Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Field Music “Orion from the Street”

Peter and David Brewis have been releasing records as Field Music for over 15 years, and in that time a few things about their music has been constant: it’s all erudite and thoughtful, it’s all wonderfully melodic in a very “raised on Paul McCartney” way, and the music is performed and recorded with a clinical precision. Their best songs make the most of their raw skill and stoic formalism, and their more forgettable work strains against the limitations of their apparent repression and uptight musical inclinations.

“Orion on the Street” is definitely in the former category. It’s a song about death and mourning the loss of someone close, and it’s very much written from the “acceptance” stage of grief. The sorts of messy emotions that would characterize the other stages wouldn’t be the best fit for the Brewis aesthetic, but the brothers are exceptionally well suited to capture the graceful clarity of processing loss and seeing some beauty in someone moving on, even if you’re a bit agnostic on what actually comes next. A sparkly piano part and a very George Harrison-y lead guitar part are the most musically beautiful parts of the song, but the most lovely sentiment comes when they reckon with the notion of the afterlife: “Belief in further lives / separate, but true / if I thought you were anywhere / I would be there too.”

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Arlo Parks “Caroline”

“Caroline” is sung from the perspective of someone observing a dramatic public breakup, the kind of thing that will grab your attention even if you’d prefer to mind your own business. The details of the story aren’t tremendously interesting, the subject of the song is more the empathy and curiosity of the observer, and the way we rush to fill in details when given a scene like this out of context. Arlo Parks sings the song with a restrained and gentle tone over a lattice of arpeggiated guitar and crisp drum hits that recall the ambivalent tone of Radiohead’s “Weird Fishes,” expressing a diluted proxy anguish that suggests she’s interpreting what she sees as she does because she’s projecting her own experiences on it.

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Matthew E. White and Lonnie Holley “This Here Jungle of Moderness – Composition 14”

If you go back through Matthew E. White’s body of work you can certainly find parts that are influenced by soul, funk, and jazz, most obviously on a collaborative record with Flo Morrissey that included covers of classics by Roy Ayers Ubiquity and Frank Ocean. But nothing I’ve ever encountered that was made by White suggested he was capable of what he does on Broken Mirror: A Selfie Reflection, his forthcoming record with Lonnie Holley. Through five extended tracks White and his band tap into the jazz funk fusion of early ‘70s Miles Davis, particularly the vibe conjured in the sessions that yielded Get Up With It, A Tribute to Jack Johnson, and On the Corner.

Relative to Davis’ records it’s stripped down and simplified a lot – there’s fewer musicians in the room, no horns at all – but it’s a strikingly similar energy, one that’s hard to come by. White doesn’t perform on the tracks but rather conducts a group of musicians (mostly on synthesizers or percussion, but also on guitars and piano) through the collisions, tensions, and cathartic noise. Lonnie Holley role on vocals is part star presence and part bystander, and the line between him responding to the music and the music responding to his words can be hard to discern. “This Here Jungle of Moderness/Composition 14” brings out a very stressful sort of funk, where even the grooviest bits evoke a fight-or-flight response. Holley’s voice seems to confront the abstracted danger head on, and the more he sings the less startling the sounds get without necessarily ever subsiding.

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Madlib “Road of the Lonely Ones”

When I first heard about Sound Ancestors I was under the impression that it was a Madlib/Four Tet record, in the sense that Madlib has made collaboritive records in the past with MF Doom, J Dilla, Freddie Gibbs, and Talib Kweli. But no, this is a different sort of collaboration. It’s a body of work created by Madlib, but curated and crafted into an album by Four Tet. This is tremendously interesting to me, mainly because it strikes me as a very humble thing for someone as accomplished as Madlib to do, and a tremendous show of faith and trust in Four Tet. I figure the process here was probably similar to how an editor works with a writer on a big project, and pretty much everyone can benefit from a good editor.

“Road of the Lonely Ones” is essentially a rework of The Ethics’ deep cut “Lost In A Lonely World.” Madlib presents the song in full with all its major elements intact but he layers in percussion and additional textures, bringing a solid groove and more dramatic dynamics to the composition without sacrificing any of the delicate beauty of the original recording. The original seems flat and monochromatic in comparison, like something waiting to eventually be finished. Madlib’s arrangement frames the song’s best qualities for maximum effect, particularly the refrain in which the lead singer sings questions like “Did I ever treat you bad?” and “Where did I go wrong?” over gently plucked guitar chords. The beat drops out to put a spotlight on this moment, accentuating its vulnerability and raw beauty.

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Emanative & Liz Elensky featuring Bed Hadwen “Fall In To Me”

“Fall In To Me” has an intriguing dynamic in which Liz Elensky’s vocal and Ben Hadwen’s tenor sax sound like they’re both attempting to break out of the tense rhythm laid down by Emanative. They move around the stiff groove in different ways. Elensky’s approach is more soulful and zen, like a passive resistance to the oppressive force. Hadwen’s sax is more loose and emotive, at first sneaking around the beat before more obviously reacting against it. I like the way the drama plays out, like the rhythm is trying to capture something about the human spirit that simply cannot be held for long.

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The Far East “NYC Dream”

The Far East’s music is a remarkable fascismile of 1970s and early 1980s Jamaican music, to the point that if you can filter out textural and tonal nuances that mark it as contemporary recordings, you could be convinced it’s the real deal. This band appears to be entirely comprised of white Americans, and I suppose you can make that a case for being problematic, but I think that is more of an issue if they sucked at this and their approximation was purely a cringey surface-level thing. A song like “NYC Dream” comes from love and admiration, and more importantly, a collective skill set capable of producing such a warm and generous melody and playing the rhythm with just the right feel. It helps that “NYC Dream” is grounded in the band’s own setting too, so it’s just as connected to Blondie’s version of rocksteady as the authentic Jamaican source material as Maddie Ruthless sings a romantic love song that’s simultaneously for her partner and the city around them.

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Wax Tailor “Never Forget”

“Never Forget” has the sample-happy aesthetics and playful bounce of Prince Paul and The Avalanches in their prime – very warm and groovy, but also delightfully kitschy. But even with the light-hearted tone there’s some dark currents in the mix, particularly in the repeated “I never…” vocal clip that I think may be Nina Simone though I’m not certain of it. There’s a lot of regret and sorrow in the delivery of those three syllables, and it works as a counterpart to the silliness of a lot of the other samples and compliments the downward curve of the bass part.

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Moor Mother & Billy Woods “Rapunzel”

Child Actor’s track for “Rapunzel” has an eerie vibe but a relaxed feeling, like you’re getting hypnotized into some kind of zombie state but it turns out to be a relief to give up control. A lot of that effect comes from the central sample, which blurs a few sung notes into a siren call that’s simultaneously lovely and unnerving. Moor Mother and Billy Woods are both well-suited to the feel of this track but approach it differently – Woods putting his own spin on the more cerebral Wu-Tang styles of Inspectah Deck and Masta Killa, while Moor Mother leans into the low end of her register so her gravelly tone melts in with the bass a bit.

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Glass “Mosie’s Mood”

“Mosie’s Mood” sounds as though the music is somehow backlit, like we’re just getting a dull haze of light off the back of its alt-rock groove and surfy lead guitar parts. The darkness of the music feels imposed on the form, like this really ought to have a bright and crisp sound but there’s something blocking out all light and joy. It’s a good tonal match for the lyrics, which seem to grapple with a lack of motivation and a surplus of anxiety in a time when possibilities are limited and mostly are bleak. There’s a sense in the music and the words that there’s an attempt to get out of a feeling of hopelessness, but there’s only so much that can be done.

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Apifera “Four Green Yellows”

Apifera sound like they’re going for a mid-’70s Herbie Hancock aesthetic here, though the loose swing in his classic recordings is just beyond their collective reach. But the tightness of their playing isn’t necessarily a problem as it nudges them a little closer to electronic music, particularly the sort of approximations of jazz fusion artists like Luke Vibert and Squarepusher were playing with around 20 years ago. “Four Green Yellows” has a nice relaxed groove, but the best bits aren’t exactly chill – a high keyboard part with a staccato attack that makes it sound like it’s blinking in the shape of a square, the way the bass seems to suddenly start fluttering around the two minute mark.

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Jazmine Sullivan featuring Ari Lennox “On It”

Jazmine Sullivan plays a supporting role in the first third of this song, giving a lot of space for Ari Lennox to set the tone for this very lusty slow jam. It’s generous, but it’s also sorta like having a very good opening act – once Sullivan takes the lead on the second verse she raises the stakes with a performance that’s twice as filthy, more emotionally raw, and impressively nuanced in terms of phrasing. I love the way she delivers the line “cause baby it’s not that easy to please me, yeah I’m needy,” stressing the internal rhyme of the “y” sound with notes that flatter the high end of her range while also conveying a bit of eagerness and desperation. As the song reaches its climax the two singers support one another beautifully, with each showing off and emoting without getting in the other’s way. They don’t sound like they’re competing, they sound like they’re comparing notes.

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Black Country, New Road “Track X”

Every aspect of “Track X” comes across as deliberate and refined, but not so much that it ever seems stiff or precious. It wouldn’t be too hard for this song to tip in those directions, particularly as it’s essentially a solemn spoken word piece set to an arrangement that includes strings and woodwinds. It’s careful where it counts – there’s no clutter to the track despite how many instruments are on it, and as much as the music is lovely and cinematic it never gets sappy or sentimental. Isaac Wood’s vocal performance resembles the style and tone of The National’s Matt Berninger, but he’s not quite as stoic and ponderous, not even when he’s ruminating on a complicated relationship with his father. The song feels like a minor miracle for the way this young band sets themselves up to make something that ought to be a bit unwieldly and overbearing but end up with something that’s rather light and elegant.

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Stephen Malkmus “Vague Space”

Stephen Malkmus went through a phase in the late 90s and early 00s in which he clearly felt a natural pull towards writing traditional romantic pop songs but felt weird and self conscious about it, so any time a melody suggested a sentimental cliché he wrote in something absurd or off-putting to subvert the listener’s expectations. You can hear this on “You Are A Light,” “Spit On A Stranger,” “Major Leagues,” and “Ann Don’t Cry” on Terror Twilight, and very obviously in “Vague Space” from the first Jicks record. This isn’t all conjecture – early versions of these songs have been in rotation for ages and the demo version of “Vague Space” featured on the “Phantasies” single features an early version of the chorus that goes “I love to turn you on” before it was revised to “I love to tear you off.” The editing process was pretty transparent.

There’s a part of me that sees this as a cop-out, a way of shrinking away from genuine emotions because you don’t want anyone to accuse you of being corny. But that impulse to shrink away from feelings, to put up a flimsy defense – that’s a very relatable feeling, and “Vague Space” is definitely a song about hedging emotional bets and playing it cool. The first verse is a dodge on a “define the relationship” conversation that includes a genuine compliment that’s also a neg – “I came to crave your spastic touch, the honest way you move’s too much,” and the second verse drifts into poetic nonsense, as if to say “haha, never mind.” As it goes along Malkmus tries to downplay everything – “this is no new romantic blitzkrieg” – but the sound of it all makes it obvious that he’s coming from a sweet place and just hates dealing with pressure. The “vague space” is a comfort zone, a way to enjoy feelings and moments without any particular responsibility. It’s not necessarily the most noble thing, but it’s an understandable position.

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Darkside “Liberty Bell”

The feeling of “Liberty Bell” is very easy to connect with but difficult to name – it’s numb but not too numb, bleak but not too bleak, cold but not frigid. It sounds like a journey into unknown territory with a lot of caution and fear, but also a dim hope that you may come upon something extraordinary. The arrangement is excellent, particularly the use of acoustic guitar as much for ambiance as rhythm and the lead guitar part that starts as a bit flamenco before devolving into an odd clatter.

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Playboi Carti “Slay3r”

Playboi Carti’s best songs feel like things that shouldn’t work – raps that don’t sound like raps, melodies that aren’t quite sung, chaotic energy that somehow coheres into pop forms. There’s an internal logic to what he does, enough that a lot of the tracks can sound basically the same, but when he really clicks it’s like magic. Every element of “Slay3r” sounds like it’s moving in nearly parallel circles, just off kilter enough to feel a little goofy and strange but not enough to distract from the bits that congeal into melodic hooks. The title is indeed a reference to the metal band – “I’m a rock star, I could’ve joined Slayer” – but as with everything this guy does, the rock of it all is mostly in his visual presentation, though there is an anarchic energy to his vocals that is kindred in spirit.

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Burial “Chemz”

“Chemz” is an elaborately constructed dance epic that’s built around the ambiguity of whether it’s a song about drugs or a song about love, and nudging you towards the question of whether there’s much of a difference given that either way it’s all chemical reactions in your brain. Burial’s track goes hard with chaotic rave breaks that bring on a heightened level of stimulation – a little bit of panic, a lot of rush. His vocal samples are very inspired, weaving together bits from Ne-Yo, Wolf Alice, and Allure to express a potent mix of joy and paranoia that the joy is about to end. All the lyrics that rise to the surface are about dependence, and worrying what you are without this thing that’s making you feel happy and whole. The feeling of the song doesn’t change but the music mutates quite a bit, shifting through stages of highs and plateaus before abruptly fizzling out, as if the song just passed out on the sidewalk at 4 AM.

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Four Tet “0000 871 0018”

I listened to Four Tet’s 871 before reading the fine print: “recorded between August 1995 and January 1997.” Well, that certainly explains it – the use of live instrumentation, the approximation of that particular Loveless/”To Here Knows When” glimmering sound, the proto-post rock drumming aesthetics. What had initially come off to me as an intriguing detour is in fact Kieran Hebden sharing his juvenilia, which turns out to be far better than many artists in their prime. “0000 871 0018” is the most inspired track in this collection, the one that displays Hebden’s exceptional taste in textures and tones, and is an early indication of his gift for composition. There’s a gentle drama to this one, like it ought to soundtrack a moment of sudden clarity upon encountering something just beyond comprehension.

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Four Tet “Parallel 4”

Parallel comes without caveats or context, so it seems safe to assume this is recent work by Hebden. “Parallel 4” reminds me a lot of the track I featured from the EP he had out under his wingdings name, which makes me think this may in fact be a more evolved version of that song. It doesn’t have the sort of pop bluntness of that song, which I appreciate but can imagine is sort of dull and obvious to him, but I appreciate the relative elegance of this track as it transitions from its beat-centric first part to a more ambient and lovely mid-section.

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The Silhouettes Project featuring Bel Cobain and Lex Amor “At the Bay”

The Silhouettes Project is an interesting premise – it’s not a band or even a collective, but rather an umbrella name that can serve as a “platform” for a community of rap, R&B, and jazz artists in the UK. It’s like a label, but not a label, or a curated compilation that unfolds in real time. It’s an idea with a lot of potential. “At the Bay” is a showcase for the singer Bel Cobain and the rapper Lex Amor, both of whom perform with a stoned, drowsy affect. The track is produced by Illiterate and is built on a keyboard part that reminds me a lot of Massive Attack’s classic “Protection” – it has that same sort of soft but synthetic feel and lazy but crisp beat, making it sound like Cobain and Amor are being lit by dull fluorescent lights. They have excellent chemistry as vocalists, recalling the dynamic of Tricky’s muttered raps and Martina Topley-Bird’s low-key soulfulness on Maxinquaye.

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Taylor Swift “Tis the Damn Season”

“Tis the Damn Season” is like the dark mirror of “Invisible String,” in which the ways two people are tied together are more like a knot of emotional complications than some magical romantic inevitability. The protagonist is a young woman who’s come back to her home town for the holidays who slips back into old feelings for an ex who never left town or moved on. She’s pulled into the gravitational field of their feelings but is incredibly unsure about how close she wants to get to them – “you can call me ‘babe’ for the weekend, ’tis the damn season.”

Even if they are coming on too strong and she’s a bit hesitant, it’s clear enough these two really do love one another. But it’s also apparent that they’re both actually just engaging with their doubts and insecurities about staying or leaving town as the ex tries to hang on tightly to something they thought they’d lost and she worries that she won’t find anyone as eager and accepting somewhere else. Taylor Swift and Aaron Dessner attain a very well-calibrated level of melodrama in this song – just enough to sell the weight of the feelings, but reserved enough to keep it centered in the protagonist’s bittersweet ambivalence.

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The Mountain Goats “Get Famous”

The Mountain Goats sound pretty good with a bit of extra razzle dazzle, even if it’s just a horn section added to sell the irony of John Darnielle’s lyrics about aiming to get big in show business. “Get Famous” is sung from the perspective of someone with a burning need to validate their belief that they’re special and that they have a purpose in the world. Darnielle’s lyrics are satirical and mock the most extreme version of this character – a person we surely recognize from magazines, social media, and reality TV – while clearly understanding that he and pretty much every artist can identify with this feeling in some way. This character is personifying all the darkest roots of a need for adulation, all the things the best people tend to tamp down out of self-awareness and humility: A contempt for the “obedient sheep,” a megalomaniacal belief what they do makes the world a better place, faith in the thought that their success is preordained by a higher power.

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