Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Crepes “As You Go”

“As You Go” is a marvel of rock craftsmanship – it’s neat and elegant in its construction, but still has enough physicality to keep it from feeling cold or sterile. Crepes thread a ’60s British Invasion sort of melody through an arrangement that nods towards jazzy rock, the Talking Heads end of new wave, and Tame Impala-ish contemporary psychedelia without ever feeling quite like it belongs in any particular genre. There’s a pleasing fluidity to this song as it progresses, particularly as it shifts into its extended instrumental outro and all the threads resolve before an unexpected guitar solo finale.

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Metric “Love You Back”

Emily Haines has always been so good at conveying self possession, emotional clarity, and determination. There’s a sharpness to her songs – her language is almost always declarative, her lyrics are very often critical in nature. Even when she’s expressing sorrow, she sounds like someone who has made up her mind.

“Love You Back,” from the new Metric record, is very much about feeling sure of something. She’s singing about deciding to move from trauma and aggravation, and to not give in to what is holding her back. The music is heavy, bold, and firm, giving shape to her defiant tone. That’s part of why the chorus is so striking and startling: “I wanna love you back so bad.” It’s a bit of a plot twist, really – what is she really singing about her? Is this always about a relationship, or is this more about a sort of radical love and forgiveness? There’s some ambiguity there, but it’s presented with such certainty, and a confrontational kind of joy.

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Magic Potion “Shock Proof”

Magic Potion sound so casual it’s vaguely surprising the songs even hold together, as if the players might all drift apart musically at any moment, or the drummer might literally get up and walk away to get a beer or something. It takes some effort and intention to sound this chilled out! “Shock Proof” ambles along with a weird grace, and Gustaf Montelius sings the song with a slightly bewildered tone. He seems so guileless and sweet, like everything he sees is at least a little bit fascinating to him. It’s a good vibe, and it has a way of skewing your senses to match their pace and perspective. They bring you into their world, and you just stroll along with them.

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Lana Del Rey “Mariners Apartment Complex”

Can you save someone you love from depression? That’s the idea behind “Mariners Apartment Complex,” a country rock ballad in which Lana Del Rey offers support and guidance to a man who mistakenly believes her to be as miserable and messed up as he is. She tries to give him perspective, she tries to show him the bright side of life. She tells him that she believes that people can change and that life can get better. She’s so earnest and sweet in this song, but also grounded and mature. She’s not offering any sort of false hope, and this isn’t really an expression of romantic love. It’s just pure compassion, and in the context of Lana’s body of work, a signal to the audience that she’s moved on from some of the darker feelings from her earlier records. The wistful vibe of the song and the firm, frank tone of her voice indicate that she doesn’t have any illusions of what’s going on here – she knows she can only help him so much, and that there probably isn’t much future to this relationship. But she truly cares, and she makes you care too.

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Noname “Self”

Noname seems so calm when she raps. Her words spill out at a relaxed but deliberate pace, like she’s extemporaneously speaking about something she knows everything about. In the case of “Self,” it’s processing her feelings after breaking up with someone and finding out she’s a lot more confident coming out of the situation than going into it. The track is nearly as chill as her voice – the keyboard parts have a smoothness you’d expect from D’Angelo or Erykah Badu, and the beat is remarkably unhurried and casual for a song that doesn’t even break the two minute mark. Near the end, she starts repeating the word “pussy,” and each time she says she sounds a little more comfortable and empowered by it, like she’s reciting an incantation to make her feel more confident. The song seems to just stop when the change sets in.

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Oh Sees “Sentient Oona”

John Dwyer is highly committed to the physical thrills of rock music, and builds his songs like they’re meant to be amusement park rides. It’s all in the momentum, the building of tension, the sudden release. He’s always looking for a new spin on the same essential thrills, and these days it’s in a quasi prog-metal milieu – a little more ponderous in spots, and heavier in others, but still a rush when you get to the classic Oh Sees “whoooo!” bits. “Sentient Oona” is all about how the tension in the double-drummer beat and Dwyer’s smooth mellow chords at the start gradually lead up to when it all explodes into a series of crushing riffs. The dude knows what he’s doing.

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George Clanton “Make It Forever”

“Make It Forever” sounds like an intriguing midway point between My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless and Tears for Fears’ early ‘90s material. I’m not sure if this is something George Clanton was deliberately going for – Loveless seems like a deliberate reference point for his work, but he seems like he may be trying to channel a more general very early ‘90s aesthetic. I like the way the Tears for Fears-ness of this song foregrounds the sort of romanticism and grandeur that would only be implied in MBV’s music. This is a very earnest tune – he’s singing straightforwardly about missing someone and wanting to reunite, and just be together forever after that. Clanton isn’t hedging his bets or playing it cool, and the music echoes the innocence and intensity of his feelings. He’s imagining a perfect moment, and in the music, he’s trying to will it into reality.

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Anchorsong “Testimony”

Masaaki Yoshida’s compositions have a neat, orderly structure – if they were physical forms, it’d be a lot of balance and symmetry. Clean lines and smooth surfaces. Not overly rigid and airless, per se, but precise and deliberate. “Testimony” is built upon busy rhythms but still somehow feels quite still and serene. It sounds like calmly moving through a crowded space with a clear mind, taking in the world around you but at a slight intellectual and emotional remove. As the song moves towards its conclusion, the sound gets less and less dense, adding to the feeling of peacefulness and calm.

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Spiritualized “The Morning After”

I am not sure how much lyrical continuity Jason Pierce intends to have in his music, but it’s not much of a leap to think that the Jane in “The Morning After” is the same Jane he was addressing in “Hey Jane” on the previous Spiritualized album from 2012. Whereas “Hey Jane” was largely about the singer’s perception of her and her influence on him, “The Morning After” is more of a character study in the style of Lou Reed’s “____ Says” songs. Here we learn that Jane’s from a difficult but affluent family, that she’s unlucky in love, and she’s in terrible health. There’s a lot of affection in the way Pierce writes about Jane, but also a bit of distance – it’s a little like how you might talk about an ex you still have some feelings for, or a once-close friend you’ve fallen out of touch with.

“The Morning After” is a rocker, and while the arrangement has the usual sort of Spiritualized density of instrumentation, there’s a relative lightness to it that stands apart from Pierce’s usual work. A lot of that comes from a groovy lead guitar part that gives the track a stoned ‘60s vibe, but it’s also in the way the music seems to unravel around the time the horns start getting wild and skronky in the final couple minutes. You get a sense of a life falling apart, but it doesn’t sound bleak or heavy. It’s more like a celebration that gets out of hand.

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Miss World “Carb Yr Enthusiasm”

Natalie Chahal’s Miss World project is a mash up of Instagram aesthetics, ’90s references, and free-wheeling garage rock. Her lyrics and themes mostly satirize the more vapid aspects of social media and media aimed at women, but she’s doing it from a position of ambivalence – she clearly thinks a lot of this is very fun, but can’t help but smirk at the Kardashians and the way romance and betrayal can exist in the context of, say, Instagram stories. “Carb Yr Enthusiasm” is an aggressive surf rock tune about dieting and “beach bodies,” and it’s so heavy on irony that it almost comes around to not sounding ironic at all. Chahal’s voice is ideal for bitter punk sarcasm – there’s a nasty pinched quality to her delivery that’s a little bit Johnny Rotten and a lot “extremely mean popular girl in a teen drama.” She makes the song work in three ways: it’s a fun rock song, a funny joke, and a pointed critique. Not an easy balance to pull off!

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Interpol “If You Really Love Nothing”

Interpol is the kind of band that always sorta sounds the same if you’re not paying much attention, but are nevertheless always making new formal decisions within the context of their clearly defined aesthetic. In the case of “If You Really Love Nothing,” it’s the introduction of a shuffle beat. The swing of the rhythm makes the more familiar elements of their sound feel a bit more fresh, it’s like rearranging the furniture of their sound a bit to give the music a more comfortable sense of feng shui. The usual claustrophobic tone is gone, but the weird bug-eyed tension remains. Paul Banks’ vocal sounds as tightly wound and neurotic as ever, and he seems to be addressing someone – a woman? an audience? the United States? – with a perplexed sort of disgust. He sounds like someone who has just given up hope for recovering a relationship with someone, and is now attempting to justify himself. What a bitter vibe for an unusually light and groovy song for them.

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Mitski “Why Didn’t You Stop Me?”

Mitski’s voice is a stumbling block for me. Her compositions, especially on her new record Be the Cowboy, are bold and expressive, and her lyrics are sharp and emotional. Her voice, however, is pleasant but oddly lacking in affect. She undersells every line in a way that makes it hard for me to tell whether she’s being deadpan or emotionally reserved. I’m inclined to believe “Why Didn’t You Stop Me?” is more the former, and we’re meant to take find her indecisive and low-key selfish lyrics to be darkly humorous, probably at her own expense. Her composition, particularly the dramatic keyboard hook and lead guitar parts, carry the feeling of the song and indicate emotional stakes far greater than her vocal would imply. It’s certainly interesting to me to contrast that bombast with a vocal approach that presents a rather distant and cerebral take on raw feelings, but the result is a song I admire far more than I connect with it.

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Ariana Grande “Sweetener”

Pop albums take time to make, while pop star relationships tend to burn bright and fast. As a result, it’s easy to approach Ariana Grande’s new album Sweetener as a collection of songs about her intense romance with the comedian Pete Davidson. (There is, of course, a song on the record called “Pete Davidson.”) But many of these songs have been in the works for some time, and “Sweetener” in particular apparently dates back to 2016 when Grande was still involved with Mac Miller. (A lyrical tip-off is the entire verse about enjoying getting head from this lover, and Miller is a guy who proudly rapped “I just eat pussy, other people need food” in his album-length tribute to Grande, The Divine Feminine.)

Fun fact, right? Cool trivia. But I think this context is valuable in understanding where Grande is coming from as a person and as an artist. This is a woman who had her heart set on singing songs that conveyed a joyful, lustful love, regardless of what relationship she was in. She’s chasing a feeling, and trying to capture it in sound, and she absolutely nails it when she works with Pharrell Williams. Williams, one of the great geniuses of modern pop R&B, has an instinctive understanding of what chords and melodies flatter Grande’s voice and persona that most of her other collaborators have lacked. His chord structures float and sparkle around her voice, which is at once bold and sweetly delicate, like Mariah Carey in her youth. The songs sound light and dreamy, like she’s just levitating in a haze of infatuation.

This is the state of mind she wants to be in, like, all the time. Blissful, horny, and removed from stress and the horrors of the world. And whomst among us does not want this? Look at this gif of Ariana Grande and Pete Davidson from earlier this week. Who doesn’t want to feel like Ariana in this moment? Who doesn’t want to have someone look at them the way she looks at Davidson? This is an ideal state!

The idea driving all of this – her life, her songs – is that this is a choice. You have to want it, to chase it, to bring it into your life and cherish it. This is a woman who recently endured a horrific trauma, and made a decision to throw herself into love. She made a record about love rather than the hate and murder and cruelty she witnessed firsthand. She’s singing about her experience, but offering the best advice she can give to anyone else struggling: Find love, embrace love, hold on to it. You need that sweetener.

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Jake Shears “Big Bushy Mustache”

First off, I am just so glad to have this guy back. I miss the Scissor Sisters very much, but some solo Jake Shears will do for now – especially since it all just sounds like Scissor Sisters anyway. There’s some magic missing without Baby Daddy and Ana Matronic, but Shears’ songwriting is still distinctive sharp.

“Big Bushy Mustache” is a funky fantasy about masculinity that’s based in a desire to emulate a certain kind of ’70s straight man. It’s a nostalgic song about a type of guy you don’t really see anymore – strong and bold and flashy, right on the edge of campy but not quite. If you see this dude today he’s probably queer, and emulating the vibe as Shears is in this song (and his current look.) This is probably all tied up in very contentious “masc” politics in the gay community, but from my own boring straight man perspective, this resonates as an ideal of manliness that’s rugged and confident but relatively light on toxic masculinity. And the world surely needs more good examples of being unambiguously masculine without rejecting style and sexiness and fun, or being an angry creep about everything.

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Bad Bad Hats “Makes Me Nervous”

“Makes Me Nervous” is an airy, atmospheric pop song that conveys a very subtle anxiety in the way the guitar chords sound so crisp, taut, and rigid. It’s the uptight feeling hidden beneath the smiling facade, and the grasp on to familiarity in the face of the unknown. Kerry Alexander’s voice is ideal for this sort of low-key tension – she always sounds reasonable and calm, but her phrasing always reveals an easily wounded and sensitive soul. Her lyrics for this song match the tone perfectly, with her character getting paranoid about her relationship and freaking out a bit when she can’t get in touch with her partner. There doesn’t seem to be anything actually going wrong, but she’s so invested and obsessed that every little thing seems like it could be a harbinger of doom. And it all comes down to the Sisyphean frustration of everyone who’s ever been insecure in love: “I still want to be whatever you need.” If only!

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Doja Cat “Mooo!”

I suppose “Mooo!” qualifies as a novelty song, but I ask you: Where exactly is the line separating a “comedy song” from a regular song that happens to be funny? I’m inclined to say “Mooo!” is in the latter category – its silliness is more surreal than jokey, and there is a jazzy delicacy to the arrangement that is lovely and highly listenable in and of itself. Doja Cat is a delight on the mic, gleefully extending her cow metaphor to nearly a breaking point, and delivering an interpolation of Kelis’ “Milkshake” near the end of the song that’s joyful and inspired. The song is definitely funny, but when it comes down to it, “bitch imma cow, bitch imma cow” isn’t much weirder or off-kilter than a lot of other things going on in hip-hop lately. It’s just whimsical and cute in a way that’s a bit unexpected.

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Tirzah “Do You Know”

Mica Levi’s arrangement for “Do You Know” makes Tirzah sound as if she’s pacing circles in a damp basement in her mind, trapped indefinitely in a loop of thoughts about a relationship that has crumbled. Levi’s production centers her voice in the mix so fully and clearly that it sounds almost too intimate, so it feels less like hearing a song, and more like accidental telepathy. Or, at least, it’s like overhearing half a phone conversation you really should not be eavesdropping on but you can’t bring yourself to tune out. Tirzah’s lyrics are specific enough to give you a clear sense of the troubles between her and this other person, but just vague enough that you’re still piecing together the bits that are left unsaid.

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Robyn “Missing U”

Robyn knows what we want. She knows that we want her to make the kind of songs you dance to when you’re upset. She knows we want her to take our loneliness and heartache and turn it into romantic, cinematic, and cathartic moments that are sometimes more satisfying than actually feeling good. She knows no one else can do this for us like she can. And so here’s “Missing U,” a song that gives us what we want and what we need. Robyn is not very prolific, but she is generous.

Robyn knows her way around a hook, but the reason her songs work comes down to the sound of her voice. She always sounds like a strong person cracking under the pressure of enormous feelings, like she’s trying to hold it together just a bit longer. She always sounds like her pride is slipping away, like someone ready to totally debase herself to get the feeling out. She never loses control in the song, but it always sounds like if you keep playing it over and over, she might.

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Astronauts, etc “Symbol Land”

“Living in a symbol land.” That phrase, central to this song, really gets under my skin. Symbols in and of themselves are fine – utilitarian, a crucial part of how we process language, images, and life. But the way we lean on symbols for shorthand can be disastrous. A lot of the problems in the world come from an over reliance on symbolism: A laziness in interpreting other people that justifies casual cruelty, the intellectual bankruptcy of only seeing action and ideas for their symbolic value, the accumulation of empty signifiers in capitalism.

“Symbol Land,” as a song, isn’t quite as political as my interpretation of that line would suggest. It’s more of a broken love song, with Anthony Ferraro singing about attempting to parse the meaning of a collapsing relationship. His melody is gorgeous, and the sound of the chords and harmony has a stately and angelic quality, like John Lennon’s “Imagine” by way of Brian Wilson. Ferraro’s words are left deliberately ambiguous, almost as though he’s attempting to disrupt the symbols that weighed down this relationship in expectations beyond simple, pure love.

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Lithics “Still Forms”

I hate to share a song and say that it sounds just like something else – it feels lazy and disrespectful to me – but… I have to do that here. This band sounds so much like Erase Errata that it’s uncanny. I first encountered Lithics when they opened for Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks recently, and I was stunned by how specifically they sounded like Erase Errata. Not post-punk in general, or other similar bands like Delta 5 or The Raincoats. Erase Errata, right on down to the tone of Aubrey Hornor’s voice.

But this is not a complaint. I miss Erase Errata, and Lithics are very good at making this type of jagged, disaffected music. “Still Forms” has a weird sort of swing to it, and its main guitar riffs have a peculiar sharp trebly clang that is like the musical equivalent of a bitter taste on the tongue. Hornor’s lyrics are evocative too, particular with her cold, blunt delivery. A line like “TV remote lying in a field of golden wheat” comes off as a menacing implication.

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