Retroversy

Every year, committing words to paper — or, well, keyboard — gets harder and harder for me as the eldrich tentacles of reality tighten their stranglehold around my executive functions and getting up from the couch begins to occasionally hurt. But for music, I’m willing to fight my worst impulses. Damn the writer’s blocks shackled around by ankles, I’m dragging myself out of this hole like Bruce Wayne in a clumsy religious metaphor from the seventh-best Batman movie. These songs deserve it.

Blanck Mass – “Bloodhound”

No post about music on this godforsaken blog is complete without at least a passing mention of Benjamin John Power, better known as Blanck Mass. Power’s ferocious and maximalist mix of propulsive, rhytmic dance music, heavy distortion and cathatric melodies contains just about everything I like in music, and after a brief stint composing film scores and being in the Editors for some reason, “Bloodhound” sees him returning to what he does best. Like most Blanck Mass tracks, it opens with an overwhelming sonic onslaught of droning guitars and unintelligible screaming, but as it goes on, the fury gradually blossoms into an anthem for hope, bringing cinematic strings and soothing twinkles into the mix as if it were a musical rendition of Dante’s Divine Comedy — a poetic journey from hell into heaven.

Fountaines D.C. – “Starburster”

I must admit I didn’t get it at first. This was supposed to be the single that would make Fountaines D.C. the next saviours of rock and roll? Why does it sound so perishing and repetitive? Why does the singer sing the same note over and over? And what the hell is with those weird gagging sounds? Over time, however “Starburster” is a song that opens up and peels back its layers, slowly growing in simmering intensity as Grian Chatten gasps for air trying to contain his fury. Gentle piano notes turn into swirling keyboard alarms and the repeating organ sample seems to grow deeper and more intense the further you go along, culminating in a surprisingly gentle, synth-driven climax, depicting a warm place amidst the mounting pressure that makes up the rest of the song.

Despite the seemingly nonsensical lyrics, “Starburster” makes its intent clear even to those not blessed with the ability to make sense of the thickest of Dublin accents. According to Chatten, the song was written about a panic attack he suffered at London’s St. Pancras station, and indeed, all of the songs quirks, from its initial mundanity over the droning repetition to those bloodcurdling retches, seem to reflect this experience perfectly. That the resulting track has turned into this year’s most unconventional festival anthem — just imagine a crowd of thousands singing along to that chorus — is merely the cherry on top.

Chappell Roan – “Good Luck, Babe!”

“Good Luck, Babe!” is a song so tremendous it nearly singlehandedly lifted its performer to the topmost echelons of pop stardom, and plenty of ink has been spilled already about Roan’s struggles to maintain her integrity while entitled fans expect her to carry the struggles of an entire community on her shoulders. It would almost make you forget just how good this track really is, but “Good Luck, Babe!” transcends both its campy stylings and the knottiness of its own paratext with sassy, baroque charm. With operatic conviction, Chappell Roan turns her attempts to make the girl she loves give up on pretending to be straight into a bombastic struggle for the ages, showing that she will never go down without a fight — in love, nor in the spotlights.

Kendrick Lamar – “Not Like Us”

What even is there left to say about this one? Honestly, I don’t even think “Not Like Us” is one of Kendrick’s finest outings — some of the zingers are pretty low-effort, the whole “OV-hoe” pun isn’t nearly as clever as he seems to think this is, and maybe I don’t know enough about rap culture to get this, but in my book calling someone a “sixty-nine god” will usually be interpreted as a compliment. Nevertheless, “Not Like Us” shines because it is the sum of its parts. Sure, there’s the instantly infectious beat and K-Dot’s confident flow, and there’s the sheer audacity of accusing the world’s biggest rap star of kiddie fiddling, but ultimately it was its immaculately timed release that cemented this song as a bona fide classic. Kendrick fired his last shot with pin-point accuracy, and in hindsight, it’s quite strange that we even referred to whatever he and Drake had going on as a feud. This was going to be an evisceration from the second it started.

That aside, though, the idea that “Not Like Us” will cement Kenrick’s legacy and ensure history will remember him as this angel of vengeance, the hater to end all haters, the god-emperor of rap who only came off his throne to put wannabes flying too close to his sun into their place, kind of rubs me the wrong way. The dude’s certainly fired shots in the past — infamously so — but the reason why he’s earned the right to talk shit, why he can get away with starting the most high-profile rap beef in years because another rapper complimented him — is, well, he won a Pulitzer, for crying out loud! The true strength of “Not Like Us” is that it, for all its playground-bully-esque tendencies, actually lives up to that reputation. Sure, it’s funny and audacious when he calls Drake a pedophile, but in the end it’s the scathing dissection of Aubrey Graham’s inauthenticity that make “Not Like Us” more than an odd side venture. Come for the “certified lover boy, certified pedophile“, stay for the “you not a colleague, you a fuckin’ colonizer“.

Charli XCX – “Von Dutch”

I didn’t particularly gel with Charli XCX’s album brat the way the rest of the world seems to have done — mostly because I don’t particularly consider making “I am a trashy sleazebag who parties all night, takes a lot of drugs and doesn’t give a fuck” your entire schtick is a particularly original move for a pop singer. Then again, I can’t deny the thing has some absolute bangers on it, in particular the first single “Von Dutch”, which perfectly encapsulates the “bratty” aesthetic with its cheeky lyrics, rambunctious swagger and charmingly annoying high notes.

DEADLETTER – “Mere Mortal”

What do bands like many of the most hyped and critically acclaimed bands of the past few years have in common? A goddamn saxophone player, baby. Belgium’s greatest gift to mankind is making its glorious return to rock music as talented trailblazers are discovering its versatility, from coordinating jazzy freakouts to adding precise stings of melody. In DEADLETTER’s catchy “Mere Mortal”, the sax is there to deliver some refreshing jabs to the classic brooding sound of post-punk, the sombre, yet sophisticated subgenre of rock music that set up shop on the intersection between depressing and danceable in the eighties and never really left. “Mere Mortal” is a perfect illustration of this paradox, the deep basses, rattling guitars and cynical lyrics being cheered up by the instruments bright toots and one hell of a cacthy chorus.

Fat Dog – “Running”

Did somebody say “saxophone”? Fat Dog are the most exciting new band of 2024, and — surprise, surprise — one of them plays the sax. Unlike in DEADLETTER, however, where the instrument takes centre stage, the saxophone in Fat Dog is usually there to provide texture, merely one zany color in the band’s preposterous palette. Fat Dog are the best kind of weird. They bring an unholy mix of mid-aughts punk, sweaty rave and klezmer. They sing about watching The Karate Kid and talking to slugs. Their drummer wears a dog mask all the time. Every single song on their debut album is unfiltered nonsense in its own way, so I just picked “Running” on account of the fact that it most strikingly reminds me of the neon-glitzed, popper-fueled party rock of one of the greatest make-a-single-album-and-then-disappear-off-the-face-of-the-planet bands of all time, Late of the Pier — a band so wacky just reading their Wikipedia page could instantly kill a Victorian child. What on God’s green earth is electroclash? Glam punk? Neo-prog? Anyone?

The Cure – “Alone”

Many people, myself included, wondered if we really needed a new album by The Cure, seventeen years after the last one. That is understandable, but not entirely fair, as Robert Smith and his band have never truly fumbled the bag before, have remained a live act to be reckoned with even after they quit releasing new music, and are active in a genre for which youthful energy isn’t exactly a prerequisite either. In fact, Smith’s advanced age is arguably the biggest strength of Songs of a Lost World, which has turned out to be one of the glummest and most elegiac albums the grandfathers of goth have ever turned out. Death looms around every corner on this album, as Smith reflects on his own mortality and the loved ones he has lost, backed up by spacey, dreamlike arrangements unconcerned with getting to the point before the stage has been clearly set.

The apocalyptic “Alone” is a clear example of this, weaving an atmospheric web of bleak grandeur for over two minutes before Smith even looks in the general direction of a microphone, but when he finally does, the morosity of The Cure’s heyday is back in full swing. Is it really the end for Robert Smith, as he wails on “Alone”? Songs of a Lost World does remind me a lot of Blackstar, the final masterpiece David Bowie released mere days before his death. If so, this song is, at the very least, an admirable last will and testament to leave behind.

The Horrors – “The Silence that Remains”

What is it with all these acclaimed British goth bands returning from long hiatuses to make some of the most soul-crushingly morose music of their careers this year? Did something happen?

Origami Angel – “Dirty Mirror Selfie”

On a recent episode of Jimmy Kimmel’s talk show, the American mainstream was exposed to the metalcore breakdown — a staple in heavy music where the guitars slow down to a menacing staccato, signaling the already rowdy audience to go completely off their rockers. It probably shouldn’t surprise me that this led to actual complains from concerned parents outraged by their children having to endure this ungodly noise, but it did, because… let’s be honest, the entire concept of metalcore is so utterly preposterous, hearing a breakdown in the year of our Lord 2024 feels like someone’s trying to pull one over on you. Years of being launched off of climactic punchlines straight out of a thirteen-year-old boy’s journal will do that to a trope, which makes its recurring appearance in Origami Angel’s music such a breath of fresh air.

You see, these guys make emo music, but they recognize that emo is a fundamentally dorky genre, and counter its infamous self-seriousness with lots of pop-culture references and goofy charm. When the breakdown inevitably hits in “Dirty Mirror Selfie”, it’s less of a desperate plea to be taken seriously, and more like a nod-and-a-wink “here we go again”. It’s a reflection of how Origami Angel address their own anxieties — a mixture of unapologetic sincerity and critical self-deprecation — that fits perfectly in the current post-post-ironic zeitgeist. Is whining about your feelings while a guitar that looks like it was designed by a self-identified Satanist who regularly contributes to Reddit threads with unsolicited nihilism makes construction site noises extremely corny? Yes it is. Is it also cathartic as fuck? Hell yeah.

Vampire Weekend – “Capricorn”

‘Nuff said.

Sky Ferreira – “Leash”

In the early 2010s, Sky Ferreira rose to indie stardom with her lean, no-nonsense pop songwriting. A decade after the release of her debut album, however, “no-nonsense” is about the last adjective anyone would use to describe her career. For years, Ferreira’s own record label, Capitol, sabotaged her career, holding back new music from being released in order to extort the singer into complying with their demands or disappearing into obscurity. This did not work out as intended. Last year, Capitol cut their losses and finally set Ferreira free — and she was welcomed back by fans with open arms, if the reception to “Leash” is to be believed.

Listening to “Leash” does almost make me sympathetic to the suits’ plight. This song indeed sounds like a record label executive’s worst nightmare, a dense, overwhelming wall of sound that is both a far cry from the skeletal minimalism that made Ferreira a name to be reckoned with, and the clear result of a perfectionist’s relentless ambition to replicate the sonic mayhem playing in their head. How many guitars can you pile on top of each other before something breaks? Sky Ferreira seems to know the answer, because “Leash” stops just short of collapsing under its own weight, leaving it one of the most intense and visceral listening experiences of the year. Contrary to what the title might imply, this is what liberation sounds like.

Geordie Greep – “Holy, Holy”

With a name like “Geordie Greep” you’re destined to become a Bit of a Character, and indeed, it takes quite the Character to unlitaterally disband one of the most acclaimed and beloved rock bands of the current era to promote a song written from the perspective of an insecure, insufferable loser hiring a call girl to stage a fake date that will make him look like a remorseless ladykiller. If that regsters as completely insane to you, wait until you hear what this dude can do with a guitar! “Holy, Holy” sounds like the music all of your dad’s favourite bands would make if your dad’s favourite bands made music that would make your dad go “What the hell is this noise? Is that what they call music nowadays?” It’s David Bowie at the circus. It’s Steely Dan from Hell. It’s King Crimson, but somehow even more for incels than actual King Crimson. It has to be heard to be believed. What a time to be a music fan, man.

Jamie xx ft. Romy & Oliver Sim – “Waited All Night”

I love this song mostly because it shows that even when their band is technically on hiatus so they can focus on their solo careers, the members of The xx just can’t stop making music with each other because they’re such great friends. Why aren’t there more bands out there making music about being buds?

NEK! – “Get Over”

I am looking forward to the documentary that will reveal what is driving an entire generation of teenage Japanese girls to get so extremely good at playing their instruments, but for now, suffice to say that the girl bands playing bona fide rock ‘n’ roll music are popping out of the ground like mushrooms over in the land of the rising sun. Most of these bads unfortunately suck ass, for the same reason why most of all commerical Japanese music sucks ass — it’s over-composed, over-produced and more interested in copying aesthetics than exploring them. NEK! — pronounced “neki” — are a promising exception, however. On their first single “Get Over”, they flaunt a technical craftsmanship that is hard to be cynical about — the bassist especially slapping her instrument with so much gusto it puts your average episode of Seinfeld to shame — but unlike many of their contemporaries, NEK! never drown in baroque excess or schmaltzy melodrama. “Get Over” is a tightly constructed, no-nonsense little whirlwind of catchy riffs, juicy licks and an anthemic chorus that contains its complexity and the prowess of its performers to the constraints of a straightforward pop song, and it’s all the better for it.

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Haven’t had enough of my bizarre taste in music yet? Wondering where all the K-pop that was on last year’s list went? Here, have some honorable mentions:

• LISA – “Rockstar”
• Lucius ft. Adam Granduciel – “Old Tape”
• Magdalena Bay – “That’s My Floor”
• Man/Woman/Chainsaw – “The Boss”
• ROSÉ ft. Bruno Mars – “APT.”
• Sabrina Carpenter – “Espresso”
• Sam Fender – “People Watching”
• SASAMI – “Slugger”
• Warhaus ft. Sylvie Kreusch – “Popcorn”
• Yard Act – “We Make Hits”

What a year for music, man. What a year.