November 24th, 2016 2:45pm
Bruno Mars fakes it so real he is beyond fake. His commitment to throwing himself into what is basically an elaborate impression of James Brown is so complete that it somehow goes beyond pastiche – this is just who Bruno Mars is now, and it all comes naturally. Mars emulates Michael Jackson on other songs, and it’s never as convincing as his Brown routine, partly because Jackson’s aesthetic is a peculiar mix of superhuman technical prowess and hyper-specific tics, and Brown’s is more about blunt force and attitude. Mars can pull that off, and updates it just enough to keep it from being a museum replica of ‘70s funk. It helps that he’s a good flirt. “Perm” is basically a three-and-a-half minute flirt that’s aggressive without being disrespectful, and is mostly just an invitation to dance. Part of why this works is Mars understanding that this is supposed to be a bit silly, and so when he tells you to “activate your sexy,” it comes off as funny and cool rather than dorky and delusional.
November 23rd, 2016 3:56am
The hooks in “Together” are strong enough that they don’t actually require a particularly interesting arrangement – you could just highlight the melody with a serviceable beat, and you’d have something solid and fun. Kaytranada didn’t settle, and I’m very grateful for that. His beats are extremely well designed, delivering an irresistible and immediate rhythm with accents that are surprising but not distracting. The rest of the arrangement is just as intricate yet understated, with every keyboard chord, click, and clap merging into a perfectly formed groove to frame AlunaGeorge’s vocal. The craft is just amazing, and with all due respect to AlunaGeorge, I’d love to hear what this guy could do with an A-list pop star like Beyoncé or Rihanna.
November 22nd, 2016 12:49pm
I love the way Michael Kiwanuka’s lead guitar contrasts with the sentimental string arrangement and gentle piano chords in this song – it’s a much less restrained performance, and one that seems as though it could fall apart at any moment. There’s an odd tension to it, and the particular shade of distortion on it feels a bit tinny and pinched. This part could’ve been much more slick and graceful, but Kiwanuka deliberately evokes an awkward, strained emotion. His vocal part expresses grief for a broken relationship, and his voice is melancholy but very smooth. He’s suggesting a feeling that doesn’t really come out until the final third with the solo, which is cathartic, but only up to a point. The song ends with some feeling of release, but it doesn’t feel quite resolved. As it goes silent, you’re left with the impression that this guy is going to be stewing in this misery for quite a while to come.
November 21st, 2016 3:23am
“Visions” is built around a sweeping, melancholy string section hook that sounds like it’s been yanked from the score of some 1950s melodrama. It sounds like small scale misery blown out to monumental proportions, and Joey Purp’s verses follow that lead with lyrics drawing a line from everyday tragedy to its roots in systemic racism: “It’s the places we live in that they refuse to go, so when we speak about struggles they can refuse to know.” It’s a fairly bleak track, but it’s very elegant in its sadness. There’s always something remarkable and inspiring when artists flip grimness into grace.
November 17th, 2016 3:55am
“Condemnation” is Depeche Mode playing against type, at least on a surface level. It’s essentially a gospel ballad, and the synthesizers and drum machines that define most of their work are either sidelined or minimized in the arrangement. Whereas most of their work is programmed and produced in a way that doesn’t attempt to simulate the notion of a “live” performance, “Condemnation” very much sounds like music played in a physical space. You can hear the room, and the reverberations of the snare hits. Dave Gahan’s vocal performance seems very physical too, with his inflections and stresses suggesting a strained, grimacing face.
As much as “Condemnation” is an atypical Depeche Mode song, it’s representative of Martin Gore’s strengths as a songwriter. Lyrically, it’s a good example of his obsession with guilt and shame. There’s two ways of reading this one: It’s either a song from the perspective of someone who’s literally been put on trial for a crime he says he hasn’t committed but is resigning himself to condemnation, or it’s from the perspective of someone who is hyperbolically imagining themselves as being persecuted in this way. Either way, it’s about making yourself a martyr, and it’s a very Martin Gore sort of pessimistic melodramatic fantasy.
It’s also a fine example of Gore’s intriguing way around a melody. Gore’s melodies are strong and accessible, but always veer slightly out of expected paths. I wonder how much of this is just his natural instincts, or if he writes a more expected melody first and revises it a bit to make it more interesting and distinctive. It’s all rather subtle, but it’s a key part of what makes his songs work, particularly when he’s venturing into the realm of genre pastiche as he is here.
November 15th, 2016 11:45pm
It’s interesting how a decade and a half of R&B revivalism has resulted in music rooted in ‘60s and ‘70s aesthetics no longer sounding retro, per se. Time has looped around so someone could hear Lady Wray’s record and hear Adele, Solange, or Amy Winehouse rather than Motown or Stax, and be totally justified in that. Lady Wray doesn’t sing like someone stuck in the past. The production feels more retro than the song itself, and Wray’s vocal performance has a toughness that’s a lot more Mary J. Blige than Aretha Franklin. You can hear it in the guarded optimism in her voice – “Smilin’” puts a positive spin on troubles, but she sounds like she’s prepared to be heartbroken and disappointed.
November 15th, 2016 1:30pm
A live show by Thee Oh Sees tends to veer back and forth between the band’s two primary modes – frantic bursts of garage punk, and hypnotic Krautrock grooves. It’s all driving rhythm, all the time. This stuff slays live, and John Dwyer knows exactly how to keep people dancing and moshing through his band’s entire set. But on record, Dwyer’s psychedelic palette is much more expansive. “At the End, On the Stairs” absorbs elements from bossanova and jangly folk rock, and places its emphasis on Dwyer’s vocal melody and the soft, feminine qualities of his voice. The sound suits him well, and is something I’d love to hear him expand on in the future. I mean, this is a lovely tune and all, but I’d be lying if I didn’t mention that I kinda wish at some point in this track he switched gears, shouted “woooooo!” and everything got louder and faster. The song doesn’t require that sort of payoff, but I’d like to hear him do a thing like that.
November 14th, 2016 1:50pm
“Dis Generation” is as much about passing the torch to a new generation of rappers – Kendrick Lamar, Joey Bada$$, J. Cole, and Earl Sweatshirt are specifically named as heirs – as it is a celebration of the Tribe guys and Busta Rhymes still making excellent music together into their mid-40s. Like pretty much everything on the new Tribe record, it’s a joy to hear these guys again, especially when it’s so obvious that everything on the record was done with a sense of creative urgency and genuine enthusiasm. There’s a casual confidence to this music – any and all worry that they’re out of step with trends has long since evaporated, and every rapper on the track leans into the tics, rhythms and quirks that made them distinct in the first place. They trade off lines, not verses, so they sound especially present, and there’s moments when Busta or Q-Tip sound impatient and excited to get another turn at the mic. They just sound thrilled to be doing this with each other while they still can.
November 10th, 2016 1:11pm
Duck are essentially a synthpop duo, but their music is essentially a digital simulation of grunge circa ’91. It’s interesting to hear this sort of L7/Mudhoney vibe transposed to keyboards and drum machines – it’s just as loud and murky, but the sound is more tinny and the drum machine imposes a tighter grid on a style that’s either much more dense and wild or a little bit slack. That rolling, distorted bass line sounds amazing though, and the vocals add a playful, British femininity that nudges the overall aesthetic a bit closer to, say, Sleeper or Elastica.
November 9th, 2016 1:42pm
“Sleeping Beauty” isn’t quite like any other piece of music I’ve ever encountered. It sounds like moonlight, and feels like floating outside of yourself. It moves at a very languid pace over the course of 12 minutes between sections led by Sun Ra’s electric piano that feel weightless and serene and other parts focused on the horn section that suggest a sort of spacey grandeur that has somehow manifested itself on earth. The recording sounds as though it was largely improvised in the middle of the night, and I love how some parts can feel a bit tentative while others, like a lot of the vocal parts led by June Tyson, are like moments of genuine inspiration. This is an extraordinarily calm piece of music, and even in the context of Sun Ra’s larger discography of music aiming for transcendental cosmic experiences, it stands out as a window to some better, more beautiful world. Its existence feels like a miracle to me.
