AND TODAY WAS A DAY JUST LIKE ANY OTHER
This week’s playlist is a healthy mix of nostalgia and newer songs that I’ve been really enjoying. I know that’s *always* how it goes but I was doubly conscious of some of the nostalgia this week, mostly because those selections really took me back. It was also an opportunity to avoid thinking about this Hell World for a few moments.
Before I get to the music, this is a public service announcement to check your voter registration, vote as early as possible, and help your friends/family/love ones do the same if they haven’t already. We are too close to the mistakes of history, circa 1933. This is for all the marbles. Do the right thing because we can’t survive another 4 years of 45.
Jack’s Mannequin - I’m Ready
Angels & Airwaves - Valkyrie Missle (Acoustic)
Against Me! - Boyfriend
Yo La Tengo - Everyday
Conway the Machine - From King
Boduf Songs - Modern Orbita
Gleemer - Come Down
Lianne La Havas - Weird Fishes
Mac Miller - Good News
Into It. Over It. - Breathing Patterns
Everything In Transit came out in 2005, several lifetimes ago. I was a freshman in college, overwhelmed with freedom but devastated by the enormity of the transition I was now very much *in.* When I look back on this record, I realize it was something that drew together vastly different friend groups and made me feel less alone during that time (i.e. my LiveJournal friends, my new SoCal Friends, my roommate who teased me mercilessly about the chorus on “Dark Blue,” and my high school friend Paulina who saw this as the defacto third Something Corporate record). I also cannot untangle Andrew McMahon’s overwhelm during this time. His brush with cancer and his fight to come out the other end, was (rightly or inconveniently), the backdrop of this record, which is well documented and revisited in this new oral history. This is all to say it’s no surprise why Transit has stayed with me. I too was in transit, starting at the beginning of my life with all its debilitating fears and endless possibilities (and imagined myself one day “going part time” with a film projectionist who liked the Beach Boys more than radio metal). I could have picked any song on this album because I love them all, but when I think about that time in my life “I’m Ready” really stands out with its crystalline piano lines and spoken word reflections. This song feels like a shot of clarity and served as a lifeline for me when I doubted myself during that first year. And it’s not just me. When I met my friend Steven, another Andrew McMahon super fan, it was clear to me that McMahon’s work was generational—capturing a moment in time where so many of us were just beginning to become ourselves. Steven and I have continued to follow McMahon throughout his Jack’s Mannequin career and as part of his Wilderness period, waxing poetic on each new iteration and set of songs that continue to mean the world to us in times of transition.
The first time I heard the original “Valkyrie Missile,” I was in my freshman dorm room and my friend Nick showed me how to pirate music off the internet using WinZip. He then preceded to mock me for the song’s ridiculous 2 min Postal Service-like intro. While I’m realizing that many of my freshman friendships were meaner than I originally thought, it’s hard to understate how exciting it was to have an album from Tom DeLonge after how final the first blink-182 break up felt. Angels & Airwaves never saved the world but the combination of U2 theatrics and DeLonge’s zippy guitar leads won me over. This version is a stripped backed performance from the We Don’t Need to Whisper Acoustic - EP, which really highlights how packed full of hooks this thing is. It’s not technically acoustic since there’s a ton of weird keyboard flutters and sequencing here but the unplugged strums and DeLonge’s forlorn voice provides a different perspective on this uncomfortably earnest song.
Shape Shift With Me is a really interesting record, a ragged counterpart to its airy predecessor. The guitars sort of gurgle and spit out battery acid leads, the rhythms are chunkier and jerkier when compared to the anthemic heights of Transgender Dysphoria Blues. Conceptually, that makes sense. Laura Grace Jane settled into something that was more of a challenging listen after announcing her M2F transition, which I think mirrored the ambiguity she was exploring with her lyrics. “Boyfriend” subversively slides the disorientation of dysphoria against power-pop hooks, big buzzsaw guitar, and a 4/4 beat. It may not be the most straightforward song but it’s certainly one of the more nuanced perspectives on dating and gender roles that I’ve heard in a long time. Remember: Gender’s over, if you want it.
Does The xx’s minimal sensuality even exist without a song like the orbital and spacious “Everyday?” Hard to say but Yo La Tengo’s tense, whisper silk meditation on monotony is captivating.
“From King” is the absolute hardest rap song of the year. I know there’s a new Run The Jewels record but this isn’t up for debate. Here’s why: Daringer’s pulsing back beat, positively evil synths, an ominous Alan Watts voice over, the Hollywood Hogan/NWO outro, and Conway the Machine’s butter smooth delivery. Lyrically, Conway’s wading in the “heavy is the head that wears the crown…” waters, and with good reason. From King to A God is the crowning achievement of the Griselda catalog thus far, full of dark rhymes and immersive beats. I’m not even sure if “From King” is the best song on the album but it’s a hell of a way to start things off.
I discovered Boduf Songs from following Jeremy Bolm’s Instagram (because the anticipation for Lament is killing me). As a result, I was treated to a very good band in the process. The cavernous drum tumbles and minimalist guitar lines remind me of a mix between Portishead and Bowery Electric, but darker, less mechanical. The whole thing feels like you’re suspended inside a black hole. The simmering feedback and whispered vocals push Boduf Songs closer to post-punk than trip-hop but perhaps your mileage varies. Regardless, you get a shimmering ballad that’s as mysterious as it is enveloping.
Gleemer makes explosive shoegaze look easy, with guitar parts that crash and invert into each other like collapsing galaxies. I hadn’t heard of the band until their most recent album Down Through, but “Come Down” is actually from 2017’s Anymore, which is just as well arranged and electric. Gleemer excel in this sort of controlled chaos, where songs are just about to fall apart before coming back together in a profound blend of noise and grace. If these guys aren’t on your radar, they should be.
Another dear friend of mine opened my ears up to this Lianne La Havas cover of “Weird Fishes,” originally by Radiohead. While the cover generally plays it straight, it’s the little touches that push this into the sublime, from La Havas’ effortless voice to the gospel-tinged backing vocals. The drumming here is a tad slower and looser than Phil Selway’s stiff approach, which provides a little bit more air for the whole arrangement to breath. But make no mistake, La Havas’ new self-titled record is full of the same lithe effervescence. Smash “Play” on this thing right now.
“Good News” was always going to be a massive hit but it takes on another life here knowing that Mac Miller will never perform it live. Hoping for the best and expecting the worst has become something of the norm, but Miller’s song centers the conversation around the fact that we tend to focus on the micro, not the macro. Delicate strings and drifting keyboards accentuate Miller’s monologue but the song serves as a reminder that life is short and if we’re worrying about it rather than living it, it’ll be gone before we know it.
I went for a drive yesterday and got In-N-Out (drive-thru) while blasting the new Into It. Over It. More than how good the burger was (very) or how nice it was to see clear skies in CA (again, very), I was struck by how solid Figure is as a collection of songs. When most bands go the math rock route, you can tell they are geeking out over the odd time signatures and bendy arrangements. While Figure borrows from that school of composition, the band somehow keeps things fluid and light. “Breathing Patterns” was a huge standout for me, filled with twinkling xylophone, shuffling drums, and guitar lines that bleed like watercolor. The song slowly builds into a blended crescendo of analog and auto-tune harmonies, with Evan Weiss singing “Fill my lungs” as the song slowly fades in release. 2020 has been a marathon year, with the longest stretch yet to go, so it’s nice to be reminded that it all comes back to breath practice to reorient and refocus ourselves.
Originally published September 20, 2020 as part of Hella Vibes.