Showing posts with label Lana Del Rey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lana Del Rey. Show all posts

Saturday, January 6, 2024

Favorite Music of 2023

I'm back, baby!

Well, for this post and a year-end movie post, at least. In terms of this blog, the big thing about 2023 is that I stopped posting regularly—and it felt nice! Not that I didn't enjoy blogging every week for eight years, but as I alluded to in my year-end movie list last year, life has just become very full and busy for me over the past couple of years (in mostly good ways), and it's been something of a relief not to have the constant pressure to keep a weekly blog deadline; I honestly don't think I realized how strong that pressure was, and going on hiatus felt like when you suddenly realize you've been holding your breath and let it out in a rush. So speaking of holding breath, I wouldn't hold yours for the grand return of the weekly mini-reviews posts.

Anyway, y'all came here for music, not for a rehash of the "I'm so busy" jig that all adults spiral into if you ask them how things are going. So: music! 2023 was a weird year for me. More than any other year I can remember, I had a hard time finding music that I loved. My usual genre blind spots have become blinder than ever (I have literally zero idea what is going on in metal, and I have mostly bounced off most of the biggest hip-hop acts of the year, though based on commercial performance [dubious, but still], I'm not the only one struggling to connect with contemporary hip-hop), and the Top 40's very chaotic, TikTok-influenced hodge-podge yielded nothing that grabbed me. I believe this is what academics call Getting Old. That said, even within my home-base genres of rock and jazz, it was harder for me to find music that I was passionate about. Part of this certainly has to do with the increasingly fractured and marginal place listening to new music has in my life because of all the other demands that pull at my attention—again, I invoke Getting Old. I dunno; my "to-listen" list is longer than ever this year, so it's not as if I didn't have options. I'm confident that there are albums out there that I haven't given much time to that would have had a good chance to make my top 10 (for example: Saved! by the Reverend Kristin Michael Hayter, née Lingua Ignota), so maybe I just need to change my habits.

Whatever the case, enough reflection. There was still plenty of good music this year, so let's get on with it. I come not to bury 2023 but to praise it!

As always, I'd love to hear what music y'all readers (if you're still out there!) enjoyed this year! I view this as the beginning of a conversation—a semicolon rather than a period, if I can get English-teacher-y. Let me know what I'm missing!


Favorite Albums:

1. Sufjan Stevens: Javelin
Sufjan's most straightforward and accessible songwriting in quite some time, which might seem like it would be an issue for someone like me who definitely prefers Weird Sufjan. And initially, I was a little underwhelmed: "Carrie & Lowell by way of Illinois" was my initial, slightly disappointed reaction, but this grew in my estimation with each listen until here it is as my favorite of the year. The thing about straightforward, accessible songwriting is that it is straightforward and accessible, even for a pretentious curmudgeon like me, and I became bowled over at the beauty and clarity of this music. Plus, magic of all magic, he was able to turn "There's a World," probably the worst track off Neil Young's Harvest, into something delicate and gorgeous.


2. Arooj Aftab, Vijay Iyer & Shahzad Ismaily: Love in Exile
This isn't the kind of music people mean when they talk about ambient jazz, but it's the descriptor that comes most readily to mind when I try to describe this album: a 72-minute exploration of space and mood, Arooj Aftab's meditative vocals weaving in and out of the soundscapes laid down by Vijay Iyer's spare but precise piano and Shahzad Ismaily's Moog. I'm fairly familiar with Iyer's output and a little with Aftab's, but Ismaily' is entirely new to me, and he's a quiet revelation on here. Hypnotic music. Perfect in its own cosmic way.



3. Emergency Group: Inspection of Cruelty
Not a lot to explaining why I like this: it sounds like the early goings of electric jazz, especially Miles Davis c. In a Silent Way or A Tribute to Jack Johnson or maybe Tony Williams's Emergency!—aka some of my favorite music of all time. Probably my most-listened-to album of the year if I were able to keep those metrics. It just goes down so groovily and easily.





4. Kate NV: WOW
I don't know if this makes sense to anyone else, but this album sounds like Adventure Time music to me. I don't know what else to say.









5. more eaze: Eternity
Bandcamp (and, I suppose by extension, more eaze herself) classifies this as a "track," but it's 43 minutes long, so I declare an album. It's a beautiful piece of longform electronica that reminds me of early The Orb in its playfulness.







6. JPEGMAFIA x Danny Brown: SCARING THE HOES
About as much fun as you'd imagine a collaboration between these two being, i.e. very. Riding a line between uproarious and vaguely disquieting while spinning some ridiculous samples, these two are a match made in alt-rap heaven. And you really beat the delirious rhymes: "Let me tell you what I'm gonna do / Tell no lies, just tell your truth / I'm a big dog like Marmaduke / Park itself when I come through." Bespoke slant rhymes from above. Great album art.




7. Mandy, Indiana: i've seen a way
The debut album from this experimental electronica band is surprisingly diverse, pinging around from synth-core to ambient to industrial to more openly club-y material, but for as divergent as some of these sounds can be, there's a cohesive sense of space and tone that makes this feel like a unified vision of eclecticism rather than just scattershot pastiche.






8. Lonnie Holley: Oh Me Oh My
I wish it hadn't taken Michael Stipe and Bon Iver being on one of his albums for Lonnie Holley to get on my radar, but better late than never, right? He's a bona-fide Southern weirdo in a way that appeals to me quite a bit, somehow very earthy and material while also coming across as a kind of cosmic mystic. Very much my speed.






9. Fever Ray: Radical Romantics
Not a particularly surprising album from Fever Ray, but still good. Also, it has some of the best worst cover art of the year.









10. Lana Del Rey: Did you know that there's a tunnel under Ocean Blvd
Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in. I'm a very fair-weather Lana fan, but the weather turned out to be very fair this year. The title track and (especially) "A&W" are two of her best songs, and the rest of the album is very strong, too—except for the "Judah Smith Interlude," which may be my most-skipped track of the year.






Great 2023 Songs Not On These Albums:

Chief Adjuah: "Bark Out Thunder Roar Out Lightning"—The pivot Chief Adjuah (formerly Christian Scott) made in his LP this year kind of threw me: there's a continuity in leaving spiritual jazz for West-African-inflected folk music that makes sense in retrospect (the connection between West Africa and New Orleans is one that Adjuah himself made very clear in his promotion of the record), but it's a left turn I certainly didn't see coming. Anyway, cool and interesting album, but one that only really coalesced into something I loved in its loping 15-minute title track, a more stripped back and somber song than many of the other compositions, with Adjuah intoning like a prophet over some picked string instrument (the liner notes aren't very specific) and Weedie Braimah's insistent, driving percussion.

Idris Ackamoor & the Pyramids: "First Peoples"—I sometimes find what Idris Ackamoor does a little corny, but when he and the Pyramids hit, they hit. Exhibit A: this track, winding higher and higher around its reedy riff.

jamie branch: "burning grey"—RIP to weird jazz great jamie branch. Glad the third Fly or Die came together anyway. This track in particular rips.

Janelle Monáe: "Champagne Shit"—I could have picked any number of tracks from The Age of Pleasure, but I picked this one.

PJ Harvey: "The Nether-edge"—I wasn't a huge fan of the new PJ Harvey album, but this slinky, pulsing track lodged itself deep inside my brain and wouldn't leave.

Kieran Hebden & William Tyler: "Darkness, Darkness"—The "cosmic folk" great William Tyler working with Four Tet. I mean.

Octo Octa: "Late Night Love"—Kind of the consensus "this is the electronic dance track from this year that all the critics are into," and I dunno, critics can be right.

on4word: "Jigsaw Falling Into Place"—This is perilously close to a meme instead of real music, and the popularity of an album that recreated Radiohead's In Rainbows exclusively using samples from N64 games turned what was already a niche trend into a full-blown avalanche of imitators. But it's really good! Especially this song, which feels like boss music or maybe a really intense level where you have to outrun a robot while doing tricky platforming or something.

The Smile: "Bending Hectic"—And speaking of Radiohead, if we're not ever going to get a real new Radiohead album, I'll have to keep banging the drum for the almost Radiohead releases. When "Bending Hectic" changes gears, it thunders.

Spoon: "Sugar Babies"—Spoon just don't miss, and somehow it always sounds like something they just threw together in an hour. Surely false. Love the infectious shuffle of this one.

Xiu Xiu: "For M."—The moment when Xiu Xiu's album of already pitch-black sludge and terror pushes itself so far that it turns nearly ambient, and it's kind of beautiful.

Young Fathers: "I Saw"—I don't really understand what Young Fathers' whole deal is, and maybe that's their deal? The beginning of this song sounds furious, spitting out lyrics and that Viking-drum rock beat like venom, but then it morphs into something much sunnier and more anthemic? I can't parse it, but it's good.

Friday, December 27, 2019

Favorite Music of 2019

Insert my usual caveat that I didn't listen to nearly enough metal or rap. I also probably listened to a disproportionate amount of jazz, hence marking my full transition into "Dad."

As with last year, there wasn't really an album that stood out to me as my definitive "favorite" in 2019, and in fact, the top 5 are probably interchangeable as far as preference goes. For the albums I reviewed, I linked to the original reviews. It's most of them.

Anyway, as you can tell, I don't really have much of a preamble to this one. Hope you like the picks. Enter list.

Favorite Albums:

1. Jenny Hval: The Practice of Love
Hypnotic, beautiful, conceptual, yet immediate. I've been a Jenny Hval fan for a while, so it was probably just a matter of time before she topped one of these lists.

[Read original review]







2. Holly Herndon: PROTO
"There’s a pervasive narrative of technology as dehumanizing," Holly Herndon says in the liner notes to PROTO. "We stand in contrast to that." Clearly; PROTO is an album created in collaboration with Spawn—an A.I. created by Herndon and her colleagues. It's far from the cold experiment that genesis implies, though, and as Herndon's notes indicate, it's an oddly tender and even spiritual work. Herdon's notes go on to compare this album to the Appalachian church music she experienced growing up, which is both an appropriate and a radical comparison to make: if the capacity for worship and wonder is part of what makes us human, what does that say about Spawn?

3. Ariana Grande: thank u, next
One of the best pop songs of the decade births one of the best pop albums of the decade. No surprise.

[Read original review]








4. Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah: Ancestral Recall
Scott has been one of the best, most forward-thinking jazz musicians out there for a while now, so when I say that Ancestral Recall is just more of the same, know that that's the highest praise.

[Read original review]







5. William Basinski: On Time Out of Time
Black hole space ambient dronepossibly the most exciting string of nouns I've ever written.

[Read original review]








6. Xiu Xiu: Girl with Basket of Fruit
Unless you're looking in danker corners than I am, Girl with Basket of Fruit is probably the weirdest album you'll hear all year. Keep on keeping on, Xiu Xiu.

[Read original review]







7. Thom Yorke: ANIMA
I've been a fan of pretty much all of Thom Yorke's solo output, so I didn't really connect to the "return to form" conversation a bunch of people were having around this album. But that doesn't mean it isn't still great, and it has that awesome Paul Thomas Anderson Netflix collaboration connected, too.

[Read original review]





8. Vampire Weekend: Father of the Bride
Bloated and inconsistent, sure, but try telling that to me when that "Harmony Hall" piano hits.

[Read original review]








9. Lana Del Rey: Norman Fucking Rockwell!
If we're all still around in 2049 or whatever, people will probably think of this album (either that or "Old Town Road") when they think about 2019 music, or at least 2019 music culture. The disaffected despair, the meta games, the cutting, allusive lyrics, the brutal intimacy cloaked in a distancing persona—this just feels like what music in 2019 is all about. It's pretty sad. It's also pretty great.

[Read original review]




10. Elder Ones: From Untruth
Probably the more formally challenging album on this listan off-kilter, dissonant 47 minutes of avant-garde world music/jazz. But if you can get on its wavelength, it's powerful, and Amirtha Kidambi's intensity is infectious.

[Read original review]






Great 2019 Songs Not On These Albums:

Bobby Krlic: "Fire Temple"—From the Midsommar score. If you've seen Midsommar, then you know what happens here, and oh man. If you haven't seen the movie, well, that's fine. It's still one of the most stunning pieces of music you'll hear all year.

Bruce Springsteen: "Hello Sunshine"—Bruce was pretty open about his struggles with depression on his autobiography a couple years back, and "Hello Sunshine" feels like an extension of that honesty. "You know I always liked that empty road," he sings, "No place to be and miles to go." Springsteen often sings in characters, but this is maybe about as personal as The Boss has ever gotten.

Carly Rae Jepsen: "Now That I Found You"—An absolutely buoyant pop gem from CRJ. So you know, business as usual.

Cykada: "Third Eye Thunder"—Despite being ostensibly jazz, this is one of the proggiest tracks I heard all year. Cykada's self-titled album was #11 on my list, and it's another great record from the London jazz scene.

Don Campbell: "All Too Well"—Covering a song as personal and beloved as Taylor Swift's best song is a tall order, but Don Campbell manages it by turning it into a sort of emo anthem. Taylor Swift has always been a couple steps from being an emo artist herself, so it works great.

Flying Lotus: "Fire Is Coming" (feat. David Lynch)—About as freaky as you'd want a David Lynch collaboration to be.

HAIM: "Summer Girl"—If my pattern tracks, I'll be lukewarm on the next HAIM album when it comes out, even after being over-the-moon about its lead single. But whatever; I've worn this magical, warm, slinky little track out in the months since its release, and its Paul-Thomas-Anderson-directed music video is probably my favorite of the year.

Lil Nas X: "Old Town Road" (feat. Billy Ray Cyrus)—Undeniable. The two biggest pop songs of the year were off-format oddities by internet weirdos, and this is pretty much the only thing about the wider world of 2019 that made me feel hope.

Margo Price: "Cocaine Cowboy" (live on Jimmy Kimmel Live!)—"Cocaine Cowboys" came off Margo Price's 2017 record All American Made, where it's a brisk little blues stomp. But when Price performed it live on Kimmel's show, it became a Rolling-Stones-esque jam, the "Can't You Hear Me Knocking" of country music, if you will, and the result is some of the best music of Price's career.

Matmos: "Silicone Gel Implant"—Experimental duo Matmos is known for high-concept playfulness, and their 2019 album Plastic Anniversary is no different, an entire record crafted from sound samples made with plastic. This is my favorite track off that record, the most danceable, fun few minutes on the album.

Octo Octa: "I Need You"—I first listened to this warm, spacious electronic track late at night in the hospital after my son was born, which, as far as I'm concerned, is the best place to hear it. Hasn't left me since.

Powder: "New Tribe"—I also heard this in the hospital after my son's birth. It's the polar opposite of "I Need You": animated by an ominous, machine-like drive. It's just as infectious, though.

Sharon Van Etten: "Comeback Kid"—Van Etten pivots from a folksy sad sack to an anthemic sad sack. I can dig it.

Taylor Swift: "Cruel Summer"—The best purely pop moment on Swift's new album. In fact, the best moment in general.

Wilco: "Love Is Everywhere (Beware)"—Typical Wilco lyrics of oblique paranoia in relief against bright folk music. This elder-statesman stage of Wilco's career is a lot more complex than people are willing to give it credit for, and this track is a great example of that. It also has that effervescent guitar refrain.

Sunday, November 10, 2019

Mini Reviews for November 4-10, 2019

You know the drill. Reviews.

Movies

Parasite (기생충) (2019)
Believe the hype. This is easily my favorite Bong Joon-ho movie, mostly because it takes everything that he's good at—vibrantly realized characters within a pointedly genre framework, mordant comedy that curdles into bitter pathos, scenes of barely-hanging-together mayhem, wild shifts in tone, scathing anti-capitalist themes, scenes involving people being trapped hidden in a room while a couple has sex and then having to sneak out undetected as the couple snoozes in the post-coital glow—and does it all extremely well, while at the same thing doing a few new things, like wrestling in a very tangible way with the present realities of climate change, which feels like a first not just for Bong Joon-ho but also for this recent wave of mainstream-ish anti-capitalist cinema as a whole. A tragedy wrapped in a satire wrapped in a cracking thriller more than worthy of its clear Hitchcock influences, this is the kind of movie that starts out small and unassuming (a poor teen takes a job tutoring the daughter of an obscenely rich couple) and then proceeds to open up further and further until its scope is nearly unimaginable in its ambition; saying more would spoil what truly is a movie that really should be experienced blind. Among my top three movies of the year so far and not likely to move from that tier by the end of next month. Grade: A

The Laundromat (2019)
The whole hook of The Big Short was to render a subject too arcane or too boring for the general public to understand both engaging and capable of inspiring the populist, righteous anger that the subject clearly deserves. I know McKay's stock has fallen since, but I still think The Big Short is pretty successful at accomplishing that mission. The Laundromat, in its attempt to do for the Panama Papers what The Big Short did for the 2008 financial crisis, only has half the equation down, and it turns out that this sort of movie completely doesn't work without both halves in tandem. They got the righteous anger down pat; Soderbergh in the director chair and Burns in the screenwriter's... chair(?) are clearly pissed off about this whole situation. But somewhere along the way, this movie missed the part where it takes the arcane, boring ideas and makes them interesting. This movie is about a bunch of rich people going to absurd lengths not to pay their taxes; this should make me livid. It does when I read about things like this in the newspaper every day. But in The Laundromat, it doesn't. Here, it makes me yawn. The effect is curiously and unfortunately like listening to a friend go on a lengthy, furious tirade about a coworker you've never met from a job you're only barely familiar with. Points for passion, but... Grade: C

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (2019)
My feelings on Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark are pretty much identical to the other André Øvredal features I've seen, which are that it has some very good ideas wrapped in a dubious package. The good: the cinematography, the lighting, the capricious storytelling, the recontextualizing of the tales from Alvin Schwartz's book as mutating legends made real through pain and fear—oh, and of course the sequence in which the movie faithfully and horrifyingly recreates the eternally cursed image of the pale woman from Stephen Gammell's illustrations from the original book. This film's really not fooling around with the "horror" part of its quest to make a horror movie for kids, which is admirable. But then there's the bad/dubious. These characters have no life outside of the limited charisma its teen actors bring to them—debilitating for a story that revolves around turning these characters' fears into folk tales. And the setting is similarly undercooked: as far as I can tell, the movie is set in 1968 solely so it can use Donovan's "Season of the Witch" and make a strained metaphor out of Richard Nixon's election and the Vietnam War. Also, the obvious plug for a sequel at the end is dumb and forced. A mixed bag, for sure, but enough that I enjoyed to make me still curious about this Øvredal fellow. Grade: B-

The End of Evangelion (新世紀エヴァンゲリオン劇場版 THE END OF EVANGELION) (1997)
**If you're interested in my take on the series that led up to this movie, scroll down to the "Television" section of this post**
Before I watched it, I was well-aware of this movie's reputation as an ambitious, genre-bending head-trip and a landmark of anime. Yet even knowing that going in, I'm still gobsmacked that this is a movie that exists: a daringly inventive sci-fi yarn merging mecha anime with the Christian and Jewish mythology of Adam, Eve, and Lilith (!!), using a mix of gorgeously traditional and blazingly avant-garde animation to tell a story that's simultaneously a cosmic saga encompassing the entire human race and a bracingly intimate exploration of one human being in particular and his frightened, solipsistic psychology—all while satisfyingly wrapping up the anime series that birthed it (and much more so than the similarly surreal but narratively non-sequitur final two episodes of the show that this movie replaces), and doing it all in less than 90 minutes! It's one impossible premise stacked upon another, and that this movie is real at all is almost as miraculous as the fact that it not only pulled it all off but also did it brilliantly. Grade: A

Deep Red (Profondo rosso) (1975)
The plot barely hangs together, and I could barely tell you a thing that happens on a literal level. But the score—by Goblin, of course!—is great, and there are some exquisitely baroque kills. Breaking news: a classic giallo flick is classic giallo! Grade: B








The Phantom Carriage (Körkarlen) (1921)
I was expecting more horror and less melodrama from this Swedish gothic classic, but oh well—the melodrama is good, and the double-exposure effect that creates the ghostly image of the titular carriage and the lost souls that drive it is simply but extremely effective. The movie is moralizing to a fault—it's as much a morality play as it is a melodrama, with saintly Christian women and reprobate sinners and everything. But as heavy-handed as it is, that moralizing is also inextricable from the movie's power. I think if we're honest, we can all relate to the central anguish of the protagonist; we're not all horrible men who have ruined the lives of women and children, but most of us—or at least me—feel at least a little bit that horrible feeling that the movie strikes in its climax of realizing that some of our actions (however small) have caused actual pain in others that can never really be undone. The way The Phantom Carriage then intertwines that feeling with a rumination on death hits deeply at what is most disconcerting about mortality for me: not the idea that I will die in general but rather that there will be a point at which a period will be placed at the end of my life's work, and thenceforward there will be nothing I can do to alter what came before nor the effects that will stretch on after. I suppose this is a rather solipsistic approach to life and death, and neither the movie nor I let that be the only thesis regarding life and death on the table. But when The Phantom Carriage manages to contort its moralizing into this kind of existential horror, it's tapping into something primal. Grade: A-

Television

Neon Genesis Evangelion (新世紀エヴァンゲリオン) (1995-96)
I'm not super well-versed in anime, but I know enough to recognize how much the early-to-middle parts of Neon Genesis Evangelion give themselves over to the tropes of mecha anime. The first 3-4 episodes are pretty much exactly what I was expecting from a series lauded for its ambition and its subversiveness: beautifully drawn, compellingly realized, off-beat, and deeply human. But once the series starts getting deeper into the school hijinks and the "monster-of-the-week" format, it risks feeling a little stale as everything congeals into familiar shapes, even within its decidedly weird "Christian mysticism meets Ultraman" world: the gang does something wacky at school; there's a new "Angel" to fight; maybe Shinji has some interpersonal conflict at home with Asuka; repeat. It's never not fun to watch, but I definitely was scratching my head for a good stretch of episodes there, wondering why this series was so well-regarded and considered so groundbreaking. But as longtime fans of the show no doubt know, these gestures toward conventionality is just the calm before the storm of the final ten episodes, which radically alter the show and make it into the sprawling, cosmic, mind-bending Freudian psychodrama it's reputed to be. Arguably, the show needs to establish conventionality before blowing it up, and I guess that does give an artistic purpose to that middle stretch, though I don't think the series ever quite feels like a cohesive whole, more resembling a Frankenstein series stitched together from competing impulses rather than a unified thesis; this is even true within those last ten episodes, especially the final two, which plunge the series finale into high abstraction comprising of half-drawn frames and even just shapeless lines—either a "when the budget gives you lemons, make it avant-garde" flourish out of necessity or just a complete breakdown of vision on the part of director Hideaki Anno, I can't tell. Whichever the case, those final two episodes are a huge left turn, and maybe I'm stupid, but to my eyes it seems like a total departure from any sort of continuity the show had built up. It's really out-there, which I dig, but also, I can't help but feel that the movie The End of Evangelion (which is supposed to replace these final two episodes anyway—see my review above) does a much better job of this sort of abstraction while still remaining coherently connected to the arc of the series. Anyway, I dunno if Real Anime Fans will taunt me for this, but Neon Genesis Evangelion feels compromised in a lot of ways and not really the masterpiece I was led to believe it was. But the ways in which it is compromised are fascinating, and it's endlessly rewarding to think about, so if you're going to make a big mess like this, it might as well be this kind of beautiful mess. Grade: B+

Music

Lana Del Rey - Norman Fucking Rockwell! (2019)
I'm sorry, Mom. That's just the title of the album.

I've liked bits and pieces of Lana Del Rey's output before, but this album is a gigantic step forward, perfecting that sort of damaged kitsch / Americana-on-Xanax aesthetic she's been working on this whole time. Her dystopian chamber-pop squalor and Nancy Sinatra swagger come together to form this endlessly mutable environment in which both ten-minute lovelorn epics and wry, coffee-house covers of Sublime songs not only coexist but feel deeply personal. And all this is buoyed by some of the sharpest lyrics I've seen from any artist all year, which reveals her to be something like a female counterpart to the barbed-tongue, persona-obscured pathos that Father John Misty has been going for this decade. The album is entirely too long, and I probably would have cut "The Next Best American Record" and a couple other songs to bring this thing closer to 50 minutes. But even with the occasional slack in pacing, you're unlikely to find a sharper vision elsewhere in 2019. Plus, the title track is maybe the song of the year. Just sayin'. Grade: A-