I low-key hate you, you’re never gonna change I low-key hate you, you probably feel the same Go, please, you always so controlling Rather be doing my own thing You dropped the blunt, now we’re rolling, rolling I fucking hate you, you’ll never speak my name
Jesus, this record is far too classy for this list. I don’t feel like I’m paying it enough respect just lying here on my sofa. I’m still wearing the same shirt as I was yesterday, for Christ’s sake! I feel like I should be wearing a tie – perhaps a bow tie – or the general mood surrounding a listening to this intensely elegant record threatens to be laughably inappropriate.
No, Alex! This isn’t like all the other records, you can’t just be posting wrestling references that literally nobody is going to get! Put some respect on this album’s name! This album deserves low lighting, it deserves champagne on ice, it deserves candles, it deserves an open fire, it deserves a fur throw that you and your partner(s) are reclined upon. It also deserves lots and lots of sex.
Talk sick shit You gon’ have to show me You gon’ have to show me You gon’ have to show me Rich bitch drugs You gon’ have to blow me You gon’ have to blow me You gon’ have to blow me
I’m sorry to whomever’s reading this who was under the impression that I loved you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what love was when I lead you to believe that. I didn’t know what ‘love’ really was. I don’t love you. I love Rico Nasty.
The actually quality of Rico Nasty’s music is almost irrelevant. The woman’s a fucking star.
This post might actually be my last. It’s been fun. Occasionally.
OK, if you haven’t been following the news recently, I might have to give you a quick primer. I get it, don’t worry, it can be a nasty world out there and sometimes we have to attempt to protect our own mental health by not even engaging with the horror, I completely understand if you aren’t up on possibly the biggest story of late 2022. Trigger warning, this might be the most upsetting. Remember a few days ago when I posted my Pusha T post? Fifty second best album of the year? Not bad, right? Sure not as high as the near top five placing that Rolling Stone had (bafflingly) deemed it worthy of, but then I’ve certainly been questioning if it’s actually better than Alvvays, Lykke Li, The Smile or Big|Brave, so… it all works out? I dunno, whatever, that’s where the album fell. Was it a particularly good post? Hmmmmmmnot especially. I didn’t spend anyway near the time on it that I dedicated to Tanya Tagaq or Arcade Fire, for instance, but likely because there weren’t any sexual assaults or cultural genocides to discuss. I mentioned how Pusha’s lyrics often don’t convey what he thinks they do, which I would have liked to delve into more given the time. As a post in general though, particularly when compared to my best work, it was definitely m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m
Yes! It’s getting more and more difficult to use that MJF meme, but – bah Gahd! – I still manage it!
Listen to Z&A’s third full length album, listen to how this bafflingly overlooked Swiss band manage to combine a myriad of genres from soul to gospel to electronica to blues and house them all under a single roof of the blackest of black metal, listen to that at once hilarious and at once terrifying jump cut Emersionmakes from BandCamp bedroom electro-pop into screaming death thrash, listen to this band redefine what could be considered heavy rock music for 44 minutes. Then come back to me, I want to see your face when I tell you that this is by far the most straightforward and standard record the band have yet made.
This is all relative, of course: Zeal & Ardor’s ‘normal’ is a far cry from that of plebs like you and I. We still get key changes, electronic swathes, and a near exhausting amount of tropes and genres paid service to. It’s just that compared to the incredibly creative places that the band have dragged their music to over their past two albums (plus 2020’s incredible ‘Wake of a Nation’ EP) their latest often sounds like the band instead turning more inwards and congregating all their visions into making a record that’s slightly more recognisable as ‘metal’.
Picture the scene: an American dude called Mike Hadreas walks into a bar. Now, this bar is in America. Obviously, Mike still doesn’t trust that the danger posed by COVID to yet feel confident enough to contemplate long haul travel. Sure he could go to Mexico – which if you look at a map you’ll see is to the South of the USA – but he’s smart enough to know that Mexico produces Corona beer so he’s not foolhardy enough to take that kind of risk, and he is well read enough to have noted a number of Facebook posts shared by his Uncle that actually place the blame for the Coronavirus outbreak squarely at Mexico’s door. Mike feels that there isn’t enough evidence to confidently state any interpretation of the facts he’s seen. He’s just asking questions. He could also go to Canada, which is commonly referred to as being ‘above’ the USA, but that’s simply due to centuries old Eurocentric indoctrination regarding the supposed superiority of the (richer, whiter) global north over the (poorer, browner) global south. Canada is actually to the north of the USA. But Mr Hadreas has heard that Canada is full of sexual predators and cultural genocide, so that’s out. Charity basketball game? No thank you, Mr Butler, says Mike Hadreas. No, Mike will be visiting a bar in the good ol’ US of USA. ‘Over the pond’. Except Mike Hadreas won’t be crossing any pond. Because he lives there.
Now, again, Mike Hadreas is in America – I think I mentioned it – so this wouldn’t be one of your standard old English style pubs that my readership in this part of the country might be picturing. There’s no intimate wooden interiors; there’s no dartboard; there’s no border collie, soaking wet from that morning’s walk, sleeping next to an open fireplace. There’s no old man with a stick sat on his own in the corner. Being all racist. No, this is an American bar.
Ah, old dependable Arcade Fire! I can always count on including them in the year end list with no controversy! Their sixth album is a miner return to form – not really coming close to equaling their imperial phase of their first four albums, but certainly superior to their messy and unfocused fifth ‘Everything Now’. There are real moments of stirring beauty, as the band lean into their real status as the stadium rock band that it’s not embarrassing to admit you like. Like, never embarrassing. Up to around the 27th August 2022, this statement is watertight. To me, they’re the 21st century New Order, in that their fantastic music is almost always enough to cover up for their frequently awful lyrics (“But some people want the rock without the roll/But we all know, there’s no God without soul“, uuuuuurgh, “We unsubscribe/Fuck season five“, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurgh!). ‘We’ is a tight, anthemic effort, which might consider pleasing the crowd more important than making any real creative strides, but nonetheless crowd pleases enough to let its lack of ambition slide.
Dying mama Barely breathing in a bed of nails To wander through the ruin smoking and pale I came upon an angel and a nightingale Hanging where the darkness comes Between the earth and skies above Dead weight are my body’s bones I think I dug too deep a hole Think I dug too deep a hole Better run for cover, babe, you better hide Don’t do no good to wait ’til time decides Time decides Time Time I need a little more time
Sweden’s absolute and inarguable queen of pop heartbreak might be another artist on this year’s list suffering from their insane decision to be consistently brilliant throughout their career and making the risky move of simply releasing another brilliant record. Like, well done, you’re still incredible. ‘Ave a fackin’ biscuit.