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THE INTELLIGENT MOVEMENT TOUR

 

Ab-Soul at the Intelligent Movement Tour in Lincoln Hall, Chicago, Illinois.

I’m twelve years old sitting in the back of a rickety yellow school bus when I hear Ab-Soul for the first time. Blasting Chance the Rapper’s sophomore mixtape, Acid Rap through my $7 Skullcandy earbuds, I enthusiastically follow along the musical journey, each song topping the last. Smoke Again featuring Ab-Soul, the tenth song on the tape begins to play and I’m immediately hooked by the trumpet-like melody and flawless metaphors and similes that are  stacked within the juke-style bass-boosted beat. It evoked an insatiable desire to move my body while chanting his explicit lyrics back to him.

Let me put my mouth where you potty, boo

(Aaagh!) Yeah

Them niggas pissed, need potty training

They movement shit, that’s a potty train

Most would say I was too young to be listening to such graphic lyrics, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. I went on to explore his entire discography and was not surprised to be hypnotized by his hymn-like lyricism. It was well-paired with eerie electronic beats and soulful monologues. I later on found out he was also well-acquainted with several HOF greats, having the likes of Kendrick Lamar and Sza feature on his older albums. I knew one thing for certain as I delved into his track-by-track: Ab-Soul deserved his flowers. 

He sat at the top of my personal rap throne for a couple years, but disappeared into the shadows, taking what seemed like an impromptu hiatus after 2015. I longed for his return but Smoke Again and These Days in my rotation for several years. 

Mid-2022, he dropped Hollandaise and I obsess over the upbeat jiggy beat and his claims to re-enter the scene. Ab-Soul is back and ready to “talk his shit again.” Just before 2022 ends, he drops HERBERT, his first album since 2014. Just as lyrically-inclined as I recall, he returns to tell us listeners the stories behind his disappearance: his struggles with depression, loss of his partner, his ongoing battle with Steven Johnson Syndrome, and various vulnerable yet hopeful narratives about maintaining his peace and mental stability. 

Of course, when he announces his tour, I buy a ticket. I’m huddled in Lincoln Hall, an established mid-sized concert venue in Chicago’s Lincoln Park neighborhood next to hundreds of other eager fans. Ab-Soul comes out swinging just after 8 PM and wows the crowd with his infectious energy. He performs just as many classics as new drops: We get to hear HERBERT, Terrorist Threats, Huey Knew THEN, and several other of his most impressive lyrical tracks and musical productions. Despite almost six years of silence, his performance is nothing less than spectacular. 

I’m entranced by the whole ordeal, in awe of his unwavering dedication to his craft and his ability to show up authentically to his fans through his music. He gives a tribute to the ones he’s lost and tells us his appreciation for all the sold-out shows even after the years he’s been in hiding. 

The show ends with folks (myself included) clapping for almost ten minutes. We all missed and longed for Ab-Soul’s presence in the scene, and I’m more than glad I got the opportunity to see and rediscover my love for him. I wouldn’t shy away from the argument that he more than deserves his flowers, that more of the world needs to know the lyrical genius that is Herbert Anthony.

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Gambling for Drake

               The record-breaking Canadian rapper is making it rain in the desert

The “Hotline Bling” singer shocked the world by turning into a butcher during his show.

Tourists typically flock to Las Vegas with the hopes of winning a fortune. However, the casinos this weekend were overshadowed by Drake, because his concert treated the attendees better than any of the tourists who waste their life savings with the hope of earning enough money to achieve a dream lifestyle. A Drake concert these days appears to be like gambling; and no, it isn’t because of the once-in-a-chance to listen live to Drake sing the catchy songs on the radio such as “God’s Plan,” or “In My Feelings.” Even though Drake sang at his September 2nd concert “God’s Plan,” and “Nice for What,” he created a literal blur during his “It’s All a Blur” tour by singing a couple verses of these songs and swiftly singing the next song without giving his guest a chance to enjoy listening to the entirety of the track. The real reason for attending his concert feels like a now or never opportunity from the lavish gifts Drake provides to his participants. At his September 2nd concert, Drake handed $50,000 to his fan; this same person spent his furniture money to attend that concert. This lucky duck won the lottery by gaining recognition by Drake for spending his furniture money to see his concert. Unlike other enthusiasts who spent their life savings to see their idol and don’t even get acknowledged by the record-breaking icon, this fortunate person hit the jackpot by winning $50,000 to pay for their furniture that they could have bought if they did not attend the concert. 

The Vegas September 2nd concert gained attention not because of the artist’s music, but rather extravagant spending. Drake’s ability to perform his beloved songs heard on the radio have declined. He wore bizarre outfits as in an apron during “Her Loss”  that left his observers confused about his intentions as only cooks and serial killers wear aprons. His wardrobe is not creative, but rather questionable. Meanwhile, his previous outfit during his “Summer ‘16” tour left a memorable impression from its simple black color and yellow capital letters spelling REVENGE. He wore it while singing “Summer Sixteen” during his tour that had people thinking of Drake’s rhythm when he sang the verse “Looking for revenge.” Does Drake think that throwing out a $50,000 check makes his show interesting? Is his decline in having a creative wardrobe covered by him splurging on a Birkin bag to a random admirer? 

Drake has a lot of supporters. From their money, the Billboard Hot-100 artist is giving back to his concert attendants in a similar way the slot machines are giving back to the tourists. But with the gifts, there are no jaw dropping performances that will have people talk about it. He provided a mouth watering offer to a concertgoer to impress his visitors. If the audience was left disappointed from Drake partially singing “God’s Plan” by switching the verses to not let the audience engage with the catchy chorus “She says ‘Do you love me?’ I tell her ‘Only partly,” they immediately forget about that disappointment. He really displays “God’s Plan” by giving a splendid reward to his followers as a way of saying his supporters attending his concerts are God’s plans. It is a way of them exciting themselves without having them only love their bed and mothers but also loving Drake by attending the concert. They hope to become the next fortuitous person and provide a lot of memorable energy. Drake pampering his fans might be the new feature of his concert to compensate for his atrocious wardrobe. Similar to betting, it keeps them drawn by hoping to be the lucky winner one day. After all, Drake giving ridiculously expensive presents will have more people purchase tickets to his upcoming concerts, and similar to a casino, it will increase his number of admirers for future gigs.

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Laufey’s Bewitched

Laufey’s newest album captures both her greatest musical strengths and weaknesses.

Icelandic jazz certainly hasn’t reached the same heights as New Orleans jazz. Despite this, the jazz-pop singer Laufey has managed to bewitch the world with her unique musical style. After her participation in The Voice and the release of her first album in 2022, Laufey has managed to carve out a cult-like following among Gen Z. Unfortunately, her newly released second album will be unable to hold the world’s attention.

Bewitched opens with “Dreamer,” a 60s-inspired jazz-pop piece, a song that begins with an acapella chorus of Laufeys, a chorus later reduced to one voice singing over a piano and drum. Although only three and a half minutes long, the song seems to last throughout the duration of the album. Every song following “Dreamer” sounds near-identical to the opening piece as Laufey softly sings about love over one or two accompanying instruments. She changes the lyrics and sometimes swaps out instruments, but the overall sound remains the same. 

Out of the fourteen songs, there are only two exceptions to this minimalist style: “Haunted” and “Bewitched.” “Haunted” contains a beautiful section of strings, which die out after the beginning to be replaced by a guitar and Laufey’s Fitzgerald-like voice. They return here and there throughout the song, adding a beautiful, complex, and, not to be too on the nose, haunted quality to the song. “Bewitched” is similarly structured. The piece opens with an grandiose, Disney-like orchestral excerpt in collaboration with the London Philharmonia Orchestra, one that reappears – much subdued in grandness but not in beauty – between sections of acoustic guitar. This departure from Laufey’s usual style is a resounding success. “Bewitched” and “Haunted” are not the only pieces that go in new directions; she additionally experiments with bossa nova in “From the Start,” a style of jazz Laufey once previously (and successfully) explored in her previous album with “Falling Behind.” While still simple and very in-style for Laufey, the piece has a degree of energy derived from the layering of instruments not found in the rest of the album.

These songs paradoxically highlight both Laufey’s talent and the underwhelming sound of Bewitched’s remaining pieces. It’s difficult to listen to pieces such as “Misty” and “Must Be Love” after listening to her stronger songs. The rest of the album is minimalistic, basic, and, at times, strongly ambient. None of these are intrinsically bad qualities. The choice to write these pieces in such a way is logical, as previous Laufey songs have found success due to these features. But after listening to one song in this style, listening to the rest of the album seems pointless, as each song sounds the same as the previous and following one.

Laufey certainly does minimalism well. However, this album makes listeners reconsider whether minimalism is the style best for her to pursue. “Bewitched” and “Haunted” strikingly contrast the rest of the pieces, almost all of which are simply ballads comprised of Laufey’s voice and an accompanying instrument or two. Although Bewitched has its moments – and strong moments at that – there are few highlights in the album. The majority of its songs are not distinct enough from one another to remember, or to even listen all the way through. Most listeners will leave thinking they just listened to an album created by an AI fed with Laufey’s music. But for die-hard fans of Laufey’s style, this album will be received with great blind enthusiasm and love. Hopefully the next album will be more deserving of that love.

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yes! yes! a thousand times yes to Home is Where’s “The Whaler”

More than twenty years after the American tragedy that was 9/11, its echos continue to ripple across American culture. But no band has captured the post-9/11 world in the same way as Brandon MacDonald’s Home is Where. Their Summer 2023 release, “The Whaler”, is their crushing comeback from the already emo classic debut, “I Became Birds”. Her distinct screaming vocals cut through the cluttered but necessary instrumentals to reach directly into your soul.

The album ranges from the energetic highs like “yes! yes! a thousand times yes!” to the somber low reached in “9/12”, having only one line, “In dawn, September 12, 2001, everyone went back to work.” MacDonald’s vocals aren’t the only striking part of the ensemble, Tilley Komorny’s twinkly guitar lifts up the heavy vocals and provides a freshness in the bleakness of the lyrics. She also contributes kaleidoscopic texture through her various other parts, which her credits list as “piano, organ, backing vox, banjo, tambourine, jingle bells, mandolin fingers, tape loops, breaking stuff.”

MacDonald isn’t credited as the lead vocalist, but rather as a “tantrum” which accurately describes the purgative nature of this album. Her lyricism leaves you feeling raw, with her uncomfortable imagery sewn together to form lines like “spitting teeth into each other’s mouths back and forth until we make a smile” and “we don a regalia of useless genitalia.” This amalgam of bleak emo catharsis makes Home is Where’s first full length studio album, a bewitching sequel to “I Became Birds.”

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Bach to Zimmer: The Revolution of the Organ

Culture and society begin to reflect the change as the King of the Keyboard claims its rightful position as an instrument of modern times. 

The Spreckels Organ lit up during a nighttime performance. ThereSanDiego, 2018

Often, when people hear the word “organ” they automatically think of spleens and livers or, if they are a musician like I am, of Bach and hymnals. While both definitions involve the nature of circulation and constant breathing to survive, only one is utilized for public entertainment. The ever-changing nature of music embeds the organ in pop culture and film media, from the daunting Davy Jones’ Theme in Pirates of the Caribbean to the swirling, ethereal melodies in Interstellar. 

Through San Diego’s International Organ Festival, residents (and visitors!) of San Diego can attend free concerts every week in Balboa Park, where musicians from across the country perform on the largest outdoor pipe organ in the world. This festival spans the summer months, allowing patrons to enjoy the beauty of Balboa Park, such as the Japanese Friendship Garden or the various museums, or even sit by the steps and eat dinner as the sun sets. The International Organ Festival features a myriad of artists and instrumentalists and performance themes ranging from Bach to film scores. 

One such event I attended was Music in Movies, performed by Martin Ellis, an American church, theater, and concert organist. The program ranged from Ellis’ original works to the world-renown melodies of John Williams, exhibiting not only the expansiveness of music but also the magnitude and precision in which the organ could emulate these scores, many of which were originally written for a symphony orchestra. Although the concert began at 7:30, patrons were already filtering in over an hour before to secure seats close enough for the organ to drown out the whirl of planes flying into San Diego International Airport. 

The opening chords of Ellis’ Fanfare brought the instrument to life as the reed pipes emulated flourishing trumpets, serving as the perfect overture to an exciting performance. The brief, yet impressive work demonstrated the organ’s wide range, from contrasting dynamics to boasting the 5,000 pipes. After the first piece, Ellis addressed the audience with a lengthy speech, describing his program-making decisions by shamelessly plugging his new soundtrack. There were selections from his new jazz-inspired collection, A Technicolor Holiday, and even a composition by his friend, Mr. Carson Cooman: “Sonata No. 4″. Although both pieces complemented the program nicely, the real treat was the finale.

Audience members waited in suspense to hear the iconic blast of brass in the Main Title from selections from John Williams’ Star Wars fill the park and they were not disappointed. By this time, the sun had completely set and the facade of the organ was lit up with projections of actual scenes from the blockbuster movie. It was highly entertaining to hear some of the most recognizable melodies from the twentieth century; overjoyed parents with equally ecstatic children sat in awe as the menacing theme of the notorious villain Darth Vader brought forth realistic imitations of the string section as heard in the movie’s original soundtrack. 

The performance ended with a roar as the audience provided Ellis with a two minute standing ovation followed by requests for an encore. His reprise of Indiana Jones was not as refined as one would have hoped for an encore, but the enthusiasm from the crowd made up for the lack of perfection. It was inspiring to see such a turnout, giving me hope for the future of classical music and its greatest, most impressive instrument: the organ.

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AUDIBLE AUTUMN

A collection of songs to commemorate the transition of summer to fall on Cornell’s campus, brought to you by the apple cider fueled editors at Ezra’s Ear. 

Alvvays, “Plimsoll Punk”

Alvvays, a band based in a chilly Toronto, seem to understand the changing of seasons. “Do the tea lights on your mantle/Illuminate that summer feeling?”  As autumn slowly descends, Alvvays serves as a poignant reminder of our eternal pursuit of this elusive “feeling.” It could be the warmth of sunshine, the embrace of joy, or perhaps something more enigmatic. Even as we relentlessly chase the summer dream, their song’s title hints at a sense of anticipation for the impending fall. Plimsoll, or the chunky, slippery, and simple looking shoe, are typically worn in fall. Alvvays makes its sounds reflective of this, with chunky guitar riffs, slippery vocals, and simple drumlines. One can wish fall was always like this. —JACOBO OSPINA

The Smashing Pumpkins, “Cupid De Locke”

Even just the band’s name, The Smashing Pumpkins, is enough to draw pictures of typical halloween-esque debauchery in your mind. But with their 1995 song Cupid De Locke, a flaming autumn forest is painted instead. Suffused with a cyclically propelling harp arpeggio, the song almost seems to float out of your speakers as Billy sings of wilting love: “so note all ye lovers in love with the sound/your world be shattered with nary a note.” With varied instrumentation–from seraphic violin passages to actual scissors being jammed shut–the song builds on itself in mottled ways, culminating in a heart aching spoken word passage. —OMEED MOINI

Astor Piazzolla, “Otoño Porteño”

Be it Vivaldi or Glazunov, the seasons have been a common theme throughout music history. Few composers hold a candle to Astor Piazzolla’s musical rendition of the subject. “Otoño Porteño,” the fourth tango of his Estaciones Porteñas, flings listeners feet-first into fall. Explosively energetic at times, deeply sorrowful at others, the piece captures the mixed emotions found in the season of harvest and death. Perhaps no instrument contains the spookiness of the season as the accordion, Piazzolla’s signature instrument, and perhaps no composer knows how to incorporate the accordion in such a beautiful way. —DELIA FERRY

Kacey Musgraves, “Cup of Tea”

“Maybe your jacket is a hand-me-down” is the opening statement Kacey Musgraves sings indirectly describing the colder environment.  A hand-me-down jacket by the singer may not be seen as a comfortable piece of clothing to stay warm. When the artist sings “You can’t be everybody’s cup of tea” in the chorus, she is describing how a person may not be admired by a variety of people. Tea is a soothing drink for this cold season. Kacey may describe what it is like not being liked by the entire world, but assumes that tea is likable by everyone–especially during fall.                       —SALOMEE LEVY

Nico, “These Days”

As the constant excitement of summer fades away and the temperatures drop, a sense of quiet nostalgia and melancholy can overwhelm the senses. On brisk fall days where these feelings may surface, Nico’s “These Days” is the perfect song to articulate the changing landscape and the emotions that may be attached to it: “These days I seem to think a lot/How all the changes came about my ways.” As Nico croons the simple but relatable lyrics in her strangely sleepy voice, the instrumental accompaniment of a finger picking acoustic guitar and quiet string section pulls the piece together, providing the listener with an opportunity to find peace in sadness. —TANUM NELSON

Elton John, “Tiny Dancer”

The famous piano introduction brings around feelings of nostalgia for those who grew up with this song, but it may be lesser known that the lyrics depict the autumnal scene of Los Angeles: the radiating sunshine and free-spirited atmosphere compared to the dreary days in England. As Ithaca approaches the fall season (and with it, the changing of leaves), it is important to remember the beauty and warmth of sunshine in other places of the world. —SARAHELIZABETH LEE

Big Thief, “Change”

Lamenting and accepting the “Certainty” of “Change,” the lead track off of Big Thief’s 2021 Grammy-nominated album Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You contemplates the dynamic nature of the world around us. In lyrics characteristic of contemporary folk music, Adrienne Lenker adheres with a series of simple yet forceful similes: “Change, like the sky / like the leaves, like a butterfly,” and eventually in earnest, “Death, like a door, / To a place we’ve never been before.” The slow intonation of their lulling poetry sways in a gentle anthem for contentment about decay. Recommended Listening Space: appreciating colors out your car window as the mechanical phases away from consciousness. —AIDAN GOLDBERG

Mt. Joy, “Julia”



Fall brings greyer skies, leaves littered in droves of colour, and cooler winds in ripe evenings. “Julia,” from Mt. Joy’s eponymous debut, an ode to a lover, brings all the warmth you need to a chilly September evening. A foot-tapping, psychedelic, folksy tune, “Julia” blends wistful crooning for a “blue sky in the warm” from summers that fly by, while mustering mellow images of staying inside with a warm cup of tea in hand. The beaming vocals, groovy guitar riffs, and the driving drums add brightness to the song. “Julia” poignantly captures the bittersweet sense shared by all periods of passage, reminding listeners of the ephemeral nature of time and the beauty found in both joyful and melancholic transitions. —ARYAMAN THAREJA

Mitski, “Bug Like an Angel”

As fall arrives on Cornell’s campus, the bright emerald leaves of summer transform into an auburn-bronzed crisp and we put a little pep in our step as we walk to our 8 AMs. Nothing is more fitting to listen to on these seasonal strolls than angsty folk-style rock that envelopes us warmly in musical bliss. “Bug Like an Angel,” the first track on Mitski’s newest album, The Land is Inhospitable and So are We, explores just this. Her melodic drawn-out choral hums sway behind a soft-strumming guitar and she draws us in swiftly, yet not too eagerly. Singing somber memories of how we navigate change’s inevitable aftermath, she speaks to us all: “Did you go and make promises you can’t keep? / Well, when ya break em, they break you right back.” They do, indeed, break us right back, Mitski. They do. —AMARA CHIEDU

 

Earth, Wind and Fire, September

“Ba-ee-yah, ba-ee-yah,” intones lead singer Maurice White from way back in 1978, his voice soaring on the jubilant updrafts emitted by the tightest, brightest of all horn sections. This band could blow the leaves off of any tree. “Our hearts are ringing / our souls are singing,” White celebrates as the savory harmonic sequence chugs towards the darkness of December.  This irrepressible dance music feeds the feet and the feeling. It’s a love song that glows and pulses autumnal orange even as it remains an ecstatic evergreen in any season. —DAVID YEARSLEY

Fruit Bats, “Humbug Mountain Song”

The first notes of “Humbug Mountain Song” burst in with a rich piano melody, quickly joined by a catchy banjo rhythm. It’s the kind of song that’s sure to get your head bobbing and put a pep in your step. The lyrics sing of childhood memories, the complex emotions of first loves, and all the things that make us realize we’re “breathing and alive.” Fitting for a campus stroll through the autumn breeze and falling leaves, let this Fruit Bats track help you appreciate the beauties of the changing seasons. —LINDSEY MANOS

Turnover, “Like Slow Disappearing”

With its leaf hued cover, Turnover’s 2015 album ‘Peripheral Vision’ has become an autumnal staple when the months turn cold. Although it can be inferred the song is about an LSD induced trip with a lover, the lyrics show an enhanced fall world “It was early October, and all of the yards were alive with lights.” With minor chords, a consistently humming guitar, and soft synths, “Like Slow Disappearing” marks the transition from summer nights to autumn evenings. —DANIELLA GARCIA-LOOS ALMEIDA

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Ephemeral Summer at the Dawn of the Fall Semester

The Ithaca summer has proven to be a masterful puppeteer. Herds of students are pulled outdoors, sipping sangria at CTB, or strung along to late-nights at house parties, or radiant sunsets on the slope. Some are swept down oft-trodden trails instead. 

Tucked underneath the Stone Arch bridge in Collegetown, Cascadilla Gorge Trail offers respite from busy schedules and boozy weekends. That’s not to say it isn’t filled with chatter of its own. Cascading waterfalls accompany the steady beat of footsteps, engulfing you entirely; as if breathing a sigh of relief with you after a day of hard work. The sounds themselves are hard to describe; some waterfalls sound like a swarm of bees, individual sounds indistinguishable from the collective. Others are quieter, more pensive, like radio static. Each step changes the sound entirely in this gorge-shaped resonance chamber. Large sounds fading as you step away, like the sizzling of butter on a frying pan. 

Somewhere along the middle, a tree has fallen in the path of the stream. If you stop and stare, you’ll see the water swirl around the tree, making its way through the dead branches,  stealing the few remaining green leaves. The water, unperturbed by this hurdle, leaps on. After all, the stream’s been walking this route for 10,000 years now – obstacles are nothing new. Perhaps we walk with it to remind ourselves of just that – that life keeps moving. Sometimes, maybe all that we need is a sigh of relief.

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Making Sense of “Stop Making Sense”

The Talking Heads’ acclaimed concert film just re-released this month, losing none of its strange jubilance.

Byrne waltzes with a lamp to the bridge of “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody).”

Popping off the screen, swaying to the Talking Heads’ “Once in a Lifetime” music video, David Byrne washed over my high school biology teacher’s monitor. A new wave connoisseur, my teacher wanted to educate us on her generation’s hits. Propelled by an ambient piano sequence, Byrne’s wild interpretative dance was enough to make even the most energetic of highschoolers cross-eyed; with its odd visuals and erratic time-signatures the video felt oddly poetic but was impossible to decipher. Despite its entirely inoffensive nature, I felt annoyed. Is there value in art being intentionally cryptic?

Now over 30 years after its dissolution, the Talking Heads is being ‘revived’ with A24’s 4K remaster of their concert film Stop Making Sense. Sense takes two of the group’s enigmatic live performances and stitches them together, culminating in a showing featuring 16 of their most popular songs.  The film–which re-released on September 11th–originally received overwhelmingly positive reception: the audience treated it like a concert and would frequently dance in the aisles of the theater. Stylistically, Jonathan Demme’s directing departs from similar documentaries. Where the Buena Vista Social Club took an intimate look at the historical context of their band, Sense instead focuses on the mannerisms and stage presence of the performers, intentionally excluding any critical discussion. Perhaps this is fitting. Sense began as a passion project to immerse the viewers in a Heads live performance.

With no exposition, the film opens with Byrne walking alone onto a barren stage donning a beat-down gray blazer. He sets a boom-box on the ground and promptly plays a stripped-down acoustic version of “Psycho Killer.” His head clucks like a chicken to the rhythm while his face appears painfully mute with emotion as he sings. Normally marked by a euphoric guitar solo, the ending sequence is replaced with an electronic drum kit that sounds like a 14-year-old’s shoddy first attempts at producing. Byrne contorts his body in euphoria (or is it pain?) to the stricken beat—his frozen face makes it impossible to tell. Though the Heads don’t announce their doctrine, they do so subtly through the songs they perform: “Heaven is a place where nothing happens,” Byrne croons.

After each song finishes, new band members trickle in along with stage crew who physically build the band up, culminating in a performance of “Girlfriend is Better.” The punching bassline takes over Byrne’s body as he sings with a nervous vibrato, his vocals seraphically echoed by the back-up singers. Now donning a smile and his infamous ‘big suit,’ Byrne shuffles with his hands in his pockets, only appearing in control of his body when he grabs the microphone. Ending the film, the band leans-back into “Crosseyed and Painless;” the groove is so deep-in-the-pocket you can almost hear it hit the bottom. Even just watching the film at my desk, I can’t help but get up and dance (much to my girlfriend’s amusement).

Sense takes the alien rhythms and visuals that made “Once in a Lifetime’s” music video so disconcerting and makes them seem tame. No longer a cross-eyed and painless high schooler, I’m now able to better appreciate the band’s commitment to their cryptic ethos. In the current age of rock where a check is prioritized over individuality, Sense serves as a reminder of the timeless pleasures of ‘senselessness.’

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Haunted Mountain’s Pursuit of Innocence, of the Lost

The Texas native folk-rocker opens towards mystery and passion, hitting a stride in his band’s third project.

Lustrous vocals and guitar undulating in coordination form a memorable daydream: Buck Meek weaves a recognizable pattern for returning fans. His voice, almost shrill at times, has a satisfaction in being unique. Its soft, wandering glow allures listeners through its laxed Texan drawl come Northeasterner. His inflections are unpredictable: he can turn his voice through pseudo-voice cracks in a vocal maneuver akin to yodeling. Meek most distinctly utilizes his glottal prowess on upbeat songs like “Undae Dunes” and “Cyclades,” singing “There’s too many stories to remember / Too many stories to tell.” 

On his newest Studio LP, Haunted Mountain, Meek wanders through his own musings, getting lost on purpose, determined to reach no end, but leave in awe. As the comfortable refrain on “Cyclades” suggests, he tells his stories in fragments, letting his images and sounds wash over the listener – some thematic tides don’t crash back unless you listen to the album a second time. The title track’s third verse features a frame of the aimless lyric wrending Meek has splayed here. “I drank the water of this haunted mountain / Saw a younger reflection in the falls / The river rose around me / I was swept up in an eddy / Drifted a mile and nearly drowned.” From just reading, these words might seem dark, but Meek has a contented attitude towards this, and is perhaps even thankful for something that is haunted. His tone suggests that he cherishes life’s moments and wonders at them. The songwriter’s depth of resonance with this recounted experience leads him to vow in the song that he’ll never come down from the Haunted Mountain again; he’ll never remember, or tell all of his stories.

Though lots of the album’s images and stories, as in everyday life, are ephemeral, one thing noticeable stays consistent throughout the album: an unnamed person Meek relentlessly addresses in the second person. As a devout Big Thief fan, I have to wonder if the subject is Adrienne Lenker. For context, the pair are the frontmen of the alt-folk-rock band and got married in 2014 after graduating from Berklee college of music. Although they divorced in 2018, they still make and perform music that soul searchers flock to. Released in 2023 – are these songs odes to old love, records from the archive or tales of their new relationship? I hate to be a fanboy, but I can’t help but wonder about their connection and ability to tour together after separating. A more interesting theory: the ‘you’s’ aren’t about a specific person at all, and are a method through which to view the world that passes Meek and listener alike.

Unfortunately for the close listener, Meek’s lyrics tend to fall on the cliché side, cutting through the addicting snare cracks of Austin Vaughn’s drums and authentic reverberations of his songs. To Adrienne (or so I’d love to guess) on “Paradise,” he pleads “Tell me how you’ve got heaven in your eyes,” cranking a lame metaphor on the depth of a moment he could dive so much deeper into. On Secret Side he relates, “I’ll never know the secret side of you,” and on Lullaby, in the fashion of a true American school-child, whines in susurrus “You can’t take my sunshine away.” While I hasten to chide the repetitive folly in the composition of these lyrics, they beg for the sustenance of innocence. In calling on tradition, the songwriter finds his own style – it works. 

He wins over the listener with his passion and intensity for music that shines through in the way he lets the emotion flow out of his mouth, his guitar. You can almost see him grooving, worming unconsciously as he does during any one of his live performances. With his eyes closed, his guitar moves as an extension of himself, arms seemingly detached, each their own portraits of his satisfaction with the honor of a stage. In a reddit “Ask me Anything” on January 5th 2021 in response to being asked about his stage presence and how his body ‘moves to his guitar’ he responded “I try to think in shapes on stage, like a whip that sends shapes into the air, around the room and back into my chest, colliding with the new emerging shapes. Moving helps me let go of thought and the anxieties that thought can produce.” The guitar floats on stage separate from himself – almost. 

Buck Meek’s Haunted Mountain is packed tight with his moist, open sight. He creates an endearing, earnest sound. Dive into the feeling that Meek packs into these eleven songs with the utmost love.

 

A Sonnet to boil down my feelings regarding the album:

Ideal Unhaunted

 

Meek musings make realizations all

Opaque; the more beautiful. Get lost-life

A wandering soul’s stillness must enthrall

Through passing through the what which or how strife

Without concern, amounting sweet but trite.

Archival memory must be forgot 

So that an eye can see what’s near in sight-

Lest all moments form life a needless clot.

Meek voice to unfasten anything whole,

Slips focus for feeling – monumental trade

For the essence, outlie the common goal

Of sharp remarks, allow your words to fade.

 

Evolve, music, out the lyric era;

Sound as unsight from a haunted mountain:

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End of the Day: An Experimental Album for Clarity and Relaxation

Courtney Barnett’s latest album leaves behind the catchy melodies and witty lyrics she’s known for and charts new territory with striped back sounds and hypnotic repetition. 

    Album cover for End of the Day

Courtney Barnett is no stranger to the soft strum of a guitar or a slow tempo. While she may be known for her indie-rock classics such as “Avant Gardener” or “Pedestrian At Best,” Barnett has been writing ballads since her first EP was released in 2014. But songs off her newest album, End of the Day, evoke a sense of peacefulness and wonder like no other song off her discography has before. Originally recorded to accompany her 2021 documentary Anonymous Club, this instrumental album found a life of its own when it was released earlier this month with a biophilic visual accompaniment. No vocals to be found, this album is carried solely by the aesthetic reverberations of Barnett’s guitar and the gratifying synth tones and percussion of Stella Mozawa, fellow collaborator on this soundtrack.

When heard in the background of Anonymous Club, the songs off of End of the Day fit almost flawlessly with the sensations stirred up by Barnett’s intimate video-diaries. In the documentary, fans are given a close up of her life on tour, her creative process, and the mental toll of having fame magnify her insecurities. The Guardian’s Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen described it as, “so intensely personal it almost borders on claustrophobic, as we enter the anxious mind of one of Australia’s most loved contemporary rock musicians.” There’s a reason that the soundtrack is able to authentically capture Barnett’s wandering, melancholy mind. It was improvised to a final-cut of the film, allowing the songs to evoke the precise emotions Barnett is feeling in each scene.

Just released on streaming platforms, the captivating power of the melodies maintain their weight even outside their original purpose. The opening track is “Start Somewhere.” It begins with a wavering yet ever growing pitch that sucks you in while simultaneously throwing you off balance. The guitar comes in and out, never acting as more than a hovering buzz or a wandering thought. The tune holds a distant feeling of longing when the texture thins to quivering chords, but keeps a sense of hope alive by never going fully silent. “Start Somewhere” flows effortlessly into “Life Balance.” In this song, each guitar note is accented and sustained, yet the space between them feels devastatingly empty. The pulses behind them are grainier and have lost the dream-like quality they held just one song prior.

Slight changes like these are able to completely shift the tone while keeping the songs minimalistic and cohesive. They fit so seamlessly that noticing a change in my own mood was the only signal that a new song had begun. Sustained notes flow from one song to the next, essentially making the album appear to be one forty minute song to the unknowing ear. This aspect makes the soundtrack perfect for meditation, the calming yet thought-provoking pulses and unbroken melodies make it almost inevitable to slip into deep contemplation. 

Shows on Courtney Barnett’s upcoming tour, beginning October 11th, will each feature two sets from versatile guitarist. One with the instrumental music from End of the Day and the other with songs from the rest of her music catalog. The two sets will be sure to provide both a holistic image of the musician as well as summon a contrasting set of emotions from its audience. The peaceful, spiritual moment brought on by End of the Day will give way to a rock concert that the crowd will have to quickly switch gears to enjoy.