BOYSENBERRY CRÈME BRÛLÉE
I’m not feeling patriotic these days. The most I can muster is remembering the time someone told me I looked like Bob Dylan. I don’t think he knew what Bob Dylan looked like, but here I am, in the midst of this American Carnage, dreaming of past lives. While I encourage you to enjoy your time off this weekend, please also remember to read, educate yourself, and support causes designed to dismantle this ethno-fascist state.
July 4 is the birth of the United States but should not be confused with true independence and freedom for its people. We have ways to go before freedom is realized for our BIPOC brothers, sisters, and non-binary family.
Paramore - Fast in My Car
Dance Gavin Dance - Parody Catharsis
Spoon - No Bullets Spent
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Jesus Alone
Pop Smoke - Welcome to the Party
Weezer - The World Has Turned and Left Me Here
Freddie Gibbs - 20 Karat Jesus
Feist - Young Up
Blood Orange - Saint
Nine Inch Nails - Over and Out
Time has has revealed my love for the self-titled Paramore album in unexpected ways. I’ve always been a Riot! man, but seeing them open for Fall Out Boy a few years ago really opened my ears to some of these songs. “Fast in My Car” takes a left turn at industrial funk bordering on cyber metal while Hayley Williams sings like she’s soaring. In hindsight, the abrasiveness and build up reminds me of “Zoo Station” by U2 and serves the same purpose: a reimagining of sonic possibilities, ushering in a new era after the band had truly seen some shit. If you’ve ever felt like slamming down the pedal to get out of your darkest timeline, this is the anthem for you.
I’m obsessed with Afterburner. Dance Gavin Dance was one of those bands that received tons of praise during my blogspot era of music discovery but it wasn’t until their latest album that I really gave them a shot. “Parody Catharsis” is a journey—equal parts liquid jazz, blissed out guitar licks, and post hardcore rage. Tillian Pearson sounds like a new age Axl Rose on Warped Tour. There’s something infectious about how DGD move through these disparate elements, and between the hard electronic sequencing and the double time breakdowns, this meditation on self-doubt sparkles.
If it’s all manic tension on “Parody Catharsis,” then there’s some serious confidence on “No Bullets Spent.” This track comes from Spoon’s recently released greatest hits compilation but could have easily been dropped into either of their last two records. Britt Daniel’s voice is warped in some exciting ways while the song features an effortlessly cool push and pull between jerky rhythms and jangly release. The schadenfreude-laden chorus blows this thing open, abstracting the deeply personal to any number of nameless enemies.
Shifting gears, the abstract becomes realized on “Jesus Alone.” Like most men my age, I discovered Nick Cave through Metallica’s cover album but became obsessed with the “murder balladeer” after diving into his extensive catalog. Cave has a ton of signature songs—The Mercy Seat, Loverman, Song of Joy—which also says nothing about his incredible work with The Birthday Party or Grinderman. “Jesus Alone” is another signature song in a storied musical history. Spacey electronics simmer against Cave’s spoken word delivery, describing the moment death comes of all of us: in a Tijuana hotel room, during the ordinariness of life, and while we are committing horrific atrocities. There’s soft piano and haunted backing vocals but the star is Cave, bearing truths of the eventual void through this death march.
Given Pop Smoke’s untimely death at 20, his legacy is unfairly cemented as “what could have been,” a shame considering the talent he showed through a handful of initial projects. His coming out on “Welcome to the Party” is exciting as it could be—all bass and relentless aggression. I’ll be spinning the new posthumous album this weekend.
What can be said that hasn’t already been said about any song from Weezer’s debut? I’ll start with the fact that these are the kinds of songs to lie in your bed with, to live in your head with. Somehow I always come back to “The World Has Turned and Left Me Here.” Rivers Cuomo is a weird dude but I think what makes early Weezer so beloved is how he was able to make these unbearably large emotions feel intimate. Weezer used to excel at letting their fuzzed out power pop chug mirror the expansiveness of these feelings, while using plan spoken confessionals to personalize the experience. Listening to Weezer in 2020 feels like rediscovering something lost, from the soaring crescendos to the sleepy acoustic licks that carry this song. The music feels like it’s from another time and place. Change happens, not always for the better, but sometimes it’s interesting to think about the places you’ve been and how far you’ve come.
Freddie Gibbs has had an incredible year. I highly recommend listening to his new project with the Alchemist while enjoying your adult beverage of choice. After Alfredo’s drop, however, I found myself revisiting Gibbs’ back catalog and rediscovering a few songs, including “20 Karat Jesus.” You can draw a conceptual line from “Fast in My Car” but there’s a different kind of urgency here—paranoia, fear, desperation. It’s hard to find someone with a smoother delivery then Gibbs and the beat change will make you blush. What more can I say? Boysenberry Crème Brûlée.
I’ve always thought Feist’s Pleasure was a sweet and sensitive album. “Young Up” is an incredible closer and a wonderful example, blooming from hushed whispers, gentle organ swells, and Leslie Feist’s unwavering voice. Pleasure is a tender album about trying to connect with people in a variety of ways, which is why I thought pairing this song with Blood Orange’s “Saint” made so much sense. Though they operate in different sonic landscapes—especially with Devonté Hynes’ love for sequenced beats and Prince-like synths—the yearning connects them beautifully. “Saint” finds Hynes pondering a few different things: the beauty of blackness, hope for our future, and the trauma that binds us in the search for absolution. If there was ever mantra for self-love in the face of our struggles, “Saint” is it, underscoring how vital and temporary this existence is for us all.
If felt fitting, then, to end with Trent Reznor, dissolving into oblivion: “Time is running out / I don’t know what I’m waiting for”
Originally published July 4, 2020 as part of Hella Vibes.