In the beginning of Boy With Apple’s “Brighter Than The Sun” it sounds as though you’re about to be dropped into a late 90s Britpop song but in a move similar to what we heard on “Sugar” by Beach Fossils, Boy With Apple takes a sharp left turn not so much into lush post-punk but transportingly ethereal dream pop. The percussion accents and grounds the music with its steady yet expressive drive while the vocals sound like they’re coming from somewhere deep in a luminous cave. Keyboards hold a glistening melody as guitars surge and swirl like billowing clouds of effervescent tone. It sounds a little lo-fi but that adds to the mystery of the song like footage of a lost shoegaze band of the early 90s shot on sixteen millimeter two track audio capture. There’s a rough charm to it even though the song has a softness that makes it immediately accessible. Listen to “Brighter Than The Sun” on Spotify and follow Boy With Apple at the links provided.
Bonelang set the existential song “Dog Cannibal” to a fairly uplifting beat with an orchestral composition with a slightly urgent pace. But the vocals which include Kweku Collins trade couplets revealing slices of life that tie it to concrete experiences and those pondering the nature of what it all signifies beyond what we’ve come to think of as the good life like a sip of cold Coca Cola, and spending hours under the sky in the summer evening with “flashes of ‘Neighborhood #1’ by Arcade Fire” and learning about one another. But the question of was this life everything you hoped for even though maybe it was the one you worked hard to get. The rapid fire rapping in the last third or so of the song drives home that side of the song and the choruses of “maybe you can help me lick my wounds” and “dog eat dog eat dog” and references to a mouth like a guillotine sound like a call for help and the realization that maybe some situation you idealized revealed its not dark side so much as the hard reality of what it takes, the compromises and too often ruthless habits, to even merely get by in one’s chosen realized American Dream. Fans of cLOUDDEAD and maybe even Hymie’s Basement will appreciate the creative and precise wordplay and the eclectic soundscapes that weave together modern production and stylistic flourishes with classic pop song craft. Listen to “Dog Cannibal” (which is a clever way of saying “dog eat dog,” of course) on Spotify and follow Bonelang at the links below.
Listening to Lillian Blue Makin’s song “Nicotine” and you can readily visualize the path she takes while smoking and trying to wean herself from a relationship that’s over even if the feelings aren’t there yet. And parallel to that the line about not smoking another cigarette when the pack is done brilliantly ties the experiences together in your mind and how quitting cigarettes or even giving them up for even awhile can be so challenging because it’s become a habit of life the way some relationships can be and you get to the point where you’re not sure why you’re holding on to either habit. The song is just over three minutes but it feels so short and says so much and when Makin sings how she hopes “this feeling goes away in time” it feels like that better instinct in your head coming forth to nudge you in a direction better for your physical and psychological health. The image of the lingering feelings burning out over time like a pack of cigarettes is also as fine a symbol as you’re likely to hear in a song any time soon. The textural guitar and spare percussion and keyboard accents with a subtle flourish of harmonica bring to the song a pastoral quality to the song especially in the end where it feels like things are going to resolve in a positive way even if the low key pain of missing someone you’re not getting back together with again still lingers. Listen to “Nicotine” on Spotify and follow Makin at the links below.
Belgian hip-hop duo blackwave. gives us a downtempo map charting a path and a course toward self-care from being too heavily on one’s life’s grind with its song “good day.” The two vocals work so well in sync in the beat it keeps up momentum in a song about very serious personal issues and with the horns and percussion accenting the rhythm it comes off like an experimental hybrid of jazz and pop underneath the rapping. The song is about getting stuck and stagnating because you’ve spent so much time and energy hitting it hard for your job and maybe your creative projects or other personal goals you ignore that side of your emotional life that turns into melancholy then depression and anxiety when you don’t remember that you can’t sustain a headlong pace forever. The line “I’m just feeling like a bootleg version of myself” really speaks to that mode that’s easy to slip into when you think you’re doing what you want when you’re really doing what you feel you have to past a certain point because there’s only so much of you to give and that amount can change day to day and where ignoring those limitations can burn you out so that no you can’t keep on seeming like you’re living your best life. The song in the end is a reminder to honor your humanity and your limitations so that you can live in a way that not only doesn’t burn you out but those around you. Watch the video for “good day” on YouTube and connect with blackwave. at the links provided.
If the Tracey Ullman Show were rebooted in 2022 its intro music and video might sound and look a lot like what Child Seat has going with its single “Fever Dream.” The summery melody, uplifting vocals and expansive dynamics sound like a futuristic mutant form of 80s synth pop, one that came in the wake of MGMT and Matt & Kim. Madeleine Matthews and Josiah Mazzaschi in their reflective silver frocks that look like repurposed car windshield sun reflector pads performing in a windswept desert location at points, in others in shiny garb and in yet other scenes frolicking around a pool in an abandoned oasis give the impression of not just surviving but thriving in a time where civilization has collapsed and they’re having to make their own fun and send it out into the world as a signal that it’s not all dystopian hellscape. I mean who could think someone with a bad blonde wig and a blow up sax wailing on that solo isn’t a sign that maybe it’s okay to have some good times? Which is of course a humorous science fiction take on the world we’re living in now. Watch the video for “Fever Dream” on YouTube and follow Child Seat on Instagram.
The sound of contemplative reflection at twilight runs through Ethan Woods’ “Chirin’s Bell.” Tonally its reminiscent of Nick Drake and the impressionistic compositional quality of the music lends itself similarly well to establishing a mood and dreamlike imagery. Hushed drones, processed lap steel and simple acoustic guitar melody with spare percussion to give the track some texture help to make vivid what sounds like the story of a sheep taking stock of its life as a metaphor for the roles we internalize as a matter of life circumstances and the weight we put on ourselves borne out of how that living circumscribes our dreams and aspirations until we learn to dream differently. But also reconciling one’s upbringing and background with establishing your own identity and accepting where you come from rather than reject it outright. People that don’t go through this process often end up going back to their roots in a perhaps misguided attempt to rediscover what they feel they lost. But this song doesn’t seem to be coming from the perspective of life post-self-liberation, but of considering the essence of one’s life to which one was born but considering what else might be possible for yourself. Lines like “I itemize the time you take with your indecision,” “I wonder to myself did I fuck up with my big plan” and “beyond the wooden fence can remain good friends” point to those strains of thought that take you out of mundane existence for a moment. The dramatic arc of the song is subtle but reaches a peak with all the musical elements swelling with the rise in intensity of the vocals wondering again about fucking up but then outros to returning to reminiscing being a part of the herd while considering leaving it. Listen to “Chirin’s Bell” on YouTube, look for Ethan Woods’ second solo album Burnout due out April 29, 2022 through Whatever’s Clever and follow the artist at the links below.
With a brisk pace and expansive, ethereal guitar melody over a steady urgent rhythm “be that someone” by Mexican post-punk band mercvrial is a surprisingly incisive commentary on the deleterious effect of social media. In the music video for the song we see people looking at their phones for the brief validation of likes on various social media platforms and how it syncs up so well and so insidiously with the work culture in late capitalism wherein people need to show they’re grinding for increasingly diminishing rewards and settling for truly ephemeral benefits. We see in the video the ways in which people advertise for themselves by posting a cultivated image of success and performative presentation of living their best lives all the time when anyone living in the real world knows can’t be true or certainly not sustainable. What makes this commentary accessible even as it shows how a system of technocratic rewards and punishments self-sustaining by our participation is eroding our collective psyche is how upbeat the song comes off and how the video shows the supposed good times posted to social media can convey a false picture of psychological health and vitality. At least until the end when a couple that seems to be getting along but there’s the dating app showing a match so on to the next exciting thing even if there’s no way of knowing it will be exciting. It’s easy to see people as interchangeable and as an option when the illusion of such is at your fingertips. The reality is probably more complicated than that but we’ve all seen that dynamic and perhaps even been or are a part of it to varying degrees. And yet we all know we can do better than this even if the instant dopamine shot from these micro brain stimulations of social media engagement give us is hard to let go. This song is about that and the lyric of “be that someone that everyone loves” sums up the root of the issue perfectly. Watch the video for “be that someone” and follow mercvrial at the links below.
The softness of “I Saw The Egg,” the title track from Battle Ave’s new album, hearkens back to turn of the century indiepop and the psychedelic alt-country of Sparklehorse. Spare percussion, likely electronic, accents the informal rhythm of the simple keyboard figures that intertwine and trace the outer edges of the song’s introspective daydreaminess. Guitar stretches to fit the flow and spike of mood in the last half of the song like Adrian Belew guesting on a particularly delicate Modest Mouse single. It fits in well with an album that sounds like it’s from another time that utilizes elements of musique concrète with traditional pop songcraft informed by a gentleness of spirit that makes the record easy to take on as a whole with songs about reorienting one’s life and priorities to make room for aspects of lived existence neglected while you’ve been putting all your energy and momentum into a professional pursuit or some other personal goal without as much attention paid to the things that make doing so sustainable. Balancing adult responsibilities with one’s creative life needn’t be diametrically opposed, after all, and requires a simple adjustment of one’s habits and cognitive orientation which this song alludes to with poetic imagery. Listen to “I Saw The Egg” on YouTube, check out the rest of the album on Bandcamp where you can also purchase the cassette and download and follow Battle Ave at the links below.
The winsome strains that introduce Salarymen’s single “Rerun” sound like a portal to a place outside of normal time. Its nostalgic melody reaches into the same emotional realms that made the songs of Tennis, early Beach House and Snail Mail so appealing. But Salarymen wax into an Alvvays-esque flavor of indiepop that seems as personally mythical as it is imbued with an immediacy that refreshens the mind. The video depicts the members frolicking around the shore of a body of water that looks like a lake but could be big enough to be the ocean which, intentionally or not, serves as a metaphor for the colorful swirl of the song’s appeal as something that feels like a peek into private musings about life but a commentary on the nature of human existence and the importance of our own little corner of all of that beyond our utilitarian role in society. Watch the video for “Rerun” on YouTube and follow Salarymen at the links provided.
“Survivalist” is the lead track from Keith Monacchio’s new album, his fifth as a solo artist, Under a Nightlight Sky. It has a lively beat and sounds like something you’d expect to hear at a honky tonk though it’s more rock and roll than country but would fit in either context. As the title suggests it’s a song about one of those people who has way too much faith in their own independence and efficacy as a human being. The kind of preppers who are paranoid about “communists” taking over the USA, of BLM and Antifas [sic] launching widespread criminal violence, critical race theory ruining public schools in which it’s not even taught and the whole host of conspiracy theory fueled, conservative wingnut beliefs that get fools to horde guns, ammunition, food, water and medicine in bunkers under the supremely misguided belief that the Second Amendment to the United States Constitution and a right to bear arms means you can and should have as many guns as possible in case a tyrannical government is in charge when, really, a functioning, robust democracy and a just society with equitable economics would stave off most problems and result in a stronger country. And besides, a tyrannical federal government could just send in supersonic drones to drop more ordinance than any militia group and certainly more than any individual can handle, no Ruby Ridge or Waco style stand-off required. But Monacchio handles this subject with humor and with some concerned affection for someone who might actually be in his life who has gone off the rails with the hope this person can be coaxed back from the ledge. And it’s Monacchio’s hope that gives the song the proper, non-judgmental but not indulgent tone that the subject deserves. It’s a great introduction to an album of introspective songs about the nature of familial relationships between parents, children, one’s role in those situations and where it all intersects with political tribalism and hoping beyond any current signs otherwise of a future in which there isn’t so much conflict and existential crises that push people into strange types of acting out and adopting deviant beliefs under the assumption that holding those ideas dear will protect them from what they think threatens their lives and senses of self. Listen to “Survivalist” on Soundcloud and follow Monacchio at the links below where you can listen to the rest of the album on Bandcamp.
Queen City Sounds and Art 
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