Not Fade Away
I believe that one of the quickest ways to take a culture’s temperature, to really get a sense of the national mood, is to look at to what extent it is indulging in nostalgia. Glorification of the past tends to indicate hopelessness for the future, a sentiment that seems to be at an all time high two+ years into a worldwide pandemic. It’s no wonder that the media we consume wants desperately to remind us of a more carefree time (which probably never existed) eagerly capitalizing on our collective misery to continue creating profit. Films like Ghostbusters: Afterlife, Cruella, and the new Home Alone are some of the more egregious examples this year, actively attempting to make culture regress, as though back to a warm and comfortable womb. The biggest music event of the year was arguably Peter Jackson’s genius (and bloated) The Beatles: Get Back; it’s not just boomer nostalgia bait, it’s worked just as well on their (boomers’) offspring, who were no doubt subjected by their parents to countless hours of Beatles radio playback. To be fair, artists haven’t given us a ton to latch on to; taking a look at the year in review, it’s been a decidedly average one for music overall, with some of the industry’s largest figures releasing albums that could have believably been phoned in. I continue to insist they’re doing this on purpose, cautiously waiting to release the better material they are sitting on so that they can tour off of it when conditions are more favorable. I’m thankful for the ones that are still full assing their efforts and sustaining we eager consumers during these barren months.
I chose Annie Lee’s 1985 painting Blue Monday as an illustration of the foregoing sentiment. Who right now can’t relate to the woman pictured: dragging her ass out of bed on a cold Monday morning, she’s spent, but still throws one foot in front of the other and gets on with her life. I like to imagine she switches on the alarm radio on her way to the shower, shaking off the cobwebs with music that helps ease the tedium of the day to day.
Stevie Wonder’s 1976 epic As eases us into the new mix – for me, this song mirrors the phases of waking up and getting out of bed. Sweet little beeps and boops plunk out of the 70s-era keyboard, with the song gradually gaining energy as the vocals/instrumentation become more layered and complex until it is a full on dance groove. These qualities make it a perfect track for starting the day….or a playlist?! Next up, Rod Wave has seen fit to deliver a lovely end-of-year single for fans, By Your Side.It starts out as the sort of melodic trap he’s known before, but in the song’s back half, it starts inexplicably interpolating the lyrics from Plain White Ts’ Hey There Delilah. Even more baffling is that it actually works, a testament to Rod’s classically gospel-trained talent. Summer Walker and SZA’s No Love plays after; the debut single from Walker’s new album Still Over It, which is largely about the painful failure of her relationship with her baby’s father, London On Da Track. Like all tracks on the first half of this record, it’s actually produced by London himself. By including the source of her pain as a major contributor to the music, Walker cultivates a toxic relationship with her audience, which is both firmly on brand, and as strong a concept for an album as I have heard in years.
The next part of the mix gets into electronic territory, kicked off by Mariah The Scientist’s haunting and addictive 2 You. A cappella fragments are looped in quick, stuttering succession to form a beat, while a bed of cosmic, spacey instrumentation works slowly underneath. Mariah seems to be fighting with herself on the track, lamenting the demise of a deeply meaningful relationship, while simultaneously wishing she’d put it down sooner.
Icelandic provocateur Björk (pronounced Byerk), has been one of my favorite artists for years, even if I rarely include her on mixes. Her avant garde presentation isn’t just for show, it has allowed her to flourish for decades in an industry that often tries to keep musicians on rails; by sort of advertising on its face that “this is going to be weird”, she can indemnify herself against that criticism from listeners not in the know. We shift into a higher energy section of the mix with Big Time Sensuality (1993), the song that put her on the map in the US. Against a deeply 90s techno-house beat, she wields the entirety of her considerable vocal range to express ideas both so large they are almost mythic (“something huge is coming up / and we’re both included”) and those which keep her firmly grounded in the present moment, as when she croaks “I don’t know my future after this weekend / and / and I don’t want to”.
UK-based producer Mura Masa continues to push the electronic genre forward via experimentation on 2gether. Thanks to an emotional vocal performance from Gretel Hanlyn, he’s managed to make dubstep…beautiful? Speaking of which, next up is MØ’s new dance pop cut Brad Pitt. Named for her high school crush (a crush so conventional that it’s almost unconventional?), the choral refrain of “I’m your Juliette / you’re my Brad Pitt” probably refers to Brad’s early 90s ex gf (Juliette Lewis) rather than she of the “Romeo &” variety. MØ tends to imbue her music with a yearning quality that gives beating heart to what might otherwise just be night club dance floor fodder.
The party continues with Rico Nasty’s 100 gecs-mounted candy-trap banger IPHONE. On the next track, Whethan’s mind-shattering hyperpop production, combined with Jasiah’s signature scream-rap flow means 2 Much is sure to irritate some, but if you can give yourself over to the sound, it’s one of the most invigorating workout / party anthems of the year. I really can’t stop listening to it.
The next two tracks are thumping, minimalist New York trap bangers, starting with Go from up and comer $not. He muses about Miss Frizzle and “the white bitch from Malcolm in the Middle” with spitfire flows over a propulsive, trunk rattling beat. It actually segues gracefully into Fuck Him All Night, which is, to my ear, the sickest thing Harlem’s own Azealia Banks has produced since her viral 212 track. Banks is, by all accounts, a total fucking nightmare, which is probably why an artist of her massive talent hasn’t had much of a career to speak of despite over a decade in the industry. But here, Azealia raps her ass off over a booty house style production, a fusion of Chicago and Miami sounds, filtered through the mind of a cripplingly horny New Yorker.
Afterward is Kim Petras’ truly ridiculous new single, Coconuts. Analysis of Petras’ music should be filtered through the lens of her past; at only 16, she petitioned the German state (and won) to receive gender reassignment surgery before legal adulthood. Dubbed by media “the world’s youngest transsexual” she became a lightning rod of controversy on the issue. When she boasts about her juicy, bouncing tits on the Coconuts, in a way she is likely reclaiming some autonomy over a body which was politicized the world over. More importantly, though, she’s having fun, absolutely ripping a few more rap verses and solidifying the variant of hip-hop / electro pop she’s helped create.
Winding the energy down a bit, BIG DEAL sees BIA detailing her preference for deep pockets, enlisting Sevyn Streeter for a melodic assist on the hook. Philly weirdo Tierra Whack flexes some newly found confidence on the mellow Meagan Good; the pop culture obsessive in me appreciates her finding time to weave in references to one of the most beautiful actresses of all time (the titular Meagan Good) and recently passed comedian Paul Mooney.
I tend to find KOTA the Friend’s music a bit chipper for my taste, but I’m really appreciating his optimism and focus on mental health on Grateful. It leads us into a relaxed fit portion of the mix, leading in with the newest single from reclusive genius Mitski, Heat Lightning. It’s already become one of my favorite songs of her entire catalog, a sleepy and ethereal slow burn that swells into loud passages of what I can only describe as chill wave. Pitched-up piano keys and watery guitars dot the spacey production, while Mitski’s voice recedes in the mix until it doesn’t, belting alongside beat.
Adele’s newest album may lack the sort of world-beating singles she produced on previous efforts (Rolling In The Deep, Hello, Someone Like You, etc), it’s still largely a series of highlights from a master musician. One in particular is the truly grand All Night Parking (Interlude). Erroll Garner’s slinky piano keys twinkle against a simulated, record-like scratchiness, while Adele acquits herself like a torch singer, giving the track a Christmas-Eve-at-the-jazz-lounge flavor. That means it’s seasonally appropriate! Kind of! A track of this grandeur can only be followed by something gorgeous, which is where Summer Walker’s two hander with Ari Lennox, Unloyal, comes in. The understated horn line alone made this listener involuntarily levitate several inches off the ground the first time he heard it.
Rounding out the R&B segment of our mix are Khalid’s Backseat, followed by Bouncin, a throwback single from this summer. Tinashe is hitting dangerously high notes on a production that sounds sort of intergalactic, an aesthetic that wouldn’t have been out of place on Doja Cat’s Planet Her album. The upbeat pop-groove is a departure from her typically slower and more emotional fare, a low key club anthem concerned with little more than shaking that shit 🍑
Turning the energy back, the Houston Hottie herself, young Tina Snow (still goin’ hard on a ho) addresses haters directly with ferocious flows on Megan’s Piano. The track is named for a beat which samples Megan’s own rendition of Chopsticks, aka the first song piano players ever learn. Morray, the typically mellow Street Sermons rhymer, summons a feature from Benny The Butcher, one of underground hip hop’s most technical artists. Morray ups his game accordingly, firing bars at a machine gun clip. Then, on sure-to-be hood rat classic Handstand, French Montana does the best thing he can when it comes to his music, which is fade into the background. He delivers only one full verse, which allows featured guests Doja Cat and Saweetie to run (raunchy ass) laps around him.
Two of the current rap scene’s coolest emcees, bar none, have joined forces to deliver Money. Rico Nasty and Flo Milli flip the beat and chorus from 2 Live Crew’s We Want Some Pussy to explosive effect – I dare you not to feel like a bad bitch when Rico shouts “little booty but I make it jiggle / swipe his card til we blow the whistle”.
Polo G and Lil Tjay help bring the energy back down to earth with Suicide; like their previous mega-hit collaboration Pop Out, it’s a melodic de-romanticization of gang life in the inner city. The path to success for men who come from these environments is often paved with dead friends and personal betrayals. Christmas Caller by Beach Bunny plays next, the only track on this mix which explicitly references the holiday. They continue to be among the best pop-rock outfits of this era, mixing lead singer Lili Trifilio’s frank and biting observations with Christmas-ready silver bells. I know that’s a pretty jarring transition in energies between the two songs there but, shit, it’s a playlist of songs across many different artists and genres ya know? Gotta force things together sometimes.
Time Escaping makes for a threepeat of Big Thief appearances on my playlists. This one promises to be divisive (aka annoying) to many listeners, and for that reason I thought long and hard about excising it; but, ya know what, I fucking love it. This is my playlist and I have to stay true to myself, so as a compromise I’ve buried it here in the back of the mix. The typically spare, acoustic guitar instrumentation is replaced by a wild percussion meeting Lencke’s inimitable voice and poetic non sequiturs. She conjures the impossible (“silent river pouring backward eternally”) and the obtuse (“swinging still, incessant pendulum / lavender, nettle, calendula”) to muse over the concept and passage of time. Apparently ‘calendula’ is the scientific name for the marigold flower – who knew? And finally — because, like that ponderous Dane Hamlet, I am the melancholic sort, the mix plays out on Casiotone For The Painfully Alone’s New Year’s Kiss — more on that later in Resurrections Corner.
🧟♂️🧛♀️ Resurrections Corner 🧛♂️🧟♀️
- iPhone – Rico Nasty. Rico (government name “Maria Kelly”, the same as my mom’s!) has been the unfair target of a lot of hate the last few months, primarily at the hands of Playboi Cardi fans, whom she is opening for on his tour. She has indicated that may retire from making music, but songs like iPhone are the part of the reason I hope she never does. It’s signature Rico; 100 gecs lay down the hyper pop production, while she oscillates between vulnerable and biting, cynical and sincere. “Nails razor sharp / clawed you off my iPhone”
- New Year’s Kiss – Casiotone For The Painfully Alone. Casiotone are one of the best in the game at describing exactly what youthful angst feels like. The narrative character wakes up on New Year’s Day with a hangover; far from achieving her classy ideal of a kiss at midnight “on the balcony, with champagne lips”, she stumbles home from the site of a sloppy one night stand. I think all of us have had the experience of putting too great of expectations on that particular holiday, only to be disappointed by the blurry, booze-soaked reality.
🤔😳 Questionable Lyrics Zone 🧐🤨
- Call that bitch Hermione the way that BIA can “do a magic trick with her throat” (Big Deal)
- “ I got two bitches / and they Rick’d up / and they Rick’d up” Jasiah, 2 Much. I believe this means they’re dressed in a bunch of Rick Owens clothing he bought them, but maybe al listener who speaks ‘wealthy’ can translate for me
- “We smoked bout half a J / I cannot retrace my thoughts” – Khalid, Backseat. Along with Drake’s “I took half a xan / 13 hours til we land / had me out like a light”, that’s rank as one of the smallest amounts of drugs a musician has ever claimed fucked them up.
- “I ain’t doin’ anythin’ / If I don’t feel it feel it / Gotta feel it like my teeth ache” – Smino, I Deserve. Despite having kind of a cute name, a tooth ache is truly one of the most painful things the human body can inflict. *shudder*
- “Work them out / at the gym / Dive in and take a swim” – Kim Petras, Coconuts. I know she’s being funny but the idea of exercising one’s boobs is hilarious. Also can you believe this song does not have an “Explicit” warning on iTunes or Spotify? Lmaooo
👨💻 Stray Observations 📝
- The title of this playlist comes from a Buddy Holly track (famously covered by The Rolling Stones). I like the song a lot, but even more so I love the name: “not fade away”. How many song names are incomplete sentence fragments, one which like it would come from the middle or end of a sentence. The allure of the mystery for me is – how did the sentence begin? Possibilities are endless.
- At about 1m 43s into By Your Side, you can hear the phlegm catch in Rod Wave’s throat. It doesn’t matter at all, but is kinda funny and lends to the sense that the track was recorded in one take, an increasing rarity in modern music
- The call-and-response Adele does with her own backing vocals on All Night Long is a little touch I really appreciate. “Maybe it’s the way / you remind me of / (where I come from) / or how you make me feel beautiful / (and then some)”
- There are two songs on this mix with “Megan” in the title
- Azealia Banks’ Fuck Him All Night is fascinating for many reasons, just one of which is the cover art. She holds her claws as if to cover the spare swath of denim barely shielding her crotch, making literal the lyrics from the song “My pussy lips visible / like H to the Izzo”. The nails, notably, spell out K-A-N-Y-E ★-W-E-S-T, which is the unofficial name of the track, and therefore…indicates…she wants to fuck him? All night? Then again, only a few months later, she publicly derided Kanye’s DONDA album as “wild garbage”, which, from this author – agreed. You never know what to expect with this woman.
- “Flo Milli shit!” Is destined to go down as one of the most exciting rapper intro tags of all time, like Lil Wayne’s lighter flick or Savage’s “21, 21”.
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