Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Geese “Taxes”

Cameron Winter’s voice can get a bit ugly and awkward and honking, but he sings with so much raw soul and earnest feeling that it becomes beautiful and sometimes totally heartbreaking. There’s no shame in how he performs, only total commitment, so even when he’s expressing totally pathetic feelings he sounds like a man with great dignity. That’s certainly the case in “Taxes,” a song with lyrics so grandiose in its self-pity that at one point he demands to be crucified. The lyrics work because Winter has found the ideal balance of cartoonishness and earnestness, so both the humor and the pathos land just right. And the arrangement does the same thing – meloddramatic, but also bright and crisp and light.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Dawuna “Love Jaunt”

I don’t know much about Dawuna or how this track was made, but it makes me think of the term “demoitis” – the thing where an artist’s demo is so good that every attempt to fully flesh it out in the studio feels wrong because it’s not capturing what’s already been put down on tape. “Love Jaunt” feels like a home demo in the best sense – low-key, understated, a set of feelings and musical ideas laid down without any fuss. Could this be better as a slicker production? Sure, this has the bones of an excellent R&B song for any era. But I’m not convinced you could improve on what Dawuna conjures here, unless you wanted to drop the “low-key” aspect entirely and then you just have a very different song. I like that the music doesn’t feel uptight, but also that she’s singing quietly enough to make it seem like she’s choosing her words very carefully.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Fine “I Could”

The component sounds in “I Could” are very familiar after decades of alternative rock – a bass line halfway between Peter Hook and Kim Deal, a high breathy female vocal, miscellaneous layers of off-kilter and/or abrasive guitar – but the feel is kinda strange. This could easily be a lot more plodding and flat, but there’s some swing to it, and some touches of delicacy and sophistication cast in stark relief with elements that are entry-level simplistic. It’s a song that’s somehow both thudding and sensuous.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Maren Morris “People Still Show Up”

A lot of people think they have a handle on Jack Antonoff’s sound, but for the most part, they’re really just thinking of what he does with Taylor Swift, or clients who likely show up saying “hey, can you give me The Taylor Swift?” Dig a little deeper, and he’s a very odd and versatile artist. He’s a guy who composed Lana Del Rey’s masterpiece “A&W,” figured out how to merge ABBA and Dolly Parton on Sabrina Carpenter’s “Please Please Please,” and has transitioned into a strong hip-hop producer on Kendrick Lamar’s GNX. At this point I wouldn’t rule out anything for the guy, particularly as he’s chasing vibes more than following mainstream pop templates.

“People Still Show Up,” one of a handful of tracks he produced for Maren Morris’ first post-country record, has a peculiar feel to it. It’s aiming for a loose, bluesy energy, but in an intentionally odd and inorganic way. You get it right away – a stiff drum machine, keyboard tones bending wildly, sounding like neon blobs smearing across the stereo image. It’s a really cool sound, and going in this direction with the song is so much more interesting than playing this song very straight with an expected traditional arrangement. It makes sense in the context of Morris’ lyrical POV too, as it’s very much about her getting nudged out of the country space and taking stock of where she’s at. And here she is, in some odd simulacrum of an “authentic” sound, and while she sounds a little befuddled and bemused, she sounds very much at home.

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Chanpan “Luigi’s Mansione”

You probably wouldn’t need the hint in the title to get that this breakbeat lounge song is a tribute to Luigi Mangione. The lyrics don’t mention him by name but it’s obviously about him, and presents him as a persecuted folk hero: “Maybe the hero has fallen / but strength arises in us / one feat of valor and courage / igniting the rage in our heart.” The music is fairly chill and jazzy despite the twitchy beats, but Grace Dumdaw sings her lyrics like someone who’s been broken by cynicism and low expectations but is starting to feel some slight bit of hope.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Casabalanca Drivers “No Mercy”

The first 48 seconds of “No Mercy” are very smooth, with minimal chiming guitar and a low-key seductive vocal gliding over an elegantly rumbling bass line. The song could’ve stayed in that mode the entire time and it’d be a good time. But no, Casablanca Drivers had to take it further. They had to drop that INSTRUMENTAL BREAK. A keyboard riff that sounds sorta like a heavily treated marimba. A beat and a boom so ruthlessly effective it’d make Justice jealous. It’s an incredible chunk of music that practically demands to be remixed or sampled into something more specifically built for a dance floor, but it also slips so comfortably between these more sexy and atmospheric verse sections. I’m not sure if this song should work, but they make it all so sleek and seamless.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Animal Collective “Love on the Big Screen”

I’ve noticed that as the Animal Collective guys get older they’ve become more generous about releasing catchy little songs. They’ve always had catchy little songs, but there’s a lot of phases where they’re clearly more interested in more experimental, less structured, and sometimes totally non-melodic music. Maybe they’re less interested in that these days, or perhaps they’ve just become more self-assured as songwriters. I think it’s mostly that they’ve figured out how to have it both ways over the past 10 years. If they’re doing a pop song, they’re never doing it any sort of normal way. It’s always a bit off-kilter, always unusual musical choices, always a little subversive. They’ve fully become who they’ve always been.

“Love on the Big Screen” has the bones of a bashed-out psychedelic garage rock song, but the actual arrangement is much more along the lines of the lo-fi home recordings of R. Stevie Moore or The Cleaners from Venus. (Also worth noting that it starts with the same drum machine loop as The Fiery Furnaces’ “Benton Harbor Blues.”) It’s immediately catchy in a radio jingle sort of way, but even with one of the biggest call-and-response vocal hooks of their 25+ year career, the music feels deliberately untethered and disorienting.

I like what Avey Tare is doing with the lyrics in this one. The premise is big and bold and obvious – love on the big screen isn’t like love in real life – but they push a few steps beyond simply stating a cliched notion. As with a lot of Animal Collective songs before it, it’s a meditation on the practical aspects of love. The lyrics seesaw between grand philosophical statements and expressions of uncertainty. The point being, love contains a lot of contradictions that can’t be flattened into a simple narrative, or a single song. And it’s different for everyone! We can try to capture some of it, but it’s always just a few facets at a time.

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Erika de Casier “Delusional”

“Delusional” is an online dating song that sounds like a love song. Erika de Casier is singing from the perspective of someone approaching a match with a lot of optimism, but also a sensible degree of caution: “I think I’m ready for a new boo / I saw your pictures, is that really you?” The beautiful thing about this song is that even though de Casier expresses skepticism pretty much every step of the way, she’s presenting the point of view of someone who is genuinely hoping to find love. Is she just imagining things, projecting on strangers? Maybe, probably. But you’ve got to visualize success, right?

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Yaya Bey “Spin Cycle”

Most of our modern rom-coms are more about wealth than they are about romance or comedy, and a lot of our modern R&B songs aren’t that different, with an overt fixation on luxury. And I get it – it’s a fantasy, and material concerns aren’t irrelevant to love or sex. But it’s great to hear a song like “Spin Cycle,” which is specifically about how hard it can be to maintain a loving sexual relationship when one or both people involved is constantly working just to get by.

I didn’t notice the lyrics of “Spin Cycle” right away because I was mostly focusing on the gentle sensuality of its lovers rock groove and Yaya Bey’s beyond-silky vocal tone. The music and lyrics place all emphasis on sexiness and affection, the work situation is presented as an obstacle that can and will be overcome because their love is so strong. After all, people do this all the time. Being stuck on the losing end of capitalism can crush your soul, but love can help you through it.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Gelli Haha “Normalize”

I was thinking about why it is my brain instinctively characterizes “Normalize” as “heat wave music” and I think it’s mainly because it somewhat resembles Nu Shooz’s freestyle classic “I Can’t Wait.” That song has signified “sweltering urban summer” in a very satisfying way to me since early childhood, when I heard it constantly on New York City radio stations from my home an hour or so away in the suburbs. My brain connects the songs, and so Gelli Haha picks up some of the lazy groovy glamour I’ve long associated with Nu Shooz. It makes me want to walk around the Lower East Side blasting it from a boom box.

It’s easy to focus on the sound of “Normalize” because Haha’s vocals are almost entirely incomprehensible to my ear, though I know it’s all sung in English. She’s conveying a lot of emotion in her performance and that’s just as powerful as the way the song swings, but I try to focus on the words and mostly I’m like “cornucopia???” But still, I think I get exactly what she’s feeling here.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Emily Allan “Driving”

Emily Allan’s debut album Clanging is best heard in its entirety, if just to bring the scope of her project in focus. A variety pack of electroclash flavors, different angles on a distinctly 2020s sort of absurdist nihilism, multiple explorations of a specifically feminine version of spite and evil, all delivered in an ice cold deadpan. The spiky digital aesthetics and ultra bleak humor remind me of Chicks On Speed in particular, but there’s also something very Mark E. Smith about the way she leans into odd quasi sci-fi imagery (“I wanna be the sex robot in the meatplex”) and intentionally obnoxious percussive language. “Driving” is a good example of this: I immediately loved the broken robot repetition of “next,” but paying close attention reveals some clever wordplay in the blunt force vocal delivery.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Sofia Kourtesis featuring Daphni “Unidos”

Dan Snaith – who you’d know as both Caribou and Daphni – is a class act. One way I know this is because in the press release for this collaboration with Sofia Kourtesis he makes a point of saying “to be clear, all the good ideas in this track are Sofia’s, I just added some drums and pumped up the arrangement.” I’ll take his word for it, which is pretty easy because I already knew Kourtesis has a brilliant ear for samples and dynamics. “Unidos” is a feel-good track, and in a very pointed and political way. It’s not a subtle piece. It’s designed to spike your endorphins and urge you to fight back against oppressors. It’s encouraging and empowering, and it works even if it’s not strictly meant for your ears.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Pangaea featuring Jazz Alonso “Manía”

I’m sure the seemingly ineffable and intangible thing I love about Pangaea’s production aesthetic can be easily explained by some very technical decision made in some piece of software, but I can try to explain it: Everything bounces just a little ~too~ hard, but there’s grace in that extra bit of force. If you imagine it in terms of color, every color is a bit ~too~ saturated, but not so much that it gets messy and distorted. Everything in a Pangaea track is hyper-real and ultra-vibrant, like it’s dialed into the frequency of a better, more fun universe.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Samplelov “Don’t You Know My Name”

Samplelov’s The Look of Adoration is essentially a meta neo-soul record: entirely earnest in its emotion and almost fetishistically rooted in an organic sound, but built from samples and dotted with just enough ironic winking to openly acknowledge its artifice and relative inauthenticity. It’s so consistently lovely and engaging that picking one song from the album wasn’t easy but I landed on “Don’t You Know My Name” because I love the rhythm guitar part and am always a sucker for the way a busy soul bass line sounds when it gets pitched up a little in the sampling process. That sort of James Jamerson bass is always flashy, but in context is more of a subliminal force guiding the movement of the music, but like this it’s more foregrounded as a flamboyant melodic flourish.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Automatic “Is It Now?”

With only a few minor tweaks, Automatic have shifted from minimalist ESG vibes to icy romantic early New Order vibes, and the aesthetic shift suits them well. Like a lot of their material, “Is It Now?” is overtly leftist in its POV but a little unsure of how strident it wants to be about it. That tension moves from subtext to text in this song, which is about struggling to find the right balance between being angry about the status quo and trying to live a happy, fun life. As with some of their other songs, the core anxiety seems to be a fear of getting sucked into the black hole of consumer conformity. They know it’s seductive, they know how easily they could be sucked into it, they know how much they already are, but they’re still resisting the urge to give in to comfortable complacency.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Erin Durant “Alone With You”

I don’t love leading with “recommended if you like” when discussing relatively unknown artists, it can feel like I’m diminishing them, but in the interest of being a service to you, a possibly impatient reader: If you like Joanna Newsom, you will almost certainly like this. I can’t imagine that Erin Durant is not a big Newsom fan; it seems difficult to arrive at a song like “Alone With You” without that being a crucial influence. And obviously this is 100% praise, because writing and singing like Joanna Newsom is a very high bar to clear. And other comparisons are similarly flattering: her vocal style is closer to that of Nanci Griffith and Sandy Denny.

As with a lot of Newsom’s music, “Alone With You” is almost too beautiful to handle. The production by TV on the Radio’s Kyp Malone is dry, earthy, and understated, but there’s something inherently fancy about this type of melody. To play it too often would be like the musical equivalent of always eating off the fine china. There’s an intense feeling in this music, a love that burns so bright that it hurts a little. But sometimes that’s exactly how you feel and this is what you need.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Activity “In Another Way”

Activity’s first two albums both had a dense, dark atmosphere and general sense of unease, but their third, A Thousand Years In Another Way, feels a bit different. This time it’s more like a formless malevolence engulfing and permeating the music, encroaching from all angles and totally inescapable. It’s basically a record about trying to live with that evil presence – how it drags you down, how you push against it, how you try to get rid of it.

A lot of this comes down to guitarist Travis Johnson’s distinctive palette, largely produced using effects pedals he created himself for specific effects. Listen for the severe digital decay that arrives around the 4 minute mark of “In Another Way,” evoking cell phone interference, corrosive acid, and a slow, dull scrape. It’s contrasted with a far more delicate lead part, like this massive wave of indifferent destruction up against a small, plaintive melody that doesn’t quite have the strength to cohere into a proper solo. That’s the record in a nutshell, a weak and weary display of humanity standing up to careless cynicism and devastation.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard “Deadstick”

One of the most interesting aspects of the more recent King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard records for me is that all six members of the band take turns singing. Not in a “this is a Joey song, this is a Stu song, this is a Cooky song” way, but more in a rap posse cut way with different members jumping on the mic for different sections of the same song. It makes the songs more dynamic – different personalities, different vocal strengths, contrasting vibes.

Stu Mackenzie remains the focal point of the band and Joey Walker is a rock and roll leading man, but the breakout star is most definitely Ambrose Kenny-Smith. Amby is part soul man, part heavy metal trickster, all oomph. He’s essentially the Ol Dirty Bastard of KGLW, and a short list of top shelf King Gizz songs where he steals the show includes “Gila Monster,” “Le Risque,” “The Dripping Tap,” “Field of Vision,” “Hot Wax,” “Iron Lung,” and now “Deadstick.”

“Deadstick” is one of the most elaborately produced King Gizzard songs yet – a groovy rocker with 70s big band backing, like a more playful and carefree version of Steely Dan circa Countdown to Ecstasy and Pretzel Logic. Stu sets it off, Joey turns up the heat, and then Ambrose comes in like a fireball on the breakdown. He’s singing as a pilot trying to manage a crash landing, bringing panic and passion and a confident “let’s do this!” swagger as the song plummets to the ground. They’re calling him the Sully of rock.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Michael Esper, Zoe Lister-Jones, and Kathryn Gallagher “Slanted! Enchanted! Finale!”

This ridiculous piece of music has made me cry.

It made me choke up the first time I heard it, in its intended context of the fake-but-real Pavement jukebox musical Slanted! Enchanted! in 2022. I teared up when I saw it in the context of the Pavements film premiere at Lincoln Center, and then a few times more when I was listening to the Pavements soundtrack on an elliptical at the gym and on an Amtrak train to Philadelphia. It’s happy tears, mostly.

I don’t cry to music easily, but this deliberately hokey swirl of bits from various Pavement songs seems like it was built specifically to light up my brain and tug aggressively on my particular heartstrings. Some of it is novelty and nostalgia – these songs run so deep for me, a pillar of my life since I was a young teenager and I was hearing it all come out in real time.

Alex Ross Perry’s Pavement musical is a joke, but it’s not a joke. It’s a major component of Pavements, which is a lot of different films at once. It’s a documentary, showing the truth of the band in their prime and in the recent past. It’s an intentionally terrible biopic, depicting a contrived and condescending media narrative about the band. There’s making-of-the-biopic footage in which actor and musician Joe Keery attempts to figure out how to portray Stephen Malkmus, which is essentially a meditation on the unknowable but unmistakable character at the heart of the music. It also features a fake-but-real Pavement museum, which celebrates the obsessive fan’s relationship with the band. (I’m in that part.)

The musical is in the mix to present an alternate take on the music itself that emphasizes the melodic craft and sentimentality in Malkmus’ music. It’s laying bare everything he’s made an effort to dial down or shrug off. It’s zeroing in on the real reason anyone loves this music, but it’s swapping some layers of irony for different layers of irony.

So what’s getting to me in this finale? It’s the way the “Major Leagues” chords are nudged fully into an “aw shucks” level of sweetness. It’s the raw disappointment in Michael Esper’s voice when he sings “success it never comes,” and the way Zoe Lister-Jones shifts the refrain of “You’re Killing Me” from dulled resignation to mild agony, and the unabashed earnestness of how Kathryn Gallagher sings “a shady lane, everybody wants one.”

But it’s mostly the ending that moves me, when the music drops out and the three of them trade off lines from “Ann Don’t Cry.”: “The damage has been done, I am not having fun anymore.” It’s all very manipulative and cliché in musical theater terms, but it works. Esper circles back to “Here,” dramatically concluding the musical the only way it could: “Come join us in a prayer, we’ll be waiting, waiting where…everything’s ending here.”

Those parts of “Ann Don’t Cry” and “Here” were already very open-hearted, even if Malkmus actually sings “my heart is not a wide open thing, I know” in the former. But in this arrangement, Perry shines a light on a vulnerability that’s always been in the band’s music even if Malkmus has made an effort to obscure or underplay it. These are moments when he was being very clear, in his way. I know these feelings and music motifs well, but this time they’re dialed to the max. You can’t shrug off the emotion when it’s this bare and sincere.

So, in other words, this gets me in the gut because their vulgar display caught me off guard. I can’t help it, because I’m a cold, cold boy with an American heart.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Drugdealer featuring Weyes Blood “Real Thing”

“Real Thing” is a very deliberate musical homage to early 70s soft pop – Carole King most obviously – but the sound is even dryer than actual 70s soft pop, making it feel a little bit surreal in its clean precision. I assume that’s also a deliberate decision, leaning into the ways a digital recording can yield similar but fundamentally different results. But getting caught up in those details is obsessing on the frame rather than the painting. The real meat of this song is Natalie Mering’s vocal melody, lyrics, and understated phrasing. She’s singing rather plainly about finding a new love that makes her feel appreciated and understood after years of feeling like that might be an impossibility. A lot of singers might approach singing about this by focusing on conveying euphoria, but she’s so measured and calm. You get the sense that she’s trying not to jinx anything, but also honoring the ways this love brings her happiness and comfort in small ways she might not have ever considered. It’s a very mature and adult way of writing and singing about love.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Sextile “Women Respond to Bass”

There’s a few different Jicks-era interviews where Stephen Malkmus says that some lyrics he wrote were just some nonsense meant to sound cool and fake-tough, essentially him doing his semi-ironic take on boilerplate 20th century rock conventions. That’s more or less what you get in this Sextile song, but in a bratty rude electroclash/Prodigy mode. And like, what would be the point of doing anything else with a hyperactive banger like this? It’s pure abrasive head-empty energy – lyrically, you’re just gonna have to change your pitch up and smack that bitch up. Also you can just say something true – yes, women do respond to bass!

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Tchotchke “Did You Hear?”

Pretty much everything about Tchotchke – their melodic sensibility, their vocal affect, their look, their slick but understated lead guitar parts, their lyrical POV – calls back to the late 70s and early 80s power pop scene I showcased on this playlist from a few years ago. And this is clearly by design, they’re working at a high level in a sub genre that was played out well before any of them were born. Beyond the impressive craft, the thing I find interesting here is how the lyrics about dating a man with erratic levels of interest make sense in any time period. And I think that’s the meta point here – the game of love doesn’t change very much, this type of guy will always lead on these sort of girls, and maybe this playful sort of tone is the best way to approach it.

Buy it from Amazon.

PinkPantheress “Girl Like Me”

I was always going to be an easy mark for this song, which substantially interpolates and updates Basement Jaxx’s classic “Romeo.” But I love where PinkPantheress goes with the underlying banger, making the Jaxx elements faster and more concentrated while adding a more melancholic melodic hook on the verses. Both songs cover essentially the same lyrical ground – realizing you’re unhappy with your relationship and want more than you’re getting. But whereas the implication of “Romeo” is that the person being addressed used to be incredibly romantic, poor PinkPantheress doesn’t even have that to look back on with some fondness.

Buy it from Amazon.

L’Eclair featuring Gelli Haha “Run”

Another song about a woman confused and disappointed by someone who is at least notionally their partner. A lot of that going around lately. This is also a dance song, but more in the 2000s post-punk revival mode. Which is to say, not so much the “lacerating angles” of first wave post-punk, and more of the gritty glamour and vague electronic patina of the sort of music I was covering towards the beginning of this site’s existence.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Black Country, New Road “Salem Sisters”

It’s a little hard to grasp why Black Country, New Road decided to carry on with the name after the band was forced to radically reinvent itself after the departure of their original frontman Isaac Wood. But I suppose there’s some door-opening value in minor name recognition, and this sort of thing worked out fantastically well for Pink Floyd and Genesis.

The new iteration of the group leans into the formal fussiness that’s always been part of their aesthetic, and is led by a trio of somewhat prim female vocals. Tyler Hyde sings lead on “Salem Sisters,” a bright piano-centric number with evocative lyrics about an unpleasant upper crust cookout and deliberately confounding shifts in tempo. It’s mannered and artsy and extremely British – charmingly uptight, melodically satisfying, and maybe a little too much, in a good way.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Nation of Language “Inept Apollo”

Ian Richard Devaney’s voice reminds me a lot of Brian Eno’s singing – a serene and handsome tone, a very relaxed sort of masculinity. He sounds a little aloof, but also empathetic and in touch with his feelings. “Inept Apollo” isn’t necessarily a step up from Nation of Language’s past material – it’s more of a lateral artistic move – but it’s a fine introduction to their sound, and their distinct balance of cold and warm currents.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

No Joy “Bugland”

Jasamine White-Gluz seems to get closer to fully realizing the sound in her head with every No Joy release. No Joy started as a fairly normal shoegaze band, but as it’s become more like White-Gluz’s solo project, the sound has become gradually more ambitious and genre-agnostic while retaining an essential spacey and ethereal quality that connects all of the records.

“Bugland,” the title track of a new record made in collaboration with the musician and producer Fire-Toolz, is a leap beyond where White-Gluz left off with 2020’s Motherhood. The sound is more “electronic” than ever, but also more direct and aggressive in its guitar sound, and more lush in its vocal harmonies. Everything is dialed up, and no artistic bet is hedged.

It sounds like a lot of familiar things from the 90s and early 00s, but also like nothing else. Listening to it is like hearing a cross section of layers, like a fossil record of music history that’s not quite in chronological order. Or maybe it’s like slipping out of relative time, and chronology doesn’t matter as much as how it all fits together. And is that such a strange thing? That’s basically how anyone experiences the past 70 years of popular music on streaming services now.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Guerilla Toss “Psychosis Is Just A Number”

“Psychosis Is Just A Number” is an aesthetic curveball from Guerrilla Toss, a band who’ve spent a lot of time developing a distinct style based on heavily saturated keyboard tones. This song is more like their version of classic post-punk, with most of the musical emphasis placed on a thick and twitchy bass line and bursts of abrasive guitar. It still sounds like Guerrilla Toss – exuberant, vibrant, cheerful in spite of bleak lyrics – but with the instrumental emphasis reversed. Theoretically this version should feel more “normal,” but it doesn’t. They’re just too quirky for that to ever happen.

Buy it from Bandcamp.