on the pulse - 2023 - #18 - pinkpantheress, armand hammer, semisonic, romy, the mountain goats, l'rain, ashley mcbryde, jaime wyatt

Jaime Wyatt - Feel Good - It feels like it’s been a deceptively long time since we got a proper Jaime Wyatt album - Neon Cross was back in 2020 and carried so much swagger to build off of 2017’s lean but fantastic Felony Blues, I don’t revisit it a lot but whenever I do its best moments kick so much ass. Now there was going to be a sonic shift built into Feel Good simply off the change in producer from Shooter Jennings to Adrian Quesada, who is probably most well-known for his work with Black Pumas, so I was curious how the pivot would manifest… and what we got is a straight-up vintage but queer as hell southern country soul record! And it’s far from a bad idea - Jaime Wyatt’s tremendous voice has always been her biggest asset and she can sell raw, ragged, soulful firepower against a mix that swells with rich and prominent basslines indebted to funk, guitars that span warmer country to snarled acid rock fuzz, both organ and saloon piano, pedal steel, and some of the most well-micced and textured percussion you’ll hear near a country release this year. That said, it’s a throwback to a very late 60s sound of which you’ve heard many times before and I wouldn’t exactly say Wyatt puts a new spin on it sonically, especially compared to the swagger on her last two albums - I respect how she brings a much rougher edge to these tones instead of playing it glossy and tasteful or sedate, but the vocal mix can feel a little slapdash and I do wish there were more cuts like ‘Fugitive’ here with its galloping muscle, although the explosive jamming outro of ‘Hold Me One Last Time’ was completely awesome. So I was looking for the lyrics to help this stand out a little more… and you know, I think Wyatt has enough to get there, moving the ragged lesbian romances from subtext to text with the detail to paint the haggard road life and the desperate desire for any sense of connection and joy, made all the tougher by living rough, often on the edge of the law, and a society at large only paying lipservice to help - the closer ‘Moonlighter’ really sums up that emotional journey well. If anything, the political undercurrent on cuts like ‘World Worth Keeping’ and ‘Fugitive’ actually helps that sense of era authenticity… until you realize that there’s still so much change that needs to come, so both past and present can feel very modern, and Wyatt can sell the weight of that history while also nailing the high melodrama of a song like ‘Where The Damned Only Go’. But tying it all together, I’m tempted to repeat much of what I said when Yola pivoted slightly away from country to go more for vintage soul in 2021, which at first had me questioning production choices and stylism only for me to acknowledge it’s still goddamn great and worth many a listen. I would not quite put this on that tier - mostly because Felony Blues is such a high water mark for me in 2010s indie country - but Feel Good is going to get slept on and it shouldn’t - if you know fans of classic country, soul, and rock, even if they’re not exactly progressive this is an incredibly easy sell on tone and execution; certainly does feel good, check it out!

Ashley McBryde - The Devil I Know - I’ve been slow getting to this one, mostly because there’s a part of me depressed that her excellent collaborative concept album Lindeville last year didn’t go anywhere because Warner Nashville had no clue how to push it. But it turns out that McBryde had this in reserve anyway - The Devil I Know was actually finished with Jay Joyce back on production before Lindeville was done, so for a quick turnaround to reestablish career momentum, it made sense… and yet that hasn’t seemed to happen either, thanks for nothing Music Row! But fine, I was still curious… so let me reassure everyone that while I don’t think this is better than the ridiculous high points Lindeville hit, this is still a really good, often great album! McBryde made a point of saying this album would tilt more towards country tones instead of the rougher rock elements - which with Jay Joyce producing can be wildly inconsistent, especially in the clattering percussion mix which can feel a little overpowering especially with that snare, or how the heavier crunch could use some thicker low-end muscle in the bass, or what the hell that fade-out was on ‘Whiskey and Country Music’ or the odd vocal mixing on the title track - but rock cuts like ‘Blackout Betty’ do stick the landing, and following from lessons Joyce learned with Eric Church and Brandy Clark, when this album is allowed to lean more on acoustic guitar, mandolin, and slow-burn echoing electric guitar, there’s a vibrant warmth and keener atmospheric balance off the touches of piano and keyboard that can really pop. And McBryde is a singer with the theatrical touch and firepower to match such a mix, for both the hard-bitten touring and drinking songs, and the quieter, more introspective cuts that are allowed to get the emotional nuance that comes with maturity; the weight of history makes songs like ‘Learned To Lie’, ‘6th Of October’, and especially ‘Single At The Same Time’ feel really poignant even if you haven’t lived long enough to feel the complicated emotions of the latter. If I have other issues, I think they’re most tied to structure - this album feels very lean running under 40 minutes, and I don’t think it flows well enough to pay off its best elements, a swivel to be more singles-driven and commercial which McBryde can do, but it feels disjointed as a result. And it’s so damn frustrating because with this album, McBryde is playing Music Row’s game the right way with a strong collection of songs and it’s not going further… but I also can’t detach from how this feels like a comedown for me as well as someone who adored Lindeville for its character and ambition, which isn’t fair either. That said, it feels stronger and more consistent than Never Will, for me that places this among the great country albums of this year - I know from experience at this point Ashley McBryde albums either grow like hell or cool on me fast… guess that’s the devil I’ve come to know, at least the music is great and worth hearing.

L’Rain - I Killed Your Dog - So this is an odd case: for those who aren’t familiar, L’Rain is an experimental producer out of New York who works in a sound collage blend of psychedelic pop, jazz, soul and R&B, and she’s amassed a lot of critical acclaim since her debut in 2016; she’s extremely well-connected in the modern art scene but her material tends to evade easy analysis, and intentionally so - she knows how Black art and Black women can be categorized and marginalized by the music industry, and she likes to break down those barriers for a more interesting blur of aesthetic with identity. So I think it’s a little ironic that of L’Rain’s three records, the one that she describes as her most ‘basic bitch’, and certainly her most strident and intentional… it’s probably the one I’ve struggled with the most. And I think I know why: there’s still a hazy, psychedelic blur to how the song fragments tumble together and shift genres with a serene but undulating flow - credit some great basslines and sharp live drums to keeping the momentum going - but this is probably the most “song-focused” and varied L’Rain has ever been in creating focused moments that stand out in sharper contrast… but they still feel fragmented, which creates more tension across impressionistic peaks and valleys meant to simulate the uneven passage of time in relationships where some moments feel like agonized flashes and some, especially those of painful loneliness, go on forever. L’Rain has described this project as an “anti-breakup” album, where instead of ending it for what might be a lot of justified reasons, it explores the tension in relationships between the struggle to be your messy, authentic self and fitting within a prescribed box or role that doesn’t fit, or can enable neglect or abuse, and that goes to some challenging places. The title track is the most immediate, where behind waves of pitch correction she describes in graphic detail murdering your dog, until the song flips for her to say ‘I am your dog’, and there’s a dead-eyed capriciousness that is at least effective, certainly moreso than earlier moments where it feels less earned; explainable in the context of a relationship being pushed to the brink where she’s intentionally evading definition, prodding at any walls, but I didn’t find it nearly as intriguing or cathartic or funny, especially when there’s sardonic deflection juxtaposed with her most motivated aesthetic choices to date and how the opening establishes some level of playful unreality. Granted, it wasn’t helped by my distaste for some of those aesthetic choices - a lot of critics have compared ‘Pet Rock’ to The Strokes, bypassing how it’s pulling from their least tight or likable era - but the album comes into its own as it fleshes out more nuance: finding a love that’s allowed to be more amorphous with more give-and-take, where instead of accepting absolutes there are shades of grey, where that passion is preferable to the crushing numb loneliness, although I appreciate by the end of the album she recognizes the wear such uncertainty over time can take; at least for me as someone who has been in those frustrated relationships yearning for passion against rigid absolutes, the more mature catharsis resonates. And I think the aesthetic realization of these ideas is more potent as well, especially as the vocal harmonies become more robust, like the gentle hazy folk crescendo of ‘5 to 8 Hours a Day’ as the horns pile in, the gradual panic of ‘r(EMOTE)’ with the accelerating drums that transitions amazingly well into the ethereal jazz freakout of ‘Uncertainty Principle’ which feels even more mystical on ‘Knead Bee’, and I love the cycling drum patter against the spacey warbles and on ‘New Year’s Unresolution’ - for what it’s worth, this album ends really strong, one of the few times where an open-ended conclusion has me breathe easier. As a whole… it’s tough to gauge as the emotional resonance takes a few swerves to really land, especially as the capricious touches can feel more edgy, which contrasts weirdly with some of the sonic choices and L’Rain’s consistently pretty delivery… but I can’t deny the basic provocation was intentional and it worked, and it’s not like the depth isn’t here if you’re looking for it. So the project is patchy and uneven and all the more human for it, and I think it’s a really compelling listen… but it’s tough to recommend if you’re not willing to give it the time or introspection, and I don’t think treating this project as a ‘challenge’ is smart either. Not as visceral or dark as its title might imply, but made all the more disquieting and emotionally true when it becomes real, take that as you will.

the Mountain Goats - Jenny From Thebes - I guess I should be surprised that we didn’t get this album from John Darnielle sooner, for as many distinctive characters he’s created and adapted over the course of his musical storytelling; essentially, taking the half-referenced character of Jenny first mentioned on All Hail West Texas and then mentioned in passing on other projects, and then expanding her story; not so much a lore dump but having the feel of a side adventure that’s less conceptual than the string of projects from Beat The Champ to last year’s phenomenal Bleed Out. And as someone who was later to the Mountain Goats than many diehards, it required that I go back and revisit those old songs, look at whatever enticing context was there before this… and here’s the thing, Jenny is less a ‘character’ than a presence, a figure you don’t think about when life is good - you don’t need to - but when it’s all careening out of control and getting rough, she slips into view, less a stabilizing presence than an echo who is projected onto. So it’s actually a neat trick for Darnielle to start giving her more agency, more of a place in the narrative than just the lingering callback to 'Pirate Jenny’ of The Threepenny Opera… although ironically, even given how scrappy and desperate the storytelling is here, it’s a fascinating or even optimistic recontextualization. Where Brecht had Jenny exact cruel revenge on a town that misunderstood and badly mistreated her despite whatever comfort she could provide, Darnielle is more humanistic: she’s still the semi-anonymous figure that provides solace to those on the very edges on the run, but when she makes the choice to end that comfort to follow her own path, she winds up identified by the act meted out, and is forced to abandon much of her own mythos to scrounge for herself on the road, including her legendary Kawasaki motorcycle. Hell, by ‘Jenny III’ the old love to which she gave temporary comfort is shaken badly by her reappearance, because now seeing her desperate vulnerability forces him to reckon with her as a full person and everything he projected on her. And thematically it’s potent: it shows just how much impact even the slightest care provided in the most dire moments can have, and paradoxically when you stop caring for each other, the fragility of that network and connection is all the more stark, especially for outlaws where they have to lean on dreams and myth over a desolate reality, potentially even metatext surrounding what weight we give to those stories to continue the arc Darnielle has been tracing for several years now. Now if you find the story harder to follow, or that this feels broadly sketched… well, part of that is intentional, we’re dealing with a figure who is more abstracted across the Mountain Goats’ catalog, and given the ‘living on the edge’ mystique, it would make sense for plausible deniability to be built in at every curve, but it does mean the truly cutting precise details don’t quite have the same impact, and this is where we get to the execution and my more contentious thoughts. On the one hand, keeping the percussion looser and the influx of horns seems to create a callback to Steely Dan and their morally ambiguous characters, where in demystifying the myths it can feel more normal; they did this with Goths as well. That being said, the writing and tunes feel more diffuse and don’t quite stick compared to their strongest, a throwback to the older, song-focused vignettes that could be so captivating in their implied mystery but there’s just less of that this time; less urgency, less grit, with less striking character outside of fractured moments like the spare vocal harmonies, or the haunted grooves of ‘Ground Level’ and ‘From The Nebraska Plant’ or chirpy melodies behind ‘Only One Way’ or aching strings on ‘Same As Cash’ and ‘Jenny III’ or jittery percussion on ‘Fresh Tattoo’. So overall it feels like a detour with fanservice and callbacks and a pretty compelling narrative once you dig for it, but it’s the big risk of demystifying backstory, in that it can feel much less compelling that what has been imagined and built up as legacy, and while aging into a more lived-in reality has been a thematic throughline across a number of recent albums, you eventually hit diminishing returns. It’s still really good, and I think for those deeply invested in the lore you’ll get a lot out of it… I just wish it clicked more deeply.

Romy - Mid Air - I know, I’m way too late to this one - the long-awaited solo debut album from Romy Madley Croft, longtime member of The xx who I’ve long held as one of the most subtly intense vocalists within her brand of house and indie pop; not someone who necessarily needs to carry the pounding bangers, but for the slinky, textured, slow-burn moments, she’s incredible. So with a solo project featuring fellow bandmate Jamie xx and Fred again… producing over half of the project - which I honestly think they could have played up more in the marketing given how huge Fred again… has become in recent years - I was excited to finally get around to this one… and yeah, this absolutely rules! Perhaps not as impeccably restrained, tasteful and controlled as The xx would deliver - and the sequencing isn’t quite as tight as I’d prefer on the back half, which leads to two somewhat abortive transitional interludes and an ending that feels a bit underwhelming for a project that I think could easily run longer than its very brisk thirty-four minutes - but that allows Romy to use her gently augmented but still gorgeous vocal presence to yearn so powerfully over the pulsating piano-backed house, throwback synth-heavy trance, and occasional disco rollick; nothing I’d call revolutionary on a textural level, even if I’d argue that Fred again… is a natural fit alongside Romy and nails that wistful swell for her impeccably for songs that feel huge but still intimate, but there’s something in nailing the formula so damn effectively that it’s hard not to be impressed, from the shy fluttery pianos and aching strings of ‘Loveher’ to the airy pulses of ‘Weightless’, from the guitarline on ‘The Sea’ that sounds like the best song Emotional Oranges never cut to the jagged yet soulful ‘One Last Try’ and ‘Enjoy Your Life’. But then there’s the lyrics… I would struggle to call them exceptional or very distinctive, but I will say Romy adds some character to the lovelorn lesbian stories, the missed connections, and how many songs could well be addressing herself as much a partner, which alongside some pathos around her late mother adds some welcome pathos. Overall, it’s a pretty great album - I would struggle to put it among the top tier after a lot of listens the past month due to a few lingering structural issues - but it’s incredibly easy to like and handily beats most expectations. Terrific dance album, probably will be underrated in 2023, absolutely worth checking out!

Semisonic - Little Bit Of Sun - When I discovered that Semisonic was dropping a new album, I was floored - the late 90s power pop band responsible for ‘Closing Time’ that hadn't put out an album since 2001 had reunited after Dan Wilson had spent decades behind the scenes writing classic pop songs, they were actually back? It gave me an easy excuse to go relisten to Semisonic’s discography and where I came to the stark realization that a band can be both wildly underrated and a little overrated at the same time: the unique set of openly nerdy dudes in adult alternative who also wrote earnestly about sex that suggested they actually had it fairly regularly with rock solid compositional fundamentals and quirky but understated production… but Dan Wilson has always been a limited singer and keeping everything consistently tasteful meant the albums lacked that added punch to put them over the top in the way the best from Barenaked Ladies or Fountains of Wayne did. But Dan Wilson has spent the last twenty-plus years only refining his melodic chops, and I really wanted this to be great… and thus it kind of breaks my heart for me to say that this was really underwhelming. And I’m a little angry at myself for being as disappointed as I am, because in retrospect, an album like this isn’t remotely surprising: Dan Wilson has grown into a better singer but he’s still frail behind the mic, he can craft solid melodic tunes with familiar power chords but they rarely rise to being great earwoms, and the production is very cleanly polished with the occasional blast of flashy horns to slot into a very middle-aged brand of adult alternative radio; it’s a very easy and comfortable listen, what more could you want? Well, just because a record feels middle-aged doesn’t mean that it can’t showcase a more burnished flair that comes with veteran experience instead of playing things so safe - both Lori McKenna and Jason Isbell contribute to this album in writing or guitarwork and they might as well be the poster children of this - but what I find more glaring is the lack of what made Semisonic unique or special. Yes, the electronic flourishes didn’t always work on All About Chemistry but why get rid of them altogether instead of refine them, instead going for some choppy, washed out faux-psychedelic touches that feel even more inconsistent, even if the revving tones on ‘It Wasn’t Like We Hoped It Would Be’ were kind of nifty? And what happened to this band’s sense of humour or provocation - it was lowkey, sure, but it was charming as hell and it balanced out Semisonic’s more earnest side effectively! Now they don’t have that balance alongside feeling very self-referential about being in the music industry having only made it for a brief snapshot, and a surprising number of songs feel very downbeat and haggard about getting older and struggling to keep moving; yeah, it ends on an optimistic note with ‘Beautiful Sky’ featuring Jim James of My Morning Jacket, but it can make chunks of a relatively short album feel like a slog or cloyingly saccharine. But again, none of this is surprising from Dan Wilson or Semisonic, and it’s probably what their older fans want: it runs on “good taste” and comfort and relatability, in the same way a late period Barenaked Ladies album would; from what I know about Semisonic in the years away from the spotlight, this album feels very authentic to their experiences and they have nothing left to prove. But that doesn’t make this interesting or essential listening, especially when there were quirks that helped make them stand out that are no longer here. There are moments I like - the title track is catchy as hell, ‘The Rope’ has Jason Isbell shredding opposite the horns, that was fun, and ‘Keep Me In Motion’ is probably my favourite cut here off that bass lick - but outside of those, it’s a safe comeback in which you’re not missing much, even if you wanted more Semisonic.

Armand Hammer - We Buy Diabetic Test Strips - You know, after billy woods made probably his most accessible album in Maps earlier this year, I should have predicted that in getting back with ELUCID for an Armand Hammer project that it would be dense and difficult as hell… and yeah, that’s one of the big reasons why this review is late, I struggled a lot to fully unpack this album - that is, before I began to realize that evading tangible analysis is part of the point, that so much of this album is caught in miscommunications and systems you don’t see, much less understand, be they human relationships or the encroaching socio-political dystopia. And what makes the experience even more uneasy and claustrophobic is the feeling that both rappers here are not immune to this - not just the struggle to keep one’s head above water and clinging to what they know while observing those who might be the worst thrive in the murk of a brutal world, but also the sexual encounters where their lack of control or certainty feels all the more fraught. And it’s interesting to see how both rappers react to this: for as much as ELUCID embraces abstraction, he seems most unnerved by that increasing uncertainty, especially when it come with getting what he wants, if he even truly knows what that is - billy woods’ stories feel more lived in and haggard, with more wry acceptance of his very human frailties and failings especially around relationships; on albums criss-crossed with dystopia and apocalypse, he’s more comfortable amidst discomfort, as the only certainty is death and that comes for everyone, especially on an album that feels its age. Now I’m fully comfortable about being very wrong about all of this - impressionistic abstract art is built to evade definition - but it necessarily means this album is a tougher listen especially at its length, with the increasingly offkilter production spanning JPEGMAFIA to Kenny Segal to even El-P cultivating an atmosphere that broods and shifts at unstable angles; it’s considerably less immediate and demands you put in the work, and its intentional lack of thematic definition can be frustrating. That’s not saying it’s not rewarding - the clattering, sexually charged glossy haze of ‘Woke Up And Asked Siri How I’m Gonna Die’, the exhausted, shuddering woodwinds of ‘The Flexible Unreliability of Time & Memory’ and ‘Total Recall’, the bruising snarled holler of ‘Trauma Mic’ with Pink Siifu and that filthy guitar, the warbling bouncy weirdness of ‘The Gods Must Be Crazy’, the careening free jazz rap of ‘Y’all Can’t Stand Right Here’, the crushing rumble of ‘Empire BLVD’ where Curly Castro goes off that gets even more distorted and suffocating on ‘Supermooned’, and basically every verse from Junglepussy. But at the same time, while I’m really impressed with this album and I’ll still call it great, I’d struggle to put it among my favourites from Armand Hammer like ROME or Haram, or indeed with my favourite billy woods albums. Absolutely worth the deep dive as probably one of the most challenging rap albums you’ll hear this year… just be prepared for your possible lack of satisfaction to be the point.

PinkPantheress - Heaven knows - I think I like PinkPantheress more than a lot of folks my age, and especially this year where she saw a proper mainstream breakout I feel more surprised than I should be. At least on her 2021 project there was a flighty, teenage melodrama that was backed up by songs built for TikTok, but I also found there were interesting glimpses of deeper pathos behind the very detached delivery; flesh out the songs a little more and I’d be all the way onboard, even if months later I’m still pretty cool on ‘Boy’s A Liar’ where the energy never fully coalesced outside of Ice Spice’s verse. But hey, this feels like the proper, larger-scale breakout album, with name producers like Greg Kurstin and Mura Masa punching up the production… and really, it’s the easiest way to describe this album as an amplification of her established formula, tightening up the hooks, adding more textural diversity, and the guest stars where they feel drawn more for name rather than fit - Kelela sounds gorgeous on ‘Bury me’, but Rema is trying to split an impression somewhere between Travis Scott and Destroy Lonely - who ironically was originally on ‘Bury me’ and got taken out for the better - and it doesn’t really work compared to his Afrobeat roots, and Central Cee remains an utterly obnoxious and unlikable presence on ‘Nice to meet you’. And some of the production choices feel like a play outside of PinkPantheress’ faster and more likable garage and breakbeat grooves that fit her vocals more effectively - the 2000s era pop/R&B with drums that sound more organic can work, the skittering crunch and clumsily mixed trap pop beats do not. Granted, thematically this is an album placing PinkPantheress in uncertain territory, half focused on a rise to stardom where she sounds distinctly uncomfortable, and half due to a series of relationships where she’s fallen a little too hard for a series of really lousy dudes and has to go through the messy process of getting out; it’s actually where ‘Boy’s A Liar’ works as a closing track instead of getting tacked on juice the streams, it’s the revelation that none of these assholes are worth it! And I like that the melodramatic flair is still here - you don’t reference Hamlet on ‘Ophelia’ or repeatedly utilize death as a metaphor for falling both in and out of love if it’s not - but the stakes feel higher and the album feels less capricious as a result; there’s a level of self-awareness that comes with having to end relationships where you still have feelings but you know it’s not healthy, be it their vices or their desire for her fame or in the saddest cases where the chemistry is just not there, and considering she’s still a pretty limited vocal presence, the fact that her pop lyricism and delivery can sell that subtler heartache is to her credit. Overall Heaven knows feels like a bigger album with more standouts… for better and for worse; a bit of a lateral move compared to her 2021 mixtape but where I’d blame PinkPanthess less than her label handlers and folks who aren’t quite sure how to properly amplify her formula, the makeover that works in the moment but doesn’t quite feel natural. Still quite good, and for a proper “major label debut album” I can hear growth… but this is an album that lives in unease about where PinkPantheress will go in her career and life, and I really hope that she and her team stick the landing long-term.