THEY’RE SELLING POSTCARDS OF THE HANGING
I got drinks with a friend of mine on an unusually warm Friday night in San Francisco. We had our masks, kept our distance, and took the beers to go, walking down Clement Street and enjoying the “October summer” that only those of us in the city really know. We started talking about ghosts and shared delusions. “Do you think people that see ghosts are so in tune with the spirit world that they can bridge the dimensional gap, or that they are actually working out psychodrama that manifests in ‘seeing’ things that aren’t really there?” I wondered. We talked for a few hours, not really reaching an answer, but it was fun to ask the question all the same. After all, sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.
Fleetwood Mac - Over & Over
Simple Creatures - Drug
Future Islands - The Painter
MS MR - Criminals
6LACK - East Atlanta Love Letter (Feat. Future)
Bat for Lashes - What’s a Girl to Do?
TV Girl - Lovers Rock
The War on Drugs - Under the Pressure
Deftones - Anniversary of an Uninteresting Event
My Chemical Romance - Desolation Row
I am ready to contribute to the Fleetwood Mac discourse with something controversial: I favor Tusk over Rumours. Part of the reason is the exploratory nature. Where Rumours is taught and precise, Tusk takes its time, blooming into a more melancholy cloud—possibly due to all the in-fighting and in-band drama. Through this lense, starting the double album off with “Over & Over” is a masterstroke, a sleepy and largely acoustic number fraught with desperate ultimatums from Christine McVie. It’s almost like “Dreams’” darker cousin, a song that finds a band, and its subjects, in transition as it dissolves into a delicate kraut rock outro. Thus concludes my hot take, and out of respect for Nathan Apodaca, I will not be taking questions at this time.
I laughed when I first heard about the Simple Creatures project. I thought Mark Hoppus needed to challenge himself as a songwriter after California and Alex Gaskarth (as talented as he is) wasn’t going to be the person to bring that out of him. The egg is on my face. I’m no longer laughing after the group’s wonderful extended plays from last year. There’s real chemistry between Hoppus/Gaskarth, resulting in adrenaline rush of electro-rock that’s big, tight, and fun. “Drug” is a massive ear worm, full of hard charging bass, hand claps, pristine keyboards, and enough robotic “Mr. Blue Sky-isms” to remind you that ELO’s influence is vast. But the real star is the lyrics, calling to mind the effervescent joy that stems from a new relationship, whether it be the “electric confidence” or feeling worn out like fake jewelry. Thankfully, Gaskarth reminds us of how disorienting that addiction can be: “I can't tell what's real or what I'm dreamin' anymore / Don't know how to feel when I've felt this all before…” I need the full length, ASAP.
Future Islands have knocked it out of the park with their new album As Long As You Are. While the choruses are bigger, and the keyboards more expensive, the group sounds a lot more engaged than on 2017’s The Far Field, which felt more like a collection of sketches than real songs. “The Painter” is an early stand out, with its pulsing backbeat and echoing synthesizers that glide like crystalline vistas. Samuel Herring’s wobbly timber takes us through the subjectivity of memory, by way of brush strokes on a canvas. It’s a reminder that there’s a lot that doesn’t get remembered (or painted), a lot that gets lost in translation—darker pasts covered in brighter hues. Leave it to Future Islands to carve out a danceable niche for this kind of existential dread.
During the Before Times, my wife and I would commute to San Francisco’s Financial District and Embarcadero to get to our day jobs. On the occasions where she would play DJ, you could be sure of more synth pop than metal. MS MR was a frequent guest on those rotations, and while I’m a sucker for the Bonnie and Clyde schtick, “Criminals” also benefits from thunderous drums, sweeping strings, and breathy vocals. There’s a ton of drama here and I don’t need to buy a Tommy gun for us while we look to take on the world. I count that as a win-win.
Sparse and desolate R&B doesn’t grab headlines or listeners like it really should. 6LACK’s take on the genre is as captivating as it is immersive. “East Atlanta Love Letter” smolders with piano that peaks in just occasionally and 6LACK’s velvety runs. Future’s auto-tune warble casts a smoky fog over the proceedings, which is exactly what you want at 3am before the “u up?” text comes through like a bucket of cold water.
“What’s a Girl to Do?” is positively haunted, sporting a hypnotic harpsichord hook that unfolds into big drums and ethereal vocals. I remember first discovering this song back during the halcyon days of blogspot music journalism, which is to say back when Pitchfork didn’t cover pop and people still traded music recommendations rather than letting the machines do the heavy lifting. That kind of personal touch is something I hope Hella Vibes recaptures for readers and listeners, but of course, it helps when Natasha Khan writes spooky break up songs that are a stone’s throw away from the Twilight Zone.
TV Girl’s approach to pop is absolutely refreshing. Equal parts old film scores and sputtering hip-hop, the San Diego three-piece plays with a kind of romantic sophistication that will make you feel like you’re in a Jean-Luc Godard film. “Lovers Rock” is my current favorite on French Exit, a song that takes you to the moment right before sparks fly, with sleepy strings and spiraling break beats. With cuffing season fast approaching, you’ll be forgiven for including this gem on your “go-to” playlist.
The Larry David in me can’t help but notice that Lost in the Dream sounds like where Bob Dylan could have gone in the 80s if he had let the professionals take care of the music. It takes some real stones to start the album with “Under the Pressure,” an over 8-minute surrealist jam that rushes forward with cascading piano, gossamer guitar doodles, shimmering horns, and a hard 4/4. Adam Granduciel’s Dylanisms are surface level though—his voice is richer and his writing more impressionistic, adding to the overall meditative quality of his songs. Everyone loves to needlessly compare The War On Drugs to Springsteen but that sort of misses the mark on the quiet grandeur Granduciel is channeling. The dreamy flow of a song like “Under the Pressure” reminds us there is real beauty in the subconscious.
I can’t say enough wonderful things about the excellent new Deftones album Ohms, but recently, I’ve also found myself appreciating their self-titled 2003 offering on another level. “Anniversary of an Uninteresting Event” is a different kind of dreamscape—minimal, with xylophone chimes and keyboards that bleed into harmonic guitars. It’s the sound of soundtrack you might find in third level of Inception, where the top keeps spinning for all time. While the Deftones are at their best when they marry beautiful shoegaze with crushing brutality, they are perhaps at their most underrated when they pull to the extreme ends of their sound.
“Desolation Row” is in the running for my favorite Bob Dylan song. That said, My Chemical Romance do it better and in 1/3 of the time. From the swelling organ to the blistering Trans Am snarl, the gutter trash vibe makes these lurid scenes all the more visceral. Shout out to Ray Toro for his Jimi Hendrix style guitar solo but the real star is Gerard Way, a street walking cheetah that’s all leather daddy and Johnny Rotten rasp. I always thought the song served as the perfect embodiment for the Watchmen film, and as we lean into the spookiest election season yet, time will ultimately tell who watches the real watchmen.
Originally published October 18, 2020 as part of Hella Vibes.