July 1st, 2021 9:19pm
Pareja & Lupe, an Argentinian duo who began their collaboration during the pandemic without ever having met in person, specialize in energetic dance music with a heavy, drowsy atmosphere. It’s an odd contrast that totally works for them as both aspects of the tracks emphasize sensuality and physicality. My grasp of Spanish isn’t great but as far as I can glean, the lyrics are specifically about physicality – the body in motion, dancing as an expression that doesn’t require an audience. “Nuestra Forma” makes sense as dance music made during lockdown, a moody and slightly spaced out banger that’s built for solitude but would nevertheless feel complete in a crowded room.
July 1st, 2021 2:31am
You could create a conspiracy theorist pinboard for Sault where you can connect the names of everyone involved, from the primary producer Inflo to regular singer Cleo Sol to an extended network of collaborators including Little Simz and Jack Peñate on the new record. You could try to crack the code of their oblique album titles and minimalist art, or speculate as to the politics that drive their lyrics and distribution models. But despite them creating a natural curiosity gap with their deliberately mysterious shtick, thinking about this misses the obvious point that they clearly want this music to be faceless and to speak for itself.
“Bitter Streets,” a song credited to Inflo, Cleo Sol, and Jack Peñate, is Sault in mellow and meditative mode. The arrangement is straight-up stunning – womb-warm bass gliding around a crisp pocket beat, a choral part that sounds like it’s being played on an old Melotron, and a string section part that’s almost but not quite understated. The music nods in the direction of melodrama but doesn’t go there, evoking a very movie mood without straining for a “cinematic” feel. Sol’s vocal performance is similarly low-key, investing her lament for a friend who “fell in love with the streets” with a world-weariness but not a heavy grief. She’s not singing like someone who is surprised by anything that’s happened. If anything, she sounds bored by the same story, over and over.
June 29th, 2021 4:19pm
Laura Mvula holds back on the verses of this song, singing at the low end of her register in a rhythmic monotone that slips right into the groove but conveys a slightly deadened feeling. She’s waking up, she’s remembering being with this other person, and now just feels a lack. It sets the scene, but mostly is just to provide contrast for when she sings in her fullest, most passionate voice in the chorus, back up by a very ‘80s R&B horn fanfare. It’s like the movie trick of changing color saturation or film stock to signal a drastic mood shift – the verses here are too rich and Michael Jackson-ish to come across as black and white, but think of it like cutting from a muted palette to bold, bright, super saturated colors. She sounds confident and joyful on the chorus, expressing absolute pleasure in submission – “I’m a slave to the sound of your command.” As Trent Reznor put it years ago, happiness in slavery.
June 25th, 2021 2:53pm
“I Wanna Be A Dog” could’ve simply been a Weird Al style parody of the Iggy and the Stooges classic “I Wanna Be Your Dog,” but Colleen Green really goes all the way with the conceit, essentially using that simple joke as the starting point for an extended metaphor for discussing her neuroses. Green has always been at her best when approaching anxieties and hang-ups with a bit of self-effacing humor, resulting in songs that are open about issues without the sort of ultra-earnest seriousness that pushes so much contemporary “let me tell you about my psychological issues” music into full-on cringe territory. Green’s song craft here is excellent too, piling on simple breezy hooks with a casual ease. The crisp production keeps it light and clean, and also has the benefit of calling attention to her similarities to like-minded ‘90s alt-rockers Juliana Hatfield, That Dog, and Belly.
June 24th, 2021 2:03pm
PinkPantheress’ arrangement for “Pain” contrasts a very ‘90s sort of breakbeat programming with a very chill keyboard part, which makes the song feel like a very caffeinated version of trip-hop. Her vocal cadence is more contemporary, falling into that nebulous zone between vaguely indie and vaguely R&B/pop – somehow vulnerable and aloof and casual and intensely emotional all at once as she sings about a relationship that seems similarly ambiguous. The lyrics are very plainly stated but it’s still hard to parse exactly what’s going on between these two people, but that’s definitely the point. When she just gets to the “la la la la” chorus, it’s like she’s just trying to shrug this all off.
June 24th, 2021 3:15am
The thing that startled me about this Alicia Walter song – yes, startled! – is when the song moves into the chorus and it’s suddenly firmly in Animal Collective territory, with the hook accurately simulating one of their signature moves. You know that thing when they do that staccato bashing, a little like a whole bunch of people clapping together metal garbage can lids, and a lot like robots jumping on a trampoline? It’s abrasive but also whimsical and childlike. It’s that thing, but in the context of a song that’s sung with an elegance and grace that’s closer to, say, Anohni or Regina Spektor. (Though when she wilds out a bit, it’s more Tune-Yards.) Walter is combining a lot of sounds that were fashionable in the late ‘00s and arriving at something that sounds fresh and new, as though she only ever heard the similarities in these things but not the differences. And the shared spirit she’s tapping into here is really about a boldness of sound and a refusal to hold back overwhelming emotions. It’s full expression without restraint, and a willingness to get colorful and ridiculous in the service of the feeling.
June 22nd, 2021 3:41am
“Young Love” starts by introducing two key musical hooks – a dirty guitar riff and a Farfisa part straight out of ’60s garage rock – that take up almost the first full minute of the song, as if to formally herald the arrival Em Ash’s vocal performance. Ash has a huge voice and holds nothing back, like Kathleen Hanna in her ferocious Bikini Kill prime but with the power and range of Beth Ditto. It’s a voice so wild and forceful that some of the words get lost in the din, so while I feel confident saying that this is a song about romantic and sexual confusion, I’m not so sure about the exact scenario. But this is the kind of song where you don’t need lyrics to get what it’s about – all the feeling you could need is right there in that vocal blast, the raunchiness of the groove, and the way the keyboard part is both shrill treble and an element of cuteness that contrasts sharply with the wild intensity of everything else around it.
June 18th, 2021 1:11pm
“ASAP” bounces between sections like tapping through a feed, cycling through cartoonishly boppy pop to rap sections to plaintive balladry every few measures. It all holds together smoothly partly by the logic of feed curation – elements may be different, but there’s an internal logic of aesthetics and taste. All the K-Pop that I enjoy basically works like this, a new variation on the ADHD pop maximalism that was bubbling up in the 2000s and fell out of fashion amongst the cold minimalism that dominated the 2010s. The pendulum is clearly swinging back in favor of this style, and it seems like increasingly like the power of the K-Pop machine is great enough to force pop in general to snap out of its malaise and move towards this sort of energy, if not necessarily the relentlessly cheerful hyperactive genre-mashing of a bop like “ASAP.”
June 17th, 2021 6:35pm
I know it’s unfair to Hether to say this, but I’m pretty sure you could trick people into believing this is a Tame Impala song. There’s some subtle differences, but for the most part the performance and aesthetics of this song are so closely aligned with Kevin Parker that it feels weird to not mention it. “Oidar” feels a little more peevish than what Parker usually gets up to though, particularly in how the lyrics express a dismissive and passive-aggressive vibe in a relationship dispute. The sentiment of the words is softened by the relaxed feeling of the music, which I think is part of the point. Not in terms of going for a contrasting irony, but in telling someone “right now you’re driving me crazy” and deliberately trying to soften it so it doesn’t overstate what is only a faintly negative feeling. The sound feels affectionate, and that’s not just sugaring the pill – it’s the main emotion.
June 15th, 2021 2:58pm
“Crying” sounds like a sentimental breakup ballad but Mia Berrin doesn’t seem hung up on anyone but herself in the lyrics. It’s all self-flagellation for failing in attempts at relationships, castigating herself for making “a game of breaking promises,” feeling nothing, losing arguments, and obsessing on people who she thinks hate her. Berrin sings it all with convincing feeling, but it’s also clear she’s playing up the melodrama and winking at the audience a bit. The song effectively has it both ways – it indulges your self-pity, but also gently nudges you to notice that maybe the reason connecting with other people has been so hard is that even aside from all the ways you self-sabotage, you’re just too caught up in yourself to really notice or care about how anyone else feels.
June 14th, 2021 4:42pm
Sleater-Kinney are in an unenviable position in their career where if things had not changed for them musically whatever they released would be “ah, ok, another Sleater-Kinney record, sure whatever” since the novelty of their return had already been played out. But then, of course, when they changed things up musically they ended up losing Janet Weiss as their drummer and so Path of Wellness arrives buried in the context of her absence.
Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein are talented enough to carry a record on their own – they did make their first two albums without Weiss, after all – but it’s still very hard to hear Path without thinking of what would be different or the same if she had stuck around. Having spent some time with the album I’m inclined to say it probably would’ve been mostly the same with Janet, particularly as the drummers on the record play in a fairly similarly muscular and fill-heavy style. In some ways that comes as a relief and in others it’s disappointing, as the new songs are neither a jump into totally new territory they couldn’t have explored without Weiss or, if you’re a Weiss partisan, proof that they can’t be a good band without her.
“Path of Wellness,” a song built around a clangy busy rhythm and a distorted bass groove, is the track that moves furthest from the band’s established aesthetics with Weiss. It’s also maybe not coincidentally the best and most exciting song on the record. “Path” pulls off an interesting trick of sounding unlike any previous Sleater-Kinney song while also tapping into a loose, atmospheric quality I don’t think they’ve had since The Hot Rock came out over 20 years ago. There’s no effort put into thickening the sound here, the starkness of the clatter and buzz is the point. Tucker’s voice, always the most unique and exciting aspect of the band, is at the center of the track. She’s not fully cutting loose here, but she does work through a lot of her best vocal tricks as the song moves from sly, winking verses towards a classic S-K climax in which Brownstein’s snaky riffs and Tucker’s raw emoting weave around until they converge at just the right cathartic moment.
June 11th, 2021 2:15am
“Solar Power” is a song of low-key joy in which Lorde casually sidesteps the widespread expectation that she continue to play the part of the “sad girl” rather than explore less fraught elements of human existence. There’s a weird impulse for many to assume that singing about pleasure and fun and shirking responsibilities is vapid, but I think that comes from people not believing happiness can be as nuanced and deeply felt as a million shades of misery. “Solar Power” is hardly a dumb song – there’s a lot of evocative little details in setting the scene, some witty asides, and a belief in the healing power of feeling close to the natural world that borders on religious fervor. The second half of the song borrows from the ersatz gospel of early ‘90s songs like George Michael’s God Tier classic “Freedom ’90” and Primal Scream’s breakthroughs on Screamadelica, and that sort of secular spirituality really works for the themes here. Join her in praising the sun!
There’s no shortage of young artists who now, intentionally or not, sing with the peculiar and specific inflections Lorde sang with on her first two records. The most obvious and famous example is Olivia Rodrigo, who is at this moment one of the most successful and hyped pop stars going. It’s notable that the sort of affectations these singers have internalized aren’t really on this new Lorde song, though she still sounds exactly and unmistakably like herself. I don’t think this is accidental, either in the sense of her avoiding sounding like her own imitators or in that she’s a thoughtful singer who was never going to stay in one gear. But I hear this and get the impression that she’s essentially telling the rest “fine, you can keep that affectation – I’ve got a lot more phrasing tricks to work with.”
June 10th, 2021 2:37pm
Given that “Play the Greatest Hits” is the only song on the new Wolf Alice record that taps into the wild alt-rock energy I loved so much about their first two albums, I feel like the title is taunting me somewhat: “Oh, we he had to move on artistically, but here’s one for those of you who want the old Wolf Alice.” But then again, they throw themselves into this song so intensely that I don’t think they’re actually bored by this sort of song at all, but rather poured every bit of frazzled energy they had into this one very fast and loud song about the “fast life” that sounds like a car careening towards a brick wall. Ellie Rowsell has a versatile voice but I love her this sort of bratty and frenzied mode – it gives the snarky lines the right amount of venom and makes the lyrics about self-destructive habits come off as more nihilistic than self-pitying.
June 9th, 2021 10:00pm
“Savage Good Boy” has a bright and earnest sound that masks the bitter irony of its lyrical conceit – it’s sung from the perspective of a billionaire preparing for global environmental catastrophe and callously creating a way for himself to survive comfortably. He’s inviting a woman to join him so he can “take care” of her, to play savior and play house. But really he just wants to own her, to control her, to have her be in debt to him for providing a posh shelter while millions of people suffer or die. The brilliance of the song is in how Michelle Zauner presents this character in a way that allows for some sincerity in his feelings – perhaps he does love her, maybe he genuinely wants to protect her, he probably is totally oblivious to his incredible selfishness. Zauner lets the listener connect and identify with the sweetness so the recognition of the darker impulses and insidious desires of the character are hard to untangle from what initially appears to be warmth and kindness. Not many of us are going to directly relate to a billionaire, but we can see how self-interest and generosity mingle in ourselves and others.
June 8th, 2021 1:44pm
Liz Phair’s new album Soberish – her first release in 11 years after scrapping a few songwriting projects, working in television, and writing a book – sounds like it could be an album she and producer Brad Wood made immediately after Whitechocolatespaceegg in the late ‘90s but simply didn’t bother to put out until just now. It feels comfortable and lived-in, and full of textures that would’ve felt modern at that time but now feel a little retro. If you pay attention you can notice how her creative path through the 2000s informs this work but for the most part it sounds like a resumption of the trajectory she was on through the ‘90s. Even aside from the musical palette, the record does something I think a lot of us were hoping she’d get around to while she was silent for a decade: approach the romantic and sexual experiences of a straight woman in middle age with the same nuance, wisdom, and wit she brought to writing about all this as a younger woman.
“Soberish,” a song that moves between a pastoral folk affectation and lightly anxious new wave minimalism, tells the story of a woman getting ready to meet up with a man she’s had a long-simmering long distance romance with at a hotel bar and is finally, hopefully, about to hook up with him. The situation is widely relatable to anyone who’s ever done app dating or had a romantic scenario start online, but I like the specificity of this being a bit deeper in life when the idea of wasting time – “tell me, why do we keep dicking around?” – is more frustrating, both out of feeling a ticking clock on your life and in feeling like you’ve outgrown certain anxieties or don’t have use for elaborate courting rituals anymore. The story of the song plays out as it often does in life, with mild panic leading to brief discomfort and then clicking into the rapport and chemistry that existed before you came up with a bunch of distracting psyche-out narratives. The point of the song isn’t necessarily “it’ll be fine, this worked out for me,” but more to show the full emotional context of the scene and setting up the stakes for the happy ending.
June 4th, 2021 1:04am
Clinic have gradually established themselves as the Gen X equivalent to The Fall – a band with an extremely specific style that they use as a template for exploring different tones and aesthetics over a long period of time. Or, as John Peel once described The Fall: “They are always different, they are always the same.” In the case of their new single “Fine Dining” the X factor is mostly in the keyboard tones, which strike me as very Kraftwerk though I’m not sure if they’re actually using the same vintage gear. It’s a tonality that signals a dated notion of futuristic efficiency, and it feels quite strange in the context of a song that otherwise sounds like a demented jingle for a restaurant. Ade Blackburn’s voice often comes across as inscrutable and a little creepy but he pushes that to an extreme in this song, so the phrase “no scruples” sounds especially sinister, and the refrain “all into the void” feels like a trap revealed to you before it’s too late to get out.
June 3rd, 2021 3:09pm
Still Pigeon are a band so generous with melody, harmony, and pleasant chords that the only thing keeping their music from sounding fully opulent and luxurious is their roots in indie rock – self-effacing lyrics, a clean but not quite professional production style, and a sense that they’re not quite confident enough to go full-on Sade or Steely Dan just yet. This is part of what makes “Tippy Toes” charming, though. Millie Wild’s vocals remind me a bit of Lily Allen, particularly in the way she balances singing with a bold professionalism while conveying genuine insecurity and pulling off self-deprecating jokes. She’s a slightly neurotic presence in a song that’s otherwise very warm and silky in its tones, and totally calm in its groove. It’s extremely cozy, even before the smooth sax solo comes in at the end.
June 2nd, 2021 10:00pm
I don’t know their specific ages but Freak Slug and Brad Stank are pretty young, young enough that doing a song lamenting the simplicity of teen romance is, for them, nostalgia for the not-very-distant past. The vibe of the music is perfect for that particular milieu though – very relaxed and wistful, but with the subtle suggestion of furtive, secretive actions and just-figuring-it-out awkwardness. The lyrics seem to be from the perspective of a couple reconnecting after this shared experience as kids, with them both attracted to the idea of getting back to something simple and easy but also self-conscious about slipping back into something comfortable for the sake of it. Neither of them seem too stressed out about it, but I think some of the point here is that by actively wanting to return to an uncomplicated situation you’ve already added some layers of complication. You can’t be innocent again.
June 1st, 2021 2:22pm
“Finger Pies” sounds like pacing in a loop, working out enough nervous energy to avoid freaking out, but not enough to provide a catharsis. There’s a low-simmering paranoia to the sound of it, but the anger in it is politely muted. Anika’s vocals, shifting between sung and spoken parts in a German accent that can’t help but make her sound a bit like Nico, makes the most of the ambiguous, unresolved quality of the music. It’s clear enough that she’s singing about being afraid of someone, but the nature of the relationship she’s describing is hard to parse. The point is that she’s not sure who her nemesis is, their identity is all conjecture and speculation, and that mystery only intensifies her fear of them. “Theory is you’re a monster,” she says in a halting tone, “that you hate yourself.” She’s trying to understand why someone has hurt her, why they apparently had no empathy for her, and her only way of comprehending it requires empathy on her end.
May 27th, 2021 10:35pm
I’ve been doing this site for a very long time now and have written about thousands of songs and I think in a lot of cases my daily challenge is figuring out what to say about songs without just being like “this sounds nice, the bass part makes me feel good.” And the thing is, a lot of experience with music is just that – sounds nice, feels good. “Impression” is absolutely one of those songs where the sensation of it is the whole point, and trying to get deep into what I like about the chords and tones and melodies feels like going into detail on why a meadow full of flowers looks pretty on a sunny day. Sometimes the point of beautiful things is that you don’t have to think about it at all. The band’s choice to bury the lead vocals a bit so that the lyrics are barely discernible makes me think they’re not trying to get in the way of the sensations here – some words pop out, but mostly it just sounds like syllables for a melody.
