Welcome to the first installment of our 2021 quarterly playlist/mixtape! Feel free to jam the playlist below while reading what our writers had to say about each selection. Tell us what your favorites are in the comments, as well as any new artists you may have discovered here – or, alternatively, tell us what we missed! Thanks for reading/listening.
In over a decade backing and forthing across the Scottish border, I never once had the notoriously grimy pleasure of taking the overnight ‘sleeper’ train, but Arab Strap’s stunning account matches up to every testimony I’ve heard. The restlessness, cheapness and discomfort are all there, but there’s an edge to it, an eeriness drawn out almost to the point of magical realism by some of the most riveting storytelling you’ll hear from anyone this year. Goodness there’s more where that came from on their knockout of a comeback record. — Johnnyofthewell
Big Red Machine – A Crime
The return of indie darling duo Justin Vernon and Aaron Dessner’s Big Red Machine is something to celebrate, with “A Crime” marking their first release since the debut barring
I’m not normally one who appreciates remixes. Usually they just feel like bad covers designed to take advantage of club goers and helpless mainstream addicts who want the same three beat variations for the rest of their lives. However, I’ve been proven wrong a lot lately when it comes to music, and I think that’s something that’s important to admit when you’ve been analyzing and critiquing music for well over a decade. Sam Amidon’s self-titled album of mostly early-1900s folk/Americana covers was released last month and completely altered my view on what a “covers album” is capable of, and now Deftones might be on the cusp of changing my mind about remixes. These two similar but separate avenues of re-imagining art have always been throwaways, but the tide is changing.
The myth of Black Stallion has been a topic of discussion for years in diehard Deftones circles, and now we’re finally getting it on December 11th via the White Pony 20th Anniversary Edition. I have to say, the two remixes released so far (‘Knife Prty’ and ‘Passenger’) have done more than merely avoid disappointment – they’ve caused real excitement from a fan of the band who just spent the last 2 months relentlessly jamming Ohms and who should be tired of the band’s sound by now. Purity Ring’s ‘Knife Prty’ remix is something to behold – a gorgeous, dazzling blend of keyboards, synths, and drums that has a smooth glazed finish and a downright haunting air. It…
Ichiko Aoba has a new single and – shock horror – it’s gorgeous and utterly spellbinding. Listen to it.
For those unfamiliar with Aoba, the usual deal is that you sit down and press play, and then she appears like a magical headphone fairy for an hour (give or take twenty minutes) with her excellent guitar and her excellent guitar technique and pretty much nothing else aside from her voice, with which she sings songs so pure and intimate that you’d feel like you were the only person in the world who could her them even if they were being broadcast at deafening volumes on loudspeakers in the middle of Shibuya Crossing or wherever.
“Seabed Eden” differs both significantly and subtly from the Aoba precedent. On an immediate level and in the softest of revolutions, Aoba has swapped her guitar, once her inseparable confidant, for an electric piano. It’s obviously striking that she’s literally playing a different instrument, but the greatest change here is the melancholy minor 7th-fest of a chord progression that she follows throughout; in a similar way to how her January single “Amuletum” was immediately evocative of classic Studio Ghibli soundtracks, this progression is unusual for Aoba that it immediately screams of a real world precedent outside of her own quiet universe (in this case, the wistful melodic jazz of Erroll Garner’s “Misty” and the fifty zillion descendent numbers you’ve heard with or without realising it). Ichiko Aoba hasn’t lost her magic touch – this track is…
Eesh, where do I start here? Let me open up by saying that after I had seen 3TEETH live back in 2018, all bets were off: in my estimation, these guys were to become imminent torchbearers of the industrial scene. Shutdown.exe was an imperfect experiment but, christ, the potential was written all over the wall. The album’s opening track ,”Divine Weapon”, was some of the heaviest shit I’d heard in 2017, but moreover the album collectively enveloped the vintage of industrial’s high points whilst modernising it with metalcore styled riffing and some heterogeneously applied electronics and vocal work. Again, it wasn’t a perfect offering by any means, but it displayed the gamut of their capabilities. Fast forward to 2019 and the aching anticipation I had for their third album, Metawar, was met with disappointment – not because it was a bad album, but because it failed to capitalise on that spark Shutdown.exe presented. Indeed, Metawar swapped the inimitable experimentation for a more candid chapter in their career; a commonly designed mainstream offering that did the job well, but ultimately subverted the high standards I had for this band.
Now Harry Potter has a new film coming out and 3TEETH have covered two flamboyant songs for it. At this point, the whole ‘look, this heavy metal band has covered the unexpected!’ is about as original as throwing a TV out of a hotel window, but, oh boy, Alexis and co. went all the way with this one – covering Dead or…
In August 2020, Sputnikmusic emerged from its longstanding morass of thesaurus metal and folk diarism, spurting to sufficient heights of credibility that it became possible to review unofficial Soundcloud demos without pulling the tier-Z faux pas of punching above our weight. Some would suggest becoming a not insufferable writer and “saving the w**k for the bathr**m fl**r” before exploiting this field of journalism, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. This is Sputnik’s biggest opportunity since sliced bread. In we go:
Better known as the vocalist for glitch pop/indietronica/post-anime/neo-alternative folktronica/dream pop group Macaroom, Emaru is an enigmatic lady who dances like a fucking weirdo, nailed whisper pop as an artform before Eilish apologists took out a loan on critical legitimacy, and runs a solo project on Soundcloud for obscure tracks and semi-developed drafts. Her new song “よるのみち” makes innovative and unconventional use of the platform by being a worthwhile piece of music released there in 2020.
It comes from an artistic mind so cutting edge that the majority of Americans will be flat-out incapable of understanding her, something I could tell immediately by the fact that she is wearing a mask in her profile picture. Her speaking a language that demands constant contextual awareness for basic comprehension absolutely in no way compounds this. Maybe this song will mark a renaissance for Soundcloud (it won’t). Does Soundcloud need a renaissance? I used to think it was going the way of MySpace, but then a girl…
Four years. That’s how long it’s been since Gore dropped, and I can still remember the feeling of utter disappointment. Don’t get me wrong, Gore was good – great, even – but how dare Deftones not fucking obliterate and hypnotize me at the same time with an indisputable album of the year? The nerve.
Needless to say, what’s bad for Deftones is still a career achievement for most other bands – but yeah, Gore didn’t leave much of an impression on me and I get the feeling that a lot of other fans felt the same way. It all just seemed so Deftones-by-numbers that it lacked any oomph or charisma. The songs began and ended and every time I was like, “Yup, that’s Deftones for ya” but then after each was done playing, I no longer cared (except for “Acid Hologram”, which still rules).
That’s why the on my very first spin of “Ohms”, I was already doing figurative cartwheels. The production is leaps and bounds ahead of Gore, and the shoegazey coating that has always suited them so well makes a return. Even the lyrics are better, achieving their trademark blend of romantic and ominous imagery: “So we slip into our hopeless sea of regret as I stare / Through the haunted maze in your eyes / Right through where I’ll remain for all time.” “Ohms” sounds immaculate and possesses an intense, fuzzed-out groove that any…
“The Lakes” was highly anticipated, although by some more than others. A bonus track on Swift’s surprise album folklore, it was essentially a marketing ploy to get fans to pre-order a physical copy of the LP because it was being touted as “limited”. Even though the song would end up being released digitally before most fans received their CD/vinyl, the tactic worked. Swift now finds herself as the first artist to spend 40 weeks atop the Billboard Artist Chart thanks in large part to folklore‘s 3 week stretch – a streak that can be at least partially credited to continued intrigue over the delayed release of “The Lakes”.
So, marketing strategies aside, “The Lakes” is actually a very good song and arguably one of the best that Swift has ever penned (or half-penned, crediting Jack Antonoff’s omnipresence in nearly every pop production these days). Swift throws a lot of imagery at us in this string-swept ballad, which essentially boils down to a farewell: “Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die…I’m setting off, but not without my muse.” She seems disenchanted with society as a whole, from the controversy/cancel culture that tarnished her reputation circa her highly publicized conflict with Kanye West (“I’m not cut out for all these cynical clones / These hunters with cell phones”) to Scott Borchetta and Scooter Braun, who dealed away Swift’s intellectual property giving her a chance to buy her…
Track Review: Carly Rae Jepsen – “Me And The Boys In The Band”
Carly Rae Jepsen has been very busy during quarantine. In May, she released a b-sides album from her acclaimed 2019 Dedicated LP, a piece that felt like a return to the upbeat, summery jams of Emotion. Now, she’s now gone on to release another absolute bop with “Me And The Boys In The Band.” It’s as if Jepsen knows exactly how to lift our spirits during these times, and she has a seemingly endless pool of optimism to tap into.
“Me And The Boys In The Band” is a funky, rhythmic ode to her bandmates and was created with the help of pop producer extraordinaire Jack Antonoff. The accompanying video features clips of each musician in their respective quarantines. Jepsen essentially sings about the good old days of live shows – driving to venues, exploring new cities, and partying afterwards. The longing nostalgia of the lyrics belie its upbeat, cheerful aura, especially when Carly sings, “So just take me to the stage / It’s been lit from the start / I need the summer fun.”
At least in the absence of actual summer fun, Jepsen has sent us all of the warm vibes that she possibly can. The ease with which she churns out these infectious, breezy, and carefree bangers is beginning to almost turn scary. Chalk another one up for the queen of pop music.
It’s easy to dismiss recent works by The Flaming Lips. 2017’s Oczy Mlody is insanely trippy, but not very memorable outside of small handful of sneaky hits. 2019’s King’s Mouth is overbearing in its ridiculous concept, which features a giant baby who grows up to become a king – who then swallows the universe in order to save its inhabitants from an avalanche. I mean, it’s The Flaming Lips – so these sort of out there stories are accepted as the norm – just as they were back in 2002 for their famed classic Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. They’ve always been easy to enjoy, but difficult to take seriously.
‘Flowers of Neptune 6’ strikes a slightly different tone. While the song still retains the band’s classic penchant for psychedelia and casual drug references (“doing acid and watching the lightbugs glow like tiny spaceships in a row“), the music itself feels much more accessible – rooted in acoustic guitars and soaring verses rather than impenetrable synths or exotic instrumentation. In the video, frontman Wayne Coyne can be seen adorned in an American flag, and also walking through a burning field in a bubble. The imagery isn’t lost on listeners in 2020, where COVID-19 has forced us to live in metaphorical bubbles while the world around us is seemingly in flames. While we do not yet know if there’s a central motif or theme surrounding the band’s upcoming September 11th release American Head, ‘Neptune…
“Untitled” wouldn’t just have improved Noonday Dream if it had been recorded for the album, it’s downright essential to its entire tapestry. The song ties together an astonishing amount of this dreamy, impressionistic LP – clarifying “Towing the Line”‘s rookery-as-metaphor, contrasting the closing of “Murmurations” with its celebration of sight, unnervingly foreshadowing the ‘something in the canopy’ in “The Defeat” which makes Ben ruminate on death like the birch tree in “Untitled”. There’s actually something weirdly fitting about the thematic, like, key? to an album this distant and unaccommodating being impossible to find outside of a couple YouTube live vids, which makes you wonder if it was sidelined for giving away too much of the album’s thematic tissue. Then again, this is the dude who never released “Keiko”, so chances are he’s just fucking insane with this ‘dropping his best music’ stuff.
The definitive version of “Untitled” thus far, in this writer’s opinion.
Whatever. “Untitled” is a gorgeous piece of work, often played as an intro to “The Defeat” in live shows as above. It’s almost more powerful to read it poetically than it is to hear the words sung out loud. Birch tree lost its branch one day in violent winter / I said it was grieving, you said ‘it don’t feel nothing / I bet you think everything’s in its rightful place – that sentiment is man’s disgrace’. Howard’s lineage of imagistic lyrical masters in the folk scene – Cohen, Dylan, Drake – is…
I used to be so sure “I Could Be Anywhere in the World” was the one. I mean, who wasn’t, right? As far as stadium-ready, skyscraper-chorus bangers go it’s downright flawless, and George Petit’s trapped-animal screeches never ceded more gracefully to Dallas Green’s highschool-fantasy of a voice. I also nearly gave the spot to “Boiled Frogs”, putting aside for the moment that Crisis is borderline perfect and any song could have made it. But “Rough Hands” has its praises sung less frequently than those songs despite arguably deserving more.
First off, it’s as perfect a closer as you could ask for on Alexisonfire’s most balanced album. Unlike “Happiness by the Kilowatt”, which is basically Petit featuring on the first City and Colour song, “Rough Hands” sees the whole band getting in on the fun. Within the first few seconds, a gentle piano tinkle gives way to a brooding guitar which chugs underneath the whole song, though the keys return to accompany Green as he establishes the scene. Petit’s entrance in the second verse is a downright heartstopper – partially thanks to the lyrics which I’ll address in a minute – but once again Alexisonfire go all out on a hook with all three vocalists jostling for attention. It’s like a well-scripted and extremely yellable play: Green, our honey-throated voice of reason, desperately explains how his heart’s been sealed with rust while the gravel-and-whiskey-stained tones of Wade provide a balanced, harshly objective assessment of the situation – “two people too…
I don’t really know what the impetus for writing this was, but in case you were at all curious: one of my favourite late-era Weezer tracks sounds like Rivers Cuomo spent a couple hours dissecting millennial tumblr blogs then tried to write a Killers song. If that sounds like a recipe for absolute trash, well, fair enough – and “Trainwrecks” hails from the much-maligned (and half-great) Hurley, which means I’m starting off on the defensive here. But, like all great late-era Weezer songs, “Trainwrecks” isn’t hobbled by it’s potentially bad aspects but all the better for rising above them.
A stomping one-two rhythm section sees Pat Wilson and Scott Shriner largely out of the limelight, and while Brian Bell keeps the guitar-work simple, he supplements it with a fantastic warbling synth that’s less “Take On Me” than mid-era Cure. But it’s a genuinely great Rivers vocal sells the whole thing; he snarls “you don’t keep house and I’m a slob / you’re freakin’ out cos I can’t keep a job” with the vitriol of an actual 20-year-old, and sells the blink-and-you-miss-it joke – “we don’t update our blogs, we are trainwrecks” – with the deftness of a guy who’s been making jokes about being a dumbass kid most of his career.
When Rivers pushes up into to a scream, leading into an honestly moving climax of “that’s the story of our lives, we are trainwrecks”, it’s a forcible reminder that the man’s indomitable stream of crazy good melodies…
Now this is just creepy. There’s such an unsettling vibe to this whole thing, from the band name to the artwork to the massive industrial groove beat that throws me all the way back to The Downward Spiral. Oh, and those shrill, shouted vocals, followed by by the low, distorted Frank the Rabbit (Donnie Darko) spoken passage. Yikes. This thing just feels monumental. I get the feeling from the tracklist that there could be some serious political vibes on this thing as well. The band itself has 25k Facebook likes, so this is very much a fringe “under the radar band” (sure, they don’t have hundreds of thousands of followers)…but they have only released one album (as far as my knowledge and a cursory google search can tell) and it was all the way back in 2010. Apparently, Gate of Grief has been 7 years in the making. I have a feeling it will be well worth the wait, and one of those albums that catches everyone off guard when it comes out of nowhere. Consider me as hyped as I’ve been for anything so far in 2018.
It hasn’t been a full year since Manchester Orchestra dropped the gorgeous and moving A Black Mile to the Surface, but the band is already offering us new music. Of course, new is a relative term when you consider the process of writing, recording, and releasing – per frontman Andy Hull, “I Know How To Speak” is a song that originated several years ago. It would have made the final cut for Black Mile had it reached the full, finished form that Hull and his bandmates had envisioned back in the summer of 2017; but because that time did not arrive until now, we have what amounts to a rather impressive b-side on our hands.
“I Know How To Speak” is centered around resplendent acoustic guitars, delicate piano notes, and “the impending weight of the future” – a lyrical topic made all the more relevant by the birth of Hull’s son on the horizon. At six minutes in length, the track has ample time to change its pace and direction, but opts for more of a direct and soft-spoken approach. It works its way in slowly, but it’s a comforting kind of predictability – like waves on the shore of a lake splashing up against the rocky shoreline. It’s not really until the final minute-and-a-half that it ramps up the intensity, allowing for fiery electric riffs to rain down on the unassuming classical pianos, which continue unbothered by the mayhem swirling…
I must confess that this is not my idea; having recently come across Tom Breihan’s ‘The Number Ones’ column for Stereogum, and in turn, Tom Ewing’s ‘Popular’ column for Freaky Trigger, I felt inspired to approach the format from my own geographical perspective; that is, review every single to reach number 1 on the ARIA Charts/Kent Report, and assign a numerical grade from 1-10. In the interest of brevity (and some pertinence), the column shall begin from July 1974, the date in which the initial Kent Report was first published commercially, and work forwards from there. Dependent upon time constraints and general interest, publishing of these articles will, similar to Ewing and Breihan’s columns, be daily. And now…
Billy Swan – “I Can Help”
27 January 1975 (1 Week).
Parallel to novelty songs are one-hit wonders; not always novel, yet always desperately grasping at the tendrils of good taste, and always indebted to whatever timeframe birthed them. Consider Billy Swan; a country troubadour who nevertheless saw “I Can Help” succeed as his only hit, better yet a hit that only lasted a week at the top of the charts. At no point does it dwell in the margins of camp, though it nevertheless sounds like a mid-‘70s record, all acoustic jangle and line-stepping waltz.
Compositionally, Swan admits that the whole thing came together in less than an hour; the lyrics are plucked at random, as evidence by the barrage of platitudes and odes to…
![White Pony (20th Anniversary Deluxe Edition) [Explicit]](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/61GhGyx2+xL._SS500_.jpg)
