This page collects album reviews for 2020s artists of whom I’ve only reviewed one or two albums.
Fiona Apple | Caribou | Destroyer | Baxter Dury | Childish Gambino | Grimes | King Krule | Dua Lipa | John Moreland | Owen Pallett | Perfume Genius | Porridge Radio | Katie Pruitt | Rina Sawayama | Tricot | Yves Tumor | U.S. Girls | Jessie Ware | Waxahatchee | Hayley Williams | Jonathan Wilson
Fetch the Bolt Cutters
Fiona Apple’s been around for a long time, releasing her 1996 debut album Tidal at the age of 18. But she’s not prolific – Fetch the Bolt Cutters is only her fifth record, making each Apple release feel like an event. April’s Fetch the Bolt Cutters has proved especially major – in a fractured music scene, it’s dominated conversations about the year’s best record.
Fetch the Bolt Cutters deviates from Apple’s usual piano-driven music in favour of a percussion-heavy sound. The percussion came from found objects including baked seedpods and the bones of Apple’s deceased dog. Apple often initiated the tracks from basic recordings on her phone and, despite contributions by band-mates like bassist Sebastian Steinberg and multi-instrumentalist David Garza, the tracks retain the raw feeling of demos. Model Cara Delevingne, Apple’s sister Maude Maggart, and Apple’s dog Mercy are also credited with vocal contributions.
Musically, Fetch the Bolt Cutters resembles 1980s Tom Waits, as well as tracks like ‘Hot Knife’ from Apple’s previous record The Idler Wheel…. Apple is a more supple vocalist than Waits, however, and it’s her dramatic cabaret-style singing that gives Fetch the Bolt Cutters a distinctive flavour. First track ‘I Want You To Love Me’ is piano-based, but features some of Apple’s most extreme vocalising with her high pitched machine-gun impersonations at the conclusion.
Apple’s fascinating lyrically, and Fetch the Bolt Cutters moves is both insular and inspirational. Some songs like are directly inspired by minutiae in Apple’s life; in the case of ‘Drumset’, by bandmate and engineer Amy Aileen Wood borrowing Apple’s drumset without asking. The title is taken from an episode of TV series The Fall, and serves as a metaphor for freedom. Apple references another female auteur, Kate Bush, on the title track, singing “I need to run up that hill, I will, I will, I will, I will, I will.”
Most of these tracks are memorable thanks to Apple’s striking lyrics and vocal experiments. ‘Heavy Balloon’ addresses depression and uses a jazzy template with unexpected key changes. The stacked vocals on ‘For Her’ are effective, almost a capella apart from some percussion. ‘Relay’ rollicks along on a bed of percussion as Apple declares that “evil is a relay sport”.
Fetch the Bolt Cutters isn’t quite my favourite record of the year, and it may not even end up as my favourite album from Apple. Nonetheless, it’s a notable addition to a fascinating catalogue that marks Apple as one of the most significant acts to emerge in the 1990s. Releasing a record that sounds somewhat original is an achievement in a congested market.
I’m sure I’m not the only music fan who prefers music with obvious human emotion. Accordingly, electronic music can be a tough nut to crack – you can enjoy the sonic experimentation, but not emotionally connect with it in the same way as with music fronted by a human voice. Caribou’s Dan Snaith solves this dilemma by adding his own homespun vocals to his tracks, providing an easy way in for fickle fans like me.
Suddenly isn’t unlike Eno’s vocal albums of the 1970s – you can dance to it, and instead of star turns from guest musicians like Robert Fripp and Phil Collins, it’s the vocal samples that provide the spark. But Eno and Snaith share an interest in marrying textural experimentation with succinct songwriting, topped off with their endearing vocals. Snaith’s gentle voice often recalls Mercury Rev’s Jonathan Donahue.
Suddenly is Snaith’s tenth album, including records as Manitoba and Daphni. The twelve songs were developed from nine hundred 30-second draft ideas. Snaith holds a doctorate in mathematics, in Overconvergent Siegel Modular Symbols, but there’s emotional heft communicated by his gentle voice as well.
Snaith covers a lot of stylistic ground on Suddenly – the immediacy of the dance-pop on ‘Never Come Back’ contrasts with the intimacy of ‘Like I Loved You’. The verse of ‘You and I’ recalls the 1980s-flavoured sophisti-pop of The 1975, but the chorus spirals unpredictably. Often it’s the mellowest material that works the best – ‘Ravi’ extracts every possible ounce of beauty out of its gentle groove. Snaith’s textural experimentation is at the forefront on pieces like ‘Sunny’s Time’ and ‘Cloud Song’.
Suddenly is a superlative album of smart dance-pop, delivering textual experimentation and memorable hooks.
Have We Met?
Destroyer have the most misleading name in popular music. What you expect is death metal or perhaps a KISS tribute band. What you get is a man sardonically purring and bleating his twisted insights over smooth yacht rock.
Like many music fans, I first encountered Dan Bejar as a member of The New Pornographers. He’d contribute three twisted songs on each record to contrast with the classicist power-pop of A.C. Newman. Bejar hasn’t performed with The New Pornographers since 2014, and his solo albums have received more attention than his parent band over the last decade. In particular, 2011’s Kaputt often turns up on best-of-decade lists.
Have We Met backs Bejar with smooth pop sounds – it recalls music from the turn of the 1980s. The glacial beauty of Roxy Music’s 1982 album Avalon surfaces in the mellower songs, while the title of opening track ‘Crimson Tide’ instantly recalls ‘Deacon Blue’ from Steely Dan’s smooth 1977 album Aja. The most immediate track is ‘Cue Synthesizer’, with Bejar languorously commanding his band. “Cue synthesizer. Cue guitar. Bring in the drums. Cue fake drums.”
The production, from New Pornographers’ bassist John Collins, is superb – the bass is warm and punchy, and the other instruments are warm and inviting. The best tracks utilise lush arrangements, like ‘It Just Doesn’t Happen’. Bejar also has charisma to fall back on – “I was like the laziest river/A vulture predisposed to eating off floors” is a great line to open the record with.
I’m not yet sure where Have We Met sits in Destroyer’s discography overall, but it’s an engaging and charismatic record.
The Night Chancers
Even if you don’t recognise the name, if you’re a fan of music from previous generations you might recognise Baxter Dury appearing with his father Ian on the cover of New Boots and Panties!!
Following in a parent’s footsteps has often been a tough road in pop music. Baxter Dury’s never matched his father’s critical acclaim, but at the age of 48 he’s been enjoying some attention for his recent albums. As on 2017’s Prince of Tears, Dury presents his spoken monologues backed with smooth synths and female backing vocals. It’s like a cockney Serge Gainsbourg, and a full album of this approach is wearying.
Dury starts out on the wrong foot with me – ‘I’m Not Your Dog’ opens the record with the charmless line “I’m not your f***ing friend”, before using the female vocals for a French chorus.
Dury’s lugubrious hipster shtick is effective on the title track, with its dramatic synth string flourishes – it helps that Dury’s vocal delivery is less amelodic as he talk-sings about being left with the crumbs of his spare thoughts.
Maybe it’s just too specifically English for me to enjoy, but no matter how animated his oratory I find it difficult to enjoy more than a couple of Baxter Dury tracks at a time.
Donald Glover has established himself as a multi-talented superstar, topping the singles charts in 2018 with the politically charged ‘This Is America’, playing Lando Calrissian in Star Wars’ Solo, and voicing Simba in The Lion King remake. He started his career as a writer for 30 Rock before playing Troy Barnes on Community. He launched his music career as Childish Gambino, a title he created on a Wu Tang name generator website.
3.15.20 is Gambino’s fourth studio album. Given his celebrity status, coupled with a long running length and lazy song titles (most songs are named after the timestamp they start at) it’s easy to perceive 3.15.20 as an indulgent hobby record. But despite a bit of bloat, it’s often enjoyable. Gambino’s clearly a fan of Prince and Marvin Gaye, and he’s able to produce an impressive falsetto. 3.15.20 finds a comfortable middle ground between classic soul and a modern sheen, and while it doesn’t reward close listening, but it makes for fun background music.
There’s upbeat pop on ’35:31′, where Gambino’s whoops are propulsive and fun. Ariana Grande adds backing vocals to ‘Time’, and it’s one of the record’s highlights with a soaring chorus. The closing ’53:49 (There Is Love In Every Moment)’ is suitably climactic, showing Gambino’s immense talents as a vocalist – he delivers energetically rapped verses and a beautifully shredded falsetto in the chorus.
It’s a little loose and meandering to be a great record, but 3.15.20 is a fun listen.
It’s more than four years since Claire Boucher, better known as Grimes, last released an album. In that time her profile has increased dramatically, dating tech-entrepreneur Elon Musk and becoming pregnant with his child. Along with the early leaks of Miss Anthropocene, it feels as though the side-stories have overshadowed the music.
Miss Anthropocene is a concept album, named after the “anthropomorphic goddess of climate change”. It’s darker than Grimes’ previous record, the pop-laced Art Angels – the music follows the lyrics. Grimes told Lana Del Rey in Interview Magazine that the album is a “a modern demonology or a modern pantheon where every song is about a different way to suffer or a different way to die.”
Grimes is an auteur – she’s known for recording techniques like overlaying fifty different vocal tracks over each other. ‘Delete Forever’ is based around an acoustic guitar part, but was created entirely from samples. Due to the dark nature of the record, the hooks on Miss Anthropocene are more subdued than on Art Angels. There are upbeat moments like ‘You’ll Miss Me When I’m Not Around’, but a lot of the material is darker, closer to post-punk than pop. The hooky ‘We Appreciate Power’ was slated as the album’s first single in 2018, but it doesn’t fit the dark mood and it’s instead a bonus track on the Japanese edition.
Miss Anthropocene is dark and oppressive, but it’s also endlessly fascinating. Taiwanese rapper Aristophanes features on ‘Darkseid’, breaking up the oppressive darkness with her distinctive voice. The pop side of Grimes is relatively subdued, and the most energetic piece, ‘You’ll Miss Me When I’m Gone’, is buried in the middle of the second side. Your enjoyment of Miss Anthropocene probably depends on your tolerance for brooding ballads ‘New Gods’ and ‘Before the Fever’, and moody soundscapes like ‘Idoru’.
As usual with Grimes, Miss Anthropocene is able to offer both arty weirdness and pop hooks. The balance is firmly tilted towards the former on this record, but it’s still a fascinating concept album with plenty to reward repeat listening.
Archy Marshall started young, releasing his debut album 6 Feet Beneath the Moon on his 19th birthday in 2013. Marshall grew up in a creative household – his mother is an artist, and his godfather Dave Ruffy drummed for Aztec Camera. Marshall’s music recalls post-modern acts like Beck and Pavement, offering moments of emotional resonance among songs that blend disparate styles. In King Krule’s case, alongside punky alt-rock, there’s a surprising jazz influence and traces of 1990s trip-hop.
Krule’s voice is malleable, rising in intensity to a tousled yowl at times. He’s best on abrasive tunes like ‘Comet Face’ and ‘Stoned Again’, where his gravelly voice and the deep bass combine to create a face-melting blast of low-pitched noise.
In contrast, the slower material isn’t melodic to hook me in, but Krule’s synthesis of jazz textures with a raw punk sound is often fascinating. He’s emotionally resonant in songs like ‘Please Compete Thee’, and his atmospheric guitar playing also distinctive.
Two records into my King Krule experience I’m still unsure whether I’m a fan, but his aesthetic is distinctive and fascinating.
Pop music has become a much more respected art form in the past decade. Records like Taylor Swift’s 1989, Carly Rae Jepsen’s Emotion, and Robyn’s Honey have attained the acclaim usually reserved for more critically favoured musical genres.
Dua Lipa’s an obvious candidate to cross from mainstream radio to critical credibility. She enjoyed a provocative duet with St. Vincent at the 2019 Grammy ceremony, while her husky vocals and eastern European heritage make for an interesting pop star. Lipa was born in London, but her parents are from Kosovo, where her father is lead singer in a rock band.
Future Nostalgia is Dua Lipa’s second album. Its pop has a clear influence from 1980s synth-pop and traces of disco, like the string stabs in ‘Love Again’. Lipa particularly excels at upbeat pop songs, my favourite of which is ‘Levitating’ – the descending vocal melody suits Lipa’s range, and the hand-claps are invigorating.
There are other terrific pop tunes too – ‘Cool’ uses the husky textures of Lipa’s voice to great effect, while ‘Break My Heart’ samples INXS’s ‘Need You Tonight’. The opening title track steers close to disco, with Lipa charismatic in the rap section, while ‘Don’t Start Now’ has a funky bass line and a glistening verse melody.
The upbeat pop songs are great, but Future Nostalgia wavers when Dua Lipa diversifies. The lustful simmer of ‘Pretty Please’, the gimmicky ‘Good in Bed’, and the limp closer ‘Boys Will Be Boys’ are all flat spots in an already brief record. There’s also a sense that Lipa hasn’t yet developed enough of an individual personality – her lyrics don’t go far beyond generic tales of lust, even if the record’s got enough great tunes to stand proudly.
Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia doesn’t quite have the consistency of other recent acclaimed pop albums, but it hits some great high points.
John Moreland wasn’t always an Americana artist – he grew up playing in hardcore bands. When he started his career as a solo artist, he played music inspired by the country-folk of Guy Clark and Townes Van Zandt. As its title implies, LP5 is Moreland’s fifth album.
The production, from Centro-matic drummer Matt Pence is crisp, and the musicianship is lovely. Moreland is an accomplished guitarist – there’s gorgeous guitar picking on ‘In Times Between’ – and there’s an unexpected Stevie Wonder-esque clavinet solo on ‘A Thought Is Just A Passing Train’. Between his deep, gravelly voice and literate lyrics, Moreland’s often reminiscent of Springsteen’s acoustic material.
Moreland’s often circumspect, and the most memorable songs are the morose pieces like ‘I Always Let You Burn You To The Ground’ and ‘Fever Breaks’. The instrumental ‘For Inchiro’ is also lovely, and perhaps an interesting avenue for Moreland to explore where he’s not constrained by his vocal limitations.
I have my doubts about John Moreland’s stylistic range, but LP5 is a lovely record, full of thoughtful words and pretty arrangements.
Even if you’re unfamiliar with the name Owen Pallett, you’ve probably heard the Canadian composer’s music. Over the last two decades he’s amassed an impressive resume as a violinist and arranger, appearing on records by R.E.M., Frank Ocean, Taylor Swift, Robbie Williams, Arcade Fire, and HAIM. Island is Pallett’s first solo record since 2014’s In Conflict.
The acoustic guitar picking and orchestration are reminiscent of Nick Drake – Pallett received a note of acknowledgement from Drake’s estate in appreciation of Island. Pallett’s voice isn’t as distinctive as Drake’s hushed whisper, but his orchestral arrangements, as played by the London Contemporary Orchestra, are phenomenally good.
Island picks up the story of Lewis, a young, ultra-violent farmer, first encountered on 2010’s Heartland. At the conclusion of Heartland Lewis disavowed his creator, Owen, while at the start of this record he’s washed up on an Island.
The beautiful orchestral arrangements would make the record a keeper anyway, but the songs are good too. The acoustic guitar and orchestration of songs like ‘Transformer’ and ‘Fire-Mare’ is the most common mood of Island, while the solemn melody of ‘Lewis Gets Fucked Into Space’ resembles a Church hymn, even though the lyrics certainly don’t. The galloping percussion of ‘A Bloody Morning’ provides a jolt on energy on a mellow record. The record ends with band versions of ‘Paragon of Order’ and ‘Fire-Mare’, and they’re also gorgeous even without their strings.
Island is gorgeous, a supremely talented arranger letting his muse run freely over a beautiful record.
Set My Heart on Fire Immediately
Mike Hadreas has been releasing albums as Perfume Genius since 2010 – Set My Heart on Fire Immediately is his fifth full-length. Hadreas has told interviewers that creating and performing the dance piece The Sun Still Burns Here has changed his approach, making his music more extroverted and universal. He nanes Townes Van Zandt, Enya, and the Cocteau Twins as influences on Set My Heart on Fire Immediately.
Perfume Genius is a gifted arranger – his atmospheric chamber-pop songs boast creative string parts. The impossibly ascending coda to ‘Jason’ is a moment of arranging brilliance. Chamber-pop is Perfume Genius’ most distinctive style, but I find his voice overly querulous on the slower tracks like ‘Moonbend’ and ‘Borrowed Light’.
I prefer Perfume Genius when he’s aiming for the pop jugular. ‘Describe’ marries heavy guitars and great pop instincts, while ‘On The Floor’ bounces along joyfully. The straightforward pop of ‘Without You’, and the big dramatic strings of ‘Your Body Changes Everything’ are also keepers, and ‘Nothing At All’ balances pop hooks with personal confession.
I don’t love all of Set My Heart on Fire Immediately, but the songs that connect are excellent.
Porridge Radio are an indie guitar band from Brighton. Every Bad is their fifth album, but their first for a high profile label (Secretly Canadian) and their first since 2016. 1990s revival is popular among rock bands at the moment, and Porridge Radio seems to specifically takes its cues from early PJ Harvey – their music shares the same abrasive edge. Front-woman Dana Margolin has a distinctive haughty and austere voice, which suits the approach.
With little in the way of melodic interest or extroverted instrumentation, Every Bad lives or dies on the strength of Margolin’s lyrics and vocals. It’s a mixed bag – for every incisive observation, there’s a painfully obvious line like “Take me back to bed/And shoot me in the head” on ‘Pop Song’. The problem is worsened when Margolin deals in spoken word.
Despite my misgivings, there’s at least one excellent song – ‘Don’t Ask Me Twice’ unexpectedly launches into a genuinely memorable and unexpected melodic chorus. The drumming is fantastic, giving the song a heavy industrial feel in the introduction, before dropping out for the first verse. Margolin’s lyrics also shine ends with the tagline “Oh, I don’t know what I want/But I know what I want.”
The abrasive indie-rock of Every Bad isn’t tuneful enough for my liking, but there’s potential for more enjoyable records from Porridge Radio in the future.
Katie Pruitt grew up in Atlanta, and was raised Catholic. Her debut album Expectations, released at the age of 25, is focused on coming-of-age issues. Pruitt writes about the tension of growing up LGBTQ in a conservative household. Songs like ‘Normal’ and ‘Expectations’ are open in their portrayal of Pruitt’s experiences.
What’s it like to be normal?
To want what normal girls should?
God knows life would be easier.
If I could be normal, then trust me, I would.
Pruitt’s voice is warm and full, with a pleasant rasping edge and southern accent that recalls Stevie Nicks. This impression augmented by first single ‘Expectations’, which taps into the same warm pop/rock as Fleetwood Mac, with lead guitar that recalls Lindsey Buckingham. She uses her voice wisely, often singing within herself, but able to launch to dramatic emotional climaxes. These songs are robustly written, and Pruitt’s also a strong lyricist (“But her body’s my temple and her soul is my savior” is a great line), but she has the vocal ability to invigorate lesser material.
‘Expectations’ taps into an upbeat pop/rock sound, but much of Pruitt’s material on the rest of the the record is more restrained. There’s classy and straightforward country on ‘Normal’ and ‘Lovin’ Her’. The moodier pieces like ‘Grace Has A Gun’ and ‘My Mind’s a Ship That’s Going Down’ recall Julien Baker, who covers similar thematic territory in the intersection between LGBTQ and faith. Pruitt cites Brandi Carlile (see the handy chart below!) as an influence, and her admiration for another golden-voiced Americana artist makes sense.
Since Expectations is so autobiographical, it will be interesting to see where Pruitt goes with her next release. She’s clearly a talented vocalist and emotionally honest writer, so I’m expecting more great things.
Rina Sawayama was born in Japan, but moved to the UK at the age of 5. She’s a late bloomer, especially for the pop game, releasing her debut album at the age of 30. Her debut is brash and entertaining, running through autobiographical experiences like her family, helplessness in the face of climate change, and male privilege.
Musically, Sawayama is just as wild a ride, hitting a lot of genre points. What’s distinctive is the taste of mu-metal that pervades some of these tracks – ‘STFU!’ and ‘Who’s Gonna Save U Now’ feature crunchy guitars. She also able to switch to Japanese, like in the second verse of ‘Akasaka Sad’. Opening track ‘Dynasty’ has thematic heft, brooding both musically and lyrically.
Not everything that Sawayama tries sticks – ‘Chosen Family’ sounds like the theme song for a shoddy 1990s teen sitcom. The other big ballad, ‘Bad Friend’, is terrific – Sawayama regretting the waning of a previously vibrant friendship. As you’d expect on a pop record, there’s breezy material like ‘Tokyo Love Hotel’, while ‘Xs’ punctuates a pop tune with buzzsaw guitars.
Sawayama is flawed, but it’s also filled with vibrancy – when it works it’s unique and exciting.
Math-rock band Tricot formed in Kyoto in 2010, released their debut album in 2013. Their fourth studio album 真っ黒 (Japanese for Pure Black) marks their major label debut. Tricot spent time as an all-female trio, but drummer Yuusuke Yoshida was added in 2017. Yoshida provides the engine for the twin guitar attack of Ikumi “Ikkyu” Nakajima and Motoko “Motifour” Kida and phenomenal bassist Hiromi “Hirohiro” Sagane.
Tricot told Rolling Stone that their influences include the Eagles (for their harmony arrangements) and Red Hot Chili Peppers, but it’s barely reflected in their sound. They play complex math-rock, with intertwining guitar parts and time signature shifts. Their fast tempos are reminiscent of punk, while Ikkyu’s sweet voice gives them a pop sensibility.
The group changed their writing approach for this record; previously the songs would be written around Motifour’s guitar parts, but for 真っ黒 the melodies were written first. The group’s backing vocals also add more pop candy. Math-rock purists may prefer earlier albums like 2013’s T H E, but Tricot’s balance of melody and muscle on 真っ黒 is exemplary.
Tricot’s strengths are demonstrated on the closing title track, which translates as ‘Pure Black’. The sweet vocal melody is complemented by the group’s sharp musicianship – the cleverly arranged intro and intricate guitar parts work wonderfully to support the song.
Sagane’s virtuoso bass-line opens the record on ‘Don’t Mix! Danger’, a rapidfire punkish opener that’s sweetened by the creative backing harmonies. The group mellow right down on ‘To a Non-Dangerous Town’ – it places Nakajima’s voice in the spotlight, and it’s pretty. The squiggling guitar of ‘One Season’ recalls 1980s King Crimson, but 真っ黒 perfect a math-pop aesthetic here.
It’s far too clever for mass appeal, but 真っ黒 is a terrific major label debut for Tricot. It wouldn’t take much to convince me that Tricot are currently the world’s most accomplished art-rock guitar band, and 真っ黒 is an early contender for album of the year.
Heaven to a Tortured Mind
Yves Tumor is an American producer and vocalist, born as Sean Bowie in Miami and based in Turin, Italy. Tumour was raised in Nashville, and started making music to cope with “dull, conservative surroundings”; I imagine there weren’t many fellow Throbbing Gristle fans in Tennessee. Heaven to a Tortured Mind is Tumor’s fourth album.
Tumor’s an electronic artist, but the music’s abrasive enough to be accessible for rock fans. Tumor takes samples from John Wetton-era Uriah Heep and ‘Hangman’, from Jimmy Page and Roy Harper’s 1985 collaboration ‘Whatever Happened to Jugula?’ The industrial rhythms are propulsive, and there’s barely an ounce of fat on this quick moving record.
Tumor’s joined by New York R&B vocalist Diana Gordon for the wonderful advance single ‘Kerosene!’, and she does a great job of matching Tumor’s vocal intensity. Creative rhythms underpin songs like ‘Gospel For A New Century’, the opener where the stop-start rhythm track sounds like a technical malfunction. The second half of Heaven to a Tortured Mind is a little unmemorable and light on hooks, but it’s still an impressive record.
Yves Tumor’s abrasive electronica is a massive hit of adrenaline, and Heaven to a Tortured Mind is often thrilling.
Meghan Remy grew up in Illinois, but moved her experimental pop project U.S. Girls to Toronto in 2010. Adding a poppy sheen to her music helped Meg Remy gain attention for her previous record, 2018’s In A Poem Unlimited; ‘M.A.H.’ sounded like a lost Blondie track. 2020’s Heavy Light feels like a good followup, rather than a great one.
Remy’s often a provocative lyricist, and she’s doubled down on this aspect by including a few answer sessions with her bandmates on Heavy Light. Tracks like ‘Advice to my Teenage Self’ and ‘The Colour of my Childhood Bedroom’ are brief monologues that interrupt the flow.
The opening track, though, is great. ‘4 American Dollars’ recalls 1960s girl group fare with its organ and backing vocals, although it also has a contemporary sheen. It’s funky, and it closes with a memorable tag line.
I don’t believe in pennies, and nickels
And dimes, and dollars, and pesos, and pounds, and
Rupees, and yen, and rubles, no dinero
Other memorable tracks include ‘Woodstock ‘99’, which uses parts of Jimmy Webb’s ‘McArthur Park’, and ‘Born to Lose’ which again mines the blue-eyed soul sound.
Heavy Light is a little disjointed and disappointing after In A Poem Unlimited, but U.S. Girls remain vibrant and entertaining.
What’s Your Pleasure?
Jessie Ware is probably the UK’s most likeable mainstream pop star; I struggle with mega-sellers like Adele and Ed Sheeran, but Ware’s low-key delivery is adorable. Her 2012 debut Devotion was lovely, but she lost career momentum with her following releases. She’s roared back into relevance with 2020’s What’s Your Pleasure, focusing on delightful retro-disco.
What’s most striking about What’s Your Pleasure is the sheer musicality – it’s stuffed with great bass-lines and creative string arrangements. There’s plenty of reference points for pop geeks; the sonic experimentation on ‘Ooh La La’ recalls Berlin-era David Bowie, while the epic closing track ‘Remember Where You Are’ was conceived as an answer track to Minnie Riperton’s ‘Les Fleurs’.
Ware comes from a relatively famous family – her father’s a BBC reporter, while her sister’s an actress – so it’s surprising that her delivery is so unassuming. Her vocal presence is a constant delight – she’s relatable and personable. Lines like “You can stay overnight, if you ask politely” are interesting precisely because they’re so un-pop star.
The slick sophistication of tracks like ‘In Your Eyes’ recalls Sade, while Ware’s more forthright on songs like ‘Step Into My Life’. It’s the final track, though, that’s the highlight – ‘Remember Where You Are’ shimmers with retro grandeur. Even though a clutch of four-minute tracks stretched over fifty minutes is a recipe for an uninspiring record, What’s Your Pleasure? is magnificent – at the time of writing it’s rated as the third best dance-pop album of all time on Rate Your Music, behind Michael Jackson’s Thriller and Carly Rae Jepsen’s Emotion.
What’s Your Pleasure? is a delight, musical and likeable.
Alabama’s Katie Crutchfield hasn’t always been an Americana artist – she’s a talented young artist who’s able to switch genres. Her previous record, 2017’s Out in the Storm, was a furious album of cathartic guitar rock, recorded after heartache. Giving up alcohol and moving to Kansas City to join boyfriend Kevin Morby, Crutchfield reconnected with the country music that she rejected in her teens.
Crutchfield told The Guardian that she was influenced by artists like Lucinda Williams, Gillian Welch, and Emmylou Harris in making Saint Cloud. Crutchfield has grown up through her music – Saint Cloud is her fifth solo album, but the first album she’s recorded in her thirties, and it reflects a new maturity and calm. She told Pitchfork that “I started to reject the idea that you have to live your life clumsily and be a big mess to write anything that’s exciting or interesting”.
Crutchfield’s imagery is straightforward and effective, and the folk-country arrangements are pretty with shimmering acoustic guitars and double-tracked lead vocals. Crutchfield’s voice has an emotional warble, and melodies like ‘Ruby Falls’ recall Gillian Welch’s work.
Although most of Saint Cloud is mellow and introspective, some of the best songs are upbeat. Crutchfield described ‘Hell’ to Pitchfork as “a little bit psycho”, but it’s based around a joyful acoustic strum, while ‘Can’t Do Much’ is straightforward and lovely.
Saint Cloud is strong all the way through, but some of the most significant songs are saved for the end. The beautiful ‘Ruby Falls’ is written about a friend who passed from a drug overdose, while the almost title track, ‘St. Cloud’, is sparse and unvarnished, a lovely conclusion.
Saint Cloud is a beautiful, timeless record that brings sunny personality to a well-trodden genre.
Petals for Armor
Paramore’s After Laughter is my favourite album of 2017, which effectively makes the solo debut of frontwoman Hayley Williams my most anticipated record of 2020. Paramore never interested in much in their first decade – even though I heard about Williams’ vocal prowess, I wasn’t interested in the emo and pop/punk zone they operated in. As they’ve moved closer to pop/rock in the last decade, they’ve lured me in.
Williams released the fifteen tracks of Petals for Armor in stages – the first five songs as an EP in February and the second set in March, before the full album was released in early May. It features Paramore’s other members – guitarist Taylor York produces, and tourist bassist Joey Howard is also involved. Zac Farro only drums on a couple of tracks, but directed the music video for ‘Dead Horse’. Petals for Armor is understandably similar to Paramore’s recent work – if anything it’s a little more subdued. Williams takes the opportunity afforded by a solo career to write about more adult themes – anger on ‘Simmer’ and lust on ‘Sudden Desire’.
Fifteen tracks is often too many, but the songwriting is consistent enough that it becomes a sprawling album that listeners can pick different favourites from each time. Currently my favourite is the low key ‘Why We Ever’ – it starts as a lush pop song before winding down into an emotionally fraught piano and vocal piece.
Upbeat songs like ‘Dead Horse’ and ‘Pure Love’ recall the technicolour synth-pop of After Laughter. The brooding opener ‘Simmer’ immediately stakes out new territory for Williams, while the six minutes of ‘Roses/Lotus/Violet/Iris’ allows her to stretch out the arrangement with strings.
It doesn’t quite reach the greatness of After Laughter, but Petals for Armor delivers fifteen songs that are consistently very good.
While fans have worried that Petals for Armor is almost an anagram of “Last of Paramore”, Paramore have announced plans for a sixth album, reportedly taking them back to their pop-punk roots.
North Carolina’s Jonathan Wilson is in his mid-40s and not a household name but he’s exceedingly well-connected. He tours with Roger Waters, has produced Roy Harper, and played with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Dixie Blur is his fourth album, and it sounds piped straight in from the 1970s.
Wilson now resides in Laurel Canyon, but relocated to Nashville to record the Americana of Dixie Blur. More than anything, however, Wilson reminds me of British 1970s singer-songwriter Al Stewart, with his warm voice and finger-picked guitar; opener ‘Just For Love’ recalls Stewart’s ‘Broadway Hotel’ from 1976’s Year of the Cat.
Dixie Blur is so blatantly retro that it’s sliding toward irrelevancy. But it’s worth the price of admission just for Mark O’Connor’s gorgeous fiddle playing – O’Connor’s largely avoided session work over the past few decades, not enjoying the recording process. But Wilson coaxed him into playing by recording the tracks live in the studio, giving the music a warm and organic feel.
Dixie Blur is often more worthwhile for the pretty playing than it is for memorable songwriting. As well as O’Connor’s fiddle driving tracks like ‘So Alive’ and ‘El Camino Real’, Russ Pahl plays some lovely pedal steel on tracks like ‘Riding the Blinds’. ‘Oh Girl’ recalls the space rock of Pink Floyd, which makes sense given Wilson’s role playing Gilmour’s parts on Roger Waters’ shows.
Dixie Blur is lovely, although more notable for the playing than the songs.