2018 in Review: Quarter 4
12/22/2018 01:26:00 PM
First off, I want to say thank you to those of you who indulged my last post and possibly even enjoyed it. I know it's not necessarily the type of content a lot of people are looking for on a music blog, but creative writing has always been my first love, and those juices haven't really been flowing for me lately, so it felt good to not only complete a project but tie it to my music-obsessed side in the process. In the future, I'd like to keep doing more unique stuff like that and the couple of more intensive and analytical essays I wrote earlier in the year. Unfortunately, things like that always take a lot of time and energy for me to finish, and I only come up with good ideas once in a blue moon, but I'm hoping I strike upon a few more next year.
Anyway, here's my last quarterly wrap-up post for 2018. I wanted to get this one out fast on the heels of quarter three's, since that one was already way overdue and since I don't want anything hanging over me as I try to finalize my year-end list before January. Enjoy!
Allie X is the sort of pop star who pulls off high-concept visuals and high-energy bops with equal effortlessness. In the artwork accompanying Super Sunset, she tries on many disguises, from goth nun to debauched beauty queen to neon sci-fi seductress, which could lead one to assume that its music is equally mercurial, never quite settling on a true identity. But the "real" Allie X comes through loud and clear, often at the most unexpected moments. "Little Things" and "Girl of the Year," outwardly upbeat tracks, find her battling feelings of anxiety and worthlessness. Once realized, these themes turn their unrelenting giddiness eerily desperate. On the other hand, "Science" and "Focus" are musically moodier, glacial '80s synths evaporated by Allie's steamy, sensual vocals, but contain messages of contentment and peace.
If you're a fan of contemporary indie rock/folk, boygenius is the super group of your dreams, comprising three of the scene's heaviest hitters. Julien Baker, Lucy Dacus, and Phoebe Bridgers have been heaped with well-deserved praise as solo artists, so it only makes sense they would work magic together, too. On boygenius' eponymous EP, the three women's musical visions coalesce most successfully when they're given equal opportunity to shine, as on "Salt in the Wound" and "Ketchum, ID." The latter's stately harmonies are goosebump-inducing, especially following each singer's turn at a devastatingly understated solo verse. Other songs more clearly emphasize their individual singer/songwriter talents; Dacus in particular leaves a strong impression with her self-assured delivery on gently rollicking opener, "Bite the Hand."
Empress Of broke out in 2015 with Me, a self-produced debut bubbling over with charismatic, high-octane electropop that felt impressively fresh in a genre that so often chases trends. It's almost inevitable that disappointment would follow a three-year wait, but even putting any impossibly high expectations aside, it's hard to deny that Us feels slight and even bland in comparison. Appropriately, Us finds Lorely Rodriguez enlisting the help of others, which sometimes results in gold, like "Everything to Me," the effortlessly cool Dev Hynes-assisted opener, or "Love for Me," an insanely catchy collaboration with production duo DJDS. Other times, though, her singular vision feels diluted in favor of more generic choices that are, yes, quite pleasant to hum along to but also sound a bit too close to something you've heard before. 
In 2016, jazz bassist/singer Esperanza Spalding reinvented herself on Emily's D+Evolution, a thrilling experiment in conceptual prog-pop. She's since returned to her more traditional roots with last year's Exposure, made during a 77-hour live stream, and this year's 12 Little Spells, released track by track over twelve days. Gimmicks aside, 12 Little Spells is a quietly captivating album that rewards patient listeners, covering as much musical ground as Emily's D+Evolution but with more subtlety. It moves easily from the stripped-down soulfulness of "Thang" to the hypnotic dreaminess of "Touch in Mine" to the retro funk of "You Have to Dance," in large part due to Spalding's immense charisma, on full display in closer "With Others" when she mutters bashfully, "So you're really just going to say it straight out like that, that we all need love?"
I've followed Lindsay Powell's music for years, first as Cake Bake Betty and now as Fielded, and it's been thrilling to witness her growth from a young singer-songwriter to a confident performer/producer at the height of her craft. Although it sacrifices some of the charming quirkiness of its predecessor, Ninety Thirty Thirty, for a sleek, sophisticated sound, Drip Drip is another stunning entry in Powell's oeuvre. She experiments with beat-heavy minimalism on "Light It Up" and "Drip Drip," while "Fix Ya" is ultra-catchy pop at its finest. But the most effective vessel for Powell's voice is expressive balladry that bravely bears it all. "Persephone," "Am I All," and "Heart of Darkness" mine painful subject matter - sexual violation, gender expectations, mental health - with grace, uncovering the power in vulnerability. 
It's been a long wait for the follow-up to Gabrielle Smith's last album, O.K., a diverse, emotionally-charged collection of songs that established her as more than your typical bedroom pop artist. Three years and a band name change later, she returns as Gabby's World with Beast on Beast. Its singles are probably the best representation of Smith's talents: "Rear View," and "I Get You" are light, boppy pop songs with instant replay value. "Winter, Withdraw" falls into the same category but is more capable of competing with O.K.'s emotional vulnerability, a quality also apparent in subdued tracks like "Ode" and "Beast on Beast." These highlights all come in the album's first half, but it back half begins to falter slightly. The tracks, though enjoyable, start to sound too much like variations on the same theme, a step back from O.K.'s depth.
Remix albums can be a tricky business because they're often seen as blatant cash grabs rather than meaningful reinterpretations of their source material. Luckily, Kelela avoids falling into this trap on TAKE ME A_PART, The Remixes, a monstrous 80-minute, 20-track reworking of her debut. Of course, not everything lands, but it's a worthy companion that affords Kelela the opportunity to spotlight a well-curated selection of international collaborators, particularly those whose marginalized identities have kept them on the outskirts. Unsurprisingly, the album's most memorable moments are its most transformative ones, like the all-star sequel to "LMK" featuring Princess Nokia, Junglepussy, CupcakKe, and Ms. Boogie; Divoli S'vere's ballroom spin on "Truth or Dare;" and Badsista and Linn Da Quebrada's Brazilian-flavored "Better."
Time 'n' Place finds Kero Kero Bonito aiming for longevity by tempering their ultra-cute bubblegum electro origins with a darker and grungier sound. Earlier this year, "Only Acting" was the first indicator of the shift; after a brief adjustment period, it's proven to be a brilliant amalgamation of the band's catchy melodies and Sarah Midori Perry's bubbly vocals with rock instrumentation and a dash of experimental glitchiness. The album itself, apart from closer "Rest Stop," doesn't quite push itself to the same extremes - for better and for worse. On one hand, "Make Believe" and "Dear Future Self" are as infectious as anything they've ever done, while "Swimming" is refreshingly mature. On the other, the uniform lo-fi production creates a homogeneous whole, suggesting the band still has a few growing pains to work out. 
Kilo Kish's Mothe was released in September, so it technically doesn't belong in this post, but I didn't realize just how good it is until recently. It's the sort of music that gradually sneaks up on you rather than knocks you off your feet with a single listen. Kilo Kish's feather-light vocals drifting weightlessly across chilled-out electronic soundscapes are undeniably pleasant, but it's at first hard to pin down specific songs as particularly memorable. Still, there's something oddly addicting about the cool, casual atmosphere that keeps you coming back for more - until all of it suddenly clicks into place. Wrapped within their leisurely, ethereal layers of spacey synths and beats, songs like "San Pedro," "Like Honey," and "Elegance" have gorgeously subdued melodies that stick to the insides of your brain far longer than they have any right to.
It's a pretty bold move to make your first major release a novelty holiday project, but, after a string of perfect pop singles, Kim Petras did just that with her Halloween-themed EP, Turn Off the Light, Vol. 1. Not only is it a welcome addition to the lacking Halloween music canon, it's a feast for the ears regardless of the time of year. Its most obvious reference point is Lady Gaga's The Fame Monster, as both capitalize on the same brand of dark, vampy electropop, gleefully reveling in cheesy synths, melodramatic vocals, hamfisted lyrics, and, most importantly, insanely infectious melodies. The EP's most successful encapsulation of glamour/horror camp is probably "In the Next Life," in which Petras embodies the role of a robo-zombie going in for the kill, first in English and then in German, between intense diva-worthy choruses.
Double Negative is Low's twelfth studio album, which is generally long past the point you'd expect to see a band begin declining. Instead, it's proven to be a resurgence of sorts. For me, Low is one of those bands that's never quite clicked, but Double Negative was a captivating listen from beginning to end. Even before I was sure I actually liked it, I knew I needed to hear it again. It's a difficult album to describe, a gloomy, foreboding, emotionally heavy journey that deftly melds traditional rock instrumentation with electronic glitches, splices, and loops. Sound experiments like the stuttering, staticky "Quorum" and the muffled, otherworldly "Dancing and Blood" add an interesting wrinkle to Low's distinct brand of ruminative slowcore, but even more expected cuts, like "Fly" and "Disarray," have a refreshing sense of urgency attached.
What Rosalía achieves on El Mal Querer is remarkable: a seamless, seemingly natural fusion of tradition-steeped flamenco, current pop trends, and forward-thinking experimentation that results in one of the most innovative and enjoyable albums of the year. Singles "Malamente," Pienso en tu mirá," and "Di mi nombre" are immaculate examples of what Rosalía and co-producer El Guincho can do with big, glossy melodies, but they represent only a small segment of the dizzying future-pop labyrinth that is El Mal Querer. The album's true impact lies in its less easily definable moments, like "De aquí no sales," with its looping, engine-revving minimalism, and "Bagdad," which ingeniously interpolates Justin Timberlake's "Cry Me a River" into an angelic autotuned hymn beamed straight from a 22nd-century church.
Electronic producer Sega Bodega's EP, self*care, is another one of those releases I went into having no idea what to expect and came out of unequivocally loving. My first taste of it was "Daddy," a relentless whirlwind of unintelligible samples, sawing synths, and crushing, blown-out beats. But the rest of the EP leans more in the direction of unexpected beauty than mass chaos. After a full-on rhythmic assault, opener "Cowgirl" settles down into a dreamy swirl of hypnotically looped and processed vocals. Similar territory is charted by the surprisingly tender "Kisses 2 My Phone" and my personal highlight, "Maryland," which is one of the more genuinely moving tracks I've heard all year. Despite having no discernible lyrics, it squeezes emotion out of celestial chimes, distorted bass, and a ghostly choir of synthetic voices.
Putting aside any complaints about PC Music prioritizing newer signings over, say, Hannah Diamond's much-delayed album, I must admit that umru's debut EP, Search Result, is a worthy addition to the label's small catalog. It's hard to believe that the teenage producer first made a name for himself less than a year ago with a co-production credit on "I Got It," one of the most bonkers tracks on Charli XCX's Pop 2. For being so young, umru has already crafted a singular sound, clearly indebted to the likes of SOPHIE and A. G. Cook but unique enough to stand on its own. "Popular," with its chaotic mash-up of hard beats and squeaky vocals, is an immediate standout, but repeat listens expose a dark undercurrent of desperation. This unexpected emotional heaviness reaches its apex in the devastating warp and warble of "Heat Death."
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