Australian duo Simon Lam and Hamish Mitchell, AKA Armlock, are releasing album Seashell Angel Lucky Charm later this summer on Run For Cover Records, and single ‘Ice Cold’ is the ideal point at which to dive in. The Armlock style beams electronic music through the prism of indie rock, conjuring sounds at once ethereal and eccentric, something the album opener encapsulates perfectly. A lesson in minimalism which rather than forgo detail, offers it with a sense of purpose and control. Be that in the simple beat and subtle textures, or the pared-back lyricism which lends the track its ambiguous charm.

Ice cold ankle deep
Head tilt, turn a cheek
I won’t be around for the rest of the week
Takes one to know one
We were born in the air sign
I’m gonna come back with the sword you left behind

Seashell Angel Lucky Charm is out on the 12th July via Run For Cover Records.

Cereus Bright – Ride

Following on from recent EP Boys, a release we described as “an ode to every tired soul and person without direction,” Knoxville’s Cereus Bright is back with ‘Ride’, a brand new single via Nettwerk. Boys preached the value of giving in to life’s unpredictable currents, and the new single follows in a similar vein. A brightly peppy track imbued with enough forward motion to propel even the most uncertain person to confront their fears and seize the bull by the horns. “Do you wanna ride?” as the chorus asks, and with the momentum of the drums and warm psych-inflected textures, it’s difficult to refuse the offer. Watch the video below with visuals by Peel:

‘Ride’ is out now via Nettwerk.

 César Alvarez – Normal, IL

“Would it be okay to wander off?” asks César Alvarez on ‘Normal, IL’, the opening track from new album egg. “I’ll take the shitty car, I’ll leave the credit cards / Drive to the Midwest, sleeping at rest stops / Play jazz on the sidewalks.” Delivered with a tone somewhere between wistful longing and boundless curiosity, the song introduces an artist navigating the competing wills to preserve the moment and escape for good. Where life’s tiny details represent the component parts of everything we hold dear. Things to drag around year after year, things to hold tight to your chest in the hope of better days. “A few years ago I was under-employed artist parent trying to figure out how to survive capitalism and still be a composer,” Alvarez explains. “I was genuinely trying to figure out if we could keep surviving in NY. This song is that feeling of being about to give up.”

Gold Dime – Denise

Recently, New York art rock/post punk outfit Gold Dime released album No More Blue Skies via No-Gold, an album which took avant garde sensibilities and elevated them into cinematic experiences. Led by Andrya Ambro (formerly of Talk Normal), the project has long reached for increasingly inventive and immersive sounds. The new record feels like the closest they have come to the zenith of such a style, what the liner notes describe as “a widescreen, fiercely intense, hair standing up on the back of your neck kind of art rock.” Take opener and single ‘Denise’, a song somehow at once opaque and charged with clarity, Ambro’s vocals cutting through the volatile sax and shifting percussion to blur the line between foreboding and transcendence.

Watch the video directed by Andrya Ambro and Joe Wakeman below:

No More Blue Skies is out now via No-Gold and available from the Gold Dime Bandcamp page.

Kathryn Mohr – Cut (Low Cover)

Originating from a conversation between The Flenser and Planning For Burial’s Thom Wasluck, Your Voice Is Not Enough is a compilation of covers celebrating the breadth and beauty of Low‘s musical oeuvre. A whole host of Flenser artists and friends are involved, with VSF favs Midwife and Allison Lorenzen joined by Drowse, Have A Nice Life, Cremation Lily and Holy Water among others. The latest single sees Kathryn Mohr take on ‘Cut’, maintaining the sparse simmer of the original while deepening its shadowy corners with an electrified edge. “It was the lyrics that immediately drew me into this song,” Mohr explains. “The intimacy of a hair cut. The loss of a version of someone you knew as they turn themselves inside out to survive. It’s one of the saddest things in the world to me, watching someone harden and loose themselves to their pain.”

Your Voice Is Not Enough is out on the 24th May via The Flenser.

LEOBLU – full moon & snow boots

Julia Carlsson’s LEOBLU has caught our ears on a number of occasions in recent times, be it the gloom pop of single ‘Cake‘ or more recently a collaboration with Sad Dad which probed into the strangeness of love. “The impression is not one of grand gesture and romantic inevitability,” we wrote of the later, “but rather the sense of being exposed to mysterious forces. The physics of things larger than yourself, moving life beyond your control.” With new EP Blu Lucid Nightmare coming later this year, LEOBLU has returned with single ‘full moon & snow boots’, and again the track sees Carlsson setting personal emotions against larger, almost mystical backdrops. As though the natural world was our own longing manifest. Watch the video, shot in California by Hannah Gonzalez, below:

Blu Lucid Nightmare will be released later this year.

My Best Unbeaten Brother – Time on Our Hands, Spider-Man

Back in January we told you about My Best Unbeaten Brother, the latest project from the Parker brothers of Nosferatu D2, The Superman Revenge Squad Band and Tempertwig. Back then we were writing about standalone single ‘Slayer on a Sunny Day’, but as promised the band are now readying their debut mini-album Pessimistic Pizza, which will be release via Audio Antihero. To whet appetites, they have released lead single ‘Time on Our Hands, Spider-Man’, a mid-to-late-00s style indie rock song electrified with desperate emotion. Ben Parker says the song is about, “being a father and being a son, passing on memories of years and years of processing stuff and turning it into landfill indie, how we all need a Spider-Man or a Superman and how this doesn’t change the older you get,” which goes some way to illustrating the mixture of sadness, sincerity and frustration that sit just below the up-tempo surface.

Wild Yaks – Desperado

With almost two decades and (roughly) five albums under their belts, Wild Yaks have made a name with an affirming and often riotous brand of rock music, filling the gap between hopes and realities with a carefree embrace of the present. Out next month via Ernst Jenning Record Co. latest album Monumental Deeds feels like both a continuation of this spirit and the culminative product of twenty years spent pining and singing and howling at the moon. Born on a drive back to Florida lead Rob Bryn took with his 79-year-old mother, single ‘Desperado’ is a fitting combination of desperation and defiance. When the ghosts of past selves and possible futures are strung out on the road before you, sometimes the only option is to roll the windows down, put the pedal to the metal and feel that wind in your hair.

Watch the video below filmed on VHS tape by Renée Muza and edited by Sameer Kapoor:

Monumental Deeds is out on the 21st June via Ernest Jenning Record Co. and you can pre-order it now.

Zoya Zafar – Clumsy

“Time allowed Zafar opportunity to understand the tracks beyond the usual level, and thus gradually shape them towards their ideal, essential form.” So we wrote of Zoya Zafar‘s Some Songs, an album interrupted by real life difficulties which only came to realise itself more fully in the intervening years. Tracks like ‘Sweet Talk’ “condens[e] months of suffering into a single prayer released into an empty room,” as we put it in a preview, a testament to the value of patience and care brought to life with a tender folk pop style. Latest single ‘Clumsy’ invites the listener further into this space, a song produced by friend Gia Margaret which shares Margaret’s quiet, sometimes cryptic sincerity. “You were the light in the dark,” as Zafar sings, “giving away your sad, sad heart / living inside a house of cards.”

The post Weekly Listening: May 2024 #2 appeared first on Various Small Flames.

Following on from the magnificent Tender on Whited Sepulchre Records, Denver‘s Allison Lorenzen has returned with brand new single, ‘The Fourth Cycle’. The song probes into the multitude of emotions which accompany significant change, from bereavement to impetus and everything in between, without too much by way of intent or judgement. Rather its slow sound sits within this conflicted headspace, examining the situation’s each and every nuance, if only to ground itself as things around it shift and alter.

Annie Sumi x Brava Kilo – Chattels

A vehicle for artists Annie Sumi and Brava Kilo to work through their histories, Kintsugi is described as an “anti-racist, interactive, multi-disciplinary art installation” which explores ideas of heritage and historical trauma in the context of the Japanese Canadian internment. The installation opens this week at the Japanese Canadian Cultural Centre in Toronto, and the duo are also releasing an EP of the same name. Kintsugi, the Japanese practise of mending what was broken. First single ‘Chattels’ draws upon archival documentation which listed the belongings stolen from their ancestors during this period, both acknowledging the injury sustained through such losses and applying the imagery to the wider experience of alienation and stigma.

You can find out more about the project on the Kintsugi Installation webpage.

Gillian Stone – Raven’s Song

Writing of single ‘Amends‘ back in July, we described how Toronto/Tkaronto-based artist Gillian Stone combines post-rock and folk to explore themes of addiction and mental health struggles, with that track focusing on the anger stage of grief. Latest single ‘Raven’s Song’ continues the development, moving onto the bargaining period and complicated by what Stone calls a “state of limerence.” It’s a song which captures a mind seized by obsession through natural imagery. Stone carrying a torch through a nocturnal forest, a place of dark rivers and eyes in the night, hoping to go down to the water and snuff out the fierce burn in her hands. The song’s video was co-directed by Emma Buchanan and Amir Heidarian along with Stone herself. Watch below:

‘Raven’s Song’ is available now from the Gillian Stone Bandcamp page.

H.C. McEntire – Soft Crook

Following her 2020 sophomore solo album Eno Axis, H.C. McEntire has returned with a brand new single. Titled ‘Soft Crook’, the song is what McEntire describes as “an exercise in vulnerability and trust,” a slice of stark country rock that explores her experiences with depression. A refusal to shrink away from the experience in all of its struggle and pain, looking the beast right in the eyes and finding power somewhere deep within. Albeit not the power of bold action, but instead the quiet, lasting courage that comes with treating yourself with kindness and understanding. “The chorus became an anthem, of sorts,” McEntire describes, “a mantra for letting go of guilt in needing these things—whether medication or TV shows or other vices—to offer myself some grace.”

Do whatever dose you need to
to make it through the night

Half Gringa – Miranda

With new EP Ancestral Home coming early in 2023, Chicago‘s Half Gringa has shared the first single ‘Miranda’ as an introduction. A song which builds upon the themes seen on 2020’s Force to Reckon and last year’s single ‘Sevenwater’, it nevertheless takes a more introspective tone. The change mirrors the recording process, which saw Isabel Olive move away from the fast-paced collaboration of recent albums and back to the intimacy of her earlier solo work. “I love collaborating, but at heart, I’m very introverted,” Olive explains. “Having a rich inner life is essential to me, which I think can overlap with both collaboration and solitude. I sense that each project I work on demands something different of me, and I’ve been trying to listen to my own instincts for that more and more.” Check out the video directed by Olive along with Robert Salazar below:

‘Miranda’ is out now and available from the Half Gringa Bandcamp page. Ancestral Home will be released on the 27th January.

June McDoom – Stone After Stone

Raised in South Florida and now based in New York, June McDoom is readying the release of her self-titled debut EP on Brooklyn label Temporary Residence Ltd. Her music is influenced by a love for 60s and 70s folk, intricate jazz and early soul discovered while studying a degree in Jazz Performance, and the reggae of her childhood home. McDoom takes all the ingredients of typical folk music and updates it for new audiences and a new era, exploring themes of self-discovery and self-acceptance along the way. Lead single ‘Stone After Stone’ is a good example, the timeless vocals swirling amidst instrumentation that is rich and multi-layered, despite its hushed nature.

Kathryn Mohr – Holly

With new release Holly coming soon on The Flenser, California-based multi-instrumentalist Kathryn Mohr has shared the title track as the latest single. Building upon the spacious lo-fi soundscapes of 2020 album As If, the song sees Mohr embrace a stormier ambience, something drawn perhaps from the surroundings of rural New Mexico where she recorded the album with Madeline Johnston (Midwife). What results is no less introspective than the previous record but somehow larger, as though Kathryn Mohr has excavated a larger space within herself, complete with its own climates and depths.

wanted / need her / tell her father
hero holly / feeling sorry
heat up heaven to unsettle
feel it / hold it / take it slowly
out of reach of my hands

Holly is out via The Flenser on the 21st October and you can pre-order it now

Weeper – Petal

Based in Buenos Aires, Weeper is the project of Mary Craig, José Sanchez and Agustina Perrotta. Their latest release, an EP called Morale out now on Ghost Mountain Records, arose from a break the band took from working on a full-length album, a collection of six songs they describe as “self-soothing” which aim to comfort and console amidst life’s worries. Lead single ‘Petal’ illustrates this nicely, combining melancholy and solace with its fingerpicked twelve-string guitar and gentle melody. “Hanging on like a petal,” Craig sings, “aching through season,” on a track Weeper describe as “an ode to accompanying oneself through life.”

Ziyad Al-Samman – Hard To Say

After spending time in various bands around London, half-Syrian, London-based songwriter Ziyad Al-Samman decided to go it alone, developing a distinctive brand of psych pop which employs equal parts fun and feeling. Out via Handsome Dad Records, new single ‘Hard To Say’ is the ideal introduction for the uninitiated, a dreamy track which overlays retro nostalgia to the pressing present moment, serving as both a tribute to and subversion of classic pop. “I always wanted a charming and pompous ‘lala’ sing along on a track, much used by my favourites Pulp and Blur in their early writing, and this just fit the song perfectly,” Al-Samman says. “I like the innocence and playfulness it brings to the climax of the song. Did you know ‘la’ actually means ‘no’ in Arabic?” Watch the video directed by Andrea Mae Perez below:

‘Hard to Say’ is out now and available from all the usual places.

The post Weekly Listening: October 2022 #2 appeared first on Various Small Flames.

We’ve decided to expand things slightly this year, giving ourselves a chance to write a little something about the albums we wanted to cover but never got the opportunity. Albums which meant something to us at various points through 2021. Some cemented themselves early as our favourites of the year, others were relatively late additions that held our attention as the calendars changed, and a few break the rules in being albums released in previous years but earn their inclusion here having proved constant companions through last twelve months.

So here are some records we really enjoyed in 2021. We hope you enjoy them too.

22° Halo – Garden Bed

Lost Sound Tapes

Led by Will Kennedy (Sleeper Records) and supported by the likes of Heeyoon Won (Boosegumps) and Francis Lyon (Ylayali, Free Cake For Every Creature), 22° Halo are something of a Philadelphia DIY lo-fi pop supergroup. Their third release, Garden Bed is as sweet and soft as the peachy pink cover art, taking the gloomy fog of slowcore and holding a light beneath it, the cloud suddenly enveloping and bright. Paired with the earnest tenderness of Kennedy’s vocals, the songs come to feel like old companions. Fond and quietly contemplative, strangely familiar and hopeful in a manner not quite explicable. Songs easy to be around and easier to return to, comforting in the very fact they exist.

Advance Base – Wall of Tears & Other Songs I Didn’t Write

Orindal Records

In ‘Kitty Winn’, a song on Advance Base’s 2015 record Nephew in the Wild, Owen Ashworth described watching The Exorcist and recognising the actor from Panic at Needle Park. “It felt like seeing an old friend,” he sings, “The way I wondered where she’d been.” Ashworth has introduced us to a lot of characters of his own over the years, but Wall of Tears & Other Songs I Didn’t Write performs a different kind of introduction. Inspired by the conspicuous absence of karaoke during recent times, the release takes tracks from acts both old and new and reimagines them in the image of Ashworth’s distinctively hushed and empathetic style. With a mixture of classics (Lucinda Williams, Iris DeMent, St. John Prine) and contemporaries/Orindal Records label mates (Dan Wriggins, Gia Margaret, Wednesday). The collection will resonate differently depending on who’s listening, but chances are there’ll be at least one occasion where the introduction is more like a reintroduction. An old friend smiling through the years, suddenly before you once again. 

Cassandra Jenkins – An Overview on Phenomenal Nature

Ba Da Bing Records

“I’m a three-legged dog, working with what I’ve got,” sings Cassandra Jenkins on ‘Michaelangelo’, the opening track from An Overview on Phenomenal Nature. “And part of me,” she continues, “will always be looking for what I’ve lost.” It’s one of the few tracks that directs its focus on Jenkins herself rather than reflections from those around her. The record is inspired by the work of Indian sculptor Mrinalini Mukherjee, an artist who explored the line between allegory and abstraction with an intuitive fluidity, and Jenkins follows this lead to spin her surroundings into representations of her own. Be that the characters and objects encountered in the travel diary of ‘Hard Drive’, the accumulated wisdom of ‘New Bikini’, or the startlingly pretty instrumentation that builds across the record thanks to a whole host of musicians. Songs shaped by Jenkins’s careful but fleeting hand, like sculptures allowed to dissipate as soon as they have formed. Moments captured, meaning what they will.

Cla-ras – Five clusters

Lily Tapes & Discs

The first full length by multidisciplinary artist Jeremy Ferris, Five clusters takes inspiration from nature’s long game. With subtle intricacies growing from every crevice, its ambient folk style sees the organic slowly overwhelm the electronic, evoking ecology’s reclamation of abandoned industrial land. The sense of some circular pattern, the past returning as the future, post-humanity imagined as prehistoric verdancy. The sensation is both delicate and strangely visceral. Keyed into the botanical surface and the supporting undergrowth, where fine mycelium threads facilitate pungent decomposition, enriching the soil so that the songs might bloom with their damp, bodily life.     

Damien Jurado – The Monster Who Hated Pennsylvania

Maraqopa Records

The world of The Monster Who Hated Pennsylvania is familiar in the way a dream is familiar. Or is that foreign in the way dreams are foreign? Damien Jurado presents each track as a space between the known and unknown, their characters hanging on in the hope such positions are transitory, and in doing so blurs the line between the characters and the songwriter himself. Take Majestic centrepiece ‘Johnny Caravella’, which calls to mind ‘Percy Faith’ from The Horizon Just Laughed but this time takes inspiration from fictional DJ Dr. Johnny Fever from WKRP in Cincinnati. But ‘taking inspiration’ doesn’t quite capture the song’s true extent, as Jurado channels the fictional doctor, his delivery neither quite Fever or himself but a blend of the two. “Who’ll wear the crown when the change is approaching / Of some other season renown?” this hybrid figure asks as the track winds tighter with every line. This latent intensity is brought to the surface in the finale, an urgent beseeching that we hang on a little longer. “As I exited north the radio spoke / ‘All is not lost even if you’re without a direction’,” goes the final verse. “Go west, go west, 1972 / The sun hasn’t set, the stars very few / Just stick around ’til the light pushes into the darkness.”

The Felice Brothers – From Dreams to Dust

Yep Roc Records

‘Jazz on the Autobahn’, the opening track of what is The Felice Brothers’ eighth and perhaps most compelling record, finds two people fleeing their old lives. It’s never revealed exactly what Helen and The Sheriff are leaving in the rear-view mirror of their “doomed Corvette,” but what waits for them at the end of the road is imagined in vivid detail. Helen dreams of the apocalypse arriving as an anthropomorphic tornado, as poisoned lakes and acid rain, a force as “loud as a mushroom cloud” yet “ghostly like a glockenspiel.” The Sheriff disagrees, tries to “make a distinction between death and extinction” as Helen spits melon seeds and drinks 7-Up in his car. His is an apocalypse stripped of its fictions and graces. No saving angels, no hand of God, no spared billionaires on Mars. The track is the standard bearer of From Dreams to Dust. A record of cutting fury and crushing sadness set to rich and affirming rhythms. Poems and short stories packed with clever references and wry turns of phrase. A confrontation of the grim realities of our moment that nevertheless celebrates the fact of being alive. “What is freedom?” The Sheriff wonders in his closing verse. To be empty of desire? To find everything we’ve lost or have been in search of? Does it feel like jazz on the autobahn?

Giles Corey – S/T

The Flenser

The side project of Have a Nice Life’s Dan Barrett, Giles Corey picked up the threads of Deathconsciousness and followed them deep underground. The self-titled record, originally released in 2011 but given a new lease of life by The Flenser for its tenth anniversary, feels like a haunting committed to tape. At once intense and eerily hushed, spacious yet claustrophobic, lonely but never alone. A picture of depression as an intensely personal experience which nevertheless transcends the individual. A torment too large for a single skin. When ‘Empty Churches’ opens with paranormal investigator Raymond Cass talking of voices of unknown origin appearing on radio frequencies, the mood is not so much disturbing as alluring. A dimension beyond all this. Something to lose yourself in. To submit to. To hope for beyond all we know and can know, in spite of it all.

Grouper – Shade

Kranky

Described as a record about “respite and the coast, poetically and literally,” Shade is every bit as considered and in-depth as you might expect from an album fifteen years in the making. The mutual relationship between person and place is conjured with Harris’s cloudy abstraction, the line between strange and familiar blurred beyond its binary simplicity, and so too the border between intimacy and solitude. An overarching sense of a distance drapes over the record, evoking isolation in space or time, and the hushed tone carries with it hidden depths which speak to the unknowable nature of the sea. The result is simultaneously elemental and fundamentally human, and one of Grouper’s finest records to date.

The Hold Steady – Open Door Policy

Positive Jams

The Hold Steady universe has always been something of a gauntlet for its characters. A high-speed race with a whole lot of entrants but not so many finishers. To say Open Door Policy picks up with these winners is to assume the race has finished, when in fact it has merely changed. The participants are older, their communities atomised, their world having been sliced up and commodified by tech-savvy barons both ruthless and polite. In this way, the band’s eighth album feels a closer descendant of Craig Finn’s solo records than more recent Hold Steady records. A considered, cohesive album of narrative-driven songs which offer glimpses into the lives of imperfect figures dissatisfied or downtrodden and merely surviving. Finn & Co. mean many different things to many different people, but too often their work is (mis)understood as a mere good time. As though the joy of The Hold Steady is solely the joy of the party. But like so many of their records before it, Open Door Policy is proof of something deeper and more profound. The quiet, ugly dignity of humans persevering, and the irreplaceable value of a community to see them through.

KUZU – The Glass Delusion

Astral Spirits

Glass delusion is a manifestation of a psychiatric phenomenon witnessed primarily across the wealthy classes of Early Modern Europe where the individual feared they were made of glass. King Charles VI of France allegedly forbade anyone from touching him, so acute was his fear of shattering, and took to wearing protective clothing. It was a fear intensely human yet inorganic, recasting life as a path with danger around every bend. Chicago‘s KUZU throw us into such a heightened state, their improvisational jazz guarding its hand, leaving the listener no choice but to strap in and follow the slow-burning yet ever shifting lines. But from within the anxiety of this undetermined ride, an overarching conviction emerges. The sense everything is barrelling toward some spectacular finale. The dreadful shattering event. The screw turns and turns, the sound needling with increasingly deranged energy, leaving the listener like Gene Hackman’s Harry Caul at the end of The Conversation, tearing their surroundings rather than break apart themselves.

Leanne Betasamosake Simpson – Theory of Ice

You’ve Changed Records

Michi Saagig Nishnaabeg artist Leanne Betasamosake Simpson has made her name in poetry, fiction, music and scholarship, and Theory of Ice feels like a culmination of this body of work. A lesson in world building, in communication, in history and preservation and life. A weapon against settler colonisation that carries no dull weight or serrated edge, indeed no violence at all. “The settler colonial state is not hated, it is pitied,” describes Steven Lambke in the liner notes, “for its smallness, its evil, its perpetual cruelty.” Theory of Ice turns this force against itself, utilising an absence of violence to illuminate the absence within violence. The dark, meaningless lacuna at the heart of the imperialist project, a space never filled despite the visceral physicality of its rule. Moreover, Simpson evokes the persistent presence of the peoples who have suffered at its hand, kept alive in acts of community and gesture, in the work of a searching artist’s life. “In realization / we don’t exist without each other,” go the record’s closing lines. “She says: there’s nothing about you / I’m not willing to know.”

Macie Stewart – Mouth Full of Glass

Orindal Records

To describe the career of Macie Stewart is to describe a career of collaboration. The multi-instrumentalist founded bands such as Kids These Days, Marrow and OHMME, played as part of Ken Vandermark’s Marker ensemble, improvisational act The Few and with Lia Kohl as a violin/cello duo, as well as lending her talents to records by a plethora of acts including V.V. Lightbody, Whitney, Adeline Hotel and S.Z.A. But within these collaborations, Stewart became aware her own individual sound was being left to atrophy. Indeed, she had no idea what her individual sound might be. With its unflinching eye and succulent arrangements, Mouth Full of Glass represents an attempt to find out. An artist surveying their own inner workings through considered and open-ended exploration, leaning into solitude as a medium of discovery and learning from all that has occurred before without ever becoming beholden to the past. “What pleasure I choose to keep after I buried it deep,” as Stewart sings across the sinuous sax of ‘Garter Snake’. “Try to uncover it all.”

Michael Beach – Dream Violence

Goner Records & Poison City Records

On Dream Violence, Naarm/Melbourne-based Michael Beach reaches into the grab bag of rock history and fashions what he finds into something timely and unique. Imagine Neil Young meeting The Velvet Underground on a dark and hopeless night in our late-capitalist hellscape to muse on the meaninglessness of existence. Ripping rockers rub shoulders with heartfelt piano ballads and genuine, capital-E earworms, all in an attempt to communicate what Beach describes as “human futility, passion, desire, anger, frustration, and the struggle to maintain hope in a somewhat hopeless time.”

Natalie Jane Hill – Solely

Dear Life Records

Following on from 2020’s stunning Azaela, Natalie Jane Hill’s second record sees a reversal of perspective. Because while the first album looked to the expansive roll of the land for its focus, Solely turns inward to examine an environment far more personal. Themes of loss and loneliness emerge from this introspection, by-products of any quest for self-discovery, though Hill’s intricate arrangements are too deft and nuanced to be consumed by such emotions. What instead emerges is an ecosystem as detailed and changeable as any conjured on Azaela, an interior environment as mysterious as that of the Blue Ridge Mountains. One that holds the best and worst of life and, importantly, holds enough space to sit with both simultaneously, never losing sight of the possibility of change on the horizon.

Protomartyr – Ultimate Success Today

Domino

Across five albums, Protomartyr’s Joe Casey has cemented his status as a cynic in both the ancient and modern sense. A fatalistic Irish Catholic from working class Detroit writing songs that weave dense webs of references to ancient philosophy and arcane literature. The everyday man alienated, an outsider enraged at what is unfolding around him. Written during a spell of illness, Ultimate Success Today sees Casey confront not only his own mortality but the wider prospect of hope in the contemporary neoliberal society. His father, whose untimely death has haunted each Protomartyr album to varying degrees, died during a routine medical procedure, and Casey’s pain is matched by a dread of the doctor’s office. A cynicism of medicine rooted not in partisan politics or misinformation but existential terror—the sense even the surgeons won’t be able to save him. The explicit goodbye of closing track ‘Worm in Heaven’ might play as a cathartic acknowledgement of this fear, but Casey chooses to undercut himself, mocking his own attempts to conquer dread through music. A cynicism wrapped around itself to include a doubt in the utility or power of art. “Dumb aphorist embrace obscurants,” he sings of himself on ‘The Aphorist’, “and write in ogham for your final lines.” A cynic, old and new, to the very end.

R.A.P. Ferreira – The Light Emitting Diamond Cutter Scriptures

Self-released

Whether recording as milo, scallops hotel or most recently R.A.P. Ferreira, Nashville-based Rory Ferreira has been releasing some of the most inventive and interesting rap music of the past few years. The Light Emitting Diamond Cutter Scriptures is his most cohesive record to date, the full maturity of his lyricism on show without losing any of the DIY aesthetic that has long lended his work its authenticity. Because Ferreira is a rapper in the purest sense. A radical, a philosopher, a comedian. Interested in nothing but the words. “What’s morbid is there’s poets who want to be on the Forbes List,” he sings on ‘uptown 37’, “I will be gorgeous and homeless.” And gorgeous this is, the lyrics skating over a whole gamut of moods and subjects, reaching for whatever cultural reference he can get his hands on, however high or low. Where else are you going to find Ansel Adams, Inspector Clouseau, Euripedes and Mr Bean all living on the same record?

Renée Reed – S/T

Keeled Scales

Born into a family of musicians and folklorists, Renée Reed grew up amid the best of Cajun and Creole music. Her work contains a hundred shades and small details pointing toward this history, but its lasting influence is less tangible. A sense of intuition threads through the songs. A phenomenon which lends them a certain timelessness, the sense they haven’t been so much written as teased out of some half-remembered space. The intricate arrangements are rendered simple in their instinctive rhythm, Reed’s poetic lyrics given the weight of the land. “We’d stand in the dark and cry,” she sings near the end of the record, “Oh, if only we could / For our bones, they belong to the country.” These songs feel like they belong to the country too, Reed more a guardian than a creator. For now they are travelling with her, and a worthy custodian she makes. 

Space Afrika – Honest Labour

Dais Records

The UK has always been a kind of dreamstate. A society held up on imagined pasts and false notions, a deluded fantasy stretched to breaking point yet never relinquishing its hold. This dark dread is in the dense Twin Peakian synths of Honest Labour’s opening moments, but Manchester‘s Space Afrika are here to do more than recapitulate the moribund British dream. For within the dreamstate live the dreamers, and each dreamer—however isolated and despondent—has their own dreams. Feeling more like a documentary than album, the record details the visions of this nameless population. A tessellated blend of samples, field recordings and vocal cameos which emerge haphazardly from dark layers of instrumentation. The result is an expressionistic picture of a society, one dazed and delirious, left to wander this long night with all their love and fear and loss in the hope some dawn might lend this intangible reality some weight.  

Sun June – Somewhere

Run For Cover Records / Keeled Scales

Take a look at the artwork of Sun June’s Somewhere and you might see a pillar of smoke gradually fade into a pastel sky. The image is fitting for a sound they developed on 2018’s Years, a record of gently swaying country pop songs which traced feelings of loss and grief as they dispersed into the wider context of a life. Sadness drifting away from its source, becoming more translucent with distance but always present in some diffuse concentration. Though clearly building on the previous record, Somewhere sees a certain inversion. Love stirs from within the tracks and with it a poppier, full-bodied sound. The sense the quiet melancholy is coalescing into something more tangible and immediate, gathering weight and sinking toward some intensity on the ground. Perhaps we got it backward, we’re looking at the artwork upside down.

Tasha – Tell Me What You Miss The Most

Father/Daughter Records

In a year of weighty foreboding and needling menace, Tasha’s Tell Me What You Miss The Most came to represent a safe haven. An introspective album which excavates personal ground not as some exercise in regret or sadness but to carve a space in which to rest and ponder. Be it musing on the pasts that were and the presents that never came to be, or the unknown futures still up in the air. Imagery of beds and sleep recurs across the record, and the songs come to knit their own mattress and sheets. A place where time passes in reassuring cycles and the pressing outside is held at bay, one’s troubles suddenly small and tactile enough to be examined in the palm of a hand. 

Tobacco City – Tobacco City, USA

Scissor Tail Records

Listening to Chicago’s Tobacco City is to be transported to the imagined locale of its title, a loving patchwork of country music settings; like searching for radio waves from a porchside rocking chair or feeding quarters into a jukebox in the musty refuge of a dark barroom. Lonesome ballads wind slow with regret and pedal steel, folk songs get cosmic on sunburn and psychedelics, and honky-tonk shuffles flow easy as that three-beers-in second wind after a long day on the production line. Hard-earned wisdom sits side by side with wry humour, capturing the tragedy, hope and absurdity of broken people going about their lives the best they can. Riding out heartbreak on the buzz of cheap booze and bright lights. As Lexi Goddard sings at one point, “Being alone ain’t so bad when you’re half in the bag.”

The Weather Station – Ignorance

Fat Possum Records

“I never believed in the robber,” sings The Weather Station‘s Tamara Lindeman on Ignorance’s opening track. “I never saw nobody climb over my fence.” The lines contain a multitude of meanings. Stress a different word and you get a different shade of the album’s eponymous state. The robber doesn’t exist. At least to my knowledge. At least not around these parts. But the truth lies in the volatile swirl of instrumentation, a jazzy swell of cymbals and piano and drums, sax licking staccato like the devil’s tongue or the threatening word of God. ‘Robber’ is a confession, a plea, a waking fever dream. The colonial past and capitalist present manifest in all its unease. A violence which seeps out, haunting even the record’s most tender moments. Lindeman repeatedly turns to the natural world as an escape, from the birds of ‘Parking Lot’ to the “cold metallic scent of snow” in ‘Subdivisions’, the sky, the green, the soft of ‘Heart’. But as it says in ‘Loss’, “At some point you’d have to live as if the truth was true.” Nature might still persist, but it is the robber who built the world around us. His hand is still in our pockets. Even the sunset on ‘Atlantic’ is blood red.

Wednesday – Twin Plagues

Orindal Records

Though Twin Plagues is a record of memories, there’s nothing polished about the experiences being relayed, no rose-tinted gloss applied through repeated telling. There’s no nostalgia either. No intention to preserve or wish to return. Rather, Wednesday portray the past as something still present. The rugged surface across which the present is overlain. Its contours reveal itself on even the most ordinary days, be it in the gut-drop of a missed step, a suddenly interrupted view. Memories held for no good reason, not exclusively bad but always haunting. Memories as they return to you in dreams. The kid with a fucked up buzzcut. The burned down Dairy Queen. Birds in the air, flies in the bug light, brawls at the baseball and crossbows in old family photographs. Sometimes these memories are traumatic, sometimes they are sad, sometimes they mean nothing beyond their own shape and texture but then again, that’s just how life unfolds.        

Wendy Eisenberg – Bent Ring

Dear Life Records

Even in the crowded field of the internet age, Wendy Eisenberg stands apart in their prolific invention. Since the beginning of 2020, they have released at least five solo records (as well as working as part of Editrix), each offering intricate and thematically precise sounds which serve as frameworks through which to examine a particular space or time. The latest, Bent Ring, began as a self-imposed challenge to make an album with no guitar, but really stands apart in the direction of its gaze. A record looking back across a period of great productivity and achievement nevertheless attenuated by the hostile conditions of the surrounding environment. A contemplation of what it means to be an artist in our world, and how the endurance, commitment, frustration and joy of the vocation come to shape the artist too. With the earthy, temperamental twang of its salvaged banjo, Bent Ring encapsulates both the exhaustion and energy of an artist’s life, its steadfast rhythm always threatening to slow or speed up but ultimately pressing on regardless.     

Wes Tirey – The Midwest Book of the Dead

Dear Life Records

“Silos stand like chapels / Chapels stand like graves / Graves stand like corn / Corn stands like waves.” So opens ‘Bang the Drum Slowly’, a song which encapsulates the spirit of Wes Tirey’s tenth album. One populated with blue heron and crawdads and creek beds, a land of fields and factories stalked by stray dogs and innumerable ghosts. But more than a survey of this very American landscape, Tirey offers us characters too. People presented in snatches, sometimes nothing more than the distinctive ring of their voice. What emerges is not a clear narrative, at least not in the linear sense, but rather a patchwork of vignettes which combine into a picture far larger and more extensive. The dead are plural in this book, and each has their own story to tell.

Will Stratton – The Changing Wilderness

Bella Union

A fundamentally exploratory songwriter, Will Stratton has never been one to settle in a single groove. But if one feature has stretched through his work, it’s the art of introspection. But then came the late 2010s and the intensification of our rightward spiral down. Faced with such pressing political issues, Stratton went into The Changing Wilderness with a new desire to engage with the wider world. To write a record which might catalogue the atrocities of this moment. As he sings on ‘When I’ve Been Born (I’ll Love You)’: “The present is prosaic / The future, a disgrace / We can’t just look away now / It stares us in the face.” Capturing the tone of the record, the song charts the profound sickness of our times, and can’t help but slip back toward self-examination in the face of such horror. A search which emerges with no solution beyond a determination to face the worst undaunted. “When I get my prize, I’ll love you,” goes the chorus. “As the oceans rise, I’ll love you / When the air gеts thin, I’ll love you / If the fascists win, I’ll love you.”

If you enjoyed anything on this list, you may also be interested in list of songs we missed in 2021, which will be published shortly. And of course, there were lots of amazing records that we did write about in the last year, so have a look back through our Reviews and Previews sections to find more.

The post Albums We Missed in 2021 appeared first on Various Small Flames.

As we wrote in our review of Like Author, Like Daughter, Johnston developed the Midwife project during a residency at Rhinoceropolis, a Denver venue/co-op that was closed in 2016 during a period of high tensions around the safety of DIY spaces following Oakland’s Ghost Ship fire. Residents like Johnston found themselves evicted and forced to disperse across Denver to start over. But despite being closed as a physical space, the spirit of Rhinoceropolis lived on, not least in the friendships and creative partnerships that were forged there.

One such relationship was between Johnston and her Rhinoceropolis roommate Colin Ward. “He was my roommate and was the embodiment of that place in a lot of ways,” Johnston describes. “I was always learning so much from him, about life and being an artist. He was an amazing teacher and friend to me.” Sadly, Ward passed away in 2018, and Johnston turned to music to try to capture the ensuing, otherwise indescribable feelings.

Forever is the result, a six song record that the label describe as “a latticework of soft focus guitars and precise melodies—anthems of light piercing through gray clouds of drone.” Opening track ‘2018’ approaches the loss that formed the album’s context head on. “This is really happening to me,” Johnston sings, the track’s ethereal drift like the weightless descent of delayed grief. “Get the fuck away from me 2018.”

Single ‘Anyone Can Play Guitar’ is an attempt to square the enormity of grief against its thousand banal components. Johnston’s declarations—anyone can play guitar, fall in love, say goodbye—could be read as warnings, as self-deprecation, as fatalism in the aftermath of the loss. Maybe the sheer commonality of death makes a joke of us, or perhaps the shared nature of grief elevates us to a higher purpose.

But the confrontation of ‘Anyone Can Play Guitar’ cannot be maintained. The plaintive instrumental ‘Vow’ follows, like the jarring second slap of mourning that arrives later and always in solitude, a creeping, sinking finality that’s been waiting for the guard to drop. Anger and disbelief exhausted, the focus switches to memorial. ‘Language’ comprises of just one line, the first half of which is repeated across the four minute run-time. “How do I say this in every language?” Johnston asks, before following with the second half, delivered just once but with sledgehammer poignancy, “I will never forget you.”

The first half of ‘C.R.F.W’ is a poem read by Ward himself, capturing mortality in the image of a leaf falling away from a tree during autumn, a verse that is incredibly moving even without the prior context (the piece, which can be found in Junk Jet n°5, is experimental in form and presentation, so this is an approximation of the structure according to our display limitations):

d e a t h   i s   n o t   v i o l e n t

if  you ask the leaf on the tree in autumn if it is scared to fall off the branch, it will say,

‘i have given all I am to this tree, am tired, and i’ll float on down now’

imagine  the  way  a  breeze  feels  against  your  leaf   body
while  you  finally  don’t  have  to  hold  on anymore.

There’s a moment once these final words are delivered, the briefest pause of silence. When Midwife’s haunting tones reemerge, they do so as an extension of this. Non-silence as silence, sound as movement and light. The sensation continues into the fuzzed-out shimmer of finale ‘S.W.I.M’, and somehow works retroactively back through the preceding songs too. The record is not Colin Ward remembered but transfigured, absorbed into some greater energy, some bigger thing. Lost, but only to those left behind. “I wanted to write him a letter,” Johnston says, “I wanted to make something for him in his memory.” But Forever feels more like a letter from him to us. Hang on in there, he seems to be saying. Hang on until it is time to let go.

Forever is out now on The Flenser and you can get it via their webstore or the Midwife Bandcamp page.

Photo by Alana Wool

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The result is record strung between chaos and order, the electronic aspects kicking into patterns that nonetheless possess and unhinged edge. As such, the songs serve as the perfect encapsulation of a system gone haywire, a malfunctioning machine that does not break down but instead proliferates into absurd territories, creating a world that could be a comedy or a horror but, ultimately, is just our own.

We managed to ask Ignat and Felix a few questions about the album, so read on below.

Thanks for taking the time to speak with us. How are the days in the aftermath of releasing a new record?

Ignat: I can have some relief now. Not worry about posting stuff on social media as much. Not cranking out email interviews at breakneck speeds. The album release cycle is stupid. Admittedly, if you want anyone to listen to your music, you have to work for their attention, but that’s not why we do music. It’s a small sacrifice to make so we can go back to writing and recording and releasing. So, I’m mostly looking forward to that.

Felix: We tried to avoid the whole racket by just paying some people off the dark web to hack our tracks into some top Spotify playlists, but they just took our bitcoins and ran. Still, it’s nice to have anyone at all hear our work and connect with it, so worth all the hassle in the end. We’re really looking forward to playing more live shows as well.

If anything could be said to define the Wreck and Reference style it is its very refusal to adopt one, shape-shifting from record to record and burning the concept of genre. Is this fluidity and tendency to change a conscious effort on your part, or merely a natural side effect of how you work or see the world?

Ignat: I think it’s funny that everyone always asks this but no one bothers asking bands why they bothered getting out of bed to make the same record over and over. I like surprising myself when I write, like, can you get something out of yourself that you didn’t know was there? I’m sure some in the audience hate that. You spend a lot of time acclimating yourself to an artist, adapting yourself to a world where cucumbers are green and the sky is blue. Then they do something stupid and there’s an annoying inconsistency in the facade of reality that you have to expend effort smoothing out.

More specifically, I wonder if you could talk a little more about why an electronic direction felt right now? For me, there’s something digital, computerised about the whole experience that goes way beyond sound. Like the way the opening track just starts right away, as though you’re just tuning in to something that’s been playing all the time. It’s overwhelming in that way, because not only is it an unsettling, surreal place but it’s far bigger than you know.

Felix: We didn’t discuss this much beyond the decision to do all electronic drums on this one. What you’re describing sounds very much like the Internet, or at least certain corners of it. Log on and get 1000 gallons of sewage hosed directly into your eyes. But then you just scroll a little and forget about it all. It’s real and unreal and unrelenting and instantly avoidable all at once.

I think there’s a tendency for the weirder, heavier stuff to push into other worlds, be it for metaphorical use or plain old escapism, but for all of the alien imagery and distorted sounds, I came away from your record convinced that it’s a slice of realism. Do you have any thoughts on the realism/escapism divide? Is Absolute Still Life set in our world?

Felix: I think your read is correct, but I’ve never cared much for escapism. Fantasy, sci-fi, horror, superheroes, etc. all do very little for me. They all try to say something about reality, but they feel the need to spectacularize it. Just give it to me straight.

Ignat: We are big into realism, the hyper-human, the minutia. Although, abstractions can be nice because they lend a more poetic scene. There’s some balance to strike there.

I have to ask about the title and cover. What does it mean to you? I’m seeing a horror story of late capitalism, where even the finest objects, the carrots dangled in front of us, are mouldering and rancid.

Felix: A horror story about late capitalism seems redundant, no? Are people writing fairy tales about late capitalism? There is unparalleled splendor in this world and there is bottomless misery and abjection as well and all of it is rotting.

Ignat: Someone, and I would guess even a good number of someones, is probably out there writing fairy tales about capitalism. Capitalism hardly needs a fairy tale. It’s a system that depends on people being willing to exalt the worst parts of themselves, to become removed from an interconnected human reality, into a purely selfish one. Raw human baseness. That seems incredibly real and in no need of metaphor.

I’m interested in the use of cynicism in art. I read an interview with Joe Casey of Protomartyr where he wrestled with the tension being a songwriter and a cynic, someone disillusioned with everything yet driven to get up on stage and sing about it. Do you think there is some degree of hope in the very act of creating and performing art, however cynical that might be? Or is it just another layer of irony?

Felix: I don’t really understand this tension, unless you actually expect the songs you write and perform to have any meaning or effect. And recognizing that it won’t isn’t really an excuse not to do it. In any case, you should only be writing songs if you are compelled to do so, not as a means to some end. If you try to push something through your writing, the product is no longer a song, it’s a jingle.

Ignat: I’m not sure how much of a say we have in any of that.

Finally, we always ask this, but could you name four or five artists you think we should know about, however old, new, popular or obscure?

Felix: The only artist anyone should be listening to for at least the remainder of the year is David Berman. Pausing to listen to the new Richard Dawson would be acceptable.

Ignat: I liked the new Body Meat record. The Body and Uniform collaboration seems like it’s going to be a heavy ripper. Show Me The Body was good too. If your band name doesn’t have the word body in it, I am not interested.ᐧ

Absolute Still Life is out now via The Flenser and you can get it from the Wreck and Reference Bandcamp page.

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