March 8th, 2019 2:28am
This is Kieran Hebden, or Four Tet. You might have noticed that just by hearing it. The beat is a bit more thumping and aggressive than he usually gets, but the approach to slicing up and reconfiguring a vocal sample is extremely Four Tet. As far as I’m concerned, there are very few producers on par with Hebden when it comes to manipulating vocal samples. There’s a subtlety to his style – it’s never merely just about bending a sample into a hook and matching a tempo, it’s more a lead line in a dense arrangement. He plays around with time and phase, and focuses on the emotion in a voice rather than lyrics. “Only Human” is a bit of an outlier for him in the sense that more of the lyrical content is legible to the ear, but even with that it’s more abstracted than something than a pop vocal that’s meant to be clearly understood. It’s more about the movement, like this mad spiral spinning through this otherwise clean and orderly composition.
March 6th, 2019 2:47pm
In the New Pornographers song “Myriad Harbour,” Dan Bejar wanders around Manhattan while on a tour stop with the band. He takes in the sights, visits some shops, gets a feel for the energy of the city. In the third verse, after a clerk asks him if he needs any help, he finally says what’s really been on his mind: “All I ever wanted help with was YOU!” It doesn’t matter where he is or what he’s doing. He’s going to be distracted by someone who won’t get out of his head; this unfinished business that won’t let him be in the moment.
“New Amsterdam” is essentially the same song, but 27 years earlier, and written by someone a little less reluctant to say what’s on his mind. Elvis Costello sings about feeling lost in Manhattan, wandering around a place where he appreciates but doesn’t seem to like very much. Everything he sees seems to rhyme with something from back in England, and he can’t shake the feeling the place belongs to someone else – specifically, this woman he’s hung up on. Those feelings are complicated. He’s fixated on her enough to declare a desire to “have the possession of everything she touches,” but he’s also trying to break free from her influence. He doesn’t know what he wants, so he stumbles around the city, on a quest for nothing in particular. He’s nowhere at all in the biggest somewhere on earth.
Costello, always a consummate craftsman, is at a career peak on “New Amsterdam.” The construction is impeccable, but the presentation is casual – the melody is so smooth and easygoing that the tightness of the writing is barely apparent. This is one of the all-time best examples of Costello’s gift for writing flawless bridges which build upon the core melody and elaborate on lyrical themes before flowing gracefully back into the verse structure. In this case, it’s a digression that ends in an epiphany: “Though I look right at home I still feel like an exile.”
March 4th, 2019 10:41pm
“Bury A Friend” feels both anxious and playful, a contrast of a thud-thud-thud rhythmic pulse and a sing-song hook that’s just a little off from The Doors’ “People Are Strange.” Lyrically and musically it’s like Marilyn Manson reconfigured into precocious teen pop, with Billie Eilish’s youthful voice making the refrain “I wanna end me” feel a little more unsettling than it might with a more adult vocal. Eilish says it’s written from the perspective of the “monster under my bed,” but it’s more specifically about self-sabotaging anxiety given a voice separate from one’s consciousness. She makes the “monster” seem sympathetic, even when it’s taking credit for driving her to succeed. She still wants the voice to shut up, though.
March 3rd, 2019 11:14pm
Solange is a rare example of a pop singer catering to the market and chasing trends by becoming more arty and esoteric. This is not to say that her work is contrived or insincere, but rather that pivoting away from mainstream pop and R&B – the domain of her extraordinarily famous sister – and towards a general “Pitchfork reader” demographic has allowed her to follow her muse and synthesize sounds from the more out-there Brainfeeder-ish reaches of contemporary jazz and funk into something more palatable to a wider audience. I’m a firm believer that the music ecosystem needs artists who can play this part, and Solange does it well enough to occupy an Erykah Badu-like role for a Millennial cohort.
“Down with the Clique” is not a cover of the Aaliyah song, but rather a meditative ballad that might qualify as a “slow jam” if it didn’t feel so ambiguous in tone. The arrangement sounds a bit like a fragment from electric period Miles Davis that’s stuttering a bit too much to settle into a tranquil loop. The smooth but off-kilter quality suits Solange’s voice, which can be a little character-less but sounds quite lovely when she pushes into the highest end of her range. The effect of her phrasing here emphasizes the sensuality of the chords, and softens the more jarring elements of the rhythm.
February 28th, 2019 8:18pm
“Body” is muted in tone and emotion; it’s the grey dull vague sadness you get after exhausting much bigger feelings. Julia Jacklin sounds spent as she sings about an incident with a fuckup boyfriend that has made it clear that their relationship could not go any further. This anecdote takes up most of the song, but the really intense part comes after a brief instrumental break. With a bit of distance, she realizes he’s got a nude photo of her, and wonders if he’ll use it for some kind of revenge. She’s not sure, but she sorta comes to terms with that happening – “I guess it’s just my life, and it’s just my body.” It’s a sigh, it’s a shrug. It’s letting a bit of you die. There’s no emotional resolution here, the song ends as elliptically as it begins.
February 27th, 2019 2:50pm
The appeal of “Lo Bailado” mainly comes down to the way the music plays on the tension between airy minimalism and tight, disciplined structure. It mostly feels breezy and carefree, but you still feel the tautness of the rhythm guiding every soft gesture. It’s not a rigid vibe or anxious feeling – it’s more like setting yourself up with the mental and physical awareness it can take to get loose. The lyrics, as near as I can tell, mirror the form. Sariñana is basically singing about letting go of a bad feeling and focusing on the positive aspects of having an experience. In a way, it’s her equivalent to “Thank U, Next” – appreciate your experiences, but move on when you need to.
February 26th, 2019 3:38am
Royal Trux haven’t made an album since literally half my life ago, but here they are, sounding like no time passed at all since they recorded “Sunshine & Grease” and “Blind Navigator.” But it’s not like they have any choice but to be themselves. Neil Hagerty and Jennifer Herrema’s sound is sui generis; a mutant strain of rock aesthetics so peculiar that they sound more like a hyperbolic description of weird music than any other existing rock band. Everything in “Suburban Junkie Lady” is exaggerated and blown out; the vibe is always scuzzy and bewildered. They lock into a groove, but even that feels like chaos. Hagerty mutters most of his vocal parts while Herrema mostly sounds more like she’s singing along to a record she enjoys on her own in her bedroom than actually fronting a band. It’s hard to tell what they feel about this suburban junkie lady – Hagerty seems a bit removed from her in his observation and bemused by details like someone throwing a sandwich at her, while Herrema seems kinda impressed by her attitude. Maybe because it’s basically her attitude?
February 25th, 2019 3:52am
Diane Warren originally wrote this song with Stevie Nicks in mind, and that seems totally absurd to me. I can imagine Nicks’ voice working on the verses, but the big chorus doesn’t square with her aesthetic, and there’s a naive sweetness to the lyrics that feels all wrong for the author of jaded masterpieces like “Gold Dust Woman” and “Dreams.” Belinda Carlisle on the other hand? A perfect fit. Carlisle is extremely good at conveying a very pure sort of love, untainted by cynicism or low expectations.
“I Get Weak” is about lust and a lopsided power dynamic, but there’s an innocence to it too, as Carlisle sings Warren’s words like she’s experiencing this sort of extreme infatuation for the first time. Part of the magic of this song is that the sound of it implies an adult perspective, distinctly different from the more youthful tone of previous Carlisle crush songs like “Mad About You” and “Our Lips Are Sealed.” She’s singing from the point of view of someone who has some stability and composure, enough so that she’s very aware of losing it when she’s with this overwhelmingly sexy person. She never expected this, but she’s absolutely thrilled to give into the feeling. The song is nothing but joyful surrender.
February 22nd, 2019 2:04pm
Vanessa Tosti has a perfect voice. Not so much in terms of technical singing ability, but in her tone and inflection – as far as I’m concerned, she’s got the perfect balance of cool, cute, charming, and clever. This vocal tone is the focal point of “Extensive Care,” one of the finest songs of the short-lived electroclash era. Tosti pays tribute to another stylish and unfathomably cool woman to the beat of a bouncy synth track, mostly calling attention to the gulf between how everyone perceives her (“she’s loved downtown for exactly what she does”) and her apparent insecurity (“you should see yourself the way I see you.”) The rest of Tosti’s line nod to the joys of creating a look and persona, and the power that comes from controlling your image and narrative, and standing out from the crowd. Tosti’s own coolness seems effortless, but “effort” is not the right word. There is effort in creating and living up to an aesthetic. What you’re hearing here and what she’s seeing in this other woman is someone who’s put in the work to be fully themselves.
February 22nd, 2019 2:08am
“Sympathy” is about a painful experience that is fairly common, but rarely addressed in music: Nearly losing a child who is born prematurely. Corin Tucker is singing from experience here, and it shows. Tucker typically sings with the maximum level of emotional commitment, but she’s especially raw here as she pleads, belts, and wails. The first few verses set up the context as a prayer to God, but the most powerful bits in the song come later when she switches over to addressing her audience and passing along wisdom borne of total agony on the bridge. The dynamics shift dramatically in this section; it’s like the snap of a whip. “There is no righteousness in your darkest moment,” Tucker shouts at full intensity just before going a few steps further. “WE’RE ALL EQUAL IN THE FACE OF WHAT WE’RE MOST AFRAID OF.” That line wrecks me; it’s just too real. Anyone who’s had to confront serious loss or trauma knows this is the truth. There’s a happy ending to this song, and it ends on a note of genuine gratitude. But even with that, it’s hard to shake that lingering pain.
February 21st, 2019 2:56pm
This is a song that makes bitterness seem fun. “Lessons Learned from Rocky I to Rocky III” is a glam rock sung from the perspective of some aggrieved music industry insider who’s spilling jaded wisdom that’s so esoteric and incoherent that you’re left wondering if he has any idea what he’s actually talking about. This is a guy who’s in love with his own bullshit and clings desperately to whatever sort of rock world privilege he can grasp onto. Cornershop lean into the ‘70s sleaze vibes here – the main guitar riff sounds like it fell off the back of a truck in 1972, and the soulful backup vocals are played so straight that Tjinder Singh’s vocal seems extra deadpan in contrast. When he sings about “the overgrown supershit” in the chorus, it’s hard to tell whether he’s dismissing other bands, or mocking himself, and that ambiguity is the spice that brings out the flavor in the song.
February 20th, 2019 4:16am
In my mind this song is essential to the story of Fluxblog, and perhaps the finest example of the international pop underground I was focused on for the first six years of the site’s existence. But I’ve never really written about it. I featured it in a post with two other tracks in April 2003, but that was back when the emphasis of the site was on sharing music more than writing about it. I didn’t figure that out for a little while. I wasn’t fully prepared to reckon with anything this deep when I was just 22, so I’m going to try to give it a go today.
“Heartbeats” has proven to be quite good in very different arrangements, but the Deep Cuts arrangement will always be my favorite. The delicacy of The Knife’s live arrangement or José González’s acoustic version is lovely, but a lot of the magic of the song for me is in the slightly awkward weight of that big chunky synth riff and in the way the keyboard accents seem to sparkle garishly in the background. The beauty of the song is in the way Karin Dreijer’s vocal melody soars gracefully in contrast with a track that’s a bit tacky and off-balance. It’s a song about falling in love, and awkwardness and corniness is part of that.
Dreijer’s lyrics are as evocative as the sound of the piece, alternating between obvious romanticism (“one night of magic rush, the start: a simple touch”) and more oblique poetry (“you kept us awake with wolves’ teeth,” “mind is a razor blade”). The tense shifts around, starting off in an uncertain present – “one night to be confused, one night to speed up truth” – but most of it is sung in the past tense. It’s hard to tell whether this is meant to be taken as nostalgia for a love that has since ended, or just the early days of something ongoing. But it doesn’t really matter because either way it’s about a special moment in time that’s behind them regardless of how things turned out.
February 18th, 2019 4:21pm
My two favorite Kylie Minogue songs are about finding a profound connection with someone via music. In “Love At First Sight,” it’s falling in love with the taste of a DJ. In “Sweet Music” it’s about the intimacy of collaborating with someone on creating music. I’ve felt different ways about this sort of thing through my life – around the time these songs came out, this was the dream. Then I went through a long phase of thinking this sort of thing was actually sort of shallow. Then I found out that from experience that was actually very false, and now bonding over a deep love of art feels incredibly important to me again, something I would never want to live without. It’s the least superficial thing, really – it’s shared values and aesthetics, it’s emotional resonance and soul.
“Love At First Sight” doesn’t need lyrics to get across this feeling. It’s built to convey a feeling of sudden clarity, and joy washing over you as complications seem to completely disappear from your mind. It’s like this simple emotional arithmetic where everything adds up to YOU no matter how you run the numbers. The best part of the song dramatizes two beautiful moments in sequence – that dawning realization, and the euphoria of KNOWING and FEELING it all. They replay it a few times as part of a standard pop structure, and just getting to feel a special moment a few times over right there reminds you of how wonderful pop music can be.
February 15th, 2019 3:21am
“Connection” is placid and lovely, with gentle synth tones hovering in the air like a fine pastel mist. Kristina Lieberson’s vocal is exceptionally delicate and intimate as she sings lyrics that get so vulnerable in their declaration of needs and desires that it can feel a little intrusive to listen. The lines that ring out are sweet and romantic – “how your presence brings me comfort, when I’m with you I am at ease” – but a closer listen reveals a love built on insecurity and desperation for approval. I don’t think this is meant to be some kind of ironic twist, though. It’s more just a realistic portrait of love with all the unflattering needs and feelings that drive us to seek out a connection.
February 14th, 2019 12:04am
Unloved make a kind of exotic, heavily atmospheric groove-based post-trip-hop music that was once ubiquitous in the late ‘90s and early ‘00s but is now somewhat rare. Their new record Heartbreak has a welcome familiarity – not just in evoking a vibe that was very hip when I was younger, but in the way it seems to scramble together aesthetics pulled from decades of cool film soundtracks into music that has the patina of oldness but sounds like no moment in particular. “Devils Angels” is one of their grooviest numbers – a bit sleazy and menacing, but sung with a flirty tone. It’s like a theme song for a femme fatale in a movie from the past about the future we’re living in right now.
February 12th, 2019 4:30am
Is it actually awful to be normal? Is having money inherently bad? Is being boring the worst thing you can be? Is comfort a trap? Are nice, shiny, new things devoid of soul? Is friendliness just a way of being fake and insincere? If you’re happy and content, are you really just dumb and oblivious? “Get Innocuous!” is built on the assumption that all of this is true, but that the real question is how much any of it really matters. James Murphy sounds exhausted by fighting it all, and even more tired by living the life of an artist, where everything that used to be fun is now just work.
Murphy’s arrangement starts out tight but just keeps getting tighter and more dense as it progresses. It’s a very mechanical feeling, like a complex system moving in perfect unison towards some clearly defined goal. It’s a very seductive groove, and even though Nancy Whang is chanting “you can normalize / don’t it make you feel alive?” in a sarcastic tone, it still comes across like an enticing invitation in the context of the beat. They pull you into the machine, and then you think “oh, this is not so bad.” And the rub of the song is there is no ironic twist or reveal. It’s not any more of a trap than anything else in life. It’s just another thing to do, another perspective on being alive. The hollow feeling in the song isn’t about what happens to you when you “normalize,” but rather what it feels like to have your old convictions fade away and be replaced by nothing in particular.
February 11th, 2019 1:54am
Ariana Grande shines brightest on songs in which her voice seems to hover just above the beat, and chords seems to float around her presence. “Make Up” has the same head-in-the-clouds infatuated tone as the best songs on last year’s Sweetener, but with a little more edge to it. The lyrics about make up sex are cute, but they are just scaffolding for Grande’s impressively nimble and expressive vocal melody. She’s drawing a lot from the vocal syncopation commonly found in rocksteady and dancehall here, but without putting on some horrible faux patois. There’s one melodic bit in the verses that sounds extremely Studio One to me, but I can’t quite figure out whether or not it’s reminding me of a specific song. I just know that I wish I could hear a Studie One legend like Marcia Griffiths, Willie Williams, or Sugar Minott take a crack at singing it. Either way, this approach suits Grande’s voice rather well – she’s very graceful around a beat, and makes parts which require a great deal of focus and breath control sound breezy and casual.
February 7th, 2019 2:32pm
James Brooks’ lyrics focus on vivid portraits of very contemporary characters, with details so extremely specific that it can make you cringe with recognition even when it’s not even a particularly embarrassing thing. For example, in this song he references the Edith Zimmerman (“that writer from the Hairpin”) profile of Chris Evans and writing trip reports on Erowid, and ends on a semi-ironic “that’s the tea.” Brooks’ tone can get a bit glib, but his empathy is much stronger than his sense of detached irony. Even when he’s singing from the perspective of a bitter, judgmental asshole, he’s not asking you to go “ugh, what an asshole.” He’s more interested in just showing you someone else’s thought processes, and little bits of life that add up to not much other than a dissatisfied person. “Black Pill Skyline,” like all the songs on Main Pop Girl 2019, leans heavily on a very early ‘90s production style, and while that could also feel glib and ironic, it doesn’t quite land that way. Brooks is aware that it can seem that way, but just presents it all with as much sincerity as he can bring to it. It’s not a wink. It’s sustained eye contact.
February 6th, 2019 11:18pm
“Even in the Tremor” has a restless, twitchy feeling to it. It’s not quite an anxious energy – it’s more like having more energy and emotion than feels comfortable, and feeling thwarted in your attempts to shake it off. Lady Lamb sings the song with a tough, confident voice. It’s a very “let’s cut the bullshit” tone, and it’s directed as much outward as it is inward. It seems at first that she’s addressing a romantic partner, but upon closer listening it just sounds like she’s mostly just laying into herself and trying to make sense of both her emotional state and her relationship with the past. The chorus really stands out here: “The future kills the present if I let it.” What a wonderfully ambiguous phrase! I tend to not be a very sentimental person and forget a lot, so it sounds reassuring to me. I can imagine a lot of other people would find that notion totally horrifying.
February 5th, 2019 2:47pm
“Placeholder” is basically the opposite perspective of R.E.M.’s “The One I Love.” Whereas Michael Stipe sang from the point of view of a cold, manipulative person who toyed with people’s emotions so he could have a “simple prop” to occupy his time, Meg Duffy is the person realizing how little they mean to someone who has used them. The song isn’t angry or even all that sad. It’s more about processing emotions than the feelings themselves. There’s a wistful quality to the music, particularly in the distorted lead guitar lines, but Duffy’s lyrics and vocal performance are cold and logical, like they’re meant to counter this other person with their own icy approach. It sounds like someone who is putting up their guard and hardening their heart. It’s a bit tragic in that way.
