on the pulse - 2020 - week 35 - gold is lost through zeros

I thought this week was going to be a bit of a catchup, where it turned into albums where I had way too much to say. Likely going to go long this week, folks, so let’s get On The Pulse.

Sevdaliza - Shabrang - This is a project that feels both familiar and not - and that’s not really a surprise when you start looking through Sevdaliza’s material. A Dutch-Iranian artist working in a blend of sandy trip hop with the deep, clanking atmospherics of alternative R&B and hints of striking chamber pop and soul, you can definitely hear the parallels to artists working just outside the mainstream today - fka twigs comes to mind - but Sevdaliza’s tones are more ethereal and grounded in Middle Eastern-inspired chord progressions, and her lyrics split the difference between sensual and more abstraction. All of this makes for impressive atmosphere but not always strong or distinctive cuts on a long debut album, and now on her sophomore follow-up… unfortunately, this might be a step back. Now let me stress I don’t think this is precisely bad - if you’re into a brand of R&B that is slower, more spare and atmospheric, more for meditation than anything else, I can see you finding elements that work here, especially in some particularly textured woodwinds and strings sections off some nice pianowork, and the length will not bother you. The problem is that this album isn’t all in that lane, and interspersed through the track list are obvious plays for a more mainstream audience, so we get downtuned, murky guitars, gooey synths, and Sevdaliza’s voice smothered in Future-esque autotune or vocoders. And the drums are all over the damn place, sometimes going for modern trap and other times back to a late 90s brand of trip hop that on some points feels weirdly dated, especially when they throw on a sizzling electric guitar solo on ‘Rhode’ that matches nothing. And sometimes we don’t get drums at all, which for a long and scattered album only makes it feel heavier and drearier, especially considering while Sevdaliza can be a classically interesting singer, this album doesn’t seem to care about hooks or much of the way of an interesting or dynamic melody. And this would be where I’d say the content would fill in the gaps - maybe this brand of meditative R&B would resonate more with her audience in her home country, especially given the title is a reference to an 11th century Persian epic poem… but I have to be honest, it feels thin, with the greater themes circling finding self-definition and discovery outside of being defined by others, be it their toxic, enveloping love or otherwise, which does have parallels to the poem. Of course the tragedy in escape comes with exile or loneliness, but there’s peace in that as well, which I guess forms something of an arc, but it feels like a stretch that’s just doesn’t have enough meat to sustain a listless project clocking over an hour. Look, I do get the feeling this is just not for me, and I also suspect some of it might be a cultural connection I don’t have - but this did leave me pretty cold and underwhelmed overall, so extremely light 6/10, maybe just not for me.

The Japanese House - Chewing Cotton Wool- so I missed covering The Japanese House last year on their debut and that was one of the more glaring gaps in my coverage, so when this EP of theirs showed up on my schedule, I figured I’d bounce back and check out that album. And… it was fine? I didn’t dislike it by any means, but it gave me similar vibes to that Kelly Lee Owens project last week, where it felt like I was getting the straightforward basics without much in the way of distinct elaboration, just swapping out tech house for Beach House and some 1975 flourishes in the heavily synthesized vocals. Again, generally blissed out, but not much that really grabbed me on the first listen or two, but maybe this four song EP would be better, plus a guest appearance from Justin Vernon? Well, sort of - it’s got much of the fizzy, clicking pop with faded guitars that you’d expect from the group with muted and autotuned vocals which can sound pretty but not leave a ton of impact - definitely a splash of 80s influences in the synth choices which clashes awkwardly with how blown out the mix sounds on ‘Dionne’ and I don’t think Vernon is used well with his contorted vocals on the hook. That said, dig into the content a bit and you can tell this is a transitory project: the frontwoman is struggling to leave one bad relationship, try not to fall too hard in a new one, and clear away the old ghosts, especially when you just have that feeling it’s going to happen all again. That said, the four songs we got weren’t all winners - a short transition snapshot, and one I’m lukewarm on at best, so… 6/10, if you’re curious?

Lil Revive - Grim Peaks II - Okay, this is like the third or fourth time I’ve talked about Josh A in some capacity - I’ve reviewed a few songs of his on IG, but this is his project under the name Lil Revive, which he describes as a side venture - hell, most of his first tape were just Josh A rejects. And I have no idea why Josh A is convinced he has nearly enough personality or tightness as a wordsmith to pull off a side venture, especially as he’s still an incredibly underwhelming presence on generic trap instrumentals that’s trying to be marginally spooky - you put this opposite a clipping. album, especially their experiment with horrorcore last year, and it gets blown out of the water. So while we wait for clipping’s next project in a month or two to finish the job, here’s Josh A I mean Lil Revive with the second Grim Peaks project that only barely clocks over fifteen minutes… and it took me even less time to be sick of it. Even if we throw the thinnest pretensions towards horrorcore out the window, this is the definition of bland trend-chasing - sterile trap beats that can’t sell any atmosphere or intensity, flows and delivery that are bargain barrel within emo rap, and both delivery and content that can’t stand out. It really feels like cribbing wholesale from what Lil Peep used to do but taking less chances across the board, and it makes the morose content feel like undercooked whinging - hell, he’s proven as Josh A he can bring a bit more detail to his angst and storytelling, but here we’re stuck with vague platitudes. And without hooks or any sort of dynamic flair, it’s derivative as all hell, not helped by the few passes he makes at his haters coming with beating them on streams or the utterly tired ‘I made all this money and I want you to know it but I’m still sad and stuff so feel sorry for me’. It’s petulant, and without flair it feels whiny - and when it comes to the “suicidal” elements it feels incredibly forced. Emo rap has already moved on from this sound and approach - it might have been interesting four or five years ago, but it isn’t now. strong 3/10, you can skip this.

Billy Nomates - Billy Nomates - So this is another pull from indie Bandcamp obscurity but an artist who has gotten a bit of attention in recent weeks - and now that her lyrics are finally available online, I can talk about her. Billy Nomates is an Irish singer-songwriter in a peculiar subset of indie rock where there’s absolutely more of a punk impulse but blended with sharper, abrasive synths, some surprisingly heavy bass guitar, and specifically in the drum machine percussion to match her acerbic lyrics - and honestly, it was tough to find an immediate comparison for her sound on this debut, as I heard a smattering of Worriers or Laura Imbruglia, but the timbre here is much more in-your-face, probably helped along with production from Portishead’s Geoff Barrow. And it’s frustrating because for as rhythm-centric as the instrumentation is, there’s a weird stiffness to it, and combined with the rather clipped and blunt nature of Billy Nomates’ delivery that gives the album an odd, standoffish no wave vibe, and the mechanical nature of the percussion starts to get distracting. And it doesn’t quite mesh with the content, because Nomates’ writing is way more detail-rich, politically charged, and punk in its attitude where you’d think you’d want to do everything to amplify the populism, not feel this stiff. Granted, some of it is intended for confrontational theatricality, and the Dylan-esque drawl that sneaks into some of her cadence does amplify the snarled anger of many of these songs, and to her credit, if there’s one thing that redeems this project in a big way, it’s the writing. And it kind of nails everything I like in good political art: she’s got the populist streak that lets her call out bougie liberals who can afford environmental protest - or as she calls them, the ‘hippie elite’ - and also doesn’t waste time tearing into toxic people reinforced by bad systems, be they blinkered small town gossip or a fat rich white guy simping for a girl at their shared work… and yet there’s a punk scrappiness that comes with having to make questionable decisions just to stay alive. ‘Supermarket Sweep’ might be the album standout, telling the story of an old blue collar guy who collapses working in a supermarket freezer where Jason Williamson plays that embittered man who couldn’t get out of the dead-end job in their dead-end town… but what’s more cutting is how the system just works around him rather than fixing anything. And ‘Call In Sick’ might be even nastier, facing the horrible scene of confronting the office colleague you hate with the fact you can’t come in, and there’s enough detail that in this current feels all the more relatable. So it’s precise and powerful too, but that power is tempered by something close to hope - it’s not quite there because our protagonist doesn’t really see how she’s going to break capitalism, but the album opens with a note of hope for the kid who has all that promise, and by the end she’s craving her own escape - after all, if she owns nothing, nothing can own her. So yeah, I won’t say this entirely works - I think the wonky instrumental choice takes some getting used to and it can feel a little one note there, but this was interesting. 7/10, give it a chance, check it out.

Declan McKenna - Zeroes - First off, for those curious because it’s my channel, he’s of no relation to Lori McKenna - we could only be that lucky. No, Declan McKenna is an act I’ve circled but never talked about directly, mostly because there’s a limit to how much can be say in the obvious blending of retro classic rock with smoother, pop-friendly indie tones, especially when the writing or delivery isn’t stellar. And for me… look, especially out of the UK or on specific streaming playlists that eschew Pitchfork favourites, acts like Declan McKenna have run up a lot of success, especially with as much Bowie worship as there is, but my issues with his 2017 debut were mostly tied to the sound never feeling cohesive in its blur of textures, weak grooves, and underwhelming hooks. But hey, on his follow-up he grabbed Jay Joyce for production and those of you who remember the good Cage The Elephant albums know he can do this brand of rock considerably better, so maybe this would be a step-up? Well, I’d argue it is: for one there’s actually a bass presence on these songs so the glam rock vibes actually had some muscle to them… but the thing with Jay Joyce is his bad habit of overmixing the melody around an increasingly blocky groove, especially when there’s not a strong lead outside of the bass and McKenna’s vocal line, so the attempts at sharper classic psychedelic rock guitar collide with the once again questionable synth choices and turn to a muddy mess that clashes with rougher vocals mastered a bit too low. And when I say rougher, I’m talking about McKenna once against going for reedy British glam that has nothing close to the texture nor consistent firepower to cut through Joyce’s mix - which means the weird, too-clean clash of synth with everything else is still here, and it doesn’t quite sell the Bowie worship as well as it could, especially once you get into the second half of the album. But the real discussion about Declan McKenna really should focus around his content, where in recent years he’s developed a reputation for writing ‘political’ material that if I’m being blunt feels overstated, especially in comparison with the really charged material across other genres I’ve heard this year, even out of the UK. Yes, ‘Brazil’ was a potent song in its time and given how much football dominates UK culture, it was bold for an artist getting started, I’ll give him that. But not only does this project repeat the same “alienated young man bucks system, finds wonder as an outcast, broad potshots taken at conservative British suburbia and culture which still feels ossified in the shadows of certain politicians, so let’s just escape the apocalypse” that has been endemic in classic rock since its inception, I feel like we get the setup and callbacks to that tradition and sound, but little follow-through, especially as this album is trying to build a bit more of an overarching concept that could well just be an extended metaphor for him fighting his own demons… which might be a worse parallel than he thinks. But midway through the album, McKenna just opts to ditch most of the metaphors and get more direct… which would be fine if I thought he landed a real punch, but the spacey option to escape isn’t available for the majority of folks, and that kind of kills any populism for me, especially when the counterpunch is that, ‘well, all the idle rich are going to die too, it’s inevitable’. But at the end of the day… I’d argue it’s better than his debut courtesy of more ambition and discovering what a groove is, but this is an album trying to cling to the futurism of the past while being the promise of now, and that awkward fit keeps this from being more than decent. As such, extremely light 6/10, and even then, I’m being generous.

Yukika Teramoto - Soul Lady - I’ll admit I’m a little surprised I haven’t received more k-pop album requests in 2020 than I have beyond the obvious, but here’s one from an artist I did not expect. For those who don’t know, Yukika Teramoto was first known for her acting in Japan, both voice acting and on screen, but she got interested in idol culture in South Korea and started putting out singles within the city pop subgenre - basically a subcategory of j-pop that pulled on western influences like 70s R&B and soft rock and has seen a mild revival in the 2010s thanks to future funk and vaporwave. Now I wasn’t sure how much of those 2019 influences on her singles would translate to this debut… and it turns out quite a lot, because that city pop side is all over this project with the glittery backing arrangement, surprisingly developed bass, and obvious parallels to the flashy, overmixed, or even new jack swing side of late 80s / early 90s soft rock pop/R&B. In fact, I’d argue this doesn’t have much in the way of mainstream k-pop sounds - which to the surprise of nobody, I don’t mind, as those k-pop tones can be very hit-and-miss for me, which is why I didn’t groove as much with trap-leaning cuts like ‘pit-a-pet’, especially with the acoustic guitar on the drop. That said, once you clue into what this is, I can’t say it really stands out among this subset of city pop - the production is more organic and smooth and Yukika’s vocals are pretty, but the hooks are middle-of-the-road, there’s very little in the compositions that rise above or feel super-distinct; in other words, it’s not far removed from when American actors dabble in music as a side project, in that it might a faithful recreation of a certain sound, but it’s a bit derivative and tame. This would be where I’d go to the content, where a surprising amount of work has gone into the album’s story and arc - the protagonist arrives in Seoul, is initially excited but soon lonely as she enters a relationship, which bounces back and forth as she tries to hold it together and then ultimately gives up when he’s distant, and then it’s left open-ended whether she returns to Japan, or whether she was falling in love with the city itself to make things a bit more abstract. Two problems: one, 'pit-a-pet’ feels even more out of place on this album as it’s apparently written from her dog’s perspective to her and even if it’s a metaphor it’s one that feels redundant; and two, a lot of her vocals seem a bit more worldweary than the naivete she shows on this project, which doesn’t quite amplify the tragedy the way it could. But at the end of the day… it’s solid, this brand of city pop is charming and generally likable, and there’s ambition here, but I’m looking for that next step up for more of the good songs to be legit great, so… light 7/10.

Sprain - As Lost Through Collision - You know, this is one of those cases where I have no idea why anyone wants me to cover this. I’ve made it no secret that I don’t have a lot of luck with doom metal and material that defaults to the slower, ponderous side of music, so when you give me a debut album from L.A. slowcore act Sprain, it’s a choice I questioned, especially as it’s one of those genres in which I don’t have the deepest familiarity and have struggled to like what I have heard. And thus with this… well, for one this band is embracing elements of post-hardcore as well, and by that I mean the ragged, whiplash distorted guitars, a blend of inaudible shouting and some unsupported clean vocals that I’d call average at best and a near total lack of groove or coherent hooks or even interesting tune. What’s frustrating here is that if Sprain was doing cool or unique things with the guitar textures or distortion that they elongate each song with, maybe bring forth some sort of melody along the way, I might be able to get into the atmosphere, but as it is, when your fifteen minute song is mostly squeaking guitar feedback and spare drum hits that constantly seem to be on the cusp of breaking apart, the vibe doesn’t coalesce for me. Now there are songs that are a bit more developed - in that they hammer the same ugly chord or progression on repeat or get some weirdly underweight tones on the bog-standard anti-religion ‘Worship House’, but at least on a cut like ‘My Way Out’ there’s a bit more spare moodiness to work with. Unfortunately, this is where we have to go to the content and once you get past the oddly misanthropic ‘Slant’ which seems to be from an exhausted doctor’s perspective of their patients - I see why that could be relevant in 2020 - the entire album plummets into rampant depressive nihilism and it becomes a wallow very fast. In other words, a sour listening experience becomes even moreso, and if that’s your thing, I guess I can applaud the miserable consistency, but this is not something I want to revisit at all. strong 4/10, this is emphatically not for me, but if this is your genre, you might something in this.

Bill Callahan - Gold Record - So full disclosure, I’ve been listening to a lot of Bill Callahan the past few weeks, specifically his seminal projects Apocalypse from 2011 and Dream River from 2013 - smartly written, excellently delivered, great low-key singer-songwriter stuff that’s perfect for quiet times in the late summer, especially with that foreboding sense of doom that slips behind Apocalypse that has allowed it to age unbelievably well. So with Gold Record potentially tapping into similar impulses - and given that I was lukewarm about Bill Callahan’s album good but bloated and languid last year - I had high hopes for this, and for the most part they paid off. Let’s get this out of the way now, I don’t think this tops his best works from earlier the decade, but I will say I’m impressed by how Callahan has enhanced and streamlined his storytelling from Shepherd In A Sheepskin Vest while still bringing a lot of expansive and wry details to the forefront. A big factor here is the production, which brings back some of Apocalypse’s lingering instability in the shaky acoustic lines and shuddering grooves, but now there are distant horns and a mix that feels larger and more expansive - I’m not sure he’s going to top the sheer richness of Dream River, but I love the ricochet of the country-folk guitar warmth that implies a lot of fractured atmosphere - the tension in ‘Protest Song’, how quickly the mood shifts on ‘The Mackenzies’, the dreamlike textures that underscore ‘Another Song’ and ‘Cowboy’ and ‘As I Wander’ - I wouldn’t quite call it dream country, but it plays with that atmosphere really well. But as always I want to focus on the writing, because where Shepherd In A Sheepskin Vest saw Callahan fight the quiet battle between the sudden domestic life and his road-hungry wild dreams, all amidst the steady creep of time, this time there’s an armistice, mostly because he spends more of this album looking outside himself. His character drives a limo on ‘Pigeons’ and he gives advice to a married couple that when they find their union, it’s reinforced by community - something he’ll second guess almost immediately, but this is an album where he’ll exhale and find respite in it. ‘The Mackenzies’ is a stunning song where he meets a couple after some car troubles, discovers they lost a son, and while all sorts of fatherhood questions swirl around, they pull him out of his centering and say that they’re okay. So while he’s not one to ignore his impulses in the solitary road wanderer given how he’s placed himself among them - note the sly references to Cash, Cohen, McMurtry and an entire song dedicated to Ry Cooder, and ‘Protest Song’ has him tempted to cuss out the late night acts who will never truly buck a system, and he doesn’t paint the domestic life as the ideal, as the sad undercurrents behind ‘Breakfast’ shows. Instead, he’s approaching the appeal of those dreams with a little more maturity as a step in his life, especially as he’s gotten older and more set in himself, which has driven originality in his art to look further. And as such there are two incredibly telling moments on this album, the first in the reinvention of the old Smog song ‘Let’s Move To The Country’ where he would trail off before mentioning marriage or a family, now he can accept it; the second is ‘As I Wander’, which tries to wind every story here into one place - a man of many multitudes, referencing magicians and train conductors, framing himself as a link between death and dreams in his ability to inspire whatever step in a journey we might take… or hell, just get them home. Look, I’ve been a big Bill Callahan fan for a while now, and while this might not hit the heights of Apocalypse or the self-contained layers of beauty of Dream River, it’s still goddamn great. 8/10, if you’re in the mood for a smart and layered singer-songwriter project, check this out.

Big Sean - Detroit 2 - I’ll say this, listening to a Big Sean album is marginally less embarrassing than it used to be, but I mentioned this back in 2017 when I covered I Decided and it’s just as true with this album: Big Sean might be a competent technical rapper nowadays, but he did so by becoming boring and more derivative than his fans want to admit, especially here where the Drake and Kendrick influences are just flagrant. Of course, the larger problem I’ve always had with Big Sean is that he’s not particularly insightful or clever as a wordsmith - and when he tries, he usually seems a little too proud of himself or just comes off really corny - and he still can’t deliver anything close to intensity. Actually, let’s go for an underground comparison: Doomtree rapper Sims named Sims of whom I’m a fan but who has a lot of similarities in his cadence and flow and even vocal timbre with Big Sean, especially on more bombastic bangers. But on his solo work he has a swagger and verve Big Sean cannot match, which makes Sean’s bragging feel half-hearted and unconvincing and his corny lines stand out all the more in contrast. And that’s the last thing you want on a bloated album that’s sloppily sequenced clocking over twenty songs where the guest stars grab more of the spotlight and the filler is glaring - this was a project that was built for stream trolling, and my god it becomes tedious, especially as a lot of the production has the same desaturated monochromatic hollowness that’s been an issue on Sean’s last few projects. And that’s strange because Big Sean has low-key had a fondness for beats with a bit more soul and texture leaning towards R&B - made all the more obvious when you get legit great features from Anderson .Paak and Jhene Aiko… so obviously what you want are swampy trap progressions that are better produced than most but don’t exactly have much flair or serious punch. That being said, I’m not going to deny that a more mature Big Sean is a better Big Sean, and there are highlights when he gets a bit more introspective, vulnerable and aspirational in trying to settle old smoke and misunderstandings and trying to find some sort of inner and outer peace - it’s nothing mind-blowing or that revolutionary, especially as I think Wale got off the most political verse here, and a damn good one too. And yes, Sean’s got the frustrating technician impulse to pile in double time flows that aren’t saying much - which might serve him well on that overloaded cypher but inconsistently everywhere else - but as a whole he sounds better, to the point where I might argue this is Big Sean’s best album to date… but at the end of the day, I think I enjoyed Dave Chappelle’s interlude the most, just saying. 6/10, I don’t think there’s an outright dud here, but there’s not much that wowed me and while the fans will like it, I’m just kind of lukewarm.