Pond “So Lo”

“So Lo” presents as a swaggering and groovy funk rock song. And it is, so long as you don’t pay too much attention to the lyrics, which undermine the slick guy attitude by making it clear this is a fake-it-til-you-make-it situation for a guy who must invent “endless tides of fiction” to rationalize feeling or looking like a cool dude. It’s played as cheeky comedy from the opening line – “white dreads get my blood pumping, these tummy tablets got me breaking in two” – but the song is so fun and well-constructed that it’s easy to take it at face value musically. And speaking of, I really wish I had the technical knowledge to figure out why this sounds so incredibly mid-00s to me. It’s something about the tone, the particular palette, the way it’s mixed? Still getting used to hearing stuff that sounds retro 00s, but that’s just how it goes.

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Suki Waterhouse “Supersad”

I was a little wary of the title “Supersad” because I’m exhausted by young musicians fetishizing depression or making it sort of cutesy, but as it turns out Suki Waterhouse is sprinting in the opposite direction in this song. She’s basically talking herself out of panic and catastrophic thinking, pushing herself to gain perspective, and declaring in the chorus “there’s no point in being supersad.” It’s mental health pop, sure, but it doesn’t have the stink of someone trying to be relatable. It’s more about catharsis, and probably on Waterhouse’s end of things, realizing that if she sings these words enough times over a driving New Order type beat, she might fully internalize the sentiment.

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Roddy Ricch “Survivor’s Remorse”

Sometimes you can find very interesting things in the credits of modern music. Like, for example – the choir sample that lends so much pathos and drama to this Roddy Ricch song? The element of the track that roots Ricch’s lyrics about a personal struggle in something much older and much bigger than himself? It’s not from an old gospel record; it’s from a Kelly Clarkson song that came out last year. That fact doesn’t change anything about the record, but it does suggest the song’s producer Turbo has an excellent ear for samples from unexpected sources.

Ricch’s vocal delivery is casual and conversational as he tries to explain his absence to his fans, but you don’t really need to know much about that to be moved by the song. His frustration and pain is apparent in the nuances, and his humor and charisma comes through in his more flamboyant phrasing. I particularly love the way he half-sings the phrase “I’d be a billionaire” on the second verse – you can hear the grin on his face.

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Jamie xx featuring Robyn “Life”

As far as features and collabs go, this is a remarkably even merger of aesthetics that really goes give you the very best of Jamie xx in DJ mode and Robyn in euro diva mode. It’s a real best case scenario for a team up that makes me hope they do some more music together, as I think this is most definitely the best thing Robyn in particular has done in something like 14 years. This isn’t to say I think she’s sucked in the time between but when I think of what made me fall for her music in the mid 2000s, this is basically it – a lot of sass and unguarded emotion, a playful spirit and a low key soulfulness, a boldness that tastefully avoids cheap bombast. But there is plenty of bombast on this track, mainly in the blaring horn fanfare riff that’s a perfect tonal contrast with the timbre of Robyn’s voice.

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Salute featuring Piri “Luv Stuck”

Piri has worked with enough producers at this point that it’s clear that the through line in her body of work is a natural gift for writing lovely and unfussy topline melodies. Melody is probably my favorite aspect of music, but it’s not easy to write about it – it often feels like trying to explain why one curved line in more beautiful than another, or why some faces are more beautiful to you than others. And of course, a lot of us just like different versions of the same over and over, and I think that’s the case with a song like “Luv Stuck.” It’s not as though Piri is reinventing the wheel here, it’s just that she’s tapping into melodic turns that I’m always going to find beautiful. Especially when the song makes its way around the curve in the “something almost finds me in the nighttime, oh baby, stop hiding from me” line, and she sounds a little bit sad before resolving in the more joyful sentiment of the chorus.

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King Krule “It’s All Soup Now”

Your interpretation of this song probably depends on your feelings about soup in general. If you love soup – if you’re truly passionate about soup – you might wonder why this guy sounds so sad about it all being soup now. Like, slow jazzy guitar chords and plaintive sax out of a noir soundtrack sad? Murmurs and whispers, howls of pain? This must be a very bad bisque, a cruel chowder, a broth of despair.

Kidding aside, I think this might be the first really good song I’ve heard about COVID. And that feels right given that I think King Krule made the best song about the initial lockdown era before it happened, but released it at the exact right moment.

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Dora Jar “She Loves Me”

The arrangement of “She Loves Me” is mostly just a melodic baseline, vocals, and percussion – minimalist by any definition, but so generous with hooks, atmosphere, and dynamics that it doesn’t quite come off as minimalism. The song is always moving, which suits a song that’s essentially about the shifting nature of the self. Dora Jar is singing about herself as though she’s observing herself at different points in the timeline, not always relating to herself or even liking what she sees, but finding some thread of affection for herself connecting all her selves.

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NxWorries “SheUsed”

I wonder if the original plan for “SheUsed” was for Anderson Paak’s voice to be presented normally in contrast with the sped-up soul sample, or if Knxwledge arrived at having Paak’s voice sped up midway through the recording process. In any case, I think it was a smart decision – it’s a nice contrast with the straight presentation of his voice throughout the Why Lawd? album, and it has a way of making lyrics like “once I bust my nut I feel so unattached” sound a lot more quaint and charming. There’s an elegance in the string arrangement of the source sample and a natural warmth in Paak’s voice that doesn’t quite undermine the caddishness of the lyrics in this song, but it does lend a touch of pathos to what he’s singing and implies a dignity he’s trying to project even when his actions aren’t very dignified.

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Nilüfer Yanya “Method Actor”

I grew up in a time when post-Pixies loud/quiet/loud dynamics was a default for rock music, so that sort of shift typically feels more comfortable to me than jarring. I’m rarely surprised by this move, as you can usually feel the switch coming. This is not the case in “Method Actor,” a song I was fairly certain would linger in a moody groovy state because most modern music with this particular vibe tend to stay in that mode with only understated changes. Even having heard the song a few times over I’m still a little startled by the burst into distortion on the chorus, though I think it’s less about the abrasive texture and volume and more to do with how the guitar rhythm gets so violent and jagged relative to the tasteful and vaguely jazzy tone on the verses. In the context of the lyrics, I suppose it’s a musical manifestation of an actor snapping in and out of character, and drawing on their darkest memories in order to ground themselves in ugliness and pain.

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Kaytranada featuring PinkPantheress “Snap My Finger”

It took me a few listens to figure out why a bit of the verse melody in this song sounded so incredibly familiar to me, but then it hit me – there’s a melodic turn in the verse that’s just like one of the most memorable parts of Wham’s early 80s classic “Everything She Wants.” I suppose it’s just different enough to justify not giving George Michael a songwriting credit, though I think his estate could easily get it in a post-“Blurred Lines” legal landscape.

Not that I think Kaytranada and PinkPantheress should be giving that sort of credit, per se. “Snap My Finger” is a substantially different song with its own vibe, and I believe borrowing bits from previous songs is part of a tradition of songwriting going back centuries. I’m not even sure PinkPantheress intends to reference “Everything She Wants” here – there’s some shared words in the lyric, but I think this could easily be one of those things when you internalize a melody and then it emerges in something you make later without you consciously realizing it.

For a personal example, when I was 20 I wrote a song with a topline verse melody I realized a few years later was just a lightly modified (read: dumbed down) version of Stevie Wonder’s “Livin’ for the City.” It happens! And this is where taste comes in – I feel silly about not realizing I was lifting from a very famous song, but pleased that I had the sense to borrow from a genius of melody. And that’s the case for “Snap My Finger” – whether it’s intentional or accidental, it’s ultimately flattering to PinkPantheress’ taste that she ended up with snippet of melody as low-key sophisticated as George Michael at his very best.

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Charli XCX “Apple”

Broadly speaking, Charli XCX’s lyrics alternate between a sort of confrontational vapidity and a willingness to be transparent about very ugly feelings. I find a lot of her songs off-putting for this reason, but I respect what she’s doing because it’s such an unguarded approach to writing pop music. It’s a “fuck you, deal with me as I am” mindset that allows for declarations of her own greatness and cultural influence that can dare you to be like “well, actually…” and expressions of insecurity so raw and indulgent that it can be cringe-inducing. Her range as a singer and songwriter is very narrow, and this only underlines the point that you’re listening to a human, and we’re all defined as much by our limitations as our strengths. But not everyone is brave enough to lean into those limitations and flaws and unflattering characteristics. She’s basically a punk rocker working in a pop girl milieu.

I think the most lyrically interesting songs on Brat are the ones where she’s pushing through her own self-involvement to try to understand other people. I hear a lot of insecurity and anxiety in those songs, and a nagging fear that she can’t connect. “Apple,” the most melodically generous song on the record, looks to her parents as a source for her worst impulses. The intriguing thing here isn’t so much that she’s making this connection but in how the catchiest part of the song is when she’s shutting down after coming into conflict with them: “You don’t listen, I leave to the airport the airport the airport the airport.” I don’t think she’s going for this joke necessarily, but it’s very literally fight or flight.

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Magdalena Bay “Death & Romance”

Magdalena Bay started off as a pop duo with darkly humorous lyrics that subverted their form, but with time they’ve become far more comfortable with sincerity. I don’t necessarily see that as an improvement as I’m fine with either approach, but I do think they avoided falling into the trap of every song needing some clever lyrical twist or joke premise. “Death & Romance” is a very dramatic and bombastic composition and they play it as straight as they can, leaning into the white hot emotion evoked by the music rather than pushing against it. A lot of that feeling is conveyed by the fill-heavy live drums, which dials the energy way up and approaches the aesthetic Rich Harrison was going for in the early 00s with songs like “1 Thing” and “Crazy In Love.” Mica Tenenbaum’s vocals are particularly strong – she sings with conviction even in ironic joke mode, but this time around she’s convincingly selling the passion of a love that feels like a matter of life or death.

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Crumb “Side by Side”

The lyrics of “Side by Side” are sung from the perspective of someone who’s changed their life to suit someone else regardless of its negative impact on them. It’s very clear and direct, but the music complicates the sentiment by making the song very emotionally ambiguous. I think a lot of the point here is that we’re listening to a person who hasn’t decided how they feel about the situation they’re in, and any simmering resentment in the lyrics is clouded by their affection for the person they’re addressing and maybe a little bit of self-loathing and guilt. Lila Ramani’s vocal performance mostly conveys ambivalence, but you can hear stronger feelings rise up to the surface through the song. The arrangement and structure is pure Crumb – hazy and zoned out but very brisk and dynamic, all building towards a musical refrain that provides a catharsis that doesn’t contradict the indecisive feeling of the song.

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Apifera “Theodor Marmalade”

The lyrics of “Theodor Marmalade” boil down to a story about a guy who yearns to get away from people, so he embraces a life of isolation that makes him want to be among people again. The grass is always greener, and so on. The character overcorrects to extremes while the music sounds like it’s trying to find balance and equilibrium. The main guitar groove sounds like it’s cautiously tip-toeing through the song, the vocals are just above a whisper, and the percussion moves without any clutter or clatter. This strikes me as the work of a band where everyone involved was probably obsessed with Radiohead’s In Rainbows as a teenager – you get that same sense of space and restraint, but with the drama dialed down a lot.

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Elkka “Right Here”

Here’s one for anyone who loves the energy and urgency of Basement Jaxx in pop diva banger mode and/or is searching for a dance track with the kind of big hearted vulnerability of Robyn at her best. “Right Here” is thrilling and ultra dramatic, the kind of song that feels like it should be soundtracking a crucial cathartic moment. I won’t be at all surprised if this ends up in some tv season finale down the line.

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Metronomy x Pan Amsterdam “Nice Town” (Alain Ogue Remix)

The original mix of “Nice Town” is an enjoyable 80s electro pastiche, and accurate enough that you could probably drop it into a movie and most people would assume it’s something unearthed from an old DJ’s crates. The Alain Ogue remix is also retro 80s but in a way that’s a lot more exciting to my ears – very busy and dynamic, the kind of maximalist mix that’s constantly tossing cool sounds at you. The best bit is the ascending sax sample that enters around 75 seconds in, a perfect little snippet of sound that momentarily relieves tension and adds a dash of sophistication to the track.

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Chappell Roan “Good Luck, Babe!”

Chappell Roan’s primary songwriting partner is Dan Nigro, who’s best known for his work as Olivia Rodrigo’s primary songwriting partner. Roan and Rodrigo have different enough vibes that it wasn’t obvious to me that they had this in common, but knowing they share a collaborator makes their musical similarities come into sharp focus. The main thing I’ve noticed about Rodrigo is that it’s as though all her songs were written with the specific goal of becoming karaoke classics, and covering a range of what makes a great karaoke for different types of singers. Nigro’s work with Roan is on a similar wavelength, but I think the goal is more about creating songs that will crush in live performance. The best tracks on The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess contain a lot of audience participation moments, and they’re typically the most fun parts of the song even if it can verge on sounding like a horny version of Kidz Bop. But in either case, Nigro is crafting very dynamic and theatrical pop rock music that pulls you in and makes you want to become a part of it whether you’re screaming along at a show, singing it at a karaoke bar, or belting it out in the shower.

“Good Luck, Babe!” is more of a shower song. If “Red Wine Supernova,” “Femininomenon,” and “Hot to Go” are transparently oriented towards the stage, this one feels more like it’s aimed at the radio. It’s easy to enjoy at face value – the melodies are strong and the groove is pleasant and Roan’s voice soars without getting distractingly bombastic or shrill. Roan can get silly in her songs but she never undermines or undersells a big feeling, and her vocal range is impressive enough that over the course of “Good Luck, Babe!” she’s pulling from the classic bag of power ballad tricks as well as more understated Kate Bush moves in her higher register. The emotional core of the song is potent and volatile, with lyrics that describe a fraught romantic sidepiece situation with enough specificity to be intriguing but relatable enough that it could totally wreck you if you happened to hear it in passing at a Walgreens in a fragile state. The verses tick-tick-tick, but once she’s crying out “I just want to love someone who calls me baby,” the feelings bomb goes ka-boom.

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St. Vincent featuring Cate Le Bon “All Born Screaming”

The groove of “All Born Screaming” is twitchy yet smooth, like a musical expression of an existential panic that’s buried deep enough that it doesn’t show up on the surface but is the animating force behind every movement. Annie Clark has been exploring this contrast of internal angst and outward placidity for a long time now, and almost always with some degree of dark humor. The lyrics for this song presents life as a cosmic joke, a sysiphean struggle played as slapstick from the cradle to the grave. The mood of the song is fairly light and as the song reaches its climax, it’s more like a shrug than a catharsis. She’s not letting go of frustration here, and it’s not a denial of desire. It’s mostly just admitting that it’s kinda funny.

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Of Montreal “Yung Hearts Bleed Free”

“Yung Hearts Beat Free” is an overtly horny song with a somewhat lackadaisical energy to it, like we’re just catching Kevin Barnes in a resting state. In other words, this is a lot like Barnes in Skeletal Lamping mode but without the manic freakiness that coursed through nearly every track of that record. This isn’t to say it’s boring in comparison – the groove is top shelf for Of Montreal, and I like how the lyrics declare a lot about who Kevin is and why they’re like that with some degree of certainty. I take this as being above all else a song about aging – for everything you lose to time, you get the opportunity to understand yourself and what drives you. You also get some clarity on the external things that shaped you – when Barnes sings “all of my heroes were drug-addled creeps” and “all of my heroes were sex maniacs” it’s less a point of pride than a statement of fact. It is what it is, and this is the result.

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Lip Critic “In the Wawa (Convinced I Am God)”

“In the Wawa (Convinced I Am God)” seems like it should be full-on punk-style satire, and it’s not NOT satire. There’s no way you shout that title phrase and follow it up with “so I’m gonna get any sandwich I want” and have it not be funny. But the velocity of the music and the intensity of the vocals introduce some doubt. Like, maybe he’s right? Maybe he’s seeing the cosmos clearly? Maybe he’s right to get buck wild in this convenience store? It’s the kind of crazy you don’t want to engage with, like the existential stakes of this aggressive weird guy being right about everything are a little too high. Great arrangement, by the way – love the way they build up pressure and momentum, and how the chorus feels like it’s punching down walls.

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Audrey Powne “From the Fire”

“From the Fire” is a gorgeous piece of music that’s all the more impressive when you take into account that it’s very much a work of auteurism – Audrey Powne is the composer, the arranger, the producer, the lyricist, the singer, and the trumpet player, and she excels in all of those roles. I’m particularly into the keyboard chords and the trumpet solo, which she openly credits to her love of Herbie Hancock and Roy Hargrove. The lyrics were inspired by the bushfires in Australia back in 2019 and evoke the notion of a cleansing fire and rebirth. With this in mind, the music feels like watching a phoenix slowly emerge from the ashes and then take flight.

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Kamasi Washington featuring BJ the Chicago Kid “Together”

“Together” is something of an outlier in the Kamasi Washington body of work – not an instrumental jazz piece, not a psychedelic epic, and in the context of his new record Fearless Movement, not a rap-adjacent party track. The song, composed by Ryan Porter, is a contemplative R&B ballad with lyrics by Washington and vocalist BJ the Chicago Kid that positions both singing and romantic love as a sort of ongoing spiritual practice. The tone is grey and drowsy but the implied scale of the music feels cosmic, like the music is illustrating the lyric’s notion of “our hearts whirling’ through time and space.” Or more likely, the other way around.

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Andra Day “Maybe Next Time”

“Maybe Next Time” opens Andra Day’s second album with a message to the listener: “Now I wish I could write you an album full of love songs but I can’t seem to get one.” And then she explains herself by getting into her problems with a guy who she describes as being very insecure and defensive. (Her language is more vivid than that.) Her vocal phrasing is smooth even in the busiest parts of the melody – it doesn’t seem like a stretch to guess that Erykah Badu is a formative influence here, it’s a similar flow and tone – and conveys a nuanced blend of irritation, bitterness, relief, and most of all, resignation. Once she’s done airing her grievances midway through the song, she circles back to addressing her audience. Or maybe at that point it’s really just psyching herself up – “maybe next time will be the right time,” and she’ll have all those love songs ready to go.

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