Fluxblog Weekly #73: De La Soul, Uffe, Luísa Maita, Twist, Isaiah Rashad, Okkervil River
September 12th, 2016
Time Can’t Be Replaced
De La Soul featuring Estelle and Pete Rock “Memory of… (US)”
It sucks that De La Soul were essentially forced to abandon the dense sample-centric aesthetic of their most famous works because, well, it’s just absurdly expensive and labor-intensive to clear so many samples. But at the same time, it’s good to hear them get pushed out of their comfort zone and avoid outright nostalgia. Like, maybe it’s better that these dudes in their late 40s don’t have the option of the musical equivalent of squeezing into the clothes they wore when they were 23.
“Memory of…(US)” sounds mature in a way that is not a thinly veiled euphemism for boring. It’s a love song from the perspective of adults who’ve been through some shit together and are wondering if it’s possible to get back to the good times. This is really an Estelle song – her delicate, nuanced voice carries the whole thing, and matches the elegance of Pete Rock’s low-key, string-centric production. Posdnuos and Dave’s verses elaborate on Estelle’s lyrics, and allow them to give voice to all the men who’ve messed up a good thing and know it. Their words aren’t 100% apologetic, but they are definitely coming from a place of guilt and regret. They try to explain themselves, but not in a “this will get me off the hook” way. It’s more like feeling embarrassed, and realizing that they’re responsible for sabotaging a good thing.
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September 13th, 2016
The Moments We Have
Uffe “As Long As It Lasts”
This song feels like an entire noir film compressed into three minutes, with Uffe packing in so many classy-yet-lurid night time signifiers that it’s a wonder the song still has space to feel airy and stark. I’m particularly fond of the piano bits that sound like they’ve been jacked from an old Brubeck record – that aesthetic can’t help but sound a little lighthearted and goofy, but contrasts nicely with the general vibe of vague menace and sleaze.
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Luísa Maita “Fio da Memória”
This song sounds like it’s taking place in the same dark, surreal dream forest as Björk’s classic “Human Behaviour.” But unlike Björk, who sounded like she knew her way around that wilderness, Luísa Maita sounds anxious and lost, like she’s somehow wandered into the deepest reaches of it without any way to turn back. I don’t speak Portuguese so I’m not clear on the lyrics, though I do know the title loosely translates to “memory wire,” which suggests some uneasy connection between the unreliable nature of human memory and the fallibility of data devices.
Buy it from Amazon.
Twist “Can’t Wait”
Twist’s Laura Hermiston has her own version of John Dwyer from Thee Oh Sees’ ecstatic “whoooo!” that signals that his band is about to rock out EVEN HARDER. As she leans into the second chorus she chirps “up!!” in a way that’s incredibly playful and charming, and does a lot to amp up the enthusiasm level of an alt-rock song that’s already pretty upbeat and fun. There’s more chirping later on too, and it brightens everything up. Keep on chirping.
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September 14th, 2016
Laugh At The Small Moments
Isaiah Rashad “Brenda”
Isaiah Rashad mainly stays in one lane creatively – raspy, introspective rap over slow beats and melancholy guitar parts. It’s kinda like if Raewkon only ever did stuff like “Heaven & Hell.” This is not a complaint: This is one of my absolute favorite aesthetics for hip-hop, and Rashad is exceptional at it, and very brave in how open he is in rapping about addiction, depression, and failure. Any bits of raw ego on The Sun’s Tirade feel very hard-earned, and the sad vibes are genuinely soulful, not entitled and pouty like Drake. “Brenda” is the most overtly jazzy song on the record, and I love the way the crisp chords and distant sax runs frame his gravely voice with bright, elegant tones. That contrast makes his performance pop, and emphasizes his pride and dignity in the face of hard times.
Buy it from Amazon.
September 15th, 2016
Within The Next Few Hundred Weeks
Okkervil River “Mary On A Wave”
About two thirds of the way through this song Will Sheff asks “are my eyes now closed or opened?” If songs could have a nut graf, this would be it for “Mary On A Wave.” The music is gentle and soothing, with a chorus that feels cautiously optimistic, but Sheff’s words are uncertain and possibly delusional. I hear it as a song about feeling happy and safe, but worrying that it’s all an illusion. You need to feel a thing, so you manufacture the feeling as a survival instinct. You suffer from emotional anguish, so you self-medicate with love and religion. The sentiment is a bit cynical and pragmatic, but I don’t think that’s in the music. All I hear in the sound of it is empathy and affection.
Buy it from Amazon.