30, Rachel S.

I would like to start off my review by saying I deeply, deeply respect an artist as massively popular as Adele, being willing to take up so much space on an album with her own complicated, painful, feminine feelings.

I can definitely feel the influence of film composers who worked on it. I mean HELLO "Strangers by Nature" and "Love is a Game," La La Land wishes, you know? Sonically, I think it may be Adele's most ambitious album yet. Her best? Who am I to say, really? But for an artist who so famously likes to stay in the realm she knows and the one she's mastered, she's certainly jutting out her elbows into some different territory on 30 ("Cry Your Heart Out," "Can I Get It"). For those who doubted the range, this album really begs to differ.

I often have mixed feelings on the use of personal recordings and talking interludes in songs ("My Little Love"), but Adele is the kind of artist who can. She has the status for that, if you will. The album is about her divorce, and she really wants to bring you in as deeply as possible. She's often very private about her personal life, and I admire how she uses her art, much like Beyoncé, to craft and own the narrative around it all. Plus, WOOOOOOoooooooofffffff I was not prepared to listen to Adele sniffle and cry about truly feeling lonely. After the isolated eighteen months we've all had, it hit pretty hard. I know we all kind of joke about Adele's music being the kind you cry alone in a bath to... but, yeah, it sure fits the brief.

Another personal favorite of mine is "Woman like Me." What's not to love about a woman sitting in her power? "Don't think you quite understand who you have on your hands... Complacency is the worst trait to have, are you crazy?" THE WAY I FELT THAT IN MY BONES. I say this as a happily married woman, who, prior to my husband, dated a lot of dingbats who couldn't be bothered to hold onto a good woman if their life depended on it. The au-dac-i-ty. We don't get to say it enough, let alone hear it from one of the biggest voices in music. It feels good. It's validating.

Which brings me to my next point, Adele the writer. Yes, we all know she is the voice (I mean, my god, "To Be Loved"), but she is also the writer, the musician, the artist. With most songs clocking over four minutes, she's taking her time and I have all the time for it.

Though all of Adele's albums feel personal and massively emotive, this is the album where I feel the most I understand Adele the person. It's an album about living with yourself after making a decision that upended your own life and the life of your child—if for no other reason than your own happiness. Women are often made to feel selfish and guilty when we put ourselves first, but it's actually the least selfish thing to live a better life. To be loved, by ourselves first.

It's obvious I am a huge fan. I ain't trying to hide it. My late father introduced me to her with 19. So, yeah, there will always be a special broken piece of my heart that Adele gets to occupy. I wish I got to share this album with my dad. He loved her voice and how she harkened back to the great jazz standard singers. So yeah, if you dunk on this album, you're dunking on my dead dad's taste, HAVE FUN LIVING WITH YOURSELF AFTER THAT.

Lastly, If you listened to 30 and thought "too much," I am begging you to examine that response and why Record Club has all the time for sad shoegazey men but often wrings hands over women and their feelings. I'm just saying!!!

P.S. What a year for divorce albums. Though Kacey Musgrave's star-crossed did less for me than her previous work, I love how unafraid she was to SAY IT. She really SAID. IT. I just missed the country sound. Ah well, I guess I can always listen to the Chicks' Gaslighter for the umpteenth time.

P.P.S. Red (Taylor's Version) has a lot of really great new treats, particularly "Nothing New." Sure all the "vault" songs aren't all hits, or bangers (kind of like Evermore, oops I said it!), but I have to respect her for going through such a labor of love, just so she can own her work and still give fans something new. You can't say she doesn't work hard, y'all. The ten-minute version of "All Too Well" is another song that brought me right back to my dating days of dudes who were like "lol what do you mean you have feelings? You're so needy!" after six months together "hanging out." My hat goes off to her for being willing to revisit that period of her life, because YEEESH was it rough for so many of us. Now, if only she'd do less with Ed Sheeran (snooze).

30, Joe

30 for 30.

 

(1) This shit sucks. It always has. It always will. I cannot believe I just spent an entire week listening to goddamn Adele. I hate it. I fucking hate it so much.

(2) It's not something that I "don't get." It's not like ambient music, or post-hardcore, or something like that. I get it. I understand why this is popular. (3) It's not even like something like Post Malone, which is bad in a completely different way but similarly mega-popular. That music barely even qualifies as music at all, and yet people still love it. (4) This? Adele? It has actual melodies. The singer is actually competent. There is a structure to this music. It makes sense that it is popular.

(5) So when I say it sucks, I guess I'm really pointing the finger of accusation to the general populace. You—yes you. You like some boring ass shit!

(6) I've always hated Adele's music. It stresses me out that such a great vocalist is putting her talents to utter waste with the most vanilla bullshit blue-eyed-soul fucking trash. And it especially stresses me out that this is what we have decided as a culture to collectively enjoy. Earth is fucking doomed.

(7) Adele is music for people who say they "listen to pretty much anything." When people say this, they mean that they will listen to anything that the algorithm says is safe to listen to. They don't know what they like, and they give up their say in the matter. America as a collective whole has looked toward the sky and opened their gullets and have allowed the corporate tastemakers to spoonfeed them the most generic ballads that have ever been written. They take their medicine and call it art. Fucking bullshit.

(8) I refuse to equivocate in this review in the manner that I usually do. There's no need for it here. Adele isn't some niche artist whose reputation could be legitimately sullied by a negative review. She is one of the most popular artists on the planet right now, if not the most popular. (9) People still buy her music, that's how popular she is. (10) She is so popular that she literally put the vinyl production industry at a standstill because people are buying so many of her albums.

(11) So I'm doing nothing here. This is all hot air. I'm screaming into the infinite void. I'm punching up at a target so high that I could never possibly land a punch. This is just me getting out some of my frustrations for the week. Adele can handle it. She's untouchable.

(12) Fine, you want some equivocation? Here ya go: 30 is not comprised entirely of slow ballads. They are there in large numbers, but there are fewer than I—a man who has never listened to an entire Adele album before, let alone twenty times, jesus fucking christ—would've guessed.

 

(13) Look to "Oh My God," which I fucking despise, which does that fucking thing I hate where she's just using filler words instead of writing actually lyrics (the "mmmmmmm / yeaaaaaah" gave me hot flashbacks to when I raked Weezer for the same transgression), but which, sure, isn't a ballad. (14) She's trying something different. It doesn't work, and I fucking hate it, and it really is just boilerplate 21st century pop music by a different name, but sure, yes, (15) different than what I expected from Adele.

(16) Look to "Can I Get It" too, if you want, i.e. if you're looking for something that isn't a slow shitty Instagram-influencer-performatively-crying-on-camera ballad. (17) It's a Max Martin song, obviously. The man is brought in when you want a surefire hit. He is from Sweden, where all pop music producers are from. He knows that you need a whistle as a hook, and he puts one on here. (18) I have no doubt that "Can I Get It" is or was near the top or at the top of the Billboard charts. It is factory produced for your pleasure. Fuck this shit.

(19) Those two songs are right in a row, and if they stray too far from the tried-and-tested Adele, don't worry, there's "I Drink Wine" up next, which, I dunno, tries to be like a gospel song or something. It's boring and slow and feels like it's trying to be a meme ("all moms are alcoholics who hate their kids"). Get this shit away from me please.

(20) I will say this: I take offense to the charge that I dislike this album simply because it is made by a woman who is singing about her feelings, like I'm being sexist if I hate this shit. It's not the fact that Adele is a woman who sings about her feelings that bothers me. It's the type of music that she has decided should convey those feelings that bothers me. (21) We've reviewed music from plenty of women in the past who sang beautifully and from a place of sincere emotion, but who also had the tunes to back it up. Think Diana Ross, or Tina Turner, or Shania Twain, or Bully, or Yola. All of these women were singing about their emotions (some of them even specifically about broken romances), but they got fiery about it. They took sadness and turned it into power. They got creative with it. They didn't stand on a fucking stage and show the audience the single tear that is dripping down their face and then wait for the applause. (22) They took agency in their emotions. They made their emotions exciting for the audience. It has nothing to do with Adele's gender or her feelings. (23) In fact, I would probably hate this fucking dreck more if it was a man making it. (24) I know I'm not some paradigm of feminism. I've made plenty of mistakes in the past. But I am trying. I'm trying to enough to render fucking insane the idea that I dislike this music because it was made by a woman.

(25) I dislike this music, though, that much is very, very clear. (26) It was a cruel thing, to self-inflict this pain over the past week. I guess at least we have that in common, me and Adele. (27) We were both miserable. Except in my case, 30 just made things worse, whereas in Adele's case, she can dry her tears with large piles of money. (28) She has cracked the code, folks. She has figured out that America just love themselves some fucking ballads. If you make 'em ordinary enough, then they become palatable for all the people who listen to one fucking album in the entire year, and it's the one they bought at fucking Target.

(29) I'm the loser here. I know that. No one is denying it. And I'm a sore loser. I hate that this trite tedious bullshit has won. I hate that its victory is rubbed in my face every year that Adele turns a year older. Fuck this shit forever. Bury it a hundred miles underground, and only dig it up if Adele decides to start a punk band.

(30) GRADE: 1 puke out of 5 (my kids liked it, and I'm trying not to give 0/5 pukes to any art that they like, regardless of how terrible it is)

Top Ten First Sentences from Sunny’s 2021 Record Club Reviews

submitted by Nate

It's a testament to Sunny, quickly becoming the adjunct professor of American music critics, that narrowing down his opening salvos was difficult enough that I briefly considered expanding this list to 20. Hard choices are the ones most worth making. As always, I will not be linking back to the reviews, go explore the tags.

10-8: First messages sent to people on Tinder that Sunny is interested in, but not THAT interested in

10) My friends of friends have always liked heavy metal.

9) A few years back I went on a date to a Guster concert.

8) You like Phil Collins?

7: Just because it's jargon doesn't mean it's wrong

7) Pop music is a bit of a dipstick, taking a little sample of the engine oil to get one sense of how the pop culture vehicle is running.


6-4: Crisis; mid-life

6) Wew, where does a decade go?

5) Do I love buttered bread?

4) I clearly have weeaboo or otaku or adjacent tendencies.

3-2: Blogging, diagnosed

3) I am unsure how to pull this album review together, so I am simply going to share some outlined, unconnected (& too-personal-to-be-interesting) musings about Weird Al.

2) The summary for this album is found right there in the opening and closing tracks.


1: Fuckin' A, dawg.

1) What's to say here?

End of Semester Blues

Woof. Tough week. Back in undergrad, every single end of the semester would bring with it an onslaught of procrastinated papers and a general sense of dismay. It happened all eight times. It's happening again right now. I'm right in the middle of finishing up two rather large papers, as well as prepping a group project (as well as transitioning into a new role for my actual job), so shit really sucks.

Thankfully, one of the papers calls us to apply the theories we learned in class to a movie character, so I'm doing Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Instead of blogging today, I'm going to drop the rough draft of the intro here. No time for anything else! One might even say I need... a day off?!?!?!

Movie Summary
    I will discuss in this paper the 1986 film Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, focusing mostly on the titular protagonist. The film opens with Ferris Bueller, eighteen years old, faking an illness in an attempt to skip school. His parents buy the ruse (though his sister Jeanie does not), and his is thus left to his own devices for the rest of the film.
    Along with his best friend Cameron (who is home from school due to being legitimately ill, though is eventually convinced to join Ferris in his day off) and girlfriend Sloane (whom Ferris sneaks out of school by pretending that her grandmother has just died), Ferris commits to a carpe diem-fueled odyssey through the city of Chicago. Such activities include stealing Cameron’s father’s expensive Ferrari for a joy ride, visiting a Cubs game, enjoying paintings at the Art Institute of Chicago, and, in a climactic and rapturous dance sequence, lip syncing to the Beatles’ cover of “Twist and Shout” atop a parade float during the Von Steuben Day Parade.
    Throughout the film, Ferris breaks the fourth wall, ruminating on what life will be like after high school for him and his friends, an exercise that no doubt incites his fundamental desire to “live life to the fullest” while he still can.
    His sister Jeanie spends the majority of the movie distraught over the fact that her brother seems to be able to get away with everything (and she humorously learns that her brother’s fake illness was so convincing that the whole town seems to be under the impression that he is dying). Meanwhile, Ferris’ high school principal, Ed Rooney, becomes obsessed with Ferris’ absence as well, convincing himself that Ferris is “getting one over” him. His obsession drives him to break into the Bueller residence, where Jeanie kicks him in the fact in self-defense.
    After a long series of misadventures, Ferris rushes back home to keep the ruse alive. He jumps into bed right before his parents get home, and they dote on him, under the assumption that he has been in bed the entire day. Ferris ends his day off, uncertain about the future, but certain that “life moves pretty fast, [so] if you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

Top Five Tuesday: Underrated 2021 Bands

When I say these bands are "underrated," I'm accusing myself of doing the underrating. These are the best bands who 1) released an album in 2021, and 2) weren't mentioned at all on PoYB's Top Albums and Top Songs of 2021 lists.

5. Anna Fox Rochinski

Cherry is the electro-psycha-dance party that made exactly zero impact on me, but it's an album that nevertheless I find myself returning to pretty often here at the end of the year. 

4. Parannoul

To See the Next Part of the Dream was unlike anything I listened to this year, and I don't necessarily think that's always a good thing. But it sometimes is. I like being awash with loud noisy emo-shoegaze-type shit. I don't necessarily think I need an hour of it, but so it goes. Let the internet weirdos exhalt Parannoul. This internet weirdo is only somewhat smitten.

3. SPELLLING

I love the name "SPELLLING," I love most of the Kate Bush adoration, I just think that maybe it didn't have to get boring 3/4ths of the way through The Turning Wheel. That first 3/4ths is wonderfully strange, though.

2. Turnstile

Try as I might, I can't quite understand hardcore music. It speaks a different language. Credit Turnstile for having the longest leash and wandering as far away from hardcore as physically possible while still being "hardcore." I'd still feel uncomfortable singing Turnstile's praises. I haven't earned it.

1. Greta Van Fleet

Interesting! The novelty seems to have worn off this Led Zeppelin cosplay. I don't hear nearly as much chatter for The Battle at Garden's Gate as I did for Anthems for a Peaceful Army. This is a good thing. It's a little easier to like Greta Van Fleet when 99% of the internet isn't chirping about how much they hate Greta Van Fleet.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Angel Du$t (unlike Turnstile, Angel Du$t just straight up isn't a hardcore band); Another Michael (better than some Pinegrove, worse than other Pinegrove); Chvrches (Chvrches are back); Foxing (left off the above list out of spite because Dwyer texted me to ask why Foxing wasn't on any end-of-year list); Harmony Woods ("Rittenhouse" was like #23 for Best Songs, for obvious reasons); Hurry (a very normal appreciation for this band, nothing stood out, but man is it pleasant); the Staves (let me bathe in those harmonies).

Song of the Week: "Le Freak"

All songs point to nowhere, or to the playlist.

"Le Freak"

Chic

from C'est Chic

1978

Years ago, we had "baby's first song" (which ended up being "Bamboo Bones" and "The Flinch" for my kids, respectively), but we've officially reached a new musical milestone. Willow has a certified first "favorite song," of her own choosing. She is familiar with the idea of having a "favorite," and is cognizant enough of the music she hears to be able to pick a favorite. That song is "Le Freak," which she refers to (understandly so) as "Freak Out Freak Out!"

I suppose it wouldn't surprise anyone that she became familiar with the song in the first place because of a Disney movie. Here's Ken trying out different outfits in Toy Story 3, soundtracked by "Le Freak":

But that's not why we're here. Honestly, it's just cool to know that my daughter has a favorite song, and that her favorite song is a legitimately good song. So good that I had no qualms about finally getting around to downloading a Chic album, and thus finally being able to play "Le Freak" from my iPod when requested, which happens a few times a week.

"Le Freak" is the second song on C'est Chic. The first is "Chic Cheer" (which, according to my wife—no musical slouch herself—was sampled in the '98 song "Love like This" by Faith Evans). So when I first downloaded the album, I put it on during dinner, and didn't tell Willow what it was. I swear to god, hearing "Chic Cheer," she goes, "This sounds like 'Freak Out'!" That, to me, tells me that she knows what the fuck she's talking about. She doesn't just like this song because of a goddamn Pixar scene; she likes this song and this band because she understands it sonically.

It's December, which is traditionally the best time in the year to really dig deep into the past and explore some of the classics, since no one is releasing much new music worth pouring over. So I'm getting into Chic, and I'm impressed—not only because of the music itself, but because of what and who inspired me to listen in the first place.

Album of the Week: 30

My yearly reminder: Feel free to send in any Top Music of the Year lists (or Top Movies, or whatever) to Puke on Your Birthday. I will gladly publish it! And this year I will be extra thankful that you'll give me a day off from blogging!

Will this week's album make your list? Check it out below (after you do the usual playlist and archives check-in, of course). Thanks everybody!

WEEK 149 — December 5-11, 2021

What we're listening to this week (Rachel S.'s pick):

ALBUM: 30

ARTIST: Adele

RELEASED: November 19, 2021

WHAT GENRE IS THIS: Wikipedia says "pop, soul, and jazz," but c'mon, y'all know what Adele sounds like

WHY RACHEL PICKED IT: "Sorry to make you listen to a WOMAN sing about her FEELINGS." (This is after I said that Red (Taylor's Version) was not eligible.)

TRACKLIST:

1. Strangers by Nature
2. Easy on Me
3. My Little Love
4. Cry Your Heart Out
5. Oh My God
6. Can I Get It
7. I Drink Wine
8. All Night Parking
9. Woman like Me
10. Hold On
11. To Be Loved
12. Love Is a Game

LENGTH: 58:15

 

WHERE TO LISTEN FOR FREE: YouTube

 

READING SOME SHIT: This might not be interesting to everyone, but I liked reading this firsthand perspective about how Adele (et al.) put the vinyl industry at a standstill. If you're looking for a more traditional feature on/with Adele, then it looks like Rolling Stone is the only publication who had access during this cycle.

PREVIOUSLY ON RECORD CLUB: Max Martin co-wrote and produced this album's "Can I Get It," so I figured I could get a few hits if I scrolled through this dude's massive production discography. He co-wrote "Time Machine" with Robyn for Body Talk (but not Body Talk, Pt. 1). He's co-written a few songs for lizard person Demi Lovato (but none on Tell Me You Love Me). That's it! Not as many as I would've assumed. But we can play this game with any producer, of which there are many on Adele's 30. Greg Kurstin? Credits with T-Pain and Halsey. We can play this game any time there is a pop album coming down the pike for Record Club. No.............. 

 

.....what I'm more interested in, I think, is how many of these albums that we've done in the past 149 weeks feature the artist's face, close-up, looking seriously. Who else is included in this exclusive club, besides Adele? Who looks way too serious on the cover of 30? Let's see: from off the top of my head, I'm thinking of lizard person Demi Lovato, Roy Blair, Johnny Nash, Connie Converse, Ashlee Simpson, Erika de Casier, Michael Kiwanuka, Kaytranada, Halsey, Tyler, the Creator, Robyn, Margaret Glaspy, Dua Lipa, Perfume Genius, Diana Ross, Jamila Woods, Corey Feldman, Shania Twain, John Campbell, Tina Turner, Snail Mail, and then kind of Maggie Rogers, CHAI (just kidding), Funkadelic (just kidding?), Danny Brown (barely), Alanis Morissette (I guess?), Fiona Apple (though she's obviously not trying to look serious), INXS (a couple of serious half-faces), Mongo Santamaria (though not his face), Missy Elliott (though we're close up on shoe more than face), Miley Cyrus (though discolored), Dolly Parton (though Christmas-colored), Kurt Vile (though not colored), Cam'ron (though purple colored), Nathaniel Rateliff (though off-center), Jetty Bones (though weirdly the same fucking focus as the Missy Elliott album, I've never noticed this before—it's more shoe than face!), Olivia Rodrigo (though bedazzled), Slipknot (no idea if this is a band member or a monster of some sort), Phish (some idea that this is Phish's landlord or something?), and Nick Lutsko (though he's in a mask).

JUST KIDDING, no fucking way all of that was off the top of my head. I went through all 149 album covers, and linked to the ones featuring a close-up of a serious artist's face. There were a lot more than I expected! I guess the point of all this is that Adele's cover art for 30 is dumb as shit, but you're gonna be a huge hypocrite if you make fun of it, because it seems like she's just doing what the majority of RC artists do with their cover art.

Happy listening, fam! Have a great week!

A Year of Blind Spots: It's Only Rock 'n Roll

We have reached the end of the road for Phase I of my "Year of Blind Spots," and I have to think that this was the perfect album to end on. I guess I'm mainly thinking about the title track: "I know it's only rock 'n' roll, but I like it." Let it serve as a reminder that what we do here at Puke on Your Birthday—the list-making, the amateurish music criticisms, all of it—is really not that important at all. The music we listen to isn't necessarily changing the world or changing your internal world; it's just rock 'n' roll. But still, nevertheless... I like it. I like it a lot. And I like exploring music I've never heard before, week after week after week.

It's Only Rock 'n Roll was also a great album to end this column for the year because I always have some shit to say about the Stones. There's always more to learn about these guys. That's why I spent my week listening to the Rolling Stones instead of watching the Beatles—I feel like I already know all I need to know about the Beatles. I don't need eight more hours of them. With the Stones, though, I'm way behind, and I love trying to catch up.

Okay, so here we are, another new (to me) Rolling Stones album. It's Only Rock 'n Roll (god, I fucking hate that they are missing an apostrophe in that title) is their fifteenth studio album. It immediately follows Goats Head Soup, which itself immediately followed the Stones' famous imperial four-album run of Beggars Banquet, Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers, and Exile on Main St. So in my mind, I see Goats Head Soup as half a falling-off, and half a "indulging in the weirdness" success. So that would mean that It's Only Rock 'n Roll is their "back to basics" routine. Maybe the title track is a response to any less-than-immaculate album reviews they got for Goats Head Soup—relax, everybody, it's only rock 'n' roll, all you have to do is like it.

So what does "basics" look like for the Rolling Stones? There is the hard-strutting album opener, of course—"If You Can't Rock Me" is bangin'. There's the lighter but still fun mid-tempo rocker in "Dance Little Sister." There's the big, grand ballads that still have swagger, like "If You Really Want to Be My Fried." There's the slightly uncomfortable reggae-esque "Luxury," in which you ask, "Should the Stones be doing this?" There's the actually uncomfortable juvenile sexual imagery, in which you don't need to ask "Should the Stones be doing a song like 'Short and Curlies,' and all that you can infer from such a title?"

 

Then there's the cover song—which is really going back to basics, since soul covers were the Stones' whole bread and butter before like 1966—in "Ain't Too Proud to Beg." Here's another reason this was a good album to end our (first) Year of Blind Spots on. "Ain't Too Proud to Beg" is my go-to karaoke song! So it was really cool seeing it pop up here. It was also really, really frustrating that Mick Jagger doesn't quite get the syncopation of the line "Ain't to proud to plead, baby baby." C'mon man! Come to Les and Doreen's and let me show you how it's done!

 

And don't even get me started on how the second line of the entire album is "The drummer thinks that he is dynamite, oh yeah." Fucking hilarious. I don't even know if Charlie Watts thought he was "dynamite." I don't even think he gave a shit at all about anything. The dude might as well be playing solitaire on the snare drum for all the care and love he put into the art of drumming.

I'm half-joking, but that brings us back to the whole idea of rock 'n' roll, and how I like it. I may wince at the Stones on occasion, but there is always so much to think about, and there is always so much to dance to. I love the idea of rock 'n' roll, and the Rolling Stones embody that idea better than any other band in history.

 

 

Thanks for joining me on the first leg of this multi-year misnomered blog project. I have another 50-album list all ready to go, but we're not gonna dive in until January 8, 2022. I'm really excited to start that list, honestly; even more so than this year's list, next year's was compiled with the needs of "A Year of Blind Spots" in mind. The vast majority of the albums are from artists who are the blind spot, as opposed to all the albums I listened to this year whose creator I was already pretty familiar with. So there's that. For the next four Saturdays? Who knows. Probably a "Song of the Day" or something. See ya next year.

Valentine, Nate

Boy, you know what record kicks ass? Habit, the first EP from Snail Mail. This was back when the idea of Snail Mail was more modest one, when it sounded like a person in a bedroom who just so happened to have a band sitting in there with them. It stood apart—above—from the swooning tidal wave of soft-voiced misery rock reimagining the gloomy '90s in its own post-internet disaffection by conveying tangibility and universality without appearing cloying.

Fun record. Anyway, Snail Mail is on Matador now, and making its play for growing up, and goddamn does Valentine feel flat as hell and unremarkable, drifting wood in the ocean shipwreck of alt-rock playlists, NPR-backed public radio shows, and rock music without an ounce of anything that hasn't been shaved off or rounded out.

Someone once said that I can only hear music played at a certain volume. This album makes me think they are right.

It's not a disaster, it's just a blanket, just wallpaper. There are some songs that stand out; the small-sour of "Headlock," the complete reduction of artifice of "c. et al." At one point, I had to navigate back over to my Spotify page to see what the hell this one ripping, echoing, vibrant song was called, why this whole album wasn't more of this comparatively rip-shit rock music. That song was "Pristine," off the band's 2018 album Lush, which sounds better and better as the road gets darker.

I suspect this album will top many best-of lists. I will never think of it again, and I think on a long enough timeline, they won't either.

Valentine, Sunny

I expected Valentine to be a lot more "Light Blue," but it was more "Glory," which is fine. I think I mostly list towards "Madonna."

Valentine, Pam

If I'm not mistaken, I believe Valentine is the second LP released by Snail Mail. Based solely on Apple Music's description of Valentine, the first album, Lush, seems to have been well-received in the indie rock community. I haven't personally listened to Lush, but I understand the weight of its success putting Snail Mail's Lindsey Jordan in the tough position of coming up with another well-liked album. For that reason, though, I really have nothing to compare Valentine to in terms of maturity or growth as an artist. What I can say is that I've listened to the title track quite a few times now, and it's poised to make it to the top of my list of favorite songs of 2021... a true honor indeed, I know. The song itself is heartbreaking and at the same time features guitar riffs that somehow capture the feeling of some of the music I listened to towards the end of high school, giving it that nostalgic familiarity that just puts a smile on my face.

As far as the rest of Valentine, Jordan has put forth an album that seems to be heavily influenced or least unknowingly linked to literary romanticism. Can this be confirmed by any Record Club contributors who also happen to be English teachers (looking at you, Melissa)? In most of the songs, she includes lyrics alluding to the toxicity of the relationship with her former flame, and also that she just can't seem to move past it. Perhaps these themes are most evident in "Forever (Sailing)," in which Jordan asks "Doesn't obsession just become me?", and "Madonna" when she describes her desire to "consecrate my life to kneeling at your altar," and additionally depicts their love as "a sickness, baby."

I once read a truly chilling story of a man in Key West in the 1930s who, upon the death and burial of his young bride, dug up, amateurishly embalmed, and kept her in his home. And although I would still use the word morbid to describe it, some would argue in favor of his "passion that defied death" (found in the book description on one site) and the romanticism of it all. The title alone, Undying Love (and not "Undying Crime?"), even seems to create a defense for it. Although Valentine doesn't come close to the extreme events depicted in Undying Love, I do think it might border it. Not only does Valentine illustrate Jordan's idealization and worship, but she also writes about ruining herself for conditional love.

To circle back to the title track on Valentine, aside from being the most musically upbeat, I think another reason it's my favorite is because it honestly feels like one of the only times on the album where Jordan not only questions, but gets angry, maybe rightfully, about the whole ordeal. If you don't wish to feel sick in love then you don't deserve to feel that way. That being said, I do get the feeling that not only her former partner, but also the feeling of being "sick in love," is what is being glorified here.

I do appreciate that Valentine comes from Jordan working through something and it helped to create music and imagery that I really enjoyed. And without having listened to Lush, I think I'd say that Valentine lives up to the hype of Snail Mail. I also really love the artwork for the album. The pink suit really captures the entire essence of Valentine.

Side note—one of the times Valentine came across my newsfeed was due to the "yassification" trend. Did anyone else see this? I have no idea if this is good or bad or how Lindsey Jordan felt about it. I don't even know anything else about this trend.

Valentine, Joe

I've been thinking about crossdressing. I feel like it might be inappropriate to actually go through with it (or at least make public whatever I choose to do in private), since I am straight and cisgender. It wouldn't be right to presume that I'd be welcome in what I assume is an LGBTQ safe space via the world of drag, and I also don't want it to seem like I'm taking lightly any concerns in the transgender community specifically, or using my privilege to do things that other people may not have the luxury of being comfortable doing. I don't want to appropriate.

Still, it's something I've thought about recently. I've never in my life felt "hot." Like, I've never seen myself in the mirror and said, "damn, that's hot." I would like to feel that way. I'm a little jealous of women for more often having the opportunities to feel that way. To dress up and look good and feel good. I think any inclination I'd have to crossdress would be in service of these thoughts. I.e., could I feel that way about myself if I wore a cute dress?

I have to imagine Lindsey Jordan felt hot when she posed for the cover photo of Valentine, right? I don't know her, and I don't know if she usually wears fancy clothing that presents as male, or if she just feels more comfortable dressing however she damn pleases, or if she's like me and it amounts to not much more than a passing (but intriguing) thought, but regardless—she looks confident as hell, and that's hot.

What I do know is that Lindsey Jordan, a.k.a. Snail Mail, would be incredibly uncomfortable with me thinking about her in this context. Not because of who I am, but because of who she strives to be. She strives to be a musician first. She has stated in the past that being held up as a woman musician or an LGBTQ musician basically amounts to tokenism. She says that none of her songs are about being a woman or about being gay, so why should it matter to us, the audience, what her gender or her sexuality are?

True words, and I respect them and validate them. But then if that's true, I am forced to consider her music only, and when I do so, I don't really have many positive things to say.

I'm not saying that Valentine is a bad album. It's good. It's fine. It has its moments. That title track? Oh lord, that's some good shit. I can pick out some other bits and pieces and put 'em in between the m-dashes if you want—the keyboard tones on "Forever (Sailing)" that remind me of Caroline Rose; the "we're not really talking now" chorus on "Madonna"; when she says "raise your voice" and her voice cracks on "Ben Franklin"; the pure vitriol of the line "I'm like your dog"—but the overall assessment is that this is some pretty basic and occasionally bland and incredibly boilerplate indie rock music.

I feel the same way I've felt about Mike Krol and Free Throw and Hiatus Kiayote and Fastball and William DeVaughn, just in 2021 alone—all artists that I liked overall, but were trending so rapidly toward average that I couldn't help but be bored. Snail Mail is absolutely fine. I'd almost rather it be bad than be fine.

That's why I'm way more interested in Lindsey Jordan herself than in the music she creates. It's a self-defense mechanism for me. If I can imagine that she is the type of person who knows exactly who she is, and who she wants to be, and who she can be, then maybe she becomes somebody I can admire, separate from the music.

Because, just like everyone else, I'm still trying to figure out who I am. I know most of it, but there are still some blanks, still some thoughts that cross my mind that make me take pause, like, okay now what does that mean?

Honestly, that's exciting. Self-discovery is exciting as fuck. If I knew exactly who I was and who I wanted to be 100% of the time, we'd call that "being in a rut." We'd call that "listening to Valentine," maybe. Because I know sure as shit that Valentine is just fine and consequentially a little boring. I don't want that in my life. I want to try on dress and feel hot. I want to listen to music that surprises me. Valentine did nothing for me.

GRADE: 2.5 pukes out of 5

2021 in Review: Top 20 Songs

Gotta be real with y'all: I'm probably gonna put even less effort into this list than I did for yesterday's list. Sorry! You're lucky homework didn't make me implode before I could rank anything at all!

 

(There is a Spotify playlist if you'd prefer to explore the songs that way!)

Top 20 Songs of 2021

20. "Write a List of Things to Look Forward To" by Courtney Barnett

 

"We did our best, but what does that really mean?" Courtney Barnett's sardonic wit usually doesn't cut this deep, especially when she gets in jangly guitar rocker mode. But man, the short time I've spent with this song convinces me that she knows my end-of-semester blues better than anyone else in my life right now.

 

19. "Angel of Death" by Manchester Orchestra

 

I could see the argument that Manchester Orchestra sounds uncomfortably close to generic festival rock. I really could close my eyes and see myself at my very first festival, listening to them belt those towering choruses. But that's backwards. Manchester Orchestra aren't stooping lower; every other goddamn festival rock band only wishes to scale these heights, and their failed attempts shouldn't sully M.O.'s name.

18. "Out Loud" by Remember Sports

 

If the bulk of my Remember Sports fandom has been me expressing my appreciation for how tightly they can pack a hook into a quick two-minute package, then imagine my delight when the best song on their newest album ends up being the one where they stretch their legs and allow the hooks to sprawl over a length close to seven minutes.

17. "Girl Is a Gun" by Halsey

 

Halsey's new album hit me in some pretty uncomfortable parts of my psyche this year, but that was mostly to do with theme, and not makeup. Overall, I was glad to have the insane Nine Inch Nails-inspired (and practically NIN-created) "Girl Is a Gun" to distract me with the loud noises.

 

16. "Stop Making This Hurt" by Bleachers

 

Oh gosh, the whole "Is Jack Antonoff actually good?" argument is one that I will never tire of. Perhaps the answer is both yes and no. Perhaps he can have a hand in possibly the most disappointing album of the last five years and then also sneak in some real fucking bangers around the edges of his discography. "Stop Making This Hurt" is one such example of the latter, one that is so tasty that I can't help but think that, despite all the evidence to the contrary, Jack Antonoff's legacy is secure.

 

15. "Fewer Afraid" by the World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die

Look, I don't know this band from any other goddamn emo band on this planet. Apparently they are marquee names; I'll take your word for it. I know that such a name carries the implication that maybe this is a crew that bites off more than they can chew on the occasion. I won't deny it. I especially won't deny it three months from now, when I'm bored on an hour-long drive and I decide to strike up the "Best of 2021" playlist, and get stuck on a goddamn song that's almost 20 goddamn minutes long. But let's be as clear as possible: "Fewer Afraid," though long, is worth the length when you commit to it. Any 20-minute song this epic is worth it. Any 20-minute song that ends on the self-mythologizing catharsis that "Fewer Afraid" does is worth it. If we do really get to the point where we are all blasting into space to escape the destruction, make sure that this song soundtracks the adventure.

14. "Back to Oz" by Sufjan Stevens and Angelo De Augustine

 

Much to do has been made over the past couple decades about Sufjan's "50 States Project," a project that was doomed to stay incomplete the moment the indie rock community latched onto it. I was disappointed that he never got around to making Pennsylvania, sure, but as I get older I'm starting to see the whole idea in a new light. I think that putting the focus on "states in America" is the wrong way of looking at it. What are the songs on those states albums if not hyperspecific stories that happen to take place in a specific geographical place? And couldn't those same hyperspecific stories take place somewhere else that isn't necessarily a specific state or city, but perhaps a movie? Even a bizarre 1985 children's film starring Fairuza Balk? Wouldn't it work from those same strengths and be just as wonderful?

13. "777" by Silk Sonic

 

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, motherfuckers.

 

12. "Sandy Sheets" by Dave Hause

 

I gotta imagine that Dave Hause is so good that he's able to coast at this point. There is nothing revolutionary about a song that recalls halcyon days of drinking beers at the beach with your best friends while you are listening to your favorite songs, but goddamn it if this doesn't immediately and obviously tickle my nostalgia bone. He must've known, right? He must've.

 

11. "good 4 u" by Olivia Rodrigo

 

There are walls, always. Walls here include the uncomfortable reality that this was, for a week anyway, the most popular pop song in America, and then also the fact that it approximates pop punk in the same way that some fucking Kardashian approximates pop punk when she PDAs Travis Barker. To scale the wall, we have a tremendous hook, and a frighteningly accurate energy (real or manufactured, who gives a fuck). The wall is so far away on the ground that I can't even see it.

10. "CYHSY, 2005" by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah is pretty much the saddest endeavor in music today. I will never stop listening to them.

9. "Checker Drive" by Telethon

 

The first half of the song is Telethon proving that they can play by the rules and still be the catchiest motherfuckers on the planet; the last half of the song is Telethon proving that there are no rules at all. Not sure which half is better.

 

8. "Weird Carolina" by Camp Trash

 

My attempt at avoiding Twitter as much as possible this year was like 80% successful, and if the other 20% of it was failure, then at least I failed upward by being aware of whatever Camp Trash stuff was happening on Emo Twitter. I don't understand any of it—hence the attempt to just avoid Twitter altogether—but it seems hype enough that I checked out an emo EP, and I've been extremely thankful for that. Camp Trash is a real band.

 

7. "On My Way" by Alex Lahey

 

A points converge here, making "On My Way" one of the best songs of the year: I am uncomfortable with a song being closely associated with visual media, but it helps if that visual media is also one of the best of the year, which The Mitchells vs. the Machines absolutely is; current music from this year that I can share an appreciation with my daughters over is few and far better at this age, and so if there was a song like that, then that's only going to strengthen my love of it, since I, ya know, love my daughters; simply put, Alex Lahey has never been better than she is here, and I really hope this song puts her on the map (or at least some kind of map).

6. "Spices" by the Hold Steady

 

As I said yesterday, the great success of the most recent Hold Steady album was that this shit is mostly pretty dark, and yet it still remains pretty fun also, somehow. See "Spices," and how it generates cathartic pleasure from the line "Vanilla vodka and a Diet Dr. Pepper!" which, in the context of the characters in this song, ends up being pretty damn bleak the more you think about it. Let it say what you will about the year I had, but there I was, on Easter morning, also drinking a vanilla vodka and diet Dr. Pepper.

5. "Favorite Song" by 2nd Grade

 

I don't know what it says that there are two songs on this year's list that namedrop other well know song titles (the other is #12). "Favorite Song," for instance, lists "Yesterday," "Sixteen Blue," and "My Baby Cries" in the first verse alone. Maybe it's shorthand for creating a sense of nostalgia, that we can use specific songs as anchors, keeping us tethered to a specific time and specific place. I look forward to remembering 2021 with the same mixture of appreciation and regret whenever I hear "Favorite Song."

4. "Wasted" by the War on Drugs

 

The War on Drugs still sound like the War on Drugs. This is the general consensus for I Don't Live Here Anymore, no? But I am here to propose the following: the War on Drugs sounding like the War on Drugs is the best scenario possible, and they should never change. "Wasted" is the sound of the War on Drugs sounding exactly like they have always sounded, and it is one of my favorite songs of the year. Keep doing this. Keep hitting the pleasure button. I'll be here for it.

 

3. "Diamond Studded Shoes" by Yola

 

If you say that this is some kind of ode to pessimism, then I would respond that that is your privilege showing. Racism exists. Classism exists. To say that everything is going to be alright is betraying the fact that you live in a world where things tend to go right. It completely ignores the fact that, for many people in this country and this world, things very often go terribly, terribly wrong. "It ain't gonna turn out alright!", on the surface, sounds incredibly grim, but if you step back for a second and think about it, it becomes incredibly realistic as well. And then the additional layer on top of this is that, in Yola's hands, it remains grim, and realistic, and then also sounds absolutely electrifying. It's so powerful that you almost start to believe the opposite is true: that maybe there is something we can do about all this.

2. "Paprika" by Japanese Breakfast

 

What I find most interesting about "Paprika," the opening salvo to Japanese Breakfast's fantastic Jubilee, is that not a single lyric includes the word "music," and yet the song is so fucking clearly about the idea of music. "How's it feel to be at the center of magic, to linger in tones and words?" There is no way the song is about anything else. I've never felt within myself the "center of magic," except when I'm listening to a particularly great song. In that sense, "Paprika" becomes self-reflective. It's a great song about how great it is to hear great songs like this great song right here. It's a rush!!!!!!

1. "Narrator" by Squid

 

In the lead-up to the frantic finale, Squid frontman Oliver Judge repeats the phrase "I play mine" 78 and a half times, screaming the final fourteen (and a half) of those. (I counted.) He's shortening an earlier phrase that he uses: "I play my part." He is the titular "narrator," and he is attempting to maintain some agency in his own life as it spirals out of control. Hence the repetition: I play mine. I play mine. None of this is going to shit. I play mine.

Of course, that's all a feint, because no one is really in control here. In fact, guest vocalist Martha Skye Murphy, who plays what the band calls the "unreliable narrator," absolutely bursts into the scene at the tail end of all those "I play mine"s, to prove it. She lights a stick of dynamite, and brings the whole goddamn story crashing down. To do this, she screams.

I don't think there is a way to overplay it, when describing the scream. Like, I don't think it's possible to be hyperbolic about it. To me, it feels like the drum fill that leads into this section is a gunshot and the screaming is the reaction to the wound. I'm surprised that this song doesn't get a NSFW tag. To Pam, she knows this as "the haunted house song," and that's pretty accurate too. I know it's not real, but it feels real, ya know? It's fucking brutally haunting. I don't think I've been the same since I heard Martha Skye Murphy scream. I'm scarred.

And I'm trying to figure out what it means, the fact that this is the second year in a row that my favorite song of the year involves a titanic scream as its centerpiece. I want to believe that I love these songs because they give me a sense of catharsis from the screams, that it really is akin to the gooseflesh when a ghost pops out at you in a haunted house. I want to believe that, because the alternative is too terrible to consider.

During my worst days, I still consider it: that maybe I just wanna scream too. That sometimes this world seems too deranged to go survive. That sometimes I really do feel out of control, no matter how many times I act like the narrator and repeat the mantras till I'm blue in the fucking face. That maybe if I just let go, like really let go, alone, in the car, volume up, just fucking screamed bloody murder, that maybe I could finally find some peace.

Or maybe we can all scream as much as we need to and it'll never be enough. I have no idea. All I know is that "Narrator" gave me, in a completely fucked up way, some measurable sense of comfort this year. If I just needed to scream, then I did it. If I needed to understand that I'll never be able to scream loud enough, well then, I can just hit repeat, and try again.

2021 in Review: Top 20 Albums

Skip the introductions this time around—I listened to a lot of music this year, just like I usually do most years, and now here I am to whittle it down to my favorites. Sorry for not really going all out. No time! I am a bad blogger!

Top 20 Albums of 2021

20. How Many Times by Esther Rose — There is gold to be mined from every single genre. I don't think I've ever listened to as much traditional country (pedal steel guitar, fiddle, slow-dancing in a barn) as I have this year, just because Esther Rose finally found a way to get it to me.

19. Fuck Art by the Dirty Nil — An album title has never been truer. This isn't art. The kids at the back of the class are just scribbling on desks again.

18. Prioritise Pleasure by Self Esteem — "If we are approached by a group of men we will bark like dogs." I am intimidated by strong, intelligent women, and I am proud to say that I have many such women in my life. I love getting barked at by Self Esteem. 

17. Blood Harmony by Dave Hause — The Springsteen of Philadelphia does it again. Why is no one paying attention, still?

16. Strawberry Mansion by Langhorne Slim — I speculated last March that it was a strong possibility that Langhorne Slim's sharp folky ode to quarantine was going to age poorly, once we were able to put the idea of "quarantine" behind us, at least emotionally. I am glad to admit that I was wrong. It doesn't make me any more uncomfortable than any other snapshot photograph from last year would.

15. Year of the Horse by Fucked Up — I could see an argument that Fucked Up went too far this year. A 90-minute prog rock opera about a mythical horse who faces off against an outlaw town bent on destroying everything? And this is still Fucked Up we're talking about? The hardcore band? That's a legit argument—sometimes Year of the Horse was just too much to chew in one sitting. But man, whenever I did block off some time to commit to the full thing, it was worth it. 

14. Bless My Psyche by Sincere Engineer — I don't even want to go through this list and count a specific number, but how many of my favorite albums were just some of my favorite artists doing the shit they always do? And is that such a bad thing? Can we blame Sincere Engineer for leaning on her strengths (that lie in world of grunge / punk / alternative / indie-adjacent whatever)? Can we just be glad that a great musician is doing her thing and doing it well in the year 2021?

13. Illusory Walls by the World Is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die — I stare into the post-hardcore abyss and wonder whether maybe I am afraid to die after all. To all you TWIaBPaIANLATD Heads, was this the wrong album to discover this band?

12. Open Door Policy by the Hold Steady — Either the Hold Steady is continuing to grow with me—their "we got so fucked up" epics now tinged with more than a hint of regret just as I am turning that corner as well—or I just caught up. After all, they were always the middle-aged bar flies capturing the sincerity and freedom that comes with being a teenager. That's pretty much always been weird! But now it's not so much anymore!

11. Mercurial World by Magdalena Bay — Always finicky with my pop, I'll say that Magdalena Bay hits that sweet spot between 100 gecs and, like, Dua Lipa better than any other pop artists I've ever heard.

10. Uncommon Weather by the Reds, Pinks & Purples

This kind of reminds me of 69 Love Songs, but only the lo-fi, low-pitch songs, and way less about love, and way less goofy bullshit. Just give me the hooks, baby. Takes a lot for me to love something like this when it sounds like this, so ya know the RP&Ps brought the heat.

Take this song as an example: "The Biggest Fan"

9. Mirror II by the Goon Sax

One of two goals for every one of these short blurbs is to give the unassuming reader some sense of what this shit sounds like, so that they can determine whether they might want to check it out for themselves or not. I'm not sure if that's entirely possible for the Goon Sax. There are not one, not two, but three masterminds at the controls here, and all three of them split time equally, and sound completely different. I wanna say that a third of this sounds like '90s college radio shit, a third of it sounds like synthpop psychedelia tropes, and the final third is the hokiest non-Lou Reed Velvet Underground bullshit you've ever heard, the latter featuring probably the worst vocals I've heard all year. You know the catch though. You guessed it already. The catch: it all works. All of it.

Take this song as an example: "Psychic" or "Temples" or "Carpetry"

 

8. Stand for Myself by Yola

I think there is a risk in the act of aiming to be so universal that it becomes inconsequential and you blow away in the wind. If that's your aim, then you better come prepared with the heft. There is a world in which an artist like Yola brings Critical Race Theory to the very white Americana / Roots table and turns no heads. Yola doesn't let that happen. She sets the goddamn table on fire.

Take this song as an example: "Stand for Myself"

7. Swim Out Past the Breakers by Telethon

Okay, so if The Grand Spontanean was a spectacularly wild and colorful and enjoyable shag carpet, then Swim Out Past the Breakers is when you tear that shit up, and find hardwood floors underneath, and you start to wonder whether maybe this might in fact be a better way to live. I'll die in defense of rock operas, but not every day needs to feature death, especially when your pop punk sounds like this.

Take this song as an example: "Do You Know What I Mean (or Not)"

6. For the First Time by Black Country, New Road

I feel like every year, I come across at least one band that makes me have faith in the "next generation." I used quotes there because the members of Black Country, New Road are in their early 20s, so not quite the next generation, but instead the tail end of my own generation. Young enough that I can see the differences, and can appreciate when from those differences spawn a type of music that I can barely comprehend, and yet still enjoy immensely. To see the "young kids" create such exciting music is a joy beyond the experimental post-punk music itself.

Take this song as an example: "Athens, France"

5. Class of Cardinal Sin by Covey

Calculus sucks. Calculus would tell me to tell you that the equation is the summation of Frightened Rabbit's sense of scope and the Twilight Sad's subject matter and Los Campesinos!'s verve. Calculus can't get the heart of the matter, though. Calculus couldn't account for such a chorus as "Fuck that guy I hope he's dead!" becoming the anthem of 2021. Calculus can't explain how this album speaks to my clients' condition better than any goddamn MSW class ever could. Calculus ain't shit and I hope it's dead.

Take this song as an example: "1991"

4. I Don't Live Here Anymore by the War on Drugs 

The week I spent with this album a month ago featured a whole lot of "like," and only a little bit of "love" toward the end. But it's three weeks later, and I think it's time to admit that War on Drugs beat me down. This is the best album they've ever made. Note that no other WoD album has ever been this high on a Top Albums of the Year list on this blog. I think there's usually a sense of "not getting it," or like only partially getting it ("it" being the hype, I guess). Not so here. It could possibly be that I lost the war of attrition. So?

Take this song as an example: "I Don't Wanna Wait"

3. Jubilee by Japanese Breakfast

I'm a sucker for a good, weird, and succinct album origin story. Here's Jubilee's: Michelle Zauner rented a house in the Poconos with her boyfriend, and got zonked out on shrooms. This isn't the "explanation" to her genius or anything like that; I'm more tickled by the idea of being in the Poconos and being able to envision a statement of purpose. This is who I am. Drug-fueled or not, whatever, this is what I want to say to the world. Japanese Breakfast started her year getting stoned up the mountains, and ended it with a coat room named after her. I started my year and ended my year in vastly different places as well; gotta credit Japanese Breakfast at least a little bit for that.

Take this song as an example: "Be Sweet"

2. Wish You Were Here Tour Revisited by 2nd Grade

I think the name of the band implies that they are leaning into the admittedly simplistic sound. Fair enough. Sometimes simpler is better. Not always, but sometimes for sure. You can't get much more simple than 2nd Grade does here. Well, okay, I guess you could—the "Revisited" part of the album title means that this is somewhat of a redo of 2nd Grade's original music, fleshed out with a full band, and yes, made marginally more complicated by design. Sometimes you got beef it up to make it more noticeable, whether it's an album of small indie rock hooks, or a end-of-year album blurb explaining the same. None of this matters, by the way. Just enjoy the sounds.

Take this song as an example: "As Long as We Can Talk About It" or "Wish You Were Here Tour"

1. Gami Gang by Origami Angel

This is going to sound insane, but this is what I'm thinking about right now, a couple beers deep, ruminating on the best album of the year: Compare Gami Gang to Olivia Rodrigo's SOUR. Pretty interesting comparison, no? The strongest point of the comparison is that, for both albums, there were arguments regarding the veracity of people like us ("adults") enjoying music that is ostensibly made for "children" (teenagers, early 20-somethings) and, crucially, made by children (same qualifiers). I think you can like whatever you wanna like, but I also think it's important to step back and really think about what it means to like what you like.

Record Club spent a week obsessing over whether it was okay to like Olivia Rodrigo's music, and I think the conclusion—if I may speak for the group—was that yes, it's okay, as long as it's at arm's length. Should we say the same for Origami Angel? Here is where I'll argue the opposite. I say that you should be able to embrace Gami Gang in a way that you could never embrace SOUR, and that's because of the intent of these youngins' music.

Rodrigo dropped heartbreak after heartbreak over languid piano ballads and somewhat facetious Travis Barker-core pop punk. The Gami Gang doesn't fuck with that. Origami Angel is totally cool with the simplicity of their current situation. There's no heartbreak here. Being young doesn't mean obsessing over love, it means ordering Chinese food and having a Netflix date. It means being in love but more of a general love, as opposed to an obsessive, painful one. It means not only fashioning the rose-colored glasses to use in viewing your past, but being able to use those rose-colored glasses to view the present as well.

In the simplest terms, Gami Gang tears away at the necessity of self-mythologizing in the moment, and is instead simply content to find zen in adolescence. These yearbook signatures contain no anxiety about the future. They simply express thanks for the present. That that present basically amounts to rudimentary fifth-wave emo is pretty much besides the point. 

"And do I enjoy what I do? [laughter] Hell yeah."

Take this song as an example: "Noah Fence" or "Isopropyl Alchemy"

See ya tomorrow for the best songs, and hopefully better blurbs (but probably not!!!).