May 13th, 2015 12:51pm
I sometimes wonder what it’d be like if The New Pornographers made an album in which Neko Case and Kathryn Calder contributed songs along with Carl Newman and Dan Bejar. It’s a bit hard to imagine with Neko – her solo aesthetic is a lot earthier and more depressive than New Pornos, and I’m not sure if her inclinations as a songwriter are well suited to maximalism in arrangement. Calder’s solo music also tends to be a lot more melancholy and intimate, but I think she could do it. “Take A Little Time” wouldn’t need to change much to fit in on a New Pornos record, though I think it’s probably better off in this more ethereal form. I like the way she balances the urgency of the tempo with a hazy psychedelic arrangement and a chilly vocal timbre that feels like being lost in thought in some busy, hectic environment. Calder thrives when she can convey delicacy and interiority – this as true in the New Pornographers, where she can signal fragility in a way the three other vocalists cannot, and even more so when she’s on her own and that introverted character is at the center of the music.
May 12th, 2015 12:06pm
I didn’t like the mix of this song at first because everything was blaring to the point of obscuring the lyrics, and I interpreted it as this very contrary indie/punk move to put the vocals lower in the mix. But having heard it in the context of The Most Lamentable Tragedy, it’s clear that this is intentional, and crucial to the theme of the song – you just don’t do a punk song about feeling like only the loudest things make you feel anything at all and not dramatize that sensation. “Dimed Out” is a fun and often funny song, but it’s also a very accurate expression of the manic stage of manic depression. All the thoughts are sharp and urgent, but warped by a sort of false intensity. You lose all sense of emotional dynamic, and only the extremes seem true. In this song, that feeling is exciting and empowering, because that’s often how it feels in the moment. The burnout comes later on, but for the duration of “Dimed Out,” it’s all adrenaline and catharsis.
May 11th, 2015 12:43pm
I imagine a lot of people will check out Kasami Washington’s The Epic based on the hype around it and not fully grasp why people are freaking out over it and declaring it the start of this bold new era of jazz when to the layperson’s ear it just sounds like…well, three CDs worth of jazz. Washington’s music isn’t some bold, obvious break from the past – it’s drawing on a rich history of jazz and jazz fusion, and the musical vocabulary in use is pretty traditional. It stands out from the recent history of jazz in ways that are more about spirit and context. Washington and his large band comprised of astounding players from his Los Angeles scene don’t seem beaten down by the public’s indifference to jazz, or jazz culture’s tendency towards becoming a museum of itself, or striving for relevance by adapting sounds from hip-hop and electronic music. Washington’s not trying to reinvent anything – his boldness is in writing and conducting jazz music that insists that the music is as vital and exciting now as it was in the mid-20th century. Instead of being defensive about jazz, Washington spends about three hours showing you all the things he can do with it, and giving the listener the kind of thrills that can only be had in this genre.
Washington’s music is accessible too, mainly because he’s an excellent songwriter with a great ear for melody and rhythmic hooks. There’s nothing intimidating about compositions like “Leroy and Lanisha” or “The Next Step,” and the more ornate, epic tracks are more about dazzling you with a sense of near-cosmic scale rather than empty gestures of ambition. Best of all, Washington isn’t afraid to give us a few vocal tracks featuring Patrice Quinn that work as straight-up pop music, albeit with the extended structure of jazz. “Cherokee” is full-on 70s jazz-funk, a sunny ballad that seems like it was designed to be played at cocktail parties and lounges. “Cherokee” bears a strong resemblance to “Am I the Same Girl” a.k.a. “Soulful Strut,” and wears that on its sleeve with a horn chart that lightly paraphrases a hook from that song. Like the majority of tracks on The Epic, it just overwhelms you with pleasure and good vibes, and manages to evoke the best elements of the past without feeling like a soulless pastiche or a work of musical academia.
May 8th, 2015 1:13pm
I realize that “going to websites” is not a very cool thing to do these days, and if I’m going to put in the effort of continuing to write this site 4-5 days every week, I should also try to make it easier for some people to keep up with it, or even pay attention to it at all. So, as of this week, you now have the option to read this site as a weekly email newsletter. Every Friday, I will send out an email that includes this week’s posts, plus some other links and bonus stuff, and links to other music-related stuff I have published in that time. I might include some stuff from the archives as well. I’m also going to be working on some new Fluxblog surveys, and when I’m doing that, I can put out a call for feedback and all you’d need to do is reply like a regular email.
If you are interested, you can sign up here.
May 7th, 2015 12:33pm
A lot of current pop artists will tell you they are aiming for an ’80s pop sound, but most of the time the result is more of a vague gesture, or grasping for an abstract ’80s-ness that’s kinda warped by not having first-hand experience of living in that era. But this song by Jason Derulo genuinely sounds like something that would’ve been a big hit in the late ‘80s, from the specific attack on the keyboard parts to way you have this soulful but sorta hemmed in R&B vocal at the center of a song with dynamics and structure that reads more rock. A lot of what makes ‘80s pop interesting, exciting, and enduring is that most of it is pulling from a lot of genres at once, and there’s this fascinating collision of different eras of pop songwriting construction, new technologies putting fresh spins on old forms, and an often seamless merging of influences from white and black corners of culture. A lot of this happened for less-than-great social reasons, but the results still feel sorta utopian, especially when you’re looking at the work of Prince, Madonna, Whitney Houston, and Michael Jackson. “Want to Want Me” isn’t quite on their level, but it’s a joyful song that really doesn’t quite fit into any genre, but is so direct and well-made that it seems like you’d have to fight hard to resist it.
May 6th, 2015 12:59pm
It’d be so easy for this to be a cranky song about the internet written by a guy in his 50s, but that’s not quite what this is. Colin Newman sings words like “Google Maps” and “Amazon wishlist” in a way that highlights their strangeness – just odd product names for things that didn’t exist too long ago – but puts them in the context of Christianity, something just as contrived that has existed for much longer. In “Blogging,” they go hand in hand as man-made devices for understanding the world. The two things sound ridiculous when smashed together – “blogging like Jesus,” “I’m YouTubing hope” – but Newman’s point seems to be that both are artificial, but are both are so essential to society that it’s hard to imagine life without them. There’s almost no hope in this song. It’s cold and sterile and harsh, just an expression of nihilism and vague contempt for the very idea of trying to make sense of world, or attempting to create order out of chaos.
May 5th, 2015 12:00pm
It’s very hard for me to listen to the chorus of this song without hearing “‘cause I’m a man, woman / don’t mistake me for a dude.” It’s like the “Starbucks lovers” of 2015. And really, that’s kind of a great lyric because there really is a gap between being a “man” and being a “dude,” and if we’re being real, most young guys are just dudes. It’s aspirational. But that’s not really what’s going on in this song. This is a song in which Kevin Parker wallows in guilt and self-pity for saying something dumb to his girlfriend, and he’s trying to explain himself: He’s a good person, but he often speaks carelessly. He has a conscience, but it’s “prone to being overruled.” He’s not proud of himself, but he’s OK with being a flawed human. It’s strange to hear a song that’s so lovely and kinda sexy – I mean, this is basically a slow jam – be mainly about a guy struggling with a shame spiral. But that gentle, sensual sound is a great way of conveying both his genuine vulnerability and his actual affection for this lady, which – to him – is far stronger than a moment of thoughtless cruelty.
May 4th, 2015 11:32am
Torres’ music mostly sounds like anxious, angry, confusing emotions being buried beneath the surface, but then busting out when it’s too much to repress. The moments of catharsis in her songs are great, but I’m more interested in how she conveys the feeling of holding in nervous energy while trying to keep up a steady front. The guitar and keyboard lines in “Cowboy Guilt” sets up a vibe that’s somehow relaxed and cautious at the same time – it sounds like being in a situation that’s familiar, but you’re still not quite sure what to expect. The song becomes a lot more simple when she shifts into loud chords, which makes a lot of sense, since that’s the point in the song where she’s judging someone and there’s some kind of clarity.
April 30th, 2015 11:03am
“Bills” sounds like it was designed in a lab to be both immensely appealing and highly relatable – a song that could be played at any wedding reception, and fit easily into TV shows and movies that need a shorthand for “this character is broke and frustrated, but we’re still having fun!” I’m sure on some level this was something on LunchMoney Lewis’ mind when he was writing this song, but the song isn’t crushed by cynicism. Instead, it’s lifted up by it, and its eagerness to please actually results in a song so joyful and energetic that it’s very hard to deny. It’s also a bit weird and unique, in that it’s essentially a gospel/R&B hybrid with a production style that sounds directly inspired by Fatboy Slim’s “Praise You,” and a chorus that hits in a way that feels just like Chumbawumba’s “Tubthumping.”
April 29th, 2015 12:16pm
I know LCD Soundsystem was itself largely a conglomeration of sounds and hooks pulled from pre-existing music, but wow – this track sounds remarkably similar to LCD Soundsystem. I don’t think that’s easy. But it doesn’t feel like a knock-off, it just feels like a custom frame for Shamir’s voice, which is just as charming and versatile as it was on last year’s single “On the Regular.” “Call It Off” doesn’t feel as much like a novelty – it goes to a darker place, with Shamir shaking off a bad relationship with someone who was apparently spending a lot of time gaslighting him. When he snaps back to being cute and assertive on the rapped bridge near the end, it’s like he’s fully himself again.
April 28th, 2015 12:23pm
Michael Angelakos’ voice is always pushing a bit higher than it probably should, and I feel a vicarious strain if I hear too many Passion Pit songs in a row. The style works well in small doses though. “Where the Sky Hangs” is an elegantly crafted pop song that’s so crisp and clean that it practically demands an earnest, angelic vocal. Angelakos is singing about a love so overwhelming that it doesn’t seem entirely grounded in reality, and as much as he’s enjoying it and totally devoted to this person, he’s a bit concerned that it might all get away from him. There’s definitely some desperation in this song, particularly as it reaches its climax, but more than anything, it feels like an expression of confidence and faith that this will hold together if he just hangs tight.
April 27th, 2015 11:49am
When I first heard that Blur was returning with a new album after a long reunion tour phase (which never came to New York and I am still very bitter about that), I was a bit too cautious to feel excited. My fear was that despite working with the members of Blur, who have a very distinct chemistry, Damon Albarn would just have them play the sort of dour and dreary music that has dominated most of his projects over the past several years. Though Blur have recorded many ballads, and some of those rank among their best songs, I think it’s fair to say that the core musical identity of Blur is rather bright and up-tempo, sometimes to the point of feeling rather manic. This is the thing I wanted; this is the thing that’s been missing.
The good news is that a little over half of The Magic Whip sounds like classic Blur while also feeling a bit fresh and different. Graham Coxon’s guitar style on this record is generally in the same zone as where he was on Blur and 13, but it’s not quite the same – he occasionally shifts into a cleaner tone, and there’s some vaguely Asian motifs sprinkled throughout the record. The remainder of the record is the sad sack Albarn you’d expect these days, but even those tracks don’t just feel like they could’ve been on some other Albarn project, and really take advantage of Coxon’s loose-yet-precise style, as well as that of Dave Rowntree and Alex James. Albarn has played with a very wide range of musicians in his career, but this just feels natural. It just sounds like he’s at home on this record.
“Ong Ong” is the best of the new songs. I hear a lot of Kinks in it, and it’s been quite some time since that influence has been obvious in Albarn’s work. What really gets me about this song is how generous it feels – it sounds so loving, so grateful, so earnest. A great deal of Albarn’s work over the years has been rather depressive or world weary, and I think that’s definitely there in the subtext of the song, but what you’re actually hearing here is the sort of joy and yearning that comes from finding someone or something to love in a world that’s always letting you down.
April 24th, 2015 12:25pm
Please don’t be put off by the title of this song. It is a such a good song, and the lyrics are so good. Trust me on this. The strange thing about this is that while the title is very cryptic and precious, Will Toledo’s words in the actual song aren’t that way at all. In a voice that’s both drowsy and endearingly romantic, he’s singing quite directly about angst and existential dread. The subject matter is as melodramatic as it gets, but his delivery and phrasing is all very matter of fact. This is how it can be when you’re depressed – every emotion blurs into blah grey nothingness. Toledo’s music is fairly low-fi and the instruments sound cheap, but it really works for this song in the way it grounds everything in a drab, mundane setting. His arrangement is great, though – it’s always moving in some interesting way, and pushes him towards moments of shabby grace as the song reaches its climax.
April 23rd, 2015 12:51pm
“Secret Life” seems to conflate a secretive, probably closeted romance with the idea of a child having an imaginary friend. It’s sung from the perspective of feeling exhausted by having to keep up appearances, and to hide a profound connection – actively burying the part of you that feels most open and alive. The sound of the track really plays up the melancholy and anxiety at the core of the lyrics and vocal performance – it’s slow, brittle, and has a vaguely mysterious atmosphere, but then the pace will suddenly pick up like your heart race when you’re forced into a lie.
April 22nd, 2015 12:19pm
It is baffling to me that Leikeli47 is not the most hyped thing in music right now. Maybe that’s by design – this is an artist known for performing in a mask – but just on musical merit, her first mini-album is worth freaking out about. The easiest artist to compare her to is M.I.A., since they share a very feminine type of aggression and ferocity, and perform with the energy of people on the outside of hip-hop and are hell bent on being heard in that genre. But where M.I.A. draws on music from the Third World, Leikeli47 is more firmly rooted in hip-hop’s recent past. This is very much a post-Yeezus record – it’s there in the abrasive textures and the urgency of the tempos, and in the unambiguously confrontational nature of her performance. But it’s not all rage and fire. One of the most interesting things about her music is the way it will swing suddenly in the opposite direction, like when “Two Times A Charm” shifts briefly into straight R&B and she reveals a very sensual and empathetic side that is no less fierce.
April 21st, 2015 12:05pm
Doug Martsch has spent so much time working on big lumbering epics hat it’s a really nice change of pace for him to put out a relatively simple, jangly folk rock song like this. All of his songs are very tightly written, even when they seem to jam out a bit, but this one feels especially compact – it wouldn’t surprise me at all if this was revised several times until it was nothing but hooks. The lyrics seem straightforward but are just as deceptively clever as the music itself, with Martsch flipping the perspective on his subject’s wanderlust and relationship with time and change every few lines. I particularly enjoy the idea of zooming in on someone’s motivation to keep doing new things and zooming out on a world that only changes at a glacial pace. This isn’t a new theme for him, though. His best song ever ends on essentially the same thought: “This history lesson doesn’t make any sense in any less than ten thousand year increments.”
April 20th, 2015 1:52pm
It seems like Chance is settling into a niche – he’s the rapper who specializes in soulful, optimistic, uplifting music. It’s not a particularly crowded niche at the moment. I can’t imagine a better use of his voice, though – his rhymes are always so melodic, and when he half-sings his parts he sounds very Stax to me. The music of “Sunday Candy” is rooted in gospel, and Chance runs with that by turning the entire song into a tribute to his devoutly religious grandmother. This is an exceptionally warm and affectionate song, to the point that the kindness and love at the core of it can feel a overwhelming. But that’s how gratitude works – when you consider how much someone like a parent or guardian has given to you, it can really knock you over.
April 16th, 2015 12:43pm
Man, this song just sounds like it’s begging to be sampled and turned into a rap track, doesn’t it? I’d bet the band actually was influenced by sample-based rap in arranging this – it’s drawing on a lot of ’60s and ‘70s soul music, but the way the elements click together feels very post-turntablism to me. It’s in the negative space, and the way the guitar part kinda lingers half-formed in the background like a looped artifact, and how the string parts near the end feel like they’re being imported from some other song entirely. It’s a gorgeous piece of music, and Brittany Howard’s vocal performance is pitched just right – a little understated compared to a lot of her stuff, but sorta wounded and emphatic right when it matters most.
April 15th, 2015 12:34pm
I suppose the new EP by The-Dream isn’t quirky enough for some people, but I can’t say I’m bothered by that. I’m not particularly invested in him as some maverick artist and am fine with him doing pretty straightforward R&B music. The-Dream is a perfectly fine singer, but the real draw of his music is in the songwriting and production, and the way he laces strong compositions with melodic, rhythmic, and tonal elements that stand out without getting in the way of the vocal melody. You get that in each of the songs on Crown, and in the case of “Fruition,” you find it in that lead guitar loop that seems to slowly spin around at the center of the track. It’s a slight bit of tension in the middle of a song that otherwise feels extremely comfortable and sort of weightless. He’s singing about being in love with a wonderful person he had to work hard to find, so maybe that element is there to represent a lingering fear about messing it all up.
April 14th, 2015 1:02pm
The Alchemist’s production on this track is straight-up gorgeous, and in a way that is very specific to sample-based rap. The sounds are cobbled from a variety of sources, but the main thing is that lovely, melancholy guitar sample pulled from Asha Puthli’s “Let Me In Your Life.” It’s chopped up a bit, but Alchemist makes it all feel organic, like it could actually be a live band playing in a room. But like the best sample-based music, it’s not entirely seamless, and you can sense the artifacts and the fabrication. It’s part of why a lot of this music has a sad, nostalgic feeling to it – you can’t help but hear the quotation marks around the music, and the way it all seems like a fading memory. Action Bronson does a good job on this track, but of course he would – his voice and style is so similar to Ghostface, and Ghostface figured out a long time ago that this aesthetic suited him better than anything else. It’s something about the plaintive timbre of their voices, maybe.