Lil’ Wayne & Pharrell “Yes”

It’s easy to forgive the mind-blowing awfulness of Lil’ Wayne’s experimentation with rock music when he’s still tossing out incredible hip hop gems like “Yes.”

At this point in time, Wayne seems like the kind of guy who will put his voice on just about any piece of music in proximity of his microphone, so it is increasingly important who is producing his beats. Much of the success on this song comes down to Pharrell Williams, who turns in a churning, menacing track that sounds a bit like an undead version of his arrangement for the Clipse’s hit “Grindin’.” Wayne responds to the evil vibe of the music by cackling demonically and indulging in a slightly creepier variation on his usual puckish persona. Even with Wayne on a roll, Williams holds his own on the mic, subtly autotuning his usually amiable voice into a harsh, cold tone that recalls the dead-eyed, aloof cruelty of Marlo Stanfield from The Wire.

So many artists, including Wayne and Williams, spend a disproportionate amount of their time attempting to create escapist monuments to ego and success, but it’s a very special and potent thing when they are executed as well as “Yes.” The song is incredibly efficient in drawing out the feeling of vicarious thrill that is so essential to a huge number of hip hop classics — it’s hard to imagine anyone listening to this without getting caught up in a fantasy of ultimate confidence and ruthless perfection.

This song may or may not be officially released in the future. Let’s face it, there’s no logic to this guy, so enjoy it now.

Veronica Maggio “Inget Kan Ändra På Det”

This is the sort of song where it really doesn’t matter much if you can’t understand the words because it’s all right there in the music, and in Veronica Maggio’s lovely, soulful voice — the heartbreak, the regret, the doubt, and the guilt. Nevertheless, I went through the effort of getting a rough translation of the lyrics from a Swedish-to-English online language tool, and it just confirmed what I’d already gleaned. The title translates loosely to “Nothing Can Change That,” and though the words come out all scrambled, it’s pretty obvious that it’s about a crumbling relationship. (Cheating may be involved, but I can’t be certain.)

To a certain extent, we already know this song, or at least its archetype. Maggio draws on that instant, Pavlovian emotional response and carves out her own niche in its familiar, comforting melodramatic melancholy. Her phrasing recalls a young Michael Jackson — warm and human, but carefully controlled and never overwrought or over-sung. Maggio sings to convey precise emotion, not to showcase her formidable voice, and the result is a piece of music that is both gorgeous and casually devastating.

Visit the official Veronica Maggio website.

P.O.S. “Savion Glover”

What are we going to do with so much of the political music about the Bush administration now that it’s officially over? Yes, people are totally justified in their outrage about what happened and the bitter feelings aren’t likely to go away any time soon, but at least in the short term post-Obama afterglow, so much of it already sounds shrill and dated, even when the music and lyrics are quite sharp and clever. “Savion Glover” was originally released a couple years ago, but is just now being issued as part of P.O.S.’ new record, and as nimble and catchy as it is, in light of Barack Obama’s victory and subsequent order to shut down Guantanamo Bay, the song’s rant about Gitmo and the impatience with the Democratic Party seem….well, ironic? Overly Cassandra-ish in retrospect? Totally appropriate and right on, and the root of why Obama got elected in the first place? Music never has to be timeless, but it does feel sorta strange when a newly released song already has a time capsule quality.

Also: I should note that I very much appreciate the fact that P.O.S. quotes Fugazi in this number, and a song from their amazing yet generally underrated End Hits album at that!

Buy it from Amazon.

Anni Rossi “Ecology”

“Ecology” is a short, tightly constructed piece of music that evinces a deep fascination with natural order, particularly in the ways counter-intuitive behaviors can make sense within their specific contexts, but are nevertheless the part of a larger interdependent system of life on earth. In the middle of the piece, Rossi expresses non-specific confusion and uncertainty, which I read as a way of underlining the disconnect we can feel from these systems — they can seem so alien, so obscure, so totally disconnected from what we understand of our lives as humans. The composition reaches no conclusion on this matter — its structure ends as it begins, like a mental digression returning to a default position.

Pre-order it from 4AD/Beggars Group.

Antony & the Johnsons “Kiss My Name”

“Kiss My Name” starts out with a rather solemn introduction before settling into a steady, simple groove that provides a bit of solid ground to contrast with Antony Hegarty’s lovely, gently floating vocal melody. As the piece progresses, Hegarty’s voice is increasingly overcome by romance and elation, and the rest of the instruments in the arrangement follow suit, leading to one of the most wonderfully rhapsodic sequences in any composition I’ve encountered in recent memory. The composition is remarkably articulate in expressing extraordinarily nuanced emotional states, with every minute change in the arrangement suggesting a gradual shift in the balance of a delicate set of emotional shades and hues. This is truly the sort of expression best suited to music — the tones, beats, and inflections convey so much more than the words, which are fine enough and give shape to the sentiment, but are only the most superficial element of the song.

Buy it from Amazon.

The Oohlas “Lemmings Anthem”

As you can probably gather from its title, “Lemmings Anthem” is a song that criticizes conformity, written from the perspective of a person who deeply distrusts the rituals of modern life while at the same time envying the perks of doing exactly what it is expected of her. The interesting twist here is that the lyrics emphasize credit cards, debt, and living well above one’s means as being a crucial aspect of this horrible conformity, and rightly calls into question a rush into “adult” living without having a sensible, mature relationship with money.

The composition itself is another in a line of sharp tunes from the Oohlas, a band from Los Angeles who excel at producing catchy songs in a sub-genre that is instantly recognizable and understood, but to my knowledge has no proper name. I mean, I could say “early-to-mid ’90s-style female-fronted alt-rock” but that’s a bit wordy, you know? There really should be a proper taxonomy for this, because there is certainly an entire canon of material in this vein, and not just the Breeders, who are the most obvious reference point thanks to singer Ollie Stone’s vocal similarities to Kim and Kelly Deal. I’d propose a genre name if I had one, but I don’t. Maybe you do?

Visit the Oohlas’ MySpace page.

Andrew W.K. “Kiseki”

The ironic thing about Andrew W.K.’s album of J-Pop covers is that it is only available in Japan, which is perhaps the one place on earth where it is least useful. If you are a Japanese music fan, you probably know all of the selections on The Japan Covers, and the value of the record comes down to the novelty of hearing them performed in AWK’s distinct style. For most everyone else, AWK is providing a curatorial service — a crash course in his favorite J-Pop numbers, with all of the lyrics translated to English. Andrew’s love of J-Pop is apparent in every second of the album, and in retrospect, it becomes clear that the influence had been in his music from the start, and particularly evident on Close Calls With Brick Walls. The songs overflow with bold melodies, optimism, melodrama, romance, and fun, and fit perfectly into his bombastic triumph-rock style.

“Kiseki,” an adaptation of a hit by the boy band GreeeeN, is a revelation in Andrew’s new arrangement. Whereas the original version’s wonderful melody was diluted by its limp, sappy accompaniment, AWK’s take is a highly dynamic power ballad with a massive, anthemic chorus. It’s difficult not to get swept up in the moment of the song, and its outsize optimism and over-the-top sentimentality. The lyrics are clearly about romantic love, but I think it’s fairly easy to take lines like “we went through a bad night / but we still saw the sunlight!,” and interpret it as a love song to Barack Obama on the day of his inauguration.

Buy it from CD Japan.

Max Tundra @ (le) Poisson Rouge 1/17/2009

Which Song / Nord Lead Three / Orphaned / Lights / Will Get Fooled Again / ? / Glycaemic Index Blues / Lysine / The Entertainment / What Time Is Love / So Long, Farewell / Until We Die

Max Tundra “Which Song”

I have no doubt that if Max Tundra put forth the effort to relentlessly tour throughout North America for a year or so, primarily focused on playing college towns and opening for simpatico acts, he would end up with some very enthusiastic word of mouth and a very loyal fanbase of excitable nerds. Tundra is a magnetic, though somewhat atypical showman. He’s a tiny dude in unremarkable clothing, but he’s constantly in motion, whether he’s dancing and striking poses or running through his arsenal of instruments like a person with severe ADD showing off their home studio. He’s very good at playing to an audience without indulging in many contrivances — he builds enthusiasm in the room by displaying it on stage, and his understated wit and affable demeanor encourages identification and affection. The catchy, highly frenetic songs count for a lot too — even having heard Mastered By Guy At The Exchange and Parallax Error Beheads You several times in the past, they feel very fresh and exciting in a concert setting, particularly the slick, Scritti Politti-ish “Which Song” and the skewed, fast-forward R&B of “Lights.”

Buy it from Amazon.

Frankmusik “3 Little Words”

“3 Little Words” seems innocuous and sugary at first, but somehow the song conveys so much acute anxiety and restlessness that its 2:45 duration can feel very exhausting. This guy’s heart — literally and figuratively — sounds as though it could burst at any moment, and the music follows through, wrapping his emotional crisis in a bright, crisp synthpop arrangement that sounds equally frantic and romantic.

Buy it via Frankmusik’s MySpace page.

Captain Mantell “Turn Your Head Around”

“Turn Your Head Around” is another anxious synthpop song, but in comparison to the Frankmusik track, its tone is much more relaxed. Whereas Frankmusik deals with confusion and expectations in a pre-existing relationship, Captain Mantell is concerned with fear and attraction to a total stranger. Maybe this is why it feels so much more open and excited — it’s more about confronting possibilities, and trying to get yourself to act on instinct, and willing a desired result into reality.

Buy it via Captain Mantell’s MySpace page.

Circlesquare “Stop Taking (So Many)”

“Stop Taking (So Many)” is essentially an epic song on a miniature scale. The grandiose sentimentality of “meaningful-core” acts such as Arcade Fire and U2 present, but muted to the point that the bombast disappears, and the implied “we” in the music shrinks down to a more manageable and intimate “you and I.” This is manifested in the vocals, which are rather cool and sedate, but more so in the music, which turns the trappings of arena rock balladry inside out: The beat is rendered as minimally as possible; a handful of understated, plaintive piano notes carry much of the emotional weight; and the strum and noise of guitars is replaced with abstract electronic hums, whirs, and beeps.

Buy it from Amazon.

Lily Allen “The Fear”

Vapid, cynical, hyper-consumerist neo-celebs of the Paris Hilton/Heidi Montag variety are utterly loathsome, but when we tear into them in comedy and art, it can often seem too easy and overly mean-spirited in way that eclipses any righteousness we could hope to claim in calling out their grotesque antics. Yes, they are clearly villains in the context of our culture, but on scale, they’re more like the Goombas in the Super Marios Bros. games — cannon fodder along the path to the Big Bosses.

So, keeping that in mind, this song probably shouldn’t work as well as it does. It starts off feeling like Allen is shooting fish in a barrel, but even just in the span of that first verse, there’s some hint that we’re dealing with a character with self-awareness, and that Allen has some degree of empathy for her. Essentially, this is a song about a very shallow person who is troubled by her own self-awareness, which leads her toward an existential crisis that threatens to undermine and poison every pleasure that she knows. In contrast with the painful doubt and nagging terror of the song’s chorus, the bratty statements in the verses begin to feel less certain, and more like a person trying to reaffirm and justify her reality: I know all this is true! This is just how it is! I’m a winner, and you’re a loser! Still, the lies being lived seem increasingly flimsy and transparent, but she doesn’t know how to get out, or want to leave any of it behind.

Allen does a good job of selling both parts of her song — fragile yet clear-eyed on the chorus; petulant but extremely vulnerable everywhere else. It probably helps that she seems to know a thing or two about being young, rich, beautiful, and famous, either out of proximity, or through actual lived experience.

Buy it from Amazon.

Cotton Jones “Gotta Cheer Up”

The first time I heard this song, it was snowing. Through all the white, the sunlight had a soft, pale amber hue that reflected off the ice, and through the flakes. Time seemed to move very slowly, and though there was plenty of movement, there was an overwhelming sense of stillness and grace just outside my window. In other words, I experienced this music under seemingly ideal conditions. Cotton Jones’ album Paranoid Cocoon sounds warm, soothing, and hazy, as though it was all shot in soft focus, and processed with a sepia toner. The music has a highly appealing ambiance, but its low key melodies are very emotionally engaging, and seem to draw me in deeper upon repeated listening. As implied by its title, “Gotta Cheer Up” is a rather melancholy number, but despite its lightly bummed vocals and stoned mid-tempo beat, bits of bright notes cut through the darkness and fog, like tiny blinking beacons of hopeful light.

Buy it from Suicide Squeeze.

Goldfrapp “A&E” (Live on Fair Game)

What happens if you feel desperate and alone, and you go about doing the things that your culture suggests that you do to correct your situation, and you still can’t make it happen? You can’t get him to call back, you derive no pleasure from going out, and the drugs just make you feel worse. You come in late from another boring night, and everyone you know has paired off, but you fall into your bed alone. You lie there half-awake as the morning light floods your room, and you’re still clutching your cell phone, hoping for some impossible moment of affirmation and affection. You start to wonder how it is that you came to need someone so badly, and if the person you’re pining for means much of anything, or if he’s just another arbitrary attachment. There’s no answer, no reasonable explanation, just this immense void of longing and doubt, and this horrible fear that things will never change. Other people can connect, other people can be loved, but all you can do is crumble and weep. It’s not fair.

Buy it from Amazon. Originally posted on February 18th, 2008.

Mr. Oizo “Gay Dentists”

When I hear this song, I picture someone with an enormous cartoon mallet trying to smash the abstract notion of Basement Jaxx circa Remedy. But being abstract, the Jaxx track has no solid form, so when the mallet makes contact, it slips right through, as if the song were a glob of mercury. This just frustrates the mallet-wielder, and so they just keep swinging, and the music keeps dodging the impact, or shape-shifting. The result is a piece of music that feels restless, nimble, sleek, and more than a little bit silly, like a dance music version of a Roadrunner short.

Buy it from Beatport.

Benjy Ferree “Fear”

Benjy Ferree’s “Fear” doesn’t sound fearful, but then again, it’s not sung from the first person, so it probably shouldn’t. The song is lush, gentle, gorgeous and comforting, but ultimately it’s about how once things start going wrong, misfortune can seem inevitable and omnipresent. The lyrics are all black comedy, but there’s no lack of empathy here — Ferree’s voice conveys a great warmth and sympathy, particularly when the fearful events he sings about get silly and weird. Interestingly, Ferree’s protagonist is someone rather specific. Come Back To The Five And Dime, Bobby Dee Bobby Dee, the record from which this selection is taken, is a song cycle about the tragic life of Bobby Driscoll, the one-time Disney child star who was rejected by Hollywood in his early teens, and ended up dying alone, unknown, and penniless in Manhattan at the age of 31.

Buy it from Amazon.

The Joy Formidable “Cradle”

It’s just about impossible to watch the video for this song without getting the impression that it’s a lost hit from 120 Minutes circa 1994, or something from an alternate Earth where female-fronted alt-rock thrives as a dominant genre. Nevertheless, “Cradle” sounds remarkably fresh for a ’90s throwback, thanks in large part to its brisk momentum. Even when the song seems to take a moment to breathe, the pace is quick, and the emotions come hard and fast enough to overwhelm the words. I’ve heard this tune many times over now, but I’m not quite sure what Ritzy Bryan is trying to say — half her lyrics are obscured, and every time I try to pay close attention, I get lost in the sound. It hardly matters. This is effervescent, highly potent stuff, and it makes me feel excited about life, even when nothing is going on.

Buy it from The Joy Formidable.

K-the-I??? featuring NoCanDo “Trading Places”

One of the more fascinating things about this song is the way K-the-I??? and NoCanDo are both venting frustrations and speaking their mind, but in a way that seems like they’re holding back slightly, not out of weakness, but out of tact. It’s not passive aggression, but rather words carefully designed to hit precise targets, and call into question “frenemies” who have given them reason to feel suspicious, bitter, or confused. The track feels tightly wound from the start, but by the time the sample loop kicks in, there’s a distinct hazy, dizzy, slightly nauseous feeling that emphasizes the rappers’ emotional discomfort and lyrical bile.

Buy it from Mush Records.

The Sound of Arrows “M.A.G.I.C.”

If you need a warning, here you go: “M.A.G.I.C.” is an extremely Pollyanna-ish pop song, and really, the sort of thing you should never hear on a bad day. The arrangement twinkles like a sequin suit in a room full of mirror balls, its groove is so shamelessly Swedish that it may as well be Ace of Base, and the chorus is sung by a choir of children. It’s a bit too much, but somehow, there’s some sense of restraint. It’s not all giddiness and rainbows — the lead vocalist sounds measured and calm, and upon closer inspection, it’s clear that he’s singing about trying to be open to the wonders of the world, which implies the understanding that those things can easily be drowned out by the horrors. It’s a tremendously optimistic song, but its outsize perkiness feels lived-in, earned, and surprisingly pragmatic.

Buy it from Labrador.

Animal Collective “Summertime Clothes”

1) I’ll be honest with you: I had pretty much given up on these guys. After the initial thrill of discovering Spirit They’re Gone Spirit They’ve Vanished and Danse Manatee circa 2001, Avey Tare and Panda Bear’s path mostly diverged from what I wanted, and what I imagined to be their full potential. There were good songs along the way — “Who Could Win A Rabbit?,” “Grass,” about half of Person Pitch, and “Chores,” but for the most part, their music had come to seem overly indulgent, lazy, or horribly uninspiring. I can’t hear Strawberry Jam as anything other than a failed compromise; a misfire that moved toward more accessible songwriting while leaning hard on the most grating aspects of their distinct aesthetic. I just get this allergic reaction hearing that album — I wish I could isolate exactly what it is that bothers me so much, but I can hardly stand to listen to most of the tracks.

2) I didn’t expect much from Merriweather Post Pavilion, but my immediate response was positive. Very positive, in fact, to the point that I had to wonder how much of my reaction came out of the fact that I was enjoying new music by a band I had almost entirely written off. One or two good songs wouldn’t have such a huge surprise — even their worst records have at least one worthwhile track — but Merriweather was the thing I’d been hoping for since the start of the decade: A record by Avey Tare, Panda Bear, and the Geologist that was tuneful and enjoyable from beginning to end without sacrificing their particular tone and style. The album is not perfect — it’s a bit too long and lags in the middle — but it is by far the best work of their career to date. Simply put, Merriweather Post Pavilion is everything good about the Animal Collective, with barely a trace of their worst impulses. It’s a balancing act, really — disciplined pop and avant chaos, hippie and hipster, electronic textures and quasi-primitive rhythms — there is nothing on the album that wasn’t there all along, but suddenly they’ve got it all figured out.

3) “Summertime Clothes” is essentially a synth pop song with a folk pop melody, done up in Animal Collective drag. It’s about as conventional and straightforward as the band has ever been, but it still feels light-headed, delirious, and disconnected. Avey Tare sings about feeling uncomfortable in oppressive heat, and sneaking out with a someone for a walk as a way of making the most of a sleepless night. His words focus on physical sensation, and the music follows suit, simulating waves of stifling heat, thick humid breeze, and the slightly unreal feeling of empty city streets in the wee hours of the morning. Even when it feels most sticky and wet, the song overflows with pleasure and an overwhelming, utterly joyous sense of both physical and mental freedom, as if all the singer’s neuroses have temporarily disappeared, and he’s just acting on instinct. He seems amazed by himself, by his partner, by the beauty of everything around him. More than that, he seems genuinely grateful.

Buy it from Insound.

Hilotrons “Lovesuit”

Aside from vaguely resembling the Talking Heads’ “This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody),” the most immediately striking thing about “Lovesuit” is its immaculate tone. Every element in the track seems almost freakishly crisp and clean, but somehow the song doesn’t feel uptight. It’s like a state of alert, clear-headed relaxation. The lead singer does seem a bit high-strung at points, but even still, any anxiety in his voice or rigidity in the beat is diluted by the composition’s overall cool, easy-going vibe.

Buy it from Kelp Records.

Women “Shaking Hands”

Taken on its own, Women’s breakthrough song “Black Rice” gives the impression that the band is in the same general post-Zombies/Beach Boys aesthetic zone as the Shins, but the rest of their work comes closer to emulating Sonic Youth’s balance of freaky punk experimentation and gorgeous, winding arpeggiated melodies. “Shaking Hands” is a fine example, cycling through several parts that recall Sonic Youth at various stages in their career, from the grim urban tangles of Sister and Daydream Nation on through the more placid landscapes of A Thousand Leaves and Murray Street. This is not to say that Women lack character — their tones are colder, their beats have more stutter, and their compositions go on more frequent digressions, generally avoiding Sonic Youth’s penchant for neatly symmetrical forms.

Buy it from Jagjaguwar.