Over this past block, I made an episode of a podcast. It’s not completely about music, but it’s on how sound makes meaning, so I figured I would post it on here. In it, I interview two really wonderful members of the CC community, Jake Sabetta and Jane Hilberry (and if you’re on this website, you will likely at least know of Jake).
Hope you enjoy!
This little gem of a song popped up on my Discover Weekly this week, and the vocals instantly charmed me with their Frankie Cosmos-like easiness; if I were to describe Melina Duterte’s (the mastermind behind Jay Som) voice with a motion, that motion would definitely be floating, softly and lightly just above the melody. The guitar, especially in the solo near the end of the song, seems very reminiscent of Mitski, and since her and Frankie Cosmos are two of my favourite artists, it’s no surprise that this song caught my eye (or, I guess, ear). Plus, the self-proclaimed “most trusted voice in music” and our overall most favourite website, Pitchfork, gave Jay Som’s new album an 8.6 and oh-so-highly coveted Best New Music title, so she must be great. (But, seriously, give this song a listen).
Although Alex G’s last full album, Beach Music, was released in 2015, he’s picked up a fair amount of steam this past year, mostly through collaborating with Frank Ocean on both Blonde (he played guitar on “White Ferrari” and “Self Control”) and Endless. While it was extremely gratifying to hear his contribution to both of those beautiful albums, I’ve been hoping to hear some of his own new work, and it seems as though I am in luck –– Alex just announced a new album, Rocket, that’s supposed to come out on May 19th. Here is a beautiful new country-ish single from the album to tide you over for now; prepare your ears for some gorgeous fiddle.
If you’re looking to add a little healthy competition to your and your (other music nerd) friends’ day, look no further. Esquire has made a quiz that ranks your “music IQ” by seeing if you can match a song with its album cover, and it’s definitely worth fifteen minutes of your time. Check it out here:
Just wanted to say a quick happy birthday to one of the most soul-touching, delicately constructed albums of all time –– Elliott Smith’s Either/Or turns 20 today. Speaking (with no authority whatsoever) on behalf of thousands of angsty teenagers and disappointed adults, I want to say thank you to Elliott Smith on this album (as well as some others) for being able to evoke such a wide range of emotions, most stemming from melancholia, in slightly over (or under) three minutes. The expectations for the power that music can have on emotions have shifted a lot in the last twenty years, and we definitely owe some of that shift to Either/Or. If you have a spare three minutes today, pick any song from the album below, hit play and dissolve a little bit.
When I was about 11 years old, I heard my sister playing a Yeah Yeah Yeahs song (I think it was Runaway) and instantly felt shivers rush down my spine –– the vocals were so haunting, so beautiful; they struck me right to my core. I spent the rest of the day downloading their music off LimeWire (those were the good old days of torrenting). To my disappointment, when I listened to the rest of their music, I found myself at an odds; I felt addicted to the vocals, but could not quite get down with the slightly too aggressive lyrics and drum beats in most of their songs. Thus, with a void in my heart, I put the Yeah Yeah Yeahs away to never be revisited again… Until a faithful day in 2014, when my then-boyfriend and I went to see Her at the cinema. Once again, I heard that captivating voice, except this time it wasn’t screaming at me to dance till I’m dead; it was almost whispering to me, in tones that, for me, matched the singer’s voice perfectly, about love. Later that day, my void was finally able to be filled with Karen O’s solo tracks; here is a beautiful example of the kind of enchantment her voice holds.
A recent favourite of the internet’s music critics, Sampha has previously featured on songs from Kanye’s The Life of Pablo, Drake’s Nothing Was The Same, and one of my favourite electronic albums, SBTRKT’s SBTRKT. The song below, off his new album Process, sounds reminiscent of James Blake in Sampha’s more soulful voice, and of Joni Mitchell in the melancholy evocativeness of the lyrics.
If this song is up your alley, I encourage you to check out the whole album –– while Sampha is very versatile, his stunning voice weaves a thread from beginning to end.
I am definitely late in terms of boarding the Mitski train, which is surprising –– she’s toured with Frankie Cosmos, whom I’m a huge fan of, and is generally considered an integral part of the DIY indie scene (or whatever the “correct” name for this kind of music is). I’d tried listening to her in the past, and was, I guess, a little put off by what I thought was a much more aggressive, rocky sound than I was expecting. All I can say is that I must have listened to the wrong songs, or had gone temporarily deaf, because dang! This girl can sing! (and write).
Sometimes she seems to look into the soul of the classic American sadboy (or girl); other times, she writes from her own perspective –– that of a triculture disillusioned outsider. Either way, her music is almost always very emotionally evocative. The song below, for example, instantly transported me back into the days of all-encompassing, identity-dissolving and unhealthy first love. It’s off her third album that came out in 2014: “Bury Me at Makeout Creek.” Have a listen!
Over Thanksgiving break, I was at home (in England) visiting a friend at her university in Sheffield. The classic way to spend your Saturday night in England if you’re college-aged, is to go to a club; and so we did. I was ready to be disappointed –– personally, I don’t really find much enjoyment in being in the middle of a crowded dark sweaty room of wasted strangers and subpar house music –– but then this song came on. Immediately, there was a sense of unity in the room; everyone stopped trying to impress the other drunk messes on either sides of themselves and started dancing, in whatever way they could. The club turned into a poorly-lit karaoke. I believe, with 97% certainty, that this song will make you want to sing with it.
I can’t quite remember the first time I heard a ‘Kinks’ song, but it was definitely before ninth grade, when this song became my weekend anthem: almost every Saturday evening, I would catch the train back from Waterloo Station in London back to my house, looking for the fabled sunset that, unfortunately, rarely appeared; England is really submerged in clouds most of the time.This song has a lovely, Beatles-ey rhythm, that so far I’ve found perfect for people-watching, driving back from DIA at three a.m., and, of course, watching the sunset. I have no doubt that the list of places and times that this song fits impeccably goes on and on.