|2017 fever, baby|
as my delirious mind ever so gradually drifts off to sleep, it instead decides that what it wants above sleep, recuperation or an absence of this fever, is to actually publish a list of 2017's tunes on sputnikmusic.com. it gives me no choice in the matter as the words for the songs explode in my head like gifs of things that explode. therefore, enjoy.
swim. the moment when the movie of your life spins to its denouement, the audience applauds and files out, throwing out popcorn containers and giving it a light to decent 7 but tbh nothing has been as good as birdman since, meanwhile your life refuses to freezeframe and you just gotta keep living past the credits. the moment you realise she's drinking too much too often these days but those are the only times you can talk to her so you don't say shit. the words are ugly but the people saying them are beautiful.
supercut. as if taking her cues from that one lyric in self-control, the beats absolutely bang but there are tears falling as we move, writhe and sweat on the dancefloor. a portrait of total fucking collapse and escapism filtered through a sepia lens and passed off as the super 8 reel of the summer. in the final minute a singer screams through a glass wall too thick to break; you can see her silhouette and almost make out the features, but it fades so fast. if you could only make out her words.
|3||Tyler, the Creator|
see you again. flowerbwoi t summons the long-mourned spirit of cheesy pop to craft the most perfect hook of the summer, but you keep glancing across the room at that one special boy or girl instead of enjoying the sunshine. going to war or accidentally stepping in the shade, what's the difference?
A Black Mile to the Surface
the wolf. death looks you straight in the face, sniffs, shrugs and starts scrolling his facebook feed. a protagonist who spends his life desperately believing that he doesn't care about dying, imagine his surprise when death doesn't give a shit back? the rocks of the mountain cut your feet as you climb.
lamb. blue skies.
|6|| ||Frank Ocean|
chanel. frank finesses the industry out of millions, changes the musical landscape, and makes me cry like a baby without barely saying a couple of words. the c on both sides here are the two tail ends of this song; a breathless punchline-ridden beginning and a slow swagged-out money-minded finale. in between? the most triumphant wail of the whole damn year.
Big Fish Theory
party people. vince looks out his window and sees institutionalised racism, anhedonia, paparazzi working their way inside like termites. he glances over his shoulder and the party is going off. he shouldn't chuck a rager while the world falls apart, but man, we already bought the beers and shit... which view is more painful to stare at for too long?
love. kendrick breathes out all the anger, disenfranchisement and isolation. then he breathes in. breathes in a summer breeze wafting over on the back of a falsetto melody. breathes in simplicity.
|9||Broken Social Scene|
Hug of Thunder
hug of thunder. warfare tensely crouches on the outskirts of a beautiful carefree summer. leslie feist sees all and forgives all over her bowl of cereal.
3ww. language becomes obsolete. harmonies mean everything. let's rebuild society based off the melody to this fucking song.
she's my collar. a cartoon character becomes 3d when he sings about love and/or lust. animalistic panting drives the beat, suggesting the latter, but oh, isn't kali's voice just so goddamn lovely?
swivel. the best chorus of all time while you listen to it
|13||The Smith Street Band|
More Scared Of You Than You Are Of Me
birthdays. well it's goddamn nice to meet you too, wil.
|14||Lil Uzi Vert|
Luv Is Rage 1.5
xo tour lif3. uzi briefly makes me ashamed for hating trap so openly. what else needs be said those first few lines don't say?