Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Nicki Minaj “Chun-Li”

“They need rappers like me!,” Nicki Minaj insists midway through “Chun-Li,” one of the most fierce performances she’s delivered over the past few years. This moment is fascinating to me because this is both a show of swaggering strength and raw vulnerability. She is totally convinced of her value, but finds herself in the position of reminding everyone else. She sounds imperious, exasperated, and exhausted. But she also sounds like someone to prove, and that underdog energy which served her so well up through her breakout performance on Kanye West’s “Monster” is what gives the chorus of this song its charge. A lot of the lyrics in this track boil down to her refusing to let the media or anyone else (re)define her, though she does seem happy to embrace the role of the villain: “They need rappers like me so they can get on their fucking keyboards and make me the bad guy, Chun-Li!” I love the ambiguity of the word “keyboards” – it could be people in the press or on social media, or it can be a producer putting together a track to bring out her darkest, most aggressive side.

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Courtney Barnett “Hopefulessness”

Courtney Barnett’s previous album, her breakthrough, opened with a pair of songs so fast and forceful that it sound like she was breaking through actual walls. Those songs, “Elevator Operator” and “Pedestrian At Best,” are supercharged and overflowing with lyrical details and ideas. There’s a nervous energy driving them, but also a wild confidence. They sound like someone in a manic state.

Barnett’s new album opens with “Hopefullessness,” and it’s pretty much the opposite of all that. The first moments feel hesitant and uneasy, and her guitar part seems to take shape rather reluctantly. The woman who seemed to burst out of nowhere with free-wheeling charm now sounds scared and exhausted. The lyrics come at a much slower pace, and mostly seem like she’s trying to talk her way out of a dark mood. “Your vulnerability, stronger than it seems,” she sings. “You know it’s okay to have a bad day.” The song gradually moves towards a musical catharsis in artful guitar feedback, but the neutral grey mood never really shifts. It just carries over into the other songs, dimming even the most up-tempo numbers. The record itself sounds depressed.

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Playboi Carti featuring Skepta “Lean 4 Real”

“Lean 4 Real” gives you more or less what you’d expect from a song glorifying getting zonked out on opiates: It’s woozy, warm, repetitive, and mesmerizing. Playboi Carti’s voice is mumbly but magnetic, and Skepta’s verse adds a touch of coherence and focus to a song that’s otherwise oblique and blurry. The thing that really makes this song click is something that it took me a few listens to truly notice – there’s an ambient “crickets” sound going through the entire track. It’s a very odd bit of atmosphere, and makes the song sound like it’s a field recording of a campfire behind a strip club. I’m not sure whether Indigo Child used a recording of actual crickets, or if it’s some other thing, but I love the way it contrasts familiar sounds – the wilderness in summertime and trap beats – so they both sound alien.

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Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks “Difficulties/Let Them Eat Vowels”

Stephen Malkmus approaches lyrics from a very musical perspective – he can be literary and clever here and there, but he’s mostly stringing together words and ideas together purely for their sound. He’s particularly gifted at creating phrases that have an an inexplicable emotional resonance in context, and seem to express a truth far deeper than any literal expression. In “Difficulties,” the phrase is “ROCKS ALL, DEADLINE CHASER!” It comes at the end of each verse, a passionate holler following lyrics about love and companionship that are thoughtful and emotionally intelligent, but cool and reserved. This exclamation is cathartic, but confusing: “ROCKS ALL” evoking freedom and excitement, “DEADLINE CHASER” evoking anxiety and being bogged down by commitments and responsibilities. I think this may be how Malkmus identifies now, and that’s part of why it’s so dramatic in context. He’s admitting to frustration, but saying he’s willing to make sacrifices. Obstacles, difficulties, the lowest lows – it’s all worth the effort.

As “Difficulties” comes to a close it crossfades into a totally different song called “Let Them Eat Vowels.” I don’t think there’s any reason for these songs being conjoined aside from it just sounding really good. The two songs blend together well, but are opposites – the former is earnest and melodramatic, the latter is funky and oblique. It’s all cool phrases and groovy sensation, and though there’s an undefined tension in Malkmus’ voice, it all seems to dissipate as the band coasts out on the groove.

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Valee & Jeremih “Womp Womp”

Jeremih and Valee both affect a raspy but silky drawl on this track, threading their lascivious lyrics around the contours of a trap track that feels slightly warped. Everything about this song feels a little bit off – there’s something a bit alien about that synth bass line, and these guys somehow manage to make a lot of typical rap tropes sound surreal. Maybe it’s in their cadence, or the way Jeremih’s performance is in this uncanny valley between tough-guy raspiness and his usual feminine falsetto. This is an exceedingly horny song, but it’s also sort of zonked-out and mesmerizing, which subverts a beat and keyboard riff that would probably feel much more aggressive and far less smooth with different rappers.

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Natalie Prass “Short Court Style”

“Short Court Style” nods in the direction of so many different moments in pop history – there’s traces of late ’70s disco, ’80s freestyle, early ’90s Lisa Stansfield elegant dance pop, the more chill end of the Spice Girls catalog – that it all blurs together into a song that feels both familiar and distinctive. The melodic hooks are bold, but the groove is relaxed – this is a more lived-in sort of love song, it’s not a manic infatuation thing. Natalie Prass is singing about a relationship that has survived ups and downs, and you can hear a lot of pride in her voice. It’s the sound of someone who understands the value of what they have in their life.

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Arctic Monkeys “Star Treatment”

I have never been particularly interested in The Arctic Monkeys, so it was a genuine surprise to hear their new record Tranquility Base Hotel + Casino and find that they had stripped away everything that bored me about their music – i.e., probably everything about them that endeared them to a mainstream rock crowd – and foregrounded the thing I did like about them, which is Alex Turner’s dry wit and lyrical detail. The band’s new music is like a nephew to Pulp’s louche This Is Hardcore, but with a self-loathing kitschiness in place of that record’s depressive porno anti-glamour. “Star Treatment” has a glitzy sparkle to it, but that’s really just an ironic counterpoint to Turner’s lyrics, which sketch out the mindset of a fading star who seems to be on a weirdly half-hearted self-destructive bender. It’s played as dark comedy, and the punchline is the catchiest bit of the chorus: “So who you gonna call, the martini police?”

I’m sure a lot of people will compare Turner’s vocals on this song to David Bowie, but he actually sounds much more like Royston Langdon from Spacehog, who actually went for a similar sort of glam-lounge hybrid in some parts of their rather underrated 1998 record The Chinese Album. I don’t mean this as any sort of diss, by the way – the tonal similarity is striking, and there’s a warm self-deprecation in both Langdon and Turner’s phrasing you just wouldn’t get from the more icy and aloof Bowie. (It’s also not far off from Scott Weiland in his more cheeky moments.)

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Saweeetie featuring Kehlani “ICY GRL (Bae Mix)”

This track is charming in at least a dozen ways, but the bit that gets me is just after Kehlani finishes her verse, she excitedly ad libs “check me out, I’m not even a fuckin’ rapper!” And like, damn, maybe she should be? Her verse is solid in terms of lyrics and construction, but her performance is fabulous. The rasp in her voice is perfectly suited to rapping, and her phrasing has a light, playful quality. Saweetie’s voice is a perfect complement, and given how effortless and fun this track sounds, I just wonder: Why don’t these two just become a regular duo? The world could use a new Salt N Pepa.

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Beach House “Pay No Mind”

It wouldn’t take much to turn “Pay No Mind” into a proper rock power ballad. If you strip away all of the very Beach House-y stylistic elements, that’s pretty much what you’re left with, right on down to the lyrics. And while I’d love to hear someone try that out, it’s just really nice to hear Beach House make such a conventionally lovely song. Victoria Legrand’s vocal performance is typically understated, but Alex Scally’s guitar carries the emotion, effectively selling the romance of her words with a dreamy guitar tone just a few steps removed from Prince on “Purple Rain.” The song doesn’t go for a “Purple Rain” sort of grandeur and melodrama, though – like most any Beach House song, it never moves into another gear and seems to extend a single feeling into one long, meditative moment.

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Boy Pablo “Losing You”

Boy Pablo’s songs render melodramatic teenage emotions – specifically the sort of romantic angst that comes from minimal experience mixed with cultural expectations established by pop culture – with a refined elegance that makes it all sound kinda suave. It’s like if Seth Cohen was writing lyrics for Bryan Ferry. “Losing You” is sleek and gorgeous, and sounds like it comes from a better, sexier world that we only ever glimpse in TV shows and movies. It’s the kind of song that winks at you and suggests you play it by the pool at a boutique hotel. And you’re just like, jeez, are you even 20 years old?

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Affectionately “Shadow You Become”

I’m not going to lie to you: There is no better way of describing this song than by saying it is ~~extremely chillwave~~. If the original wave of chillwave was about making music that sounded like a nostalgic but vague memory of ’80s pop, “Shadow You Become” sounds like a nostalgic but vague memory of chillwave itself. The production is paper thin and exceptionally woozy, and the sentiment is sweet and romantic but also weirdly passive – this guy is singing about wanting to find “the person that I’ll love” and figuring he’ll only find them if he goes to sleep. The melodies are what make this song, particularly the main guitar motif that’s been processed to sound so high and tinny that it sounds like the sound of a musical toy.

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MorMor “Whatever Comes to Mind”

MorMor has a lovely voice, but I’m more into his chord changes and taste in tones. “Whatever Comes to Mind” is built upon a dreamy organ drone and crisp guitar chords that move at a relaxed, leisurely pace. It sounds like he’s trying to evoke heaven itself, or some blissful approximation of it here on earth. The vocal melody is gorgeous too, rising up with passion on the chorus but resisting cheap melodrama – he never does anything corny that could break the spell of those tranquil chords. He’s singing about searching for some kind of certainty from within or without, and his voice conveys an earnest and optimistic belief that he’ll find it. He doesn’t seem particularly bothered that he still hasn’t found what he’s looking for.

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Jeff Rosenstock “Beating My Head Against A Wall”

“Beating My Head Against A Wall” is a fun, Ramones-style punk tune about something a lot of us have spent too much time doing over the past few years: Arguing with someone you fundamentally disagree with and has no respect for you or your point of view! Truly, it’s a miracle that Jeff Rosenstock can make this sound like a good time. But I can suppose you can make any deeply frustrating experience if you use it as fodder for a hyper-catchy bop. Also, I think part of what makes this song work is that Rosenstock is not coming from an aggressive place here – he’s exhausted mainly because he’s giving patience, respect, and courtesy but not receiving any.

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The Rock*A*Teens “Go Tell Everybody”

The Rock*A*Teens’ music from their original run in the ’90s was awash in a heavy reverb that made their songs sound nostalgic and majestic, and accentuated the grandiosity of Christopher Lopez’s wildly emotive voice. “Go Tell Everybody,” the first song to be released from the first record of their recently initiated second run, dials the reverb down significantly. It’s not totally dry, but it’s very clean and direct – if they were trying to evoke the past on the old songs, they’re now going for a more urgent and present feeling. Lopez’s voice is still the main attraction: He’s way up front in the mix, and still sings with the maximum level of conviction you can hit before ending up in Joe Cocker territory. The lyrics seem to be sung from the perspective of Jesus Christ, urging on the proselytizing of the apostle Bartholomew. It’s an interesting topic for a breezy, summery rocker, especially when you consider that his evangelizing eventually leads to his horrific murder.

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Flasher “Pressure”

“Pressure” sounds remarkably similar to some of the deeply obscure American indie/punk DIY singles collected on the old Homework CDR compilations from the early 2000s. It’s in the voice, it’s in the nervous energy, and especially in the way the melodies wind tightly around the rhythm and hooks seem to leap up slightly ahead of schedule. I love the lead guitar melody that punctuates the chorus – or maybe the better word is bisects it, since the song accelerates into another different chorus on the other side of it. I’m particularly fond of that one, especially the way the phrase “night to night suicide all of the time” spills out over the chords. The lyrics are basically words of empathy and support for someone struggling with anxiety and depression, but the tone isn’t dark or maudlin. It’s a very fun sort of commiseration and catharsis.

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Sloan “Don’t Stop (If It Feels Good, Do It)”

Sloan is a band comprised of four singer-songwriters with their own distinct but complementary aesthetics. It took me a long time to notice this, but one of the ways their styles overlap is in how each of them writes lyrics. By and large, their songs tend to be addressing someone – their relationship with that person is usually left ambiguous – and the tone is usually critical, though seldom confrontational. They always sound like they’re negotiating for peace, making a case for cutting someone off, or talking someone into something. In the context of the albums it often sounds like they might be passive-aggressively singing to each other. I wouldn’t be shocked if a significant chunk of the Sloan catalog is about the interpersonal dynamics of the band.

“Don’t Stop (If It Feels Good Do It)” is a Chris Murphy composition, but its title and hook is a callback to a Patrick Pentland song from their 2001 record Pretty Together. I’m not sure how significant that connection is, but it doesn’t seem like a coincidence. At any rate, this song slots right into my Grand Unifying Theory of Sloan – the verses are all Murphy chiding some overbearing person with a poor sense of boundaries, but the chorus is just good time rock vibes that defuse the mood. It’s a very fun song, so it’s hard to tell how seriously you’re supposed to take the negative lyrics. Murphy never seems particularly angry. If anything, he seems bemused.

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Speedy Ortiz “You Hate the Title”

“You Hate the Title” is so sunny and catchy that I’d believe it if you told me Sadie Dupuis wrote it as an audition to become a professional jingle writer. The perky tone suits her melodic style and brings out a playful sweetness in her voice that makes it so that this song about dealing with criticism comes out sounding good-natured and self-aware rather than peevish and wildly insecure. This is mostly an expression of mild exasperation with someone who basically likes what she’s doing but can’t help but complain about the details. At first this sounds like it’s about the audience, but I think it’s more likely about collaborators and producers – you want to please them, you want them to do their job and push you, but you’re also just trying to do your thing as honestly as you can.

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Insecure Men “Mekong Glitter”

“Mekong Glitter” is an ambiguous tribute to Gary Glitter, one of the most unsettling figures in the history of pop music. The song focuses on the darkest phase of Glitter’s life after he was released from prison in the U.K. for possessing child pornography and he flees to Cambodia and Vietnam to avoid the scrutiny of the British public and fully embrace his despicable urges. (He ended up getting busted in both of those countries too, and getting deported back to England.) Insecure Men channel Glitter’s distinctive and truly brilliant glam-shuffle aesthetic but fill the negative space with buzzing distortion. It sounds like someone lit “Rock and Roll Part 2” on fire, or like a villainous Glitter strutting through hell. And like, of course, this sounds incredibly cool and that’s also very upsetting.

“Mekong Glitter” is a song that deliberately pokes at you and tries to make you feel uncomfortable. In the breakdown, Saul Adamczewski asks us “Why don’t you ever ask why?,” and it’s hard to parse exactly what he’s asking, but it resonates and effectively stirs up guilt. Why do people like Gary Glitter do the things they do? Why is he seemingly unrepentant? Why does does it feel like we’re turning a blind eye to his crimes and the people he’s victimized whenever we hear Glitter’s songs and acknowledge that a lot of them are absolutely amazing?

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Father John Misty “Mr. Tillman”

1. The verses in “Mr. Tillman” are sung from the perspective of a concierge at a hotel where Father John Misty – a.k.a. Josh Tillman – is staying and behaving like an inebriated paranoid wreck for days on end. It’s played as a dark comedy, and part of the joke is the way the concierge’s polite language puts a sunny spin on Tillman’s disturbing behavior and just barely conceals their impatience with him as the song goes along.

2. Note the contrast of the meter in the verse and the chorus: The concierge’s obsequious dialogue tightly wraps around melody and flows between measures, suggesting a formal and uptight demeanor. The chorus, from Tillman’s perspective, is relaxed and loose. He sounds blissful, oblivious, and delusional.

3. This isn’t the first time Tillman has written a song about himself as a very unsympathetic and unlikeable character. It’s hard to say how much either this or “The Night Josh Tillman Came To Our Apartment” is about him – probably a fair amount, with some degree of artistic license. He clearly delights in playing with the audience’s perception of him, being a guy who records under a pseudonym/persona and sings songs about a guy who has his real name. He’s inviting you to doubt how “real’ those songs are, which strikes me as a way of covering his ass. Is he a drunken train wreck, like in “Mr. Tillman”? Is he attracted to women who bring out his worst misogynistic impulses, as in “…Our Apartment”? I don’t know the guy. Maybe?

4. It’s interesting to write a song about yourself going on an out-of-control bender and writing it mostly from the perspective of the people who have to look after you and clean up your messes. He’s being treated like a coddled baby – at one point the concierge offers to bring him a Regalo, one of those safety gates for small children, to keep him from hurting himself. On one level, this is like an admission of guilt after the fact for being a burden on other people. But it’s also a judgment on himself, for giving into the rock cliché of being a spoiled baby-man. And then there’s another layer where he’s alienated by his awareness that the concierge in sycophantic and concerned entirely because it’s their job. If his self-destructive behavior is the result of feeling disconnected and lost in a world full of fake people who don’t care about him, this only proves him right to feel that way.

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Haley “Bratt”

“Bratt” flies by in just over two minutes, a plaintive ballad accelerated by a very late ’90s sort of drum loop. The percussion sounds so huge that the atmosphere created by the keyboard and guitar parts feels like it’s happening inside of the rhythm, contained within and echoing off of walls implied by the snare hits. Haley’s voice is in there too, high enough to cut through the treble and gentle enough to signal confusion and vulnerability. The lyrics suggest a messy, questionable relationship with someone with substance abuse issues, but also a real affection and commitment to that person. It’s clear enough to get across the idea, but ambiguous enough that some lines come off as vaguely sinister.

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