Monthly Wrap-Up: June
7/06/2018 04:58:00 PM
I've managed to get this post out into the world the first week of the month? Who am I? I hardly recognize the non-procrastinating version of myself! Well, I wanted to finish this as early as possible because I've got big plans (at least by my usual standards) for the rest of the month if I don't lose my determination. I know I said I wasn't even sure I would have enough content for a June wrap-up, and it's true that a lot of my listening was focused on albums I'd rather save my thoughts on for my quarter two review, but it turns out I listened to enough other stuff to warrant it. Granted, I had to pad it out with a few older things I left out of previous wrap-ups to get a full top 10 (which I guess doesn't even matter that much, since the order has become increasingly arbitrary), but I did it! So, without further ado, feast your ears on these beauties.
10. LUMP - Curse of the Contemporary
When I first heard "Curse of the Contemporary," it got me very excited to hear more from LUMP, a collaborative project between folk wunderkind Laura Marling and Mike Lindsay. It's a driving, energetic rock track with touches of electronica that's a refreshingly far cry from Marling's solo work. Her husky voice works surprisingly well in this context, reaching heights of smooth, soaring effortlessness I had no idea she was capable of, particularly on the verbose chorus, which she rattles off with ease. While the rest of LUMP's short album continues to find her voice at its stunning prime, unfortunately, the other songs are pretty but a bit dull in comparison to this darkly glistening gem.
9. Perfume - I Still Love U
Yasutaka Nakata, the mastermind behind Kyary Pamyu Pamyu's music, is also behind Perfume's, and the two acts have a lot in common. But where Kyary Pamyu Pamyu sounds like demented carousel music for children, Perfume sounds more like pop for adults, just polished to a futuristic shine and delivered by a trio of occasionally malfunctioning androids. You know those creepy Chuck E. Cheese's animatronic performances? "I Still Love U" is like the J-pop girl group equivalent of that. The vocals are processed to inhuman levels, which gives the melodies an artificial and robotic feel, too, like they're being auto-generated in real time, complete with a mainframe glitch partway through. It's very unsettling but also oddly addicting.
Yasutaka Nakata, the mastermind behind Kyary Pamyu Pamyu's music, is also behind Perfume's, and the two acts have a lot in common. But where Kyary Pamyu Pamyu sounds like demented carousel music for children, Perfume sounds more like pop for adults, just polished to a futuristic shine and delivered by a trio of occasionally malfunctioning androids. You know those creepy Chuck E. Cheese's animatronic performances? "I Still Love U" is like the J-pop girl group equivalent of that. The vocals are processed to inhuman levels, which gives the melodies an artificial and robotic feel, too, like they're being auto-generated in real time, complete with a mainframe glitch partway through. It's very unsettling but also oddly addicting.
8. Arca - Desafío
Arca is an interesting conundrum for me: he's produced some incredible work for other artists, but whenever I listen to his own music, I can never quite decide if I'm actually enjoying it or not. Yet I keep coming back to it, so there must be something about it that draws me in. Anyway, there are a few songs of his that I unreservedly love and "Desafío" is one of them - unsurprisingly, since it's startlingly poppy and accessible for him. As immediately hummable as the melodies are, though, it's still an uncomfortable listen under the surface. Arca's thin, wavering voice sounds constantly like it's on the verge of breaking, and the stirring orchestral soundscape is underpinned by more industrial-sounding synths and beats.
Arca is an interesting conundrum for me: he's produced some incredible work for other artists, but whenever I listen to his own music, I can never quite decide if I'm actually enjoying it or not. Yet I keep coming back to it, so there must be something about it that draws me in. Anyway, there are a few songs of his that I unreservedly love and "Desafío" is one of them - unsurprisingly, since it's startlingly poppy and accessible for him. As immediately hummable as the melodies are, though, it's still an uncomfortable listen under the surface. Arca's thin, wavering voice sounds constantly like it's on the verge of breaking, and the stirring orchestral soundscape is underpinned by more industrial-sounding synths and beats.
7. St. Vincent - Fast Slow Disco
I'm probably due for a revisit, but I have to admit the latest St. Vincent album never quite clicked for me entirely. To me, a lot of the songs feel like they have potential but don't go far enough in pushing the limits of weird, arty abstraction. I can't say "Fast Slow Disco" does that, but it does take the original "Slow Disco," the subdued melancholy of which is intriguing but anticlimactic, and turns it into an appropriately glittery disco rave anthem. And if I can't get fully bizarre and experimental Annie Clark, I'll certainly take full dance pop goddess Annie Clark; it's about commitment either way. "Don't it beat a slow dance to death?" goes Clark's distorted croon at the song's end, and, yeah, it does kind of beat the slow dance of the original to death.
I'm probably due for a revisit, but I have to admit the latest St. Vincent album never quite clicked for me entirely. To me, a lot of the songs feel like they have potential but don't go far enough in pushing the limits of weird, arty abstraction. I can't say "Fast Slow Disco" does that, but it does take the original "Slow Disco," the subdued melancholy of which is intriguing but anticlimactic, and turns it into an appropriately glittery disco rave anthem. And if I can't get fully bizarre and experimental Annie Clark, I'll certainly take full dance pop goddess Annie Clark; it's about commitment either way. "Don't it beat a slow dance to death?" goes Clark's distorted croon at the song's end, and, yeah, it does kind of beat the slow dance of the original to death.
6. Lotic - Hunted
"Hunted" was released in April, but it sunk its hooks so deeply into me I still think about it all the time. It's a quietly eerie examination of the intersection between gender non-conformity and blackness and the doubly-large target these qualities in tandem place on an individual forced to navigate a racially hostile society. Vocally, it's mostly built around one recurring whispered phrase - "Brown skin, masculine frame/Head's a target/Actin' real feminine/Make 'em vomit" - which starts off sounding like a fear and ends sounding like a threat from a person pushed to their breaking point enough times to stop giving a fuck. This statement is strengthened by the almost oppressively minimal musical accompaniment and chilling music video.
"Hunted" was released in April, but it sunk its hooks so deeply into me I still think about it all the time. It's a quietly eerie examination of the intersection between gender non-conformity and blackness and the doubly-large target these qualities in tandem place on an individual forced to navigate a racially hostile society. Vocally, it's mostly built around one recurring whispered phrase - "Brown skin, masculine frame/Head's a target/Actin' real feminine/Make 'em vomit" - which starts off sounding like a fear and ends sounding like a threat from a person pushed to their breaking point enough times to stop giving a fuck. This statement is strengthened by the almost oppressively minimal musical accompaniment and chilling music video.
5. Portishead - Roads
While getting into Sevdaliza in March, I kept seeing comparisons to Portishead, which is one of those bands I've always felt I should like but never quite did. I last heard them years ago, though, and my taste has broadened a lot. I now realize what a special album Dummy is, and it grows on me more every time I listen to it. My favorite songs are probably the ballads because they allow Beth Gibbons' expressive, quavering vocals to shine brightest, especially "Roads." Her voice, the sparse, moody instrumentation, and the enigmatic but affecting lyrics combine to create an intoxicating blend. "We've got a war to fight/Never find our way/Regardless of what they say," Gibbons murmurs, with a frisson of sorrow that sends shivers up my spine.
While getting into Sevdaliza in March, I kept seeing comparisons to Portishead, which is one of those bands I've always felt I should like but never quite did. I last heard them years ago, though, and my taste has broadened a lot. I now realize what a special album Dummy is, and it grows on me more every time I listen to it. My favorite songs are probably the ballads because they allow Beth Gibbons' expressive, quavering vocals to shine brightest, especially "Roads." Her voice, the sparse, moody instrumentation, and the enigmatic but affecting lyrics combine to create an intoxicating blend. "We've got a war to fight/Never find our way/Regardless of what they say," Gibbons murmurs, with a frisson of sorrow that sends shivers up my spine.
4. Hop Along - Kids on the Boardwalk
I've been on a Hop Along journey these past couple months, and while I previously found Get Disowned quite formless and meandering, I've been enjoying the hell out of its rough, unpolished quality lately. At under three minutes, "Kids on the Boardwalk" is an immediate adrenaline rush of everything that makes the band so great. Frances Quinlan rasps and shouts her way through funny, relatable lyrics about childhood crushes ("He liked the dirty drawings I made/Girls with impossible breasts/I tried to sell him one for fifty cents") before hitting us where it hurts with an abrupt turn into adult honesty: "I want truth in beauty/I want to love someone simply/I want truth in beauty/I want to love something without it having to need me."
3. Mitski - Nobody
Very few artists can turn a one-word chorus into one of the most compelling things I've heard all year, but Mitski does exactly this on "Nobody," reshaping the title word's meaning by means of subtle vocal inflection and key changes. It alternately sounds like "nobody" and "no body," a linguistic double entendre that fits the themes of loneliness and identity erasure explored in the whimsically melancholy video. Musically, the song is a pure delight, leaning hard into disco influences and more overtly catchy than anything else Mitski has released up to this point. Yet it still retains her signature charm, particularly in her vocals, which find a perfect midway point between polished sophistication and unfiltered emotional impact.
Very few artists can turn a one-word chorus into one of the most compelling things I've heard all year, but Mitski does exactly this on "Nobody," reshaping the title word's meaning by means of subtle vocal inflection and key changes. It alternately sounds like "nobody" and "no body," a linguistic double entendre that fits the themes of loneliness and identity erasure explored in the whimsically melancholy video. Musically, the song is a pure delight, leaning hard into disco influences and more overtly catchy than anything else Mitski has released up to this point. Yet it still retains her signature charm, particularly in her vocals, which find a perfect midway point between polished sophistication and unfiltered emotional impact.
2-1. Charli XCX - Focus / No Angel
Charli XCX keeps killing the pop game, so much so that I can't even choose between these two songs; it's like being asked to pick a favorite child. On one hand, you've got "Focus," which manages to turn ad nauseum repetition - "I just want you to focus on my love," Charli chirps in an auto-tuned warble about a hundred times - into a hypnotic, frothy, and effervescent electro-pop rave, the final pulsing minute of which is pure light-headed euphoria. On the other, you've got "No Angel," a long-time live favorite that many fans expected never to see official release, which is like the dictionary definition of a perfect pop song. As bold and brash as it is, with Charli unapologetically wailing about "fucking in the hotel" and being "bad to the bone," there's also a compelling thread of self-deceiving desperation buried in its refrain: "I'm no angel, but I can learn."
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