy reality of blank walls, low ceilings, bad lighting, train stations, mini-markets, and other assorted liminal spaces. He’s always yearning for something transcendent and seeking it out anywhere he can, and finding it in the bleak or mundane only makes the feeling more profound. “Seaforth,” named for a largely derelict waterfront in England, is one of Marshall’s lightest and most relaxed songs. It’s a breezy jangle-pop song that trades sunny clear skies for a more overcast vibe, perfectly evoking the sort of spring or summer day when the weather is technically nice out but the light is so grey it puts a damper on your energy. The dazed, languid feeling suits the sentiment of the song, in which Marshall reflects on small moments of love and connection in the midst of a “world that falls apart.” Their love is more precious for serving as an anchor amidst chaos and decay, it’s basically “I Melt With You” for a world that’s already halfway melted. At its core, it’s a song about how love and connection make material conditions bearable, or even something to be ignored in the background while you engage with something that makes you feel truly alive.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

The Scary Jokes “Uzumaki”

“Uzumaki” is a song set in awkward stage of a break up when it’s clear that things are getting close to ending but there’s still some good will and kind feelings in the mix to keep things from tipping fully into acrimony. The song does get there, but on a swirling tangental path. There’s only a matter of seconds between Liz Lehman singing “all I want to do is be your friend” and “God, I hope I never see you again” and as the song shifts into its finale she’s settling into chanting “no forgiveness” and embracing her rage. The arrangement reminds me a bit of the more recent No Joy material in the way Lehman harmonizes with herself over a very late 90s beat and riff combination. The distorted guitar has a nice ambiguity to it – a little aggressive, a little cathartic, but mostly signaling exasperated frustration.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Gina Birch “Big Mouth”

“Bad Mouth” is very funky and groovy but gives off a lot of bad vibes, coming off like a very flashy and stylized soundtrack for someone running to the bathroom to puke because they’re so nervous. Gina Birch takes on a few different voices in the track, laying out a scenario in which rampant gossip has made everyone involved miserable. It’s all played as dark comedy, particularly when the song breaks down midway through and Birch takes on a righteous and prim tone as her voice is digitally warped into something sounding like C-3PO’s peevish grandmother.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Crumb “Crushxd”

The lyrics of “Crushxd” are about feeling guilty for accidentally running over a turtle on the road. It’s a potent and relatable feeling, but also a small and kinda funny story. Crumb head in the opposite direction with the arrangement, pushing everything towards a cinematic grandiosity while retaining their slightly aloof and mildly jazzy aesthetic. They pull off a tricky balance here – a little nod towards the surreal and silly aspects of the story, but mostly taking the death of this turtle very, very seriously. The main line that’s repeated and cuts through the haze of the mix is “I’ll never see you again,” and while that sentiment matches the scenario, there’s something deeper to it, some sense that Lila Ramani is singing about someone else or something much bigger than just this turtle.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Billlie “Eunoia”

I don’t always check on the English translation of lyrics sung in other languages but I’m glad that I did for “Eunoia,” a song that definitely feels a little deeper upon realizing it’s a fantasy about meeting another version of yourself. The music feels like a euphoric dance pop love song, so I suppose the intended effect is taking this twin fantasy as something exciting and romantic. Maybe not the musical version of the old “would you have sex with a clone of yourself” question, but not too far off either, since I think there’s lines that allow that interpretation. I think what Billlie is going for is more like a literal take on self-love – if you could meet yourself as a person entirely separate from your existence, would you love that person? Would you be excited to have so much in common?

Buy it from Amazon.

Mui Zyu “Talk to Death”

Eva Liu sings “Talk to Death” in a low cool-girl register, understating everything so that the premise of communicating with the dead seems almost banal. It’s magical thinking applied to a world without much evidence of magic, mostly just a desire to get some advice on what to do with live while it’s still being lived and looking for advance tips on the afterlife. The arrangement feels ice cold and eerie but also slightly goofy, mainly thanks to a keyboard hook that sounds like a toy instrument or music from a forlorn arcade game. It’s not that Liu is undermining the mood so much as finely calibrating it, making a broad concept feel very specific and lived-in.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Tyler, the Creator “Dogtooth”

Tyler, the Creator is such a compelling rapper and general cultural presence that it can be easy to overlook the elegance of his craft as a songwriter and producer. The instrumental for “Dogtooth” is one of his best compositions, particularly in the way he contrasts a piano part that signals a sensitive vulnerability with a synth lead that’s like getting zapped with a ray that makes you feel instantly relaxed and laid back. He sounds very at ease in this song – comfortable enough to express very earnest desire, and evidently confident in his mind, body, and soul.

Buy it from Amazon.

Chlöe featuring Missy Elliott “Told Ya”

Chlöe is a Beyoncé protegé signed to Beyoncé’s label so it shouldn’t necessarily be surprising that she’d end up making music that owes a lot to Beyoncé, but still it’s kinda amazing how close “Told Ya” gets to sounding like Beyoncé. It’s in the cadences, it’s in the ad libs, it’s in the general vibe and sentiment of the song, and it’s done well enough that I personally prefer this song to a lot of the material on Renaissance. I wouldn’t accuse Chlöe of being original but I am impressed by how closely she emulates such a singular talent, and having Missy Elliott elevates the track and adds a dash of swagger that makes up for a certain ineffable Beyoncé pizzazz that can’t be copied.

Buy it from Amazon.

Icecoldbishop “Bad Influences From My Uncle”

“Bad Influences From My Uncle” is the lyrical and musical centerpiece of Icecoldbishop’s Generational Curse, a record focused on being born into a family and culture that offers few good alternatives to falling into the same traps or making the same mistakes as the people who came before you. There’s a lot of Kendrick Lamar influence through it but it’s particularly noticeable on this song, which owes a lot to the cadences and dual structure of “m.A.A.d city.” That said, Icecoldbishop takes this to a very different place and there’s a lot less intellectual remove as the song gets increasingly specific in its details and a powerful sense of both grief and grievance.

Buy it from Amazon.

Larry June & The Alchemist featuring Big Sean “Palisades, CA”

Larry June and Big Sean’s verses in “Palisades, CA” are basically grindset fantasies of gated community oppulance, but set to a track by The Alchemist built on a creeping, kinda queasy bass line that either grounds the lyrics in a more gritty reality or makes the Pacific Palisades seem generally malevolent. That ambiguity elevates the song – it’s not necessarily negating their vision of success, and in any case it makes a case that living that comfortably in a beautiful place comes with a lot of dark elements whether it’s in getting there or in staying there.

Buy it from Amazon.

Overmono “Good Lies”

If you’ve read this site long enough you’ve surely seen me try to write about a musical move I mainly associate with Four Tet but is a fairly widely used technique in dance music – sampling and editing vocals for purely sensual effect, often to the point that any lyrical content is lost or illegible. Overmono do that here on “Good Lies” but the vocal isn’t totally abstracted, just edited in a way that smears the singer’s annunciation so some words come through and others get blurred. I love the effect as it intersects with the ebbs and flow of their composition, the way it makes the song overall feel surreal and stoned. We hear music all the time and our brains essentially do this, blurring some elements as we focus on the more musical and overtly rhythmic parts, but I like the idea of making this a default state of a track.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Spill Tab “Window”

This Spill Tab song sounds like it should be put in Buzz Bin heavy rotation, but alas there’s no Buzz Bin to heavily rotate these days. “Window” is jagged yet glossy, a pop song bent by alt-rock and post-punk aesthetics but smooth enough to signal glamour rather than grunge. Claire Chica’s lyrics describe a relationship dynamic in which she come across very anxious-avoidant – she pushes them away, and then the absence makes her heart grow fonder, and a cycle keeps going. She makes it sound torturous but exciting, very much that early 20s thing where you’ve internalized enough fiction to think that the more dramatic a romantic/sexual relationship is, the more adult it is. The song commits to existing in that headspace but I’d be interested in hearing Chica approach this topic from an older perspective down the line.

Buy it from Amazon.

Salami Rose Joe Louis featuring Brijean “Propaganda”

Salami Rose Joe Lewis – aka Lindsay Rose Olsen – is the primary artist for this song but as it turns out Brijean is like an ingredient that dominates the flavor of a dish. “Propaganda” is built on Brijean’s distinctive version of a tropical funk groove – somehow busy and sparse at the same time, low-key enough to be a mellow background sound but strong enough to loosen up your hips and shoulders even if you’re just walking around to it. Olsen does a fine job of filling out the vibe with most of the keyboard parts on the track, keeping the tone light and bright with just a slight suggestion of tension. The vocal part is a simple singsong chant that bounces off the beat nicely and in my experience immediately insinuates itself as an unkillable earworm, so be warned.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

The New Pornographers “Cat and Mouse with the Light”

Carl Newman has been lucky enough to write songs for Neko Case to sing for over two decades, and in that time his approach to deploying her as a lead vocalist has changed. Early on she was mainly used for firepower and intensity, belting out hooks in songs like “Letter From An Occupant” and “The Laws Have Changed” like the vocal equivalent of stomping on a fuzz pedal. Over the course of the middle period New Pornographers records Case added gravitas and/or earthiness to ballads, often singing lyrics about Newman’s personal life and marriage that he may have wanted distance from, if just to avoid sounding sappy and sentimental. Or maybe it’s just that something in the grain of Case’s voice unlocks feelings in songs that Newman can write but not as fully inhabit as a vocalist.

I think that’s the case in “Cat and Mouse with the Light,” a mid-tempo ballad with an arrangement that sounds like trying to represent the fizziness of a freshly cracked can of seltzer water with keyboards and saxophones. The lyrics express a lot of cynicism and self-doubt, addressed to someone – a partner, a child? – who holds the singer in high regard, which they don’t understand at all. “I can’t stand that you love me, you love me, you love me,” Case sings, starting the phrase with a slight peevishness, but conveying something closer to gratitude by the third “you love me.” I can imagine Newman singing this part and it either sounding too pretty or too resentful. Case imbues the song with warmth as well as ambiguity, making you question how much she really means the more harsh or distancing lines. She places the emotional emphasis on the character pushing people who love them away, almost smug in the notion that they’d only disappoint them. The way she sings that last “you love me” is the crack in the armor, the tell at the poker table.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

B. Cool-Aid featuring Liv.e, Jimetta Rose, and V.C.R. “Soundgood”

Dan Charnas’ book Dilla Time was a revelation to me in the sense that it made me realize there was a musical thread connecting so much of the R&B and rap I like, and it was J Dilla’s odd approach to time. I recommend reading the book and listening to my What Was Neo-Soul? playlist to understand what I mean, but it basically comes down to Dilla meticulously editing beats so the groove was tight but some beats would be just off time enough for a pleasant, loose swing. This has been emulated in sampling and by live drummers, at this point it’s such a part of popular music that it’s easy to just take it as a given and not question it, as I most definitely did before reading Charnas’ book.

B. Cool-Aid, a duo consisting of producer Awhlee and rapper Pink Siifu, definitely fit into this tradition. Awhlee’s track for “Soundgood” is laid back and centered around an organ part and thick bassline that projects a nostalgic warmth that sometimes feels a little too hot, like sitting a little too close to a radiator at full blast. The off-kilter aspects of the track make it all seem a little hallucinogenic and dreamy, and Pink Siifu’s largely rasped and muttered verses only exacerbate that effect. The thing that really puts this over is the way the additional backing vocals seem to float around in the background, always trailing him on the beat. It fills out the atmosphere nicely, like the vocal equivalent of a smoke machine on stage.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

U2 “Dirty Day” (Songs of Surrender)

U2 are among the artists I have the longest and deepest relationship with, going back to pretty much day one of my life as a music obsessive. There are some artists I have this sort of relationship where I can endorse pretty much everything they’ve ever made, artists who’ve rarely if ever been embarrassing or pursued creative directions that didn’t suit them at all. U2 don’t make it easy. U2 have created some of the best music I’ve heard and some of the most cringe, and even at their best they’re more likely to make a goofy decision than a cool decision.

This is a long way of saying if you’ve wondered who their new record of 40 remakes of songs throughout their catalog is for, it is for people like me. I’m invested enough in The Edge in particular to be fascinated by how he approaches translating his own style, especially when he’s trying to drastically reduce things crucial to his aesthetic – implied scale, odd electronic textures, density of sound. I’m interested enough in Bono to want to him compensate for his reduced vocal range with different approaches to phrasing, and taking his tendency to rewrite lyrics on the spot in shows back into the studio. While I’m sure some of the new versions of old songs will take on lives of their own, particularly through use in television and film, Songs of Surrender is for hardcore fans. The revisions here are meant to be additive, a new way of hearing something familiar. Nothing is being replaced, and at best the songs are enhanced with a new perspective on their musical and lyrical character. (That said, the material from Innocence and Experience is mostly greatly improved by scraping off all the “this has to be a radio hit” gloss of producers like Ryan Tedder and Paul Epworth.)

“Dirty Day” is one of my all-time favorite U2 songs. It’s a song about how complicated relationships between fathers and sons can be, especially when the son is old enough to be a father too. Bono has written a fair number of songs about his relationship with his father ­– “Kite” is about Bono’s experience of preparing for his dad’s death while he was dying, “Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own” one album later reflects on their strained relationship after he passed. In all of these songs Bono’s father is portrayed as stern and stubborn, emotionally distant but affectionate in unexpected ways, and a man who offered wisdom in ways that were often blunt and abrasive. The power of the songs is in how much Bono yearns for this man’s love and approval, and how frustrated he is that the things that make them alike are what pushed them apart.

“Dirty Day,” written many years before either of those songs, focuses on the tension. In the context of Zooropa the song is in sharp contrast with “Lemon,” one of several U2 songs in which Bono tries to connect with his mother, who died when he was very young. She exists mainly as an idealized memory; in that song he’s extrapolating as much as he can from a bit of video footage from when she was alive. “Dirty Day” is largely about familiarity breeding contempt, and too much messy history getting in the way of important things. Many of the lyrics are adapted from things Bono’s father had said to him, and I think Bono was trying to understand something about him by singing from his perspective. A lot of these words were clearly meant to deflate Bono, to force him into recognizing how futile some things are, how there’s no satisfying explanation for a lot of things. The most haunting line is somewhere between a promise and a threat – “I’m in you, more so when they put me in the ground.”

The Edge’s new arrangement for “Dirty Day” cuts out all the ambience and weight of the original version, and transposes the main bass part to cello much like the Garbage remix of the song from the “Please” single. The recording is unusually raw for U2, so minimal and closely mic’d that you can hear hands pressing down on strings and squeaking on fretboards, or what sounds like Bono adjusting his body in his chair as he sings. It’s almost uncomfortably intimate, and Bono’s voice is low and sometimes a little whispery, like he’s doing U2 ASMR. The additional strings bring a mournful quality to the music, trading the passive-aggressive antagonism in the original for lamentation. This arrangement reorients everything in the song around lingering regret for how life was actually lived, and Bono inhabiting his father’s perspective now seems more like proof that his father is with him more in death than he ever was in his life.

Buy it from Amazon.

Kenya Grace “Afterparty Lover”

When Kenya Grace sings “I don’t want to be your afterparty lover” she really means to say she doesn’t want to only be their afterparty lover. The afterparty loving is already done, she’s singing from the perspective of someone who has fully caught feelings and is trying to figure how to convert a one-off into a full-timer. The sound is very well suited to the subject – Grace’s vocal melody is sticky and assertive while the drum and bass beat lends a clear sense of immediacy and urgency, but also a butterflies-in-stomach twitchiness. There’s a lot of songs like this where you can easily predict how things will probably go for the character, and usually it doesn’t look good. But in this case I’m feeling good about her chances, at least in the short term.

Buy it from Amazon.