on the pulse - 2020 - week 34 - smile and destroy the energy

This was one of those weeks where I’ve been working flat out on my best albums of the 2010s, and when you’re exposed to that much great music in concentration opposite projects that might not measure up that have dropped recent… I’m not going to say my standards got consciously higher, but I might have wound up a little more focused or nitpicky as a result. Just what everyone wants to hear, so let’s get On The Pulse!

Kelly Lee Owens - Inner Song - So here’s an artist I kept seeing getting critical attention but I figured within hazy indie pop that leaned more of electronic music the odds weren’t in my favour that I’d be blown away, so I skipped Kelly Lee Owens’ debut. And going back it now… I’m not going to say I was wrong, but I won’t say I was wowed by it either. It’s generally likable - tastefully produced, atmospheric, with likable burbling tech house grooves but not much that really stood out too much, and now on her follow-up… well, it feels like an expansion on the sound, but it doesn’t give me a lot to say. I’ve heard some people say that Owens’ sound is so minimalist and direct that if the fundamentals don’t hook you, you might not be gripped by it, and there’s truth to that - I’m not huge into techno as it is and the stuff that I tend to like is more melodic, which is why I gravitate more to her ethereal, gentle synthpop tunes with their padded soft-focus around her improved vocals. And even then I wouldn’t precisely call them distinctive outside of ‘Corner Of My Sky’, where John Cale delivers some welcome and distinctly Welsh organic texture as his craggy voice rambles through free verse discussing the natural world… all amidst a hazy bit of burbling atmosphere that feels precisely lukewarm. Hell, that might be my greatest frustration with Inner Song: with such spare melody, I’m stuck looking to textures that and groove that patter and bubble tastefully - it’s certainly an agreeable album to like - but it feels monochromatic and weirdly flat to me, the sort of electronic music that will soundtrack plenty of high-end, subtly tasteful bars and dance clubs when they reopen fully. And while I wouldn’t leave if I heard this playing, there’s not enough to get me to stay either. 6/10

Karen Jonas - The Southwest Sky And Other Dreams - look, I’ll be the first to admit I’ve got a really high bar set for Karen Jonas - Oklahoma Lottery was stunningly well-written and incredibly textured indie country in 2014, and while she’s expanded her sound and embraced more stylistic diversions, I’ve been waiting for her to drop a project that can encapsulate the intensity of her writing and full texture of her sound, especially with her more unique, soft-spoken sultriness that she worked to great effect on 2016’s Country Songs. So now on this album… well, it’s better than Butter from two years ago, but I’m still not convinced that Jonas has gotten production that properly flatters and accentuates her delivery, especially here when she’s slipping into her breathy upper register and can sound really thin getting there, especially against a more burnished and warm soundscape with the acoustics and pedal steel. But that’s a minor quibble given that the sense of greater detail has slipped back into Jonas’ compositions - which balance out between traditional country, splashes of folk, and even rockabilly - and her songwriting, a lot of wistful soft-focus reflections on long-long flings and old memories juxtaposed with, well, the poorer reality of now, and what you can build if you’ve been left behind and are still trying to dream. And the imagery she evokes is pretty striking, from the old cowboy stuck in tradition in the bowling alley to the relationship collapsing where everything is left unsaid and the breaking point is coming on songs like ‘Maybe You’d Hear Me Then’ and ‘Farmer John’. And Jonas doesn’t pull punches - by the end of the album, the predominant phrase is how it’s all a losing game, a struggle at best… but in one of two precisely timed key changes, the hope is left implied, but it’s there. So like every Karen Jonas album, it’s subtle and absolutely a grower, and while I’m not sure it tops her best, it still is really rewarding, even in a year with much stiffer competition - light 8/10, worth hearing, for sure.

Pain of Salvation - PANTHER - This is one of those Swedish progressive metal acts that I’ve been aware of in the scene for years, but haven’t really had the inclination to do the full deep dive… and now having done so, my intuition was more on track than I realized. Pain Of Salvation came out in the wake of the 90s prog metal revival with a slightly groovier edge to balance some stunning guitar work and their powerhouse of a frontman Daniel Gildenlöw… shame that writing stronger hooks or having anything close to consistent production is something this group has never managed to master. To me they’ve always felt like a solid b-tier progressive metal group - rarely bad, but not quite hitting the heights of their peers, and unfortunately their turn of the millennium albums that got close sound a little dated twenty years later, especially the spoken word elements… even if I’d argue Remedy Lane is solid and the two Road Salt albums might be even better. Unfortunately, in recent years have been hopping on the djent-adjacent trend of overdeveloping their groove passages in the expense of a solid hook or song, and if you thought it was endemic on The Passing Light Of Day, it pops up here with a sharper pivot towards buzzed-out, murky electronic rock complete with obviously synthetic percussion - although what gets exasperating is that very few of these elements really show any sort of heaviness or distinctive texture or tunefulness, mostly subsumed in muddy downtuning that can’t even be all that punishing or abrasive or truly heavy. It bizarrely reminds me of that Boston Manor album from earlier this year in how it seems like distinctive tuneful elements have to claw themselves to the front of the mix - and I include Daniel Gildenlöw’s vocals in that, from his affected crooning to where he nearly goes back to his early rap metal roots, which is absolutely a choice that leads to questionable results. The best moments come when the actual tuneful acoustic lines or pianos get closer to the front beyond the underwhelming overproduction - certainly appreciative of a guitar solo that fought through on the closing track ‘ICON’ - but I already can see the argument how this colourless approach reinforces the album’s dystopian themes, where those who are different and who could impact change are marginalized and medicated. And at some point I truly hope bands realize that leeching their sound of colour for their banal dystopias not only feels thuddingly on the nose and not always representative of more subtle and dangerous authoritarianism, but it makes the sound really dry and tired, especially when the text of said dystopia feels so damn cliche, even with the tacked on animal elements and stark individualist and misanthropic streak, which only adds more sourness. In other words… yeah, this’ll serve its audience, but I didn’t particularly care for it. 5/10, not their best.

Ulver - Flowers Of Evil - This is one of those long-running acts that it was only a matter of time before I discussed them in detail… but Ulver is a weird act in that lane. They started off in raw 90s black metal and sounded pretty damn good, but their tones were always a little warmer, sliding towards folk, and it was clear they weren’t going to stay there… and that happened as early as their second album, which went pure neo-folk! Bouncing then back to black metal - which even with the remaster and despite being really well-played has some shockingly bad production, absolutely on purpose - to haunted, strangely jazzy trip hop, to then fusing some of those ideas together, then going more ambient for 2007’s Shadows Of The Sun which I’d argue might be their best work regardless of genre. Then came the 2010s, where their sound steadily got a bit brighter and even poppier, but rarely sticking the landing with as much unique potency as it could, which meant I didn’t have the highest expectations for this album… and that was probably apt for what we got here, which is leaning into their 80s synthpop, darkwave side with the gated percussion, ominous synth work, dark pianos, smoky guitar textures, and tighter bass grooves. And yet if I’m being brutally honest, Ulver’s poppy side has always been hit and miss for me - if the hooks don’t coalesce their material can sound very derivative very fast, and while there’s enough gothic swell and the occasional quirky groove like on ‘Little Boy’ with the manic drumwork and the bassy rollick of ‘Nostalgia’, paired with a short runtime to keep this from getting tedious, I’m not hearing much that really knocks it out of the park. I will say I tend to like Ulver’s style of writing and themes, though - a fair few songs are collections of abstract imagery and bible/literary references, leaning into the creepy juxtaposition between the “beautiful” and truly horrifying, from apocalyptic references to atomic warfare and Waco and post-apocalyptic scenes referencing Philip K. Dick, to the more primal savagery calling back to the black metal juxtaposition of terrible beauty, where making a song called ‘Nostalgia’ reflecting back on those roots is almost too easy! And that’s before you get the truly gruesome and uncomfortable scenes of ‘Russian Doll’ and ‘A Thousand Cuts’, which reference child trafficking and the exploitation movie Salo - I shouldn’t have to say more! Honestly, I’d say the writing is what pushes this into stronger territory… I just wish the actual compositions took more chances or felt a bit more experimental or sticky. Very good stuff, though. 7/10

Ruston Kelly - Shape & Destroy - This is going to sound harsh: there was no way Ruston Kelly’s follow-up to Dylng Star wasn’t going to be an emotional letdown for me. That album dropped at an lowpoint of burnout for me and resonated on a fundamental level in late 2018 that’s hard to contextualize for as raw as it was - call it emo country, it was the sort of devastation that short-circuited critical faculties in some spaces. The inevitable problem is following that up, because given I’m no longer in that space, I had to be prepared to take this in a different way - incidentally, I’m doing a lot of the same mental preparation for when Lydia Loveless’ follow-up Daughter to 2016’s Real drops later this year. So with that context established, is this still great? Well, I think so, but I will say his vocals have started to slide from haggard to outright nasal and fried, which isn’t quite as flattering to an album that feels brighter and warmer across its pickups, especially with the subtle glimmer of arranged elements fleshing out the pealing guitars, chimes and pedal steel - although with enough touches of reverb, it does work against the hi-hat whirs that crept into a few songs. But to some extent that makes sense, as Shape & Destroy picks up thematically where Dying Star left off, finally finding comfort with love and being loved and the unceasing pushback against depression that to quote another excellent album, ‘gets easier but never gets easy’. But while it led to so much unstable anger on Jason Isbell’s Reunions, I have to applaud Ruston Kelly fighting to keep that newfound optimism and hope even as every old temptation and craving flits around his vision, where he can even contextualize his past not so much as old demons but helping shape the man he is becoming - truly transformative love will do that to you, which means the unspoken reality of his separation from Kacey shades every moment with quiet tragedy, especially when her voice slips into the background. And then the comparison that springs more to mind is Jhene Aiko’s Chilombo, where she tried to find comfort in every moment of bliss with the quiet knowledge it could all slip away. But it’s got that same deeper inner focus of comfort and strength that means it’s so easy to return to - it’s comfort listening, and I mean that as the highest possible compliment, especially with that stripped down coda of a conclusion that is absolutely goddamn stunning. Now the album does not have a ‘Blackout’ or ‘Paratrooper’s Battlecry’, and that highlights how this album isn’t about to devastate you like Dying Star could - this is a lighter experience… but there’s still enough drama, emotional nuance, and real detail with this that puts it over the top for me, even if it did have to grow on me a bit more. As such… light 9/10, he’s for 2/2 and this will be among the best of 2020 - an album for this year, you should hear it.

Disclosure - ENERGY - …third time’s the charm? Look, I’ve made it no secret that I’ve struggled with Disclosure: I thought Settle was intriguing and had solid high points but never really shone through as consistently brilliant as so many others would highlight, I thought Caracal was a considerable step down from that, and with ENERGY five years later, I didn’t have much in the way of expectations. And now having gone through it… honestly, it’s patchy, mostly because of how scattered it feels. This is one of those cases where you can tell Disclosure was burrowing more deeply into slightly older, 2000s-era house sounds that don’t quite punch above their inspirations, or in the case of their many guest stars, don’t always give them the augmentation they could really use; I look at how stiff their Khalid inclusions are on the deluxe edition of this project as the most obvious example, or how they seem to defer to Common on the closing track in a rather awkward way. The Disclosure cuts I’ve liked have been where the whipsharp percussion grooves compose a tight but flexible pocket for MCs to lock in, which is why Amine and slowthai deliver and where Mick Jenkins’ comfort with this side of electronica thanks to his work with Kaytranada makes sense too - hell, I even liked the opener with Kelis thanks to the great bassline, which I didn’t expect! But that has them very reliant on their guest stars for standout moments, and for a project reportedly built from the duo recording two hundred songs, I’m a little surprised they could synthesize a stronger flow or cohesive ideas to hold the album beyond a scattered collection this thematically diffuse, especially when the energy starts to putter out on the second half - you take away that aggressive percussion and tight groove, I’m not hearing what differentiates Disclosure from their peers. Again, I’ve never been on the Disclosure hype train from the beginning, and just feeling lukewarm on the tracks here… still not sure I’m there. 6/10

Katy Perry - Smile - There was a part of me that didn’t think this was going to come out - and I don’t mean that as a jab, but Katy Perry was struggling to get singles with traction on the radio, which following the half-formed disaster that was Witness, and albums that fail to gain traction this long can wind up shelved or at the very least compromised. But she put it out anyway… and at least it’s better than Witness? Look, the first thought that came to mind with Smile is that in some ways it reminds me of Chromatica as a late 2000s pop icon trying to go back to the well to find what works and overcome trauma - and even if it can feel weirdly hollow for both artists, there’s always been more of a core to Gaga’s sound and personality than we’ve gotten from Katy Perry, whose strengths as an artist have always been tied to big flashy singles that often owe more to the plastic pop artifice than her unique presence. And that’s fine in pop music… except you get the lingering feeling that Katy Perry still doesn’t want to be making pop music and as you get deeper into this project, that sour undercurrent doesn’t go away, which leads to a darker undercurrent that lacks the intensity or complexity to pull me into Perry’s dancing through the tears; this is an album that desperately wants to have the impact of ‘Dancing On My Own’ but lacks that subversive slice of desperate optimism that gives that song its punch, mostly because Perry can’t even fake having fun the majority of the time. Or maybe it’s how canned and thin so much of the production is, especially around the vocals - Perry’s always had more volume than texture or control and man, it shows on this album with the compression or weirdly colourless, wiry mix, which really doesn’t help those moments trying to be more bouncy or optimistic - hell, I think only ‘Never Really Over’ and the splashy horns on ‘Tucked’ get close, certainly better than whenever an acoustic guitar pops up. And at the end of the day… I just miss the first half of Teenage Dream. 5/10, take it or leave it.