As recent protest songs go, "Not Gonna Say Your Name" is one of the few that has stood out to me as a genuinely great song beyond its political context. It also served as my introduction to Entrance, even though the band/project, often associated with "freak folk" artists like Devendra Banhart and Will Oldham, has been around in many permutations since the early 2000s. It's somewhat fitting, though, that this would be my first exposure, as bandleader Guy Blakeslee seems to be in the process of reinventing Entrance once again. He's releasing a new album called Book of Changes later this month, and its first single, "Always the Right Time," is also quite good, an infectiously upbeat homage to late '60s/early '70s-era folk-pop with rich, sunny harmonies.

"Not Gonna Say Your Name" operates within a similar musical landscape. It builds up gradually from an a cappella opening, instrument by instrument, until it becomes gorgeously lush, twangy, and warm. If you weren't paying close attention to the lyrics, the song might come off as an impassioned kiss-off to an ex-lover who caused the singer extraordinary pain. The melodies also happen to be incredibly catchy, with an effortlessly timeless quality that allows them to transcend time and place. You'll immediately want to sing along to the impeccably-constructed dual male/female vocal harmonies. Often, protest songs tend to sacrifice musicality for the message, so the musical perfection of this one is particularly refreshing. Ultimately, the actual lyrics might be the least compelling thing about it, as they're fairly straightforward and simplistic and don't offer much that we haven't heard before. Still, they're cathartic in the sense that they mirror what we're all thinking. The transition out of the second verse and into the chorus is particularly powerful: "I might have to see your face a hundred times every day, but I'm not gonna say your name." This is not a denial of reality but a denial of respect to someone who has proven himself undeserving of it many times over.

I urge you to purchase this track from Bandcamp today for maximal impact: Blakeslee's profits will go to Planned Parenthood and Bandcamp's will go to the ACLU. Several more artists and labels have joined with Bandcamp to pledge their earnings to the ACLU or other relevant organizations. Father/Daughter Records includes bands I've posted about in the past, like PWR BTTM and Sharpless, and has several promising upcoming releases up for pre-order, including Diet Cig and Vagabon. Saddle Creek is always a good bet, and you can't go wrong with anything from Los Campesinos! A full list of labels and bands participating can be found here. Just buy anything!

I hadn't listened to Valerie June's music before yesterday, but "Astral Plane" is one of those songs I didn't know I needed until the moment I heard it, when its unexpected necessity to the present moment in my life became instantly clear. The song has a lullaby-like calmness and serenity, a soothing optimism that is carried over into the lyrics. "Is there a light you have inside you [that] you can touch?" Valerie June asks in the opening verse before continuing, "A looking glass can only show you so much/Follow the sounds, slowly but steady; don't rush/The day will come when you are ready, just trust." After a long, tumultuous, and frequently upsetting year, it's exactly the sort of life-affirming balm that, in only a few minutes, can go a long way in helping to heal lingering wounds.

In the chorus, imagery of "dancing on the astral plane" and "floating through the stratosphere" is matched by stripped-down swathes of guitar, keyboard, and percussion that contribute to the spacious, otherworldly atmosphere. At the same time, the song remains firmly grounded due to Valerie June's subtle yet commanding vocal presence. Vaguely twangy, existing somewhere between quirky Appalachia and rootsy Americana, her voice is rough and tender in equal parts. Its complex layers of wisdom and sincerity imbue the lyrics with even greater meaning and prevent the song's message from teetering over the edge into cliche.

Valerie June's new album, The Order of Time, is scheduled for release on March 10.


As a side note, because I consider this blog my "happy place," I try to avoid getting overtly political, but it's sometimes inevitable, especially in the United States' current political environment. With the inauguration looming, I believe that all forms of resistance or protest, no matter how small, are legitimate and necessary in reminding us that none of what is happening is within the realm of normality or acceptability. For this reason, I plan to subscribe to Our First 100 Days, a musical effort to raise funds for causes that will likely be threatened by the incoming presidency, and I urge anyone reading this to consider doing so as well. A $30 minimum will grant you streaming and download access to 100 songs from 100 different artists, with proceeds going toward organizations that address climate, women's rights, immigration and fairness (more information here). The first song will be released on January 20. Many great artists will be contributing, including several I've talked about here, such as Angel Olsen, Mitski, Bully, PWR BTTM, Jens Lekman, Torres, Peter Silberman (The Antlers), and more.