Jenny O “Color Love”

I’ve come to expect some degree of anxiety in the lyrics of young songwriters, so it is a pleasant surprise that the cool, calm, ’60s psychedelia of this song is not subverted by lyrics expressing some form of angst. Or maybe it does, in a more roundabout sense: Jenny O’s lyrics here is basically advice urging the listener to make the most of small pleasures in life, and I’m sure to some extent she’s addressing herself. But in either case, it’s very relaxed in tone and it’s messaging, and not at all pushy in getting across the subtext that these little pleasures are what add up to a good life or what can keep us from losing sight of what is valuable in the world when it’s much easier to see all that is terrible in it. And all of that is factored into the sound too, as the whole thing is built on gently melancholic chords and progresses towards a guitar solo that expels lingering tensions that build up through the song.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Stephen Malkmus “Brainwashed”

I certainly never expected Stephen Malkmus to ever record a song with a vibe very similar to that of Grant Lee Buffalo’s 1994 masterpiece Mighty Joe Moon, but here we are – one of the few unexpected things in 2020 to actually be delightful. “Brainwashed” is a folksy number with a distinctly woodsy feel, like he ought to be playing it while sitting on a log near a stream, or maybe out in front of a cabin with the scent of a wood-burning stove in the distance. Malkmus’ vocal falls somewhere between relaxed and exhausted as he pleads to be rid of his mind and his memories, and all the responsibilities that go along with it. He sketches out some odd Malkmusian details about what the guy in this song has been up to – some kind of scam involving propane in Maine? – but that’s just color. The main thing here is the way the “brainwash me” refrain sounds so enticing now, and the way Malkmus busts out an electric guitar solo at the end that’s a little like what he pulled out for his Silver Jews song “Blue Arrangements” over 20 years ago and a bit like a more dazed version of Neil Young.

Also, in case you missed it a few months ago, I wrote a full review of Malkmus’ Traditional Techniques for NPR and you can read it right here.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Crystal Murray “Princess” (Yuksek Remix)

The original mix of “Princess” is very good but the arrangement feels a bit hesitant, starting off as more of an R&B number before sliding into dance music territory. This mix by Yuksek eliminates the slow build and genre ambiguity by making it a house pop song from the start and I think the song feels much more natural in this form, it sounds like it’s the shape it was always meant to be. I suspect the cleverness of the original mix comes from shying away from what a crowd pleasing ’90s-style dance number it is – it’s certainly a little more generic this way, but it’s also far more effective in conveying both a mood and a physical response. And ultimately this sort of music is built on its utility. With both versions being options I’m not sure why anyone wouldn’t choose the more joyful one that really moves.

Buy it from Amazon.

Bumper “Red Brick”

Bumper’s first EP sounds like it’s specifically based on late ’80s sophisti-pop along the lines of Swing Out Sister and that music’s aesthetic cousin Japanese city pop, but the music is written and performed without any trace of irony. At other points in time this sort of thing could be expected to be played with a wink even by true believers, but Michelle Zauner and Ryan Galloway do this with a degree of sincerity that makes a song like “Red Brick” feel authentic and pure. Everything in the song sounds bright and joyful, and even as Zauner confronts dark feelings in the lyrics it’s not a subversive move – her point of view is entirely optimistic that difficult times can be overcome in a very “the only way out is through” way.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Buscabella “NTE” (Jonti Remix)

When it comes to remixes I always prefer the ones that modify the arrangements of a song to those that barely resemble the source material. Jonti’s “NTE” remix is in the former category – he retains the essential vocal hook and groove of Buscabella’s track and replaces the more drowsy feel of the original with a brighter, more “tropical” atmosphere. The song retains its identity but gains a new utility as something better geared to a dancefloor than a chill-out room. Either version of the song has a very stoned vibe but I particularly like the way the bass line fits into Jonti’s mix like this warm center bringing up the temperature of everything that comes close to it.

Buy it from Boomkat.

Sharada Shashidhar “Loose Ends”

“Loose Ends” is a jazz vocal ballad but its textures are digitally warped to the point of disorienting abstraction. Sharada Shashidhar’s vocal is clear and precise, conveying patience and thoughtfulness in the midst of a track that feels more uncertain and chaotic. Jamael Dean’s music seems to move with and against her flow at different points, almost as if the sound is a storm moving around her stable, meditative presence. There are moments where it feels as though she’s moving against a powerful tide, but as she gets through it the chords settle into a more placid groove in harmony with her. It’s hard to imagine this is not a deliberate metaphor.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Natalie Slade “Humidity”

Natalie Slade’s voice is soulful but very controlled and understated – she emotes just enough to indicate her power and range, but keeps her focus on storytelling in her verses and conveying a soul-searching introspection in the choruses. Pretty much everything else in the arrangement of “Humidity” displays a similar balance of warmth and restraint. The bass is funky but unobtrusive; the drums have a nice feel but keep to a clean, tight pocket. My favorite thing here is the keyboards by Simon Mavin, whose chords seem like softly glowing lights just behind the groove. His parts get a bit higher in the mix near the end of the song, or maybe it’s more that other parts clear out to give those lovely chords some more space to be heard.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Dua Lipa & The Blessed Madonna “Break My Heart (Moodymann Remix)”

Club Future Nostalgia has the feel of a club DJ set broadcast over the radio on a Saturday night – all the joy of the music is there, but the physical sensations of being in a room full of people with flashing lights is left to the imagination. Dua Lipa and The Blessed Madonna made this full album remix album as a tribute to those sort of broadcasts and classic DJ mix CDs, but also a simulation of an experience intended for all the people around the world who can’t just go to a club night during a pandemic.

It’s also a way of putting Lipa’s disco aesthetics in its proper context. The songs on Future Nostalgia are all finely crafted dance pop bangers, but in some ways the disco-ness of the music is hemmed in by the pop-ness. The remixes on this record allow the grooves to loosen up, mutate, or merge with other tunes. “Break My Heart,” so tightly composed on the album, is far more fluid here – first as a mash-up with Jamiroquai’s “Cosmic Girl,” and at the end as a longer, airier funk track reworked by Moodymann. He places all emphasis on the bass line – which interpolates INXS’s “Need You Tonight” – and clears out most of the negative space. The song retains its hooks but its vibe is completely changed, pushing it away from the angsty throb of the original towards a more relaxed and elegant aesthetic.

Buy it from Amazon.

Blackpink & Selena Gomez “Ice Cream”

“Ice Cream” has a very mid-’00s feel to it – most specifically it reminds me of Beyoncé’s melodies in her 2005 hit “Check On It” and the particular bounce of Swizz Beatz productions from the period. But it’s also just the general vibe of that era, that hyper-glossy hedonistic rap-adjacent bubblegum as deliberate counter-programming to a more pervasive bleakness in the culture. I can see how this could grate on people with a full-time commitment to doom but I think songs like this, which deliver joy and escapism with impeccable craft, are a necessary part of the arts ecosystem. I would be dazzled by this song if just on a melodic level under any conditions, but it coming at this time emphasizes all its sass and sparkle.

This song is Blackpink’s most blatant attempt at an American crossover hit to date, and I think it’s handled very well as an introduction to the group even with Selena Gomez taking center stage in the hook and the video. Rosé, who sings the highest part of the chorus, and Lisa, who does all the rapping, are the ones who really announce themselves as stars in this song and its music video. Like CL from 2NE1 before her, Lisa is a very convincing and aggressive rapper – to some extent they both come across as people who have fully internalized the cadences of mainstream female rappers like Cardi B and Nicki Minaj the way an actor would master an accent with a dialect coach, but the performances have a real spirit to them rather than just seeming studied and rote. Lisa is certainly compelling enough to get away with lyrical references to Michael Jackson and Free Willy, or opening her solo verse with the phrase “chillin’ like a villain.”

Buy it from Amazon.

Kate Bollinger “Grey Skies”

Kate Bollinger’s songs have mostly been iterations on a basic concept – the music is a relaxed groove but the lyrics are neurotic and introspective – but to her credit, they all feel distinct in melody and texture. “Grey Skies,” from her new EP, is at the drowsiest and jazziest end of her spectrum. Her vocal melody and cadence in this one reminds me of Erykah Badu at her most mellow, which further exaggerates the gap between her chill vibe and the “who am I, what am I doing, does any of this make sense?” tone of her lyrics. But it’s not necessarily a contradiction: Bollinger excels at giving voice to a very low-key nagging sort of turmoil, the sort that can be buried under just enough self-effacement and repression to not read as anxious on the surface.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Lady Gaga “Babylon”

I’ve read that one of the reasons songs get stuck in your head is because something about them – the structure, the lyrics – breaks a pattern your brain recognizes from other music, so it’s left unresolved in your mind. This makes sense for how “Babylon” stays with me, it being this song that’s both totally familiar in its Shep Pettibone early ’90s house moves but totally alien in the way Lady Gaga sings a set of phrases that sound fabulous but don’t really add up to anything logical. “Babylon” is a song of inspired idiocy; absolutely glorious in its dumb genius.

Gaga has always been a creature of kitsch, but this song pushes her aesthetic to an extreme – a song ostensibly about gossip that’s somehow serving it “ancient city style” with a “pretty 16th century smile.” It’s like some bizarre cross-breeding of Madonna’s “Vogue” and Steve Martin’s “King Tut,” but with a vague nod towards the general concept of social justice. I am certain that if you talked to Lady Gaga about this song she could give you some sort of outline of the ideas that were on her mind as she wrote this, as it’s clear enough she was inspired by a few different things. But the magic here is in the goofy nonsense of it all, and in the how this is jumbled up in a fun retro dance song. It’s not easy to deliberately create something campy, but that’s exactly what she’s done with this song. She’s been immersed in camp so long, this is just what happens for her naturally.

Buy it from Amazon.

Margaret Glaspy “Heartbreak”

Margaret Glaspy has a warm and expressive voice, a high level of songwriting craft, and writes thoughtful lyrics about the intricacies of mature adult relationships. These are all incredible strengths from my perspective, but I don’t think they do much to win over younger listeners more fixated on her peers who are more about shy vocals, formless melancholy, and adolescent neuroses. But that makes sense. It’s adult music, and while I think anyone could click into Glaspy’s very melodic and accessible songs, it probably is something you need to be in the right frame of mind to fully appreciate.

Framing Glaspy’s records in this way feels a bit like I’m actually doing her a disservice, since in music “adult” is mostly a euphemism for boring. In adult music, emotions aren’t so extreme – they’re nuanced and complicated. And complexity and ambiguity have a way of coming across as low stakes, even if the reality is often that they’re much more fraught.

“Heartbreak” is a ballad rooted in R&B about a relationship that’s becoming too difficult to bear, but might not yet be broken beyond repair. Glaspy’s character frames the situation in a way that makes her passive to her partner’s whims – heartbreak is being induced, and the best defense she has in mind is to try to ignore it. The song resembles Lauryn Hill’s “Ex-Factor” in style and themes, and this makes a lot of sense as that song has been a staple of Glaspy’s live performances for years and she’s certainly fully internalized it by now. Her voice conveys both frustration and yearning, all the angst focused on how unresolved and open-ended the situation feels.

In lieu of some decision or emotional catharsis, the song ends with her trying to get her head around how she gone in this deep: The attraction runs deep, she compromises too often and too easily, and despite swearing to be honest they’ve both holding back some truths. The song ends on that thought and stops cold, as if she’s suddenly snapped out of the spell.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

Okay Kaya “Comic Sans”

The central rhythm of “Comic Sans” is a gentle plodding groove that becomes a bit more emphatic as basic percussion and guitar parts come in but never quite picks up. The lyrics follow through on this feeling of a pleasant rut as Kaya Wilkins sings about moving around in a daze after getting dumped. The song comes from the perspective of not really having a solid handle on the situation – was this actually a bad relationship? Is this actually good for her? Should she feel aggrieved? A situation has resolved itself but left her in a very unresolved state, and even as the music moves laterally through slightly different moods and a chorus that relieves some angst at least on a melodic level, there’s no sense of direction. When the song tapers off and abruptly stops, it feels emotionally true even if it’s a bit unsatisfying in terms of ending a song.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

St. Panther “These Days”

Daniela Bojorges-Giraldo sings with a soulful rasp and a very mature level of nuance and control, but that’s just part of what makes “These Days” so captivating. The most fascinating thing for me is Bojorges-Giraldo’s performance on bass and drums, which keeps a nice pocket groove with a loose feel along the lines of Mitch Mitchell’s drumming for Jimi Hendrix. It’s an R&B song stripped down to raw essentials without feeling “minimalist,” and she gives space in the arrangement so that common elements like backing vocals and horn parts hit with maximum impact. Everything sounds very in-the-moment, nothing feels overthought. She just sounds like a musician with great instincts who fully trusts those instincts.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

No Joy “Four”

In retrospect Jasamine White-Gluz’s discography as No Joy is like this reverse “anxiety of influence” arc in which she resists emulating the things she grew up loving to the point that it was limiting her creativity, and she fully becomes herself when she gives herself permission to embrace the largely uncool late 90s/early 00s music that shaped her taste. Motherhood, her new record as No Joy, boldly integrates elements of nü-metal, the commercial end of trip-hop, and quasi-futuristic pre-millennial production trends you’d recognize from albums like No Doubt’s Return of Saturn, The Smashing Pumpkins’ Adore, and Madonna’s Ray of Light into her established romantic shoegaze aesthetic. She sounds truly free on this record, like someone who is unafraid to let you see who they are. This starts in formal terms but carries through to the emotional content of it – even when lyrics are hazy and the sound gets abstract, there’s an open-hearted vulnerability on display that’s poignant and relatable.

“Four” strings together all the stylistic extremes of Motherhood into one remarkably coherent piece of music. It’s basically a suite – an atmospheric shoegaze section flowing into a groovy trip-hop section flowing into a thrashing nü-metal finale – and a lot of the reason it works so well is that at least from White-Gluz’s perspective this is a fully intuitive progression. The trip-hop section is the main draw here. It’s very confident in its funk despite this previously never being an element of the No Joy sound, and I love the way the juxtaposition of White-Gluz’s voice singing “just keep calling me baby,” a pitched-down masculine voice, and a baby giggle that’s clearly in homage to the famous baby sample in Aaliyah “Are You That Somebody” suggest a lot of ideas about female sexuality and motherhood without explicating anything. It’s more of a Rorschach blot, or the song deliberately posing a leading question.

Buy it from Bandcamp.

King Krule “Stoned Again”

“Stoned Again” moves along on the slow drag of a grungy bass riff that serves as the numb, deadened center of a song that’s otherwise expressing extreme depression, paranoia, and grief. The arrangement sketches out multiple levels of awareness – the guitar and sax parts fill in a melancholy atmosphere that’s like a dimming perception of the bleakness of the outside world, while Archy Marshall’s vocals cover conscious thoughts and feelings. He splits his vocal into two overlapping parts – the first a semi-rapped stream of conscious ramble contrasting memories of innocence with a pathetic and desperate present, and the second mostly wordless screams of anguish. The effect is similar to superimposing in film, and it’s up to the listener to decide whether it’s meant to evoke a collapsed timeline of emotions or the feelings just under the surface of the coherent thoughts. Marshall’s voice is unrestrained in both performances but particularly impressive in the foregrounded part where his words seem to tumble out of his mouth and verses end with him shifting his phrasing into a bark of disgust.

Buy it from Amazon.

Chemtrails “Slag Heap Deity 1”

“Slap Heap Deity 1” comes in upbeat and bright, bopping along as it comes to a big chorus in which Mia Lust cheerfully sings about the inevitability of failure. “We try our best, we are unsuccessful,” she chirps, “our hearts get filled with regrets and cholesterol, then we all just die yeah yeah yeah yeah!” I think normally this sort of peppy negativity would be considered a subversion of the form, but I think in this case it’s more about finding joy by rearranging expectations. The energy and drama of the song is not ironic, this isn’t about some sardonic wink to the audience. Lust and her band sound like they’ve found freedom in letting go of a lot of nonsense, and of throwing themselves into these chords and these melodies in the moment. And is insisting that we’re not special actually the same thing as nihilism?

Buy it on Bandcamp.

Gimgigam featuring Takara Araki “Dunia Kuu”

“Dunia Kuu” seems to introduce new musical ideas and textures every 20 seconds or so but never feels busy, cluttered, or disjointed. It’s more just a steady lateral progression through different sensations, all held together by a steadily bouncing groove, quasi-tropical instrumental motifs, and wordless vocals that are just shy of Donna Summer-ish moans of pleasure. The contrast of negative space and busy percussion through this track feels very humid to me, but not necessarily in the oppressive sense – it mostly just sounds like the way the air feels just after a flash rainstorm in the summer.

Buy it on Bandcamp.

Here’s a collection of playlists I’ve made recently; they’re sort of like my version of what used to be released as compilations and box sets.

WELCOME TO THE ’90s: THE NEW POP 1989-1992

An exploration of sleek turn-of-the-’90s pop sounds – not quite ’80s in style but also not what would take hold for most of the ’90s either.

WHAT WAS INDIE ROCK? 1991-1995

This one is starting from the conceit that indie rock is a specific genre with a particular aesthetic rooted in the first half of the 1990s.

WHAT WAS ALT-ROCK? 1991-1996

This one, which is a companion to the indie playlist, examines alt-rock – or alternative rock – as a genre with its own set of conventions rather than simply a marketing catch-all term.

WHAT WAS COLLEGE ROCK? 1986-1990

Completing the trilogy started by the previous two playlists, this one explores the foundational “alternative” music of the mid to late ’80s, when it was more likely to be called “college rock” or “postmodern.”

CELEBRATES ITSELF: SHOEGAZE 1988-1995

Exploring the first wave of shoegaze, including some outliers.

THE NEW INDIE 2008-2010

Exploring a sea change in aesthetics that set the foundation for what “indie” would mean in the 2010s.

MIDNIGHT CITIES: INDIETRONICA 2008-2013

The lines between indie and electronic aesthetics begin to blur as a new decade begins.

AFTER PUNK 1980-1983

New factions and genres emerge in the wake of the big punk moment of the late ’70s.

BURNING INSIDE: INDUSTRIAL 1986-1994

An introduction to industrial, curated with Sean T. Collins.

B-BOY DOCUMENTS: RAP 1997-1999

Hip-hop in the boom years following the deaths of Tupac and Biggie.

THE HIGH ’80s: GLOSSY POP 1985-1987

This is an exploration of the the ultra high energy, freakishly clean pop aesthetic of the mid-’80s. You probably already know these songs, but I sequenced them to highlight how unhinged it all is. Imagine living like this!

PRE-MILLENNIUM TENSIONS: POP BEATS 1996-1999

Pop and rock in the time of “electronica.” Back when artists – mostly established acts trying to keep their relevance – put loops and beats on everything.

MODULAR POP: 1995-2004

Mapping out the often kitschy and appropriative post-hip hop aesthetic in indie culture, DJ music, and the Shibuya-kei scene spanning about 10 years.

FUSION AND FUSIONS: 1970-1975

A collection of songs exploring the spaces between funk, jazz, psychedelia, progressive rock, and R&B in the early to mid ’70s.

TRIP HOP MOOD MAP

This playlist collects all the major trip hop classics alongside songs with a similar feel by artists not typically associated with the genre.

NYC: THE ROCK REVIVAL 2000-2004

A broad view of what was happening in the New York City rock scene at the turn of the 21st century.

FUCK THE PAIN AWAY: ELECTROCLASH SOUNDS 1998-2005

Exploring the raunchy, abrasive electroclash era at the turn of the millennium, along with some aesthetically adjacent music.

Unbroken Circles: Folk In Rock 1969-1972

Exploring English folk revival, psychedelic folk, and acoustic rock in the hippie era.

WHAT WAS BRITPOP? 1993-1997?

Was it a genre, or actually more of a cultural moment? Either way, yer mad fer it, mate!

ALT-CRUNCHY: NEO-HIPPIE, JAM BAND, AND FOLKY VIBES 1992-1998

The crunchy/neo-hippie end of alternative music in the 90s. Imagine vegan cafes and health food stores, hacky sack on the quad…

MUSIC FROM THE YUPPIE’S LAIR: 1986-1992

Sophisticated rock, early VH1 pop, and adult contemporary – the aggressively tasteful and upscale aesthetics of the upwardly mobile.

THE OTHER POP 2002-2007

Mostly European pop from the wilderness years prior to the rise of Lady Gaga/Katy Perry and the emergence of Robyn/Carly Rae Jepsen as mainstream cult figures.

LOST ’00s: EXCELLENT OBSCURITIES 2004-2007

A selection of great indie songs that you probably missed in the mid 00s unless you were a regular Fluxblog reader.

I CAN BE THIS SAD WITH ANYONE: INDIE ROCK 2015-2019

A collection of notable indie rock tunes from the second half of the 2010s.

LIVE MUSIC FOR A TIME WITHOUT STAGES

Live concert recordings of icons from across genres and generations. I highly recommend turning on the crossfade setting for this one.

MIDLIFE CRISIS ON INFINITE BOOMERS 1986-1989

The icons of the 60s and 70s face middle age and the MTV era in the second half of the 80s.

GEN X IN MIDDLE AGE 2006-2010

Notable artists of the 80s and 90s navigate middle age and the deep end of their catalogs in the late 00s.

Lianne La Havas “Weird Fishes”

Lianne La Havas co-wrote all but one of the songs on her new album so I feel a little bad about focusing in on the one she didn’t write, which is a Radiohead song. I mean no disrespect to her as a songwriter, but her work in arranging and performing “Weird Fishes” is remarkable, up to the point of rivaling the original Radiohead version in quality. La Havas’ version of the song isn’t far off from Radiohead’s arrangement, but she loosens up some of its stiffness and foregrounds R&B elements that they had left under the surface. There are other songs from In Rainbows that are more obviously Radiohead approximations of R&B – “Nude,” “House of Cards,” “All I Need” – but “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi” tilts more towards their art rock comfort zone with its interlocking guitar melodies and Steve Shelley-ish beat. La Havas’ interpretation is inspired in hearing the soul in this one, for slowing it down to a more liesurely Erykah Badu-ish pace and giving space for the vocal to convey a sensuousness that Thom Yorke stops short of fully exploring. It’s not hard to imagine members of Radiohead listening to this recording and hearing the song they were trying to make but were not able to create due to their limitations as performers. These limitations are what give their own performances and recordings character, but an interpretation of their work on this level this reveals their full range as songwriters.

Buy it from Amazon.