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Sleater-Kinney “Path of Wellness”

Sleater-Kinney are in an unenviable position in their career where if things had not changed for them musically whatever they released would be “ah, ok, another Sleater-Kinney record, sure whatever” since the novelty of their return had already been played out. But then, of course, when they changed things up musically they ended up losing Janet Weiss as their drummer and so Path of Wellness arrives buried in the context of her absence.

Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein are talented enough to carry a record on their own – they did make their first two albums without Weiss, after all – but it’s still very hard to hear Path without thinking of what would be different or the same if she had stuck around. Having spent some time with the album I’m inclined to say it probably would’ve been mostly the same with Janet, particularly as the drummers on the record play in a fairly similarly muscular and fill-heavy style. In some ways that comes as a relief and in others it’s disappointing, as the new songs are neither a jump into totally new territory they couldn’t have explored without Weiss or, if you’re a Weiss partisan, proof that they can’t be a good band without her.

“Path of Wellness,” a song built around a clangy busy rhythm and a distorted bass groove, is the track that moves furthest from the band’s established aesthetics with Weiss. It’s also maybe not coincidentally the best and most exciting song on the record. “Path” pulls off an interesting trick of sounding unlike any previous Sleater-Kinney song while also tapping into a loose, atmospheric quality I don’t think they’ve had since The Hot Rock came out over 20 years ago. There’s no effort put into thickening the sound here, the starkness of the clatter and buzz is the point. Tucker’s voice, always the most unique and exciting aspect of the band, is at the center of the track. She’s not fully cutting loose here, but she does work through a lot of her best vocal tricks as the song moves from sly, winking verses towards a classic S-K climax in which Brownstein’s snaky riffs and Tucker’s raw emoting weave around until they converge at just the right cathartic moment.

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Lorde “Solar Power”

“Solar Power” is a song of low-key joy in which Lorde casually sidesteps the widespread expectation that she continue to play the part of the “sad girl” rather than explore less fraught elements of human existence. There’s a weird impulse for many to assume that singing about pleasure and fun and shirking responsibilities is vapid, but I think that comes from people not believing happiness can be as nuanced and deeply felt as a million shades of misery. “Solar Power” is hardly a dumb song – there’s a lot of evocative little details in setting the scene, some witty asides, and a belief in the healing power of feeling close to the natural world that borders on religious fervor. The second half of the song borrows from the ersatz gospel of early ‘90s songs like George Michael’s God Tier classic “Freedom ’90” and Primal Scream’s breakthroughs on Screamadelica, and that sort of secular spirituality really works for the themes here. Join her in praising the sun!

There’s no shortage of young artists who now, intentionally or not, sing with the peculiar and specific inflections Lorde sang with on her first two records. The most obvious and famous example is Olivia Rodrigo, who is at this moment one of the most successful and hyped pop stars going. It’s notable that the sort of affectations these singers have internalized aren’t really on this new Lorde song, though she still sounds exactly and unmistakably like herself. I don’t think this is accidental, either in the sense of her avoiding sounding like her own imitators or in that she’s a thoughtful singer who was never going to stay in one gear. But I hear this and get the impression that she’s essentially telling the rest “fine, you can keep that affectation – I’ve got a lot more phrasing tricks to work with.”

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Wolf Alice “Play the Greatest Hits”

Given that “Play the Greatest Hits” is the only song on the new Wolf Alice record that taps into the wild alt-rock energy I loved so much about their first two albums, I feel like the title is taunting me somewhat: “Oh, we he had to move on artistically, but here’s one for those of you who want the old Wolf Alice.” But then again, they throw themselves into this song so intensely that I don’t think they’re actually bored by this sort of song at all, but rather poured every bit of frazzled energy they had into this one very fast and loud song about the “fast life” that sounds like a car careening towards a brick wall. Ellie Rowsell has a versatile voice but I love her this sort of bratty and frenzied mode – it gives the snarky lines the right amount of venom and makes the lyrics about self-destructive habits come off as more nihilistic than self-pitying.

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Japanese Breakfast “Savage Good Boy”

“Savage Good Boy” has a bright and earnest sound that masks the bitter irony of its lyrical conceit – it’s sung from the perspective of a billionaire preparing for global environmental catastrophe and callously creating a way for himself to survive comfortably. He’s inviting a woman to join him so he can “take care” of her, to play savior and play house. But really he just wants to own her, to control her, to have her be in debt to him for providing a posh shelter while millions of people suffer or die. The brilliance of the song is in how Michelle Zauner presents this character in a way that allows for some sincerity in his feelings – perhaps he does love her, maybe he genuinely wants to protect her, he probably is totally oblivious to his incredible selfishness. Zauner lets the listener connect and identify with the sweetness so the recognition of the darker impulses and insidious desires of the character are hard to untangle from what initially appears to be warmth and kindness. Not many of us are going to directly relate to a billionaire, but we can see how self-interest and generosity mingle in ourselves and others.

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Liz Phair “Soberish”

Liz Phair’s new album Soberish – her first release in 11 years after scrapping a few songwriting projects, working in television, and writing a book – sounds like it could be an album she and producer Brad Wood made immediately after Whitechocolatespaceegg in the late ‘90s but simply didn’t bother to put out until just now. It feels comfortable and lived-in, and full of textures that would’ve felt modern at that time but now feel a little retro. If you pay attention you can notice how her creative path through the 2000s informs this work but for the most part it sounds like a resumption of the trajectory she was on through the ‘90s. Even aside from the musical palette, the record does something I think a lot of us were hoping she’d get around to while she was silent for a decade: approach the romantic and sexual experiences of a straight woman in middle age with the same nuance, wisdom, and wit she brought to writing about all this as a younger woman.

“Soberish,” a song that moves between a pastoral folk affectation and lightly anxious new wave minimalism, tells the story of a woman getting ready to meet up with a man she’s had a long-simmering long distance romance with at a hotel bar and is finally, hopefully, about to hook up with him. The situation is widely relatable to anyone who’s ever done app dating or had a romantic scenario start online, but I like the specificity of this being a bit deeper in life when the idea of wasting time – “tell me, why do we keep dicking around?” – is more frustrating, both out of feeling a ticking clock on your life and in feeling like you’ve outgrown certain anxieties or don’t have use for elaborate courting rituals anymore. The story of the song plays out as it often does in life, with mild panic leading to brief discomfort and then clicking into the rapport and chemistry that existed before you came up with a bunch of distracting psyche-out narratives. The point of the song isn’t necessarily “it’ll be fine, this worked out for me,” but more to show the full emotional context of the scene and setting up the stakes for the happy ending.

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Clinic “Fine Dining”

Clinic have gradually established themselves as the Gen X equivalent to The Fall – a band with an extremely specific style that they use as a template for exploring different tones and aesthetics over a long period of time. Or, as John Peel once described The Fall: “They are always different, they are always the same.” In the case of their new single “Fine Dining” the X factor is mostly in the keyboard tones, which strike me as very Kraftwerk though I’m not sure if they’re actually using the same vintage gear. It’s a tonality that signals a dated notion of futuristic efficiency, and it feels quite strange in the context of a song that otherwise sounds like a demented jingle for a restaurant. Ade Blackburn’s voice often comes across as inscrutable and a little creepy but he pushes that to an extreme in this song, so the phrase “no scruples” sounds especially sinister, and the refrain “all into the void” feels like a trap revealed to you before it’s too late to get out.

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Still Pigeon “Tippy Toes”

Still Pigeon are a band so generous with melody, harmony, and pleasant chords that the only thing keeping their music from sounding fully opulent and luxurious is their roots in indie rock – self-effacing lyrics, a clean but not quite professional production style, and a sense that they’re not quite confident enough to go full-on Sade or Steely Dan just yet. This is part of what makes “Tippy Toes” charming, though. Millie Wild’s vocals remind me a bit of Lily Allen, particularly in the way she balances singing with a bold professionalism while conveying genuine insecurity and pulling off self-deprecating jokes. She’s a slightly neurotic presence in a song that’s otherwise very warm and silky in its tones, and totally calm in its groove. It’s extremely cozy, even before the smooth sax solo comes in at the end.

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Freak Slug featuring Brad Stank “Nostaglia”

I don’t know their specific ages but Freak Slug and Brad Stank are pretty young, young enough that doing a song lamenting the simplicity of teen romance is, for them, nostalgia for the not-very-distant past. The vibe of the music is perfect for that particular milieu though – very relaxed and wistful, but with the subtle suggestion of furtive, secretive actions and just-figuring-it-out awkwardness. The lyrics seem to be from the perspective of a couple reconnecting after this shared experience as kids, with them both attracted to the idea of getting back to something simple and easy but also self-conscious about slipping back into something comfortable for the sake of it. Neither of them seem too stressed out about it, but I think some of the point here is that by actively wanting to return to an uncomplicated situation you’ve already added some layers of complication. You can’t be innocent again.

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Anika “Finger Pies”

“Finger Pies” sounds like pacing in a loop, working out enough nervous energy to avoid freaking out, but not enough to provide a catharsis. There’s a low-simmering paranoia to the sound of it, but the anger in it is politely muted. Anika’s vocals, shifting between sung and spoken parts in a German accent that can’t help but make her sound a bit like Nico, makes the most of the ambiguous, unresolved quality of the music. It’s clear enough that she’s singing about being afraid of someone, but the nature of the relationship she’s describing is hard to parse. The point is that she’s not sure who her nemesis is, their identity is all conjecture and speculation, and that mystery only intensifies her fear of them. “Theory is you’re a monster,” she says in a halting tone, “that you hate yourself.” She’s trying to understand why someone has hurt her, why they apparently had no empathy for her, and her only way of comprehending it requires empathy on her end.

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Sugar Candy Mountain “Impression”

I’ve been doing this site for a very long time now and have written about thousands of songs and I think in a lot of cases my daily challenge is figuring out what to say about songs without just being like “this sounds nice, the bass part makes me feel good.” And the thing is, a lot of experience with music is just that – sounds nice, feels good. “Impression” is absolutely one of those songs where the sensation of it is the whole point, and trying to get deep into what I like about the chords and tones and melodies feels like going into detail on why a meadow full of flowers looks pretty on a sunny day. Sometimes the point of beautiful things is that you don’t have to think about it at all. The band’s choice to bury the lead vocals a bit so that the lyrics are barely discernible makes me think they’re not trying to get in the way of the sensations here – some words pop out, but mostly it just sounds like syllables for a melody.

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Drug Store Romeos “What’s On Your Mind”

Sarah Downey has a soft and delicate voice ideally suited to the dreamy psychedelic music she makes with Drug Store Romeos but that quality in her voice conveys an intense thoughtfulness rather than shyness or a dissociated daze, as is common with this sort of indie rock. “What’s On Your Mind” is an earnest attempt at communication with someone who’s shut down. It’s not a confrontation, and it’s not coming from a place of “are you mad at me?” It’s just an attempt to connect and as much is said in her lyrics as in the instrumental parts, which gradually shifts from spacey parts implying a bit of distance to warmer tones of gentle affection.

Buy it from Drug Store Romeos.

Olivia Rodrigo “Jealousy, Jealousy”

Olivia Rodrigo emerged fully formed this year with one skill most everyone is familiar with by now – an uncanny talent for creating songs so ideally suited to karaoke that her own performances can look like she’s doing karaoke of her own music. Her other skill, a totally unforced aptitude for alt-rock, was not fully apparent until her album Sour came out this past weekend. “Jealousy, Jealousy” is a classic loud/soft/loud alt song filtered through a few decades of genre evolutions – the base structure is Pixies but the skulking bass groove sounds early 00s to me, the dissonant piano more of a post-Radiohead thing, the vocal melody and phrasing are very Lorde. It’s a mishmash, but it all comes together with a casual elegance that keeps the listener focused on the dynamic effect rather than any one component.

Rodrigo’s lyrics about visual social media triggering feelings of inadequacy and envy are particular to the experience of a contemporary teen, but are hardly limited to her demographic. She tries to talk herself out of her own insecurities with lines that sound just like what you might read on an Instagram account devoted to mental health and body image, which I’m not sure is actually meant to come off as ironic. But I think most anyone can pick up on the subtext that Rodrigo – exactly the sort of traditionally beautiful young person with an outrageous level of success that would ordinarily drive other kids mad with jealousy – is feeling this way means there’s no escape from this for anyone besides talking yourself into believing in something else.

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Audrey Nuna featuring Saba “Top Again”

The sound of “Top Again” feels very rooted in late 90s/early 00s aesthetics – think R&B songs featuring a Ja Rule guest verse but with the murkier vibes of classic RZA production, with a dash of Missy and Timbaland aesthetics – but with the new money optimism replaced with a casual nihilism. Audrey Nuna’s drowsy-yet-soulful phrasing is perfectly suited to her deadpan sense of humor, particularly when she’s contrasting images of a luxury lifestyle and immaculate high fashion with the muck and grime of actually being present in the world. (“Gabbana pants sag in the mosh pit” is a particularly great image.) The chorus is so strong and instantly familiar that I wonder if I’ve actually heard something just like it in a hit before and can’t quite place it. But everything about this song feels like it’s an act of fandom for other songs – when Saba shows up for his rap, it’s as if the song is smirking at you and doing that “whispering to date” joke format – “that’s the guest rapper verse.”

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Shelley FKA DRAM “Remedies”

“Remedies” sounds like it could just be a straight-ahead “baby, I miss you” break up ballad but Shelley’s lyrics layer in comedic details that make the whole situation funny and vivid without undermining the hurt at the core of it. It’s played pretty straight from the start, as the opening verse has him earnestly worrying about how his ex is going to talk about him now that they’re through, but the second verse starts making him seem more silly or pathetic as he commemorates what would’ve been their sixth-month anniversary by getting dinner alone at their “favorite place.” Like, hold on…six months? That’s it? It totally changes how the chorus about “memories” hits the next time it comes around. The best bit is Shelley singing about a rebound date – “she’s nothing like you, and she’s not my type, but she’s a stone-cold dime…or at least tonight!” He delivers that last part as a musical punchline, putting on a loverman bravado he’s already totally deflated.

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Horsey featuring King Krule “Seahorse”

Horsey have not released very much music but going on what they have put out in the past few years it’s safe to say that this collaboration with King Krule is far more like him than it is like them. Krule’s voice and aesthetic is so distinct that it’s like an overpowering ingredient in a dish – you have to adjust everything to suit his presence. In the case of “Seahorse” this means setting a mellow melancholic mood and getting out of his way as he does his usual move of muttered half-spoken lines that gradually build in intensity until it boils over into howling, distraught catharsis. The lyrics seem rooted in the particular claustrophobia, panic, and unrest of 2020 without announcing themselves as topical, favoring abstraction and the sort of raw emotion that doesn’t really need much context. Krule conveys a powerful feeling of disgust in the climax, utterly repulsed by police violence that seems unnecessary in the abstract, but central to the premise of their existence in the first place. But still, there’s a trace of optimism in here – a sense that in this bleak world he’s sketched out, life is still precious and worthwhile.

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Beginners “Can’t Get Enough”

“Can’t Get Enough” starts off feeling like it’s going to play out like a more scuzzy version of The Ting Tings’ perky but bratty late ‘00s pop but once it gets to where the chorus should hit the song switches gears. Beginners don’t necessarily refuse to give you the chorus you’re set up to hear, but they do put it off while letting the song stumble and grind up before picking up tempo and getting back into another verse. Subverting expectations like this will probably wreck the song’s commercial chances but conceptually it works very well in establishing a song about addiction by showing you upfront what happens when the protagonist song doesn’t get what they’re craving. Once the song kicks back into normal mode Sam Barbera sounds a little manic and messy, like she’s willing to do whatever it takes to get what she wants. A lot of pop songs are based on the premise of “I’m addicted!” but even in a metaphorical sense, this takes the notion seriously. The song is ultimately pretty fun, but Barbera doesn’t make the mindset she’s inhabiting seem like a great time.

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St. Vincent “…At the Holiday Party”

Jack Antonoff plays the drums on “…At the Holiday Party” with a gentle hesitation, as though he’s trying to give the song a support structure while tiptoeing around Annie Clark’s guitar and vocal performance. It adds a lot to the loose, easygoing feel of the song while also mirroring the lyrical conceit in which Clark sings about talking to someone at a party and noticing that beneath their facade of material success they are entirely miserable. The song is so focused on Clark observing and empathizing with this other person that it doesn’t get into her own feelings but I think the arrangement does a lot to fill that in, starting with Antonoff’s percussion conveying some caution and the eventual presence of horns, backing vocals, tambourine, and clavinet projecting love and generosity.

Clark has compared this song to The Rolling Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” and that’s very apt – it’s hardly a clone, but it’s a very similar set of tools and tricks used to get across a reassuring message for someone who’s looking to get out of a hopeless feeling. Jagger and Clark aren’t the type to provide false hope, and unlike the Stones song “Holiday Party” isn’t even offering advice. Clark is just offering some solidarity in letting someone feel seen, understood, and most of all, not judged in a moment of despair.

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Hildegard “Jour 3”

The conventional wisdom now is that anyone under 40 is mortified by the very idea of talking on the phone, but this hasn’t stopped younger people from writing new songs about it, usually inviting someone to call them. This makes sense in that it’s a steady trope of pop songwriting going back many decades, there’s an undeniable romance to it, and that artists working in an audio medium would likely appreciate a communication medium that is also only audio. There’s also just a pleasing musicality to the word “telephone,” whereas any of the words commonly associated with video calls – Skype, Zoom, FaceTime – are all clunky corporate brands.

“Jour 3” is a romantic song about phone calls that includes a melodic phrase hinging on the word “telephone” right there in the first line. The subject matter feels fresh with the context of people mostly avoiding calls now – as Helena Deland suggests the idea of regular phone calls to maintain a regular connection while she’s apart from her partner her phrasing and half-whispered tone makes it sound as though she’s letting them in on a secret. Like, who knew you could just have an intimate conversation with just your voices over a private telephone line? Crazy, right? Deland sounds a little sleepy but also quite playful, while Ouri’s production captures a telephone aesthetic in the abstract with sounds so small and delicate that it’s like you need to press it to your ear to hear it all.

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Skrillex and Four Tet featuring Starrah “Butterflies”

Skrillex is not famous for being subtle. His best known tracks are absurdly energetic and loud, and his best remixes are like the audio equivalent of dousing a song with hot sauce. “Butterflies,” a collaboration with Four Tet, doesn’t quite do either of those things but that doesn’t make it disappointing. It’s more like a seamless merger of both producers’ aesthetics that results in a straight-ahead dance banger with a somewhat zoned-out atmosphere and a sophisticated approach to manipulating vocals for melodic and textural effect. I think left to his own devices Four Tet would be much less likely to present Starrah’s vocal as plainly as it sometimes is through this song, but the contrast of his more abstract style and leaving whole chunks of this track to be as straight-ahead pop as one of Skrillex’s songs with Justin Bieber is a more “best of both worlds” than “mild compromise.” There is some hot sauce effect going on here – the track thumps a lot harder than Four Tet would normally, but it’s still relatively restrained by Skrillex standards. I suppose this could be interpreted as “maturity” but I hear it more as Skrillex exploring new ways to go hard to avoid repetition and reliance on gimmick.

Buy it from Beatport.

Little Simz featuring Cleo Sol “Woman”

The last two times I featured Little Simz on this site was for songs in which she gave performances that were very fast and fierce, songs that came off like a flex to display what she was capable of as a rapper. “Woman” is a very different mode – slower but not softer, contemplative but still rather intense. The energy shift has a lot to do with her working with Sault producer Inflo and his frequent collaborator Cleo Sol, who both lean towards a 70s-by-way-of-90s-but-now approach to slick yet warm R&B. The combination of Simz’ cadences on this track with Sol’s sung vocals brings the general feel of “Woman” pretty close to where Lauryn Hill was on Miseducation – high praise, obviously, but something that seems less like direct intention of homage and more like a set of shared natural inclinations as musicians.

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