Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Lulileela “Dive”

I’m not sure exactly where Lulileela is coming from in terms of her musical influences but to my American ears “Dive” sounds sorta like the quasi-80s hyper-romantic aesthetics of M83 at their commercial peak, but with the rock boy melodrama cut out and the slick sophistication dialed way up. Her voice is soft and airy, but her bass playing is very loud and assertive in the mix, driving the song while also providing popping flourishes along the way. A lot of artists aim for this mark but don’t nail it the way she does here, and I think it comes down to her composing like a bassist. Anyone with the right keyboards and presets can go for this sort of atmosphere, but not everyone can lay down a groove as dynamic as this. She centers the drama of the music in the hips rather than leaving it all to your head.

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Beck “Everlasting Nothing”

This is an excerpt from my review of the new Beck album Hyperspace for NPR.

The record ends with “Everlasting Nothing,” a majestic ballad that’s among the best songs Beck has ever released. “I woke up in a movie, didn’t know if it was my whole life,” he sings over a stately guitar rhythm. “When it ended, I laughed before I cried.” A verse later, he imagines his rebirth as “a standing ovation for the funeral of the sun,” sounding less blunt and plainspoken and more poetic and abstract — that is, more like himself.

As the song progresses it grows grander in scale, and finally peaks with the ecstatic glossolalia of female gospel singers. The effect is similar to “The Great Gig in the Sky,” in which Pink Floyd used a similar arrangement trick to convey a cosmic notion of death and the afterlife. But whereas Clare Torry’s voice was foregrounded on that song, the gospel vocals in “Everlasting Nothing” are distant in the mix, like a siren call to oblivion that Beck is tuning out for the time being, choosing to stay grounded as he faces the unknown. It’s not quite a happy ending, but it’s at least a dramatic ride into the sunset, capping all the gloomy resignation with some sense of direction and purpose.

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Jubilee featuring Maluca “Mami”

I always favor cultural omnivores as electronic dance producers. I’m not dialed into the ongoing narrative of this milieu to care much about the concepts, aesthetic purity, or subcultural contexts of microgenres, and I find it much easier to connect with the sort of DJs who have internalized every trick in the book for getting people to dance and are ruthless in their pursuit of delivering thrills. Jubilee is very much this type of producer, and while her record Call of Location doesn’t sound quite like my beloved Basement Jaxx, it’s very apparent that she’s cut from the same cloth. The record is all energy and joyful eclecticism rooted in a deep love and history with the music she’s drawing on. It’s not hard to dissect the mix of grime, Miami bass, and dancehall that comes together on “Mami,” but the song is so effective on a raw physical level that examining it that way is besides the point. She’s connecting the dots between these things, but mostly just in a “by any means necessary” approach to moving you.

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Deerhunter “Timebends”

A lot of the time, even with an artist I love and have followed for many years like Deerhunter, I put off listening to stand-alone or pre-album singles. It’s just a matter of prioritizing, and I don’t particularly like the drip drip drip drip approach to releasing songs in advance of a full record because then you hear the record in full and it feels more like a compilation. So it took a few weeks to get to “Timebends,” but I heard it at precisely the right time on a day when its lyrics about feeling emotionally flat would really click with my experience in the moment. It felt like that joke where someone in a video is aware that the song is narrating exactly what they’re doing and what’s going on around them.

“Timebends” isn’t the first time Bradford Cox has stretched out the length of a song, but it’s the first time he’s written something that’s so deliberately epic. It sounds like the goal here was to make a perfect finale for live shows and built in as many fun instrumental tangents as possible, right on down to a drum solo. It’s over-the-top but not in a way that undermines the drama of the song and the way Cox seems to be mourning the loss of a part of himself and questioning whether anything has actually been improved. It’s a little sad, but mostly just…blank. It’s very “it is what it is.”

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Taeyeon “하하하 (LOL)”

This is basically like a K-Pop version of Portishead, but who knows if that was even what these people were aiming for. One of the things I like a lot about K-Pop is that very often the maximalist aesthetic results in the writers and producers tossing a dozen different musical ideas into any given song and ending up with something fresh and distinctive if just by the novelty of the contrasting elements. “LOL” leans on a lot of trip-hop and post-Weeknd R&B aesthetics but there’s so much else going on in the song, particularly in the final third when you’re getting hand claps piled on “orchestra hit” keyboards piled on groovy organ and topped with a glossy guitar solo. Taeyeon’s vocal suits the femme fatale vibe of the music, especially when she laughs to the beat in a way that sounds very much like she’s taunting the listener.

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Lapalux featuring JFDR “Thin Air”

“Thin Air” has a very peculiar dynamic that’s more like a three-act structure than what would normally make sense for pop or dance music. The first section is tense and atmospheric, the middle section is a chaotic dance break, and the third returns to a more vibe-y aesthetic but gradually lets out all the tension like a deflating balloon. That up-tempo section is only about a minute long but is incredibly compelling – it ought to feel cathartic but the textures are all harsh and buzzy so it feels more like an anxious chase sequence. Everything in this song is just a bit off in an intriguing way, and the climax seems early and abrupt so the soft, glowy, sensual resolution lingers slightly longer than you might expect. Maybe it’s meant to be like a reward?

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Ali Barter “History of Boys”

Ali Barter’s Hello, I’m Doing My Best is mostly made up of songs about a sober person looking back on their life when their drinking was out of control with a mix of shame and confusion, like they’re just trying to piece together exactly how things got so bad. Some of the songs get very bleak, but “History of Boys” is light and nostalgic about messing around as a rebellious teen. The dark bits are still in there – she sings about blacking out in the chorus – but the lyrics and the rambunctious pop-punk style of the song honestly acknowledge the fun to be had at the top of the slippery slope. And while this is formally very much a pop-punk song, the arrangement resists the predictable patterns of that genre by putting off its hit-the-pedals chorus a bit to coast out on a pre-chorus that feels more stark and uncertain before slamming into the inevitable.

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Lilith “Figure 1 Repeated”

“Figure 1 Repeated” is a song about noticing the patterns of another person, and the sort of repeated behaviors that aren’t fully obvious to you until you’ve observed a few cycles firsthand. So it makes some thematic sense that the music itself moves in subtle circles, like a sad little train moving along an elliptical track. Hannah Liuzzo sings with a low-key melancholy tone but her words and phrasing come across as more reasonable than overtly emotional – she’s coming from a very analytical place, and seems more invested in fixing or adjusting the situation than breaking the pattern. It’s a very accommodating frame of mind, one that notices a problem but just wants to figure out how to work around it.

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Destroyer “Crimson Tide”

“Crimson Tide” isn’t far off from Dan Bejar working in his Kaputt mode, but it’s a more stark version – there’s no richness to the sound, no sax flourishes. It’s a lonelier version of the sound, and one that calls attention to its artifice in a different way. Whereas the songs in this general style on Kaputt and Ken were openly winking at Roxy Music and New Order, this song is more like going out of your way to set up a fog bank and dramatic lighting and then traipsing through the scene wearing a trench coat. It feels more overtly theatrical, and more about placing a spotlight directly on him as he shares his cryptic wisdom.

As always, Bejar’s words call out for annotation as he calls back to previous Destroyer songs as well as tunes by the likes of The Cure and Kenny Rogers, and his best lines come across like he’s saying something so personal he’s the only one who could ever really understand it. And then there’s the jokes: blowing bubbles, a funeral going completely insane. It’s all gallows humor, bitchy asides, and a half-hearted attempt to throw you off from noticing just how much of this song is about physical frailty and fear of death.

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Dua Lipa “Don’t Start Now”

“Don’t Start Now” is essentially a disco song and there is a retro quality to the production, but despite certain musical signifiers, it’s not necessarily a nod to actual ‘70s disco. This is, instead, a pop song that’s calling back to previous iterations of chart pop calling back to the disco era. In other words, this is much more Kylie Minogue than Donna Summer. To some extent this is just what happens with any genre, as signifiers and conventions are passed down over the years, less as a manner of direct homage but to assert “this is THAT kind of song.”

But unlike with various forms of rock music which are always being produced in some form, calling back to disco – particularly in its original pre-electronic form – comes in waves as the vibe falls in and out of fashion, so the evolution is a bit weirder and usually very Column A + Column B. So in the case of “Don’t Start Now,” the chorus hook is very “UK chart pop in the 21st century,” the bass line is very “Daft Punk trying to make their own Chic song six years ago,” and the lyrics seem specifically indebted to Robyn’s brand of “crying while I’m dancing” pop catharsis. (And then there’s some disco strings, gotta love some disco strings!) It’s all very considered and a whole team of people put this together, but it all comes together quite naturally. It’s rather elegant in its vaguely haughty funkiness, and ends up sounding like something that just needs to be.

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Lake Ruth “Extended Leave”

Lake Ruth singer Allison Brice is an excellent lyricist in a very understated sort of way – she’s always writing these very closely observed character studies from a bit of critical distance, as though she’s reviewing someone else’s existence in a specific moment. The music, which feels cool and precise is its rhythms and textures, emphasizes the sense of clinical detachment.

“Extended Leave” is a snapshot of someone who seems to be under a great deal of pressure who reacts by skipping out of work and getting paranoid about the passage of time. Brice fills in easily observable details – “you grow obsessed looking at your watch” – but the specifics of the situation are vague. It’s a bit like watching a stranger and imagining the story they’re living. The “why?” of everything is maddeningly vague, but imagining what’s really going on and driving them emotionally is a sort of empathy, I suppose.

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Kanye West “God Is”

If you’re a middle-aged career artist in the wilderness phase of your career, the “Bob Dylan Christian phase” move isn’t the worst direction you could go on, particularly if you’re Kanye West and lyrics about Jesus and recontexualized soul/gospel chords have always been one of your strong suits. Jesus Is King is a “return to form” album that’s also a radical break album – the textures of classic Kanye but in the service of a manic rebranding as a Christian crusader out to convert his fanbase. “God Is” is lovely but also vaguely unnerving in its fervor and obvious extreme sincerity. West sings most of the song with a raspy voice, delivering a message of how he’s been saved by Jesus with a raw, ragged intensity. It’d be convincing if we didn’t know enough to get the sense that we’re listening to someone who seems more than a little delusional, but in fairness, knowing a lot about the low points of anyone who’s grasping for redemption like this is bound to make you question their motives, especially when on the same record he’s still saying very dubious things. But he sounds committed and joyful in this moment, and I hope he’s genuinely happy and it sticks for him.

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Locate S,1 “From the Nun”

Christina Schneider’s songs are smooth on the surface but winding and jagged on a structural level, as though she insists on complicating every pleasure by keeping you slightly off-balance and confused. “From the Nun” is something of a disco/rock number, but it’s a bit too off-kilter to settle into a groove. This isn’t a problem, especially as the emphasis is more on melody and lyrics, and the mood is somewhat dazed and loopy. Schneider sings in a sweet Debbie Harry-like coo but her words are sour and cruel, as she fantasizes about throwing cigarettes at a child and smashing fine china. A lot of Schneider’s lyrics deal with repressed anger, but this is where it’s most obvious, and also the most funny.

Buy it from Captured Tracks.

Mauno “Expectations”

The mood and lyrical concerns of “Expectations” are fairly low stakes, but it all still conveys a tightly-wound low grade anxiety as Eliza Niemi parses the hidden meaning in thoughtless gestures and runs the cost-benefit analysis of a relationship that is steady and reliable but not particularly thrilling. Mauno’s guitar parts are crisp and dynamic, clicking around like a finely tuned machine in some parts, while thudding dramatically for emphasis in slightly unexpected ways. The music doesn’t move far outside of set expectations but still builds a sense of vague suspense, like you’re always just waiting for some other shoe to drop even if you don’t really want it to.

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Jennah Barry “The Real Moon”

“The Real Moon” seems to be about the space between feeling close to people and things while actually being quite isolated. Jennah Barry’s music is delicate and precise without feeling particularly fussy, and she evokes melancholy without getting maudlin or depressing. It’s a very specific mood – lonely but satisfied in solitude, peaceful in the natural world but vaguely intimidated by its mystery. The sound is crisp, cool, and distinctly autumnal, and feels like a scene in a story that ought to be romantic but ended up being lonely.

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Kate Bollinger “No Other Like You”

Kate Bollinger’s songs always feel so soft and cozy, like every sound in the arrangement is meant to make the listener feel as relaxed, comfortable, and welcome as possible. There’s a friendly generosity in her voice and in her melodies that makes the low-key confessional quality of her lyrics feel like you’re just listening to someone you care about open up about what’s going on in their life. “No Other Like You” is a love song in which she expresses deep gratitude to someone who has been very good and supportive of her, but she’s worried about what to expect of other people now that they’ve raised the bar so high for what she can expect. There’s a bittersweet feeling to the music, but the sound mostly conveys warmth and love. She’s still in the glow of the good feelings to get lost in the fear of what happens without them.

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Beabadoobee “I Wish I Was Stephen Malkmus”

I can only look at that song title and go “yeah, same.” But given that the writer of this song wasn’t even born until after Pavement broke up, I wonder what Stephen Malkmus means to her, in semiotic terms. What kind of aspiration is this – to write rock songs as well as him? To have his casual confidence and coolness? To somehow create emotionally moving art while always seeming like nothing ever bothers him? She doesn’t seem too interested in imitating him, since the guitar tones in this song are all very un-Malkmus, and the dynamics come a lot closer to hit-the-pyro-on-the-chorus bombast of Weezer.

But given that the song is more about dyeing your hair blue to mark a change in your life, it seems like the title is a bit of a self-deprecating joke, calling back to the opening line of “Cut Your Hair” – “darling, don’t you go and cut your hair, do you think it’s gonna make him change?” She knows it’s sorta silly to think a superficial change of style is going to make a big difference, but also gets that the smallest changes can give you enough of a charge to fake it til you make it something bigger.

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Omni “Skeleton Key”

Philip Frobos sings with a laid back and mildly bemused tone in pretty much every Omni song, like the world in front of him is always something he’s not quite figured out just yet. In “Skeleton Key” he’s sorting through the confusing give-and-take of app-based dating, and the gap between the appealing curation of self we can present in these situations and the actual self, which can be messy and awful once communication actually begins. There’s no conclusions or statements, just this dude poking at a topic from a few different angles in a song that’s splitting the aesthetic difference between Thin Lizzy and Pylon. It’s an interesting and surprisingly natural vibe – groovy and light, but with an undertow of nervous tension.

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Kacy & Clayton “Carrying On”

“Carrying On” is bright in tone but extremely dark in sentiment, with Kacy Anderson singing about the inevitability of death and dread about wasting time with a wholesome country twang. The anxiety and neuroses of her lyrics are almost entirely disconnected from the sound of the music, which feels rather light and easy-going. But this contrast would seem to be the point – not in a cheap “see, it’s actually quite depressing” way, but more in how these feelings can overlap, and one thing motivates the other. It’s not as though she’s talking herself out of life, either. It’s really more of a “carpe diem” sentiment, and the sense that she’s spooked herself into fearing that she’s wasted even a moment is just an unfortunate by-product of embracing life and aspiring for joy.

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Angel Olsen “What It Is”

“What It Is” could’ve worked just fine if it was just left at Angel Olsen doing her version of a chugging T. Rex glam song. It probably would’ve been my favorite song on her new record either way, because I prefer this sort of groove to the more dirgey or ponderous material that makes up most of the album. What pushes the song from good to great is the string arrangement by Jherek Bischoff, which starts off as a flourish that adds a touch of drama to the central groove, but eventually becomes foregrounded in an instrumental break that radically shifts the sense of scale and depth in the composition. Bischoff’s strings seem to leap out of the mix like the audio equivalent of a 3-D effect, and are recorded with a touch of reverb that evokes glimmering lights on chrome. It’s bombastic but tightly controlled, which is a nice contrast with Olsen’s more mannered approach to her vocal performance. She’s singing about trying to figure out your emotions or even know enough to recognize a strong feeling when it’s right there. She’s essentially singing the ego, while Bischoff’s arrangement covers the id, and the rest of the music is like the unbridged gulf between all this feeling and thinking.

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