EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN DAY
This week’s collection has an air of intense disintegration—like, as soon as you name the feeling that you’re feeling, it’s gone. I doubt it has anything to do with this current hell world and my current obsession with impermanence. Nope, couldn’t be that.
Touché Amoré - Gravity, Metaphorically
Lorde - 400 Lux
Angel Olsen - New Love Cassette
+44 - No, It Isn’t
Billie Eilish - my future
The Cure - In Between Days
Origami Angel - Doctor Whomst
Milk Teeth - Swear Jar (Again)
Arcade Fire - Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)
The Afghan Whigs - Algiers
Touché Amoré was always too focused and to brash to be anything other than a generation-defining band and that was before all the signal boosting from Geoff Rickley. Parting the Sea Between Brightness and Me had the same urgency as Full Collapse, a post hardcore/punk record that blew apart the center of modern life to reach for something transcendent. Every Touché Amoré song teeters on the edge of something big like that; a transition, a trauma, a mirror reflecting where we are and where we could go. “Gravity, Metaphorically” is a blistering one off single from their split with Pianos Become the Teeth, 4 minutes of pure thunderous adrenaline. Jeremy Bolm’s meditation on social theater is staggering, demonstrating the path to our authentic selves never runs in a straight line. Don’t sleep on their forthcoming album, Lament. The lead single is excellent.
“400 Lux” is my favorite Lorde song. It’s not as big as “Royals,” or “Green Light,” but it’s the kind of song that can take you somewhere. This sort of night driving/bored to death ennui is perhaps relatable for any generation but I think there’s something different here amidst the swirling keyboards. Where punk’s ethos is rooted in trying to leave that dead end town, Lorde seems to cherish the moments of quiet that occur when circling the cul-de-sacs at night. Looking forward to seeing someone you know, someone else who’s daydreaming about killing time as the stars and satellites explode—that’s the road I wanna travel.
You can’t have romance without tension. In that regard, “New Love Cassette” is a MasterClass in tension. The track builds from a bubbling back beat, reaching through the smoky darkness with big strings and whisper silk vocals. Pre-COVID, there weren’t many moments to undress each other emotionally—life seemed too busy. Good thing the pandemic has reminded us that was an illusion and we have nothing but time to explore together.
I remember when blink-182 broke up in 2005. I was starting college and my girlfriend decided we should be off again but forever. In retrospect, this was the move, but I can’t say I took either of these things well at 18. I smashed the replay button when the demo for “No, It Isn’t” surfaced online and again when the +44 album came out a year later. Mark Hoppus and Carol Heller crystalized something powerful on this song (“Please understand / This isn’t just goodbye / This is I can’t stand you”). It was empowering to be hit with buzzsaw guitars and the realization that, actually, I’m better off walking away from whatever this situation had become. It’s too bad Heller exited the group before the album was recorded. I suppose nothing lasts forever.
I’m not the world’s biggest Billie Eilish fan but “my future” is a hot torch song. The electronic elements sort of float in the air before that fluttering drum pattern flies in, guitars delicately drifting across the horizon. “my future” is a clever love song about possibilities. I can’t wait to hear more because things are looking bright for her next project.
The proliferation of “time is a flat circle” memes is infinite and all-encompassing. There’s no way of knowing if Robert Smith was some kind of goth Nostradamus on “In Between Days,” but we can at least appreciate its enduring legacy. The Cure are most commonly identified with Smith’s penchant for the dramatic (“Hanging Garden,” “Pictures of You,” “A Letter to Elise”) but I’ve always loved the band’s poppier side. Feeling like life is a waiting room in between permanent loss is never a light topic. Sometimes, it’s great to throw in some furiously strummed acoustic guitars and let the synths climb towards something joyful, if only for a moment.
‘Gami Gang, assemble. Relentless shredding, boundless positively, and thicc Blue Album era fuzz. Dorkdom personified—props for the Danny Phantom reference.
For the avoidance of doubt, I am a sucker for big dumb slacker anthems and Milk Teeth writes them effortlessly. “Swear Jar (Again)” features the kind of 90s sugar rush I’ve come to crave: apathetic vocals, flange soaked leads, and lumbering distortion. Becky Blomfield takes us through a wonderful metaphor for how we punish ourselves for our reckless impulses. This is catatonic bedroom music as you stare at the ceiling, wishing you could be anywhere else (i.e. perfect for ~the moment~).
“Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)” hits different at 32 than it did at 23, especially this verse:
They heard me singing and they told me to stop
Quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock
These days my life, I feel it has no purpose
But late at night the feelings swim to the surface
At 23 I loved the nods to Depeche Mode and the glittering synth pulse that pushed us into the stratosphere. At 32, I can only muster a “big mood” summation after a long day of client calls. Arcade Fire certainly became more pretentious after The Suburbs but I often think about the transitional nature of this album, coming out as I was transitioning into the workforce. I started the decade folding t-shirts at Urban Outfitters for a shitty wage, and now, with a lot of luck and distance between me and 2010, I babysit CCOs in order to afford San Francisco rent. “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)” is a reminder that this tension between ourselves and society doesn’t go away as you get older, it just changes over time (in case you needed an excuse to never sleep again).
The Afghan Whigs play us out with the sweeping “Algiers.” I’ve always loved this song for its dream-like invocation of loss. The sleazy guitar solo blows this thing wide open but the glue is Greg Dulli’s broken rasp. This is the kind of wide scope song for those of us that have seen some shit. As our generation navigated 9/11, the Iraq War, 2008, the threat of climate change, and now this COVID-19 crisis, it’s hard to imagine that we won’t someday look back at all of this and feel just as tired as the band plays us out, desperado style.
Originally published August 1, 2020 as part of Hella Vibes.