Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Nada Surf “Rushing”

I could say that this is a really great soft rock song, but that sounds like I’m making fun of it, right? But it really is, and the quality of it highlights how difficult it can be to write in this mode without getting overly sappy and sentimental, or having the softness of the song completely overwhelm the rock of it. I hear a lot of Matthew Sweet in the melody of “Rushing,” but the arrangement is much more strummy, airy, and overtly romantic than what he’s normally up to. It isn’t just that this song is romantic, it’s unabashedly so, and Matthew Caws sings about falling in love with incredible earnestness. The music makes everything sound crisp and focused and idealized, emphasizing the sense that meeting this person has suddenly shifted this guy’s entire perspective on the world for the better. The lyrics address feeling cynical and closed-off before this moment, and you could paraphrase pretty much all of it as “I was blind, but now I see!”

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Okkervil River “Mary On A Wave”

About two thirds of the way through this song Will Sheff asks “are my eyes now closed or opened?” If songs could have a nut graf, this would be it for “Mary On A Wave.” The music is gentle and soothing, with a chorus that feels cautiously optimistic, but Sheff’s words are uncertain and possibly delusional. I hear it as a song about feeling happy and safe, but worrying that it’s all an illusion. You need to feel a thing, so you manufacture the feeling as a survival instinct. You suffer from emotional anguish, so you self-medicate with love and religion. The sentiment is a bit cynical and pragmatic, but I don’t think that’s in the music. All I hear in the sound of it is empathy and affection.

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Isaiah Rashad “Brenda”

Isaiah Rashad mainly stays in one lane creatively – raspy, introspective rap over slow beats and melancholy guitar parts. It’s kinda like if Raewkon only ever did stuff like “Heaven & Hell.” This is not a complaint: This is one of my absolute favorite aesthetics for hip-hop, and Rashad is exceptional at it, and very brave in how open he is in rapping about addiction, depression, and failure. Any bits of raw ego on The Sun’s Tirade feel very hard-earned, and the sad vibes are genuinely soulful, not entitled and pouty like Drake. “Brenda” is the most overtly jazzy song on the record, and I love the way the crisp chords and distant sax runs frame his gravely voice with bright, elegant tones. That contrast makes his performance pop, and emphasizes his pride and dignity in the face of hard times.

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Uffe “As Long As It Lasts”

This song feels like an entire noir film compressed into three minutes, with Uffe packing in so many classy-yet-lurid night time signifiers that it’s a wonder the song still has space to feel airy and stark. I’m particularly fond of the piano bits that sound like they’ve been jacked from an old Brubeck record – that aesthetic can’t help but sound a little lighthearted and goofy, but contrasts nicely with the general vibe of vague menace and sleaze.

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Luísa Maita “Fio da Memória”

This song sounds like it’s taking place in the same dark, surreal dream forest as Björk’s classic “Human Behaviour.” But unlike Björk, who sounded like she knew her way around that wilderness, Luísa Maita sounds anxious and lost, like she’s somehow wandered into the deepest reaches of it without any way to turn back. I don’t speak Portuguese so I’m not clear on the lyrics, though I do know the title loosely translates to “memory wire,” which suggests some uneasy connection between the unreliable nature of human memory and the fallibility of data devices.

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Twist “Can’t Wait”

Twist’s Laura Hermiston has her own version of John Dwyer from Thee Oh Sees’ ecstatic “whoooo!” that signals that his band is about to rock out EVEN HARDER. As she leans into the second chorus she chirps “up!!” in a way that’s incredibly playful and charming, and does a lot to amp up the enthusiasm level of an alt-rock song that’s already pretty upbeat and fun. There’s more chirping later on too, and it brightens everything up. Keep on chirping.

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De La Soul featuring Estelle and Pete Rock “Memory of… (US)”

It sucks that De La Soul were essentially forced to abandon the dense sample-centric aesthetic of their most famous works because, well, it’s just absurdly expensive and labor-intensive to clear so many samples. But at the same time, it’s good to hear them get pushed out of their comfort zone and avoid outright nostalgia. Like, maybe it’s better that these dudes in their late 40s don’t have the option of the musical equivalent of squeezing into the clothes they wore when they were 23.

“Memory of…(US)” sounds mature in a way that is not a thinly veiled euphemism for boring. It’s a love song from the perspective of adults who’ve been through some shit together and are wondering if it’s possible to get back to the good times. This is really an Estelle song – her delicate, nuanced voice carries the whole thing, and matches the elegance of Pete Rock’s low-key, string-centric production. Posdnuos and Dave’s verses elaborate on Estelle’s lyrics, and allow them to give voice to all the men who’ve messed up a good thing and know it. Their words aren’t 100% apologetic, but they are definitely coming from a place of guilt and regret. They try to explain themselves, but not in a “this will get me off the hook” way. It’s more like feeling embarrassed, and realizing that they’re responsible for sabotaging a good thing.

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Relaén “Twines”

“Twines” is so mellow that it doesn’t totally register at first. At least this was the case for me – the first few times I heard it I picked up on the “warm bath” vibe and enjoyed that, and then the melodies sunk in deeper and deeper with repeated listening. The vocal performance on “Twines” is lovely, but it’s secondary to the gentle glow of the chords and the assertive but laid back snap of the beat. I’m more fond of the solo section of this song, in which a synthesizer and a saxophone get at some feelings that words wouldn’t do justice. I read that this band was aspiring to evoke “the sound of love,” and I think they nailed it. Or more specifically, this is the sound of romance – I just imagine two very graceful people in an elegant place with beautiful lighting. It’s aspirational, you know?

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Motion Graphics “Lense”

Maybe you remember White Williams? They put out one record nearly a decade ago, it was sorta like if The Strokes were also Neu!, or if Devo were also Kraftwerk. Really great vibe, but they basically disappeared and were largely forgotten. Motion Graphics is essentially the second coming of White Williams – same main dude, but with a totally new aesthetic. After a few years of working as a sideman in Co La and Lifted, Joe Williams has evolved into a rather elegant vaporwave composer. The punk elements of White Williams have been phased out, but that nervous physicality is still there in his music in less obvious ways. In “Lense,” it’s present in the bright keyboard chords that seem to splash out dramatically in an otherwise still and tranquil composition. It’s not a violent sound, but it does seem somewhat haphazard and graceless, and counter to his careful, lovely vocal tone through the piece. It doesn’t totally undermine the elegance of the overall song – if anything, that obvious humanity makes it seem more alluring.

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Magic Potion “Cheddar Lane”

About two thirds of the way through this song the tempo suddenly decreases, and this fairly perky riff rock tune becomes very, very drowsy. It sounds like the song is just strolling along and then gets hit by a tranquilizer dart to the neck from some sniper in the distance. It’s a weird move, but I like it, and how it connects to these stoner-ish lyrics about movement and sleep. The solo in the sleepy section has a nice melody, but the performance feels vaguely staggered and unsure, as if the guitarist is literally nodding off and just trying to stay awake long enough to get to the next note. This could come off like a mess, but the band makes it all feel like a pleasant daze.

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Wilco “Normal American Kids”

“Normal American Kids” is not the fun sort of nostalgia where you make a version of the past that flatters you and is edited carefully so you only get the fun bits. This is Jeff Tweedy, a man on the edge of 50, remembering what it was like to be a teen in the early ‘80s and…well, I don’t think he’s embarrassed, per se, but it’s not exactly flattering to realize how much of your formative experiences were driven by fear and anxiety. The young Jeff of “Normal American Kids” is a sullen stoner who needs to distance himself from the “normal” kids, and spins feelings of alienation and confusion into an elitist pose. This is a beautiful song, one of the loveliest of Tweedy’s impressive career, but it really gets under my skin because I was that sort of kid too. Not a stoner, but definitely someone who built an identity around opting out things. You get older and realize that being “normal” isn’t the worst thing you could be, but it’s hard to shake reflexive cultural elitism and feeling like you don’t belong anywhere once it’s burned deep enough into your mind. I think that’s where Tweedy is coming from here – he’s tracing a line from his youth to the present, and finding a peace with how things have been and how he’s turned out.

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Vince Staples featuring Kilo Kush “Loco”

Vince Staples’ lyrics have an incredible density – verbose and highly detailed, sure, but he has a talent for layering meaning in his verses so his songs are like narrative high rises. There’s a lot going on in “Loca,” enough that it’s hard to keep the “plot” straight, in as much as this song could be taken as a linear series of events. It’s more about the accumulation of moments – frenzied hookups, hustling for money, bouts of panic and depression, racial tensions, good memories tied to mom, bad memories tied to dad. DJ Dahi’s track signals paranoia, but also traces of lust and rage, and it frames Staples’ vocal performance without getting too matchy-matchy. Kilo Kush’s vocals are what really pop here – she’s so relaxed and playful compared to Vince, and she seems like a tether to softer feelings, or just sanity in general.

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Noname featuring theMIND “Sunny Duet”

There’s something in the sing-song lilt of Noname’s voice that makes her verses feel both playful and a bit sad at the same time. She always sounds like she’s making an effort to stay optimistic and kind, and that effort is wearing on her more than she’d like you to notice. In “Sunny Duet” she plays the part of the woman trying to be patient with a man who’s trying to get his act together and be on his best behavior for her, but the surest sign this isn’t going to work is the complexity of her thoughts in comparison to his. Noname’s two verses touch on vulnerable confessions, nostalgic recollections, philosophical musings, while theMIND’s parts plead in such a low-key way that you wonder how much he’s invested. That’s the thing they both have in common, I guess – there’s a yearning for connection on both sides of this song, but also a vague ambivalence that’s hard to get around.

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Frank Ocean “Pink + White”

A very large portion of Frank Ocean’s Blonde has no percussion, or at least none in the form of traditional physical percussion or drum programming. Things like organ vamps or palm muted guitar will keep the tempo in some places, but in others, it’s just this free-floating ambience and Frank’s voice. I’m a bit conflicted about this: It is very interesting and bold, but the absence can scream “ARTISTIC DECISION!” in a way that drowns out the actual songs. It’s good for vibe and theme, but some songs sound like they would be improved by the shape and dynamics that good drumming can provide. It is often quite boring. It certainly doesn’t help that most of the best cuts on the record actually do have percussion.

“Pink + White” is one of the few songs with full percussion on Blonde, and it is not coincidentally the best song on the album. It’s an exceptionally elegant Pharrell Williams production, and frames Ocean’s voice with piano chords that ripple and pulse like small waves on the shore. He’s singing about having no control over life, at least in the sense that you can’t just linger forever in the prettiest moments. Ocean is known for obsessing on nostalgia, but this song is a bit more complicated than reckoning with memories or fearing that the good times are about to dry up. This is more about finding peace in perspective and the passage of time, while still joking “bitch, I might like immortality!” in a way that suggests he doesn’t care too much about dying but can’t bear to stop experiencing life.

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Angel Olsen “Shut Up Kiss Me”

I like the way Angel Olsen sings this with a sort of pouty affect, and how the chorus sounds a bit like a tantrum with its demanding language and clipped phrasing: Shutupkissmeholdmetight! Shutupkissmeholdmetight! It adds a bit of humor to a song that is otherwise pretty sad, and is basically a plea to keep a relationship going despite some resistance on the other end. Olsen is stubborn and tough, and that’s just as much in her language as in her guitar playing and vocal effect, which nudges a melancholy melody into the red without fuzzing it up so much that it obscures the fragility in her performance. It’s just enough to sound like a bit of armor.

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Slow Club “Give Me Some Peace”

It’s been a pleasure watching Slow Club evolve from tuneful but cutesy folk pop into one of the most sophisticated indie bands of their generation, but it’d be even more satisfying if I didn’t feel like I was observing this growth all on my own. It is frustrated to think of how many people would love their songs if only they had some way of knowing they exist. This is the trouble with acts with somewhat broad appeal who work in an indie context – the indie people end up thinking they’re sorta square and ignore them, and the audience who would cherish them are totally unaware because the money required to reach a mainstream crowd is beyond their budget.

“Give Me Some Peace” is Rebecca Taylor in sentimental waltz ballad mode, which has become a major strength for the band over the past two records. Taylor’s voice can be quite brassy and powerful, but even when she’s belting out her lines she conveys a lot of vulnerability and insecurity. She always sounds like someone who is bravely trying to get over a relationship but has a hard time muting any of her feelings, so she occasionally is like “fuck it” and lets her emotions loose. There’s tears, there’s anger, there’s self recrimination and exhaustion. It all sounds very lived-in and true.

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Field Mouse “The Mirror”

Field Mouse give you exactly two guitar strums to get your bearings before blasting into the circular riff and propulsive beat of “The Mirror,” the opening song from their album Episodic. The spiraling sensation and violent momentum reminds me of Sunny Day Real Estate, but Rachel Browne’s vocals are a lot more…well, let’s say more stable than anything Jeremy Enigk ever sang. Browne is singing a break-up song of the “no, fuck you” variety, and starts with indignation before building up to bitter sarcasm on the chorus. She doesn’t sound quite as vicious as her words get, but I like that effect – smiling and composed while tearing into whoever it is for whatever the reasons might be.

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Miya Folick “Pet Body”

Miya Folick sings with a passion and flair that sometimes reminds me specifically of Sleater-Kinney’s Corin Tucker. Not so much the aspects of Corin’s voice that could blow a hole through a mountain with their volume and intensity, but certainly the times when her phrasing becomes more playful and deliberately camp. Folick leans into this approach when she’s conveying sarcasm and irony, which is to say, a lot of “Pet Body.” She’s singing about feeling alienated from her own body in humorous terms – “I’m just a brain with a pet body,” “I’m just a sack of flesh, don’t take me so seriously” – but it’s a dark joke at her own expense. This is extreme self-deprecation to the point of self-negation, and her emphasis on the fragility of this body that’s just incidentally tethered to her mind makes every part of her life seem arbitrary and precarious. Folick nails a very tricky balance of comedy and terror here, in large part because she commits so fully to her performance.

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of Montreal “Gratuitous Abysses”

I’ve been following Kevin Barnes’ career closely for about 12 years now, and in some ways it’s like being heavily invested in a hysterical psychedelic soap opera starring someone I feel like I know extremely well but have only ever met in passing. Innocence Reaches is a strange record, mainly in that Barnes’ stated goal of making something open-hearted and positive fizzles out after the first couple tracks, and then “Gratuitous Abysses” comes along and throws the rest of the album off on a very different set of textures and themes, most of which won’t be surprising to fans of post-False Priest of Montreal.

“Gratuitous Abysses” mainly concerns Barnes’ struggles with establishing a new relationship with his ex-wife, and his fears about over-mythologizing their past while worrying that they’ve become boring. This fear of being boring and predictable comes up at other points in the record too, and it’s both sad and funny that he’s doing everything but straight-up declaring himself to be a messy bitch who lives for drama. (Not sure how he feels about robbery or fraud, though.)

There are other songs on Innocence Reaches that address other relationships and flings since he’s been divorced, but the songs that are most obviously about his marriage are the most potent. Maybe it’s because Barnes’ darkest sentiments have become so blunt over the years, and he’s so merciless in the way he picks at his own flaws, and those of other people. It’s very compelling to me, and it’s particularly difficult when I relate to what he’s saying. He’s holding a mirror up to himself, but a lot of the times you just see the worst of yourself in the reflection.

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AJJ “American Garbage”

If I were to make a Girls character quiz at BuzzFeed, I would go in assuming that very few people would want to get Shoshanna as a result. She’s strange, awkward, and extremely abrasive. A lot of people hate Marnie, but would still like to be told that they’re like the show’s most conventionally attractive woman. A lot of people think Jessa is a sociopath, but would still like to be told that they’re sexy and charismatic. Up until around the fifth season, Shosh is mostly portrayed as this strange cartoon character and her sexuality is typically played like a joke at her own expense.

And yet AJJ’s Sean Bonnette has written this song declaring that he’s a Shoshanna, and identifies with her two defining qualities: confused and rude. He goes on to compare himself to other unflattering things, and the album this song comes from is essentially a litany of Bonnette’s flaws and failures. It can be hard to tell whether his goal is to self-flagellate, to preemptively counter criticism, or to display his worst qualities with a perverse pride. Maybe it’s a little bit of all of those things. I can’t imagine Shoshanna doing any of that, though – she’s more about trying to seem normal and failing in her attempts to obscure her weirdness. Oversharing your worst qualities is more of a Hannah thing, you know?

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Thee Oh Sees “The Axis”

Let’s skip ahead in this song and focus on the ending, in which John Dwyer plays a guitar solo that starts off as compelling yet fairly standard shredding, but gradually shifts until it sounds like the notes are literally shredding. It’s a beautifully ugly sound, and it’s the perfect, magnificently cathartic conclusion to a song in which he spends a lot of time moaning questions like “don’t you know how much I don’t love?” in an uncharacteristically inert voice. You don’t really ask a question like that if it’s not at least somewhat untrue, and that guitar bit at the end is like him saying “You know what? I do love you, but fuck that and fuck you –– I’m outta here!” and slamming the door behind him.

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Tennis “Ladies Don’t Play Guitar”

I’ve never had a grasp on Tennis’ identity as a band. I’m not totally sure if they do either. They definitely have an aesthetic – very clean and glossy, but also refined and not particularly flashy – but their personality is rather vague and seems to shift with whatever their inspiration happens to be in the moment. This is a good moment for them, though. “Ladies Don’t Play Guitar” has a sexy but understated late ‘80s/early ’90s groove – think “Justify My Love” by Madonna or “Back to Life” by Soul II Soul – and lyrics that are considerably more pointed and direct than you’d expect from a typically quite mellow and agreeable act. Alaina Moore’s vocal part isn’t particularly aggressive, but it’s clear that she’s pushing back against a lot of aggravating assumptions in her own way, and probably also challenging herself to say a bit more with her music. This is certainly the best song I’ve heard by them, so it’s a move in the right direction as far as I’m concerned.

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