Fluxblog Weeky #237: Ali Barter • Slow Club • Neon Indian • Lapalux
November 11th, 2019
A Reputation For Having Too Much Fun
Ali Barter “History of Boys”
Ali Barter’s Hello, I’m Doing My Best is mostly made up of songs about a sober person looking back on their life when their drinking was out of control with a mix of shame and confusion, like they’re just trying to piece together exactly how things got so bad. Some of the songs get very bleak, but “History of Boys” is light and nostalgic about messing around as a rebellious teen. The dark bits are still in there – she sings about blacking out in the chorus – but the lyrics and the rambunctious pop-punk style of the song honestly acknowledge the fun to be had at the top of the slippery slope. And while this is formally very much a pop-punk song, the arrangement resists the predictable patterns of that genre by putting off its hit-the-pedals chorus a bit to coast out on a pre-chorus that feels more stark and uncertain before slamming into the inevitable.
Buy it from Amazon.
November 13th, 2019
You Don’t Know Who I Am
Slow Club “Two Cousins”
I originally wrote about this song twice – once on this site and only scratching the surface of it, and again on Pitchfork in the context of a review of the album it’s from, Paradise. I’m coming back to it now as I’m going back through favorite songs from the past decade.
It’s generally understood that listeners make their own meanings for songs, but this one for me is an example of deliberately only hearing what I want so I can hammer it into what I’ve needed it to be. And what I’ve needed it to be is so specific and personal I don’t really want to get into it, but it’s really just tapping into the core of what this song is actually intended to be about, which is estrangement. Rebecca Taylor’s lyrics put that feeling in the context of family, but those are the bits I’ve learned to tune out in the interest of utility. What I’m really interested in here is the way she sings it all – you can hear a lot of guilt and regret in her voice. She sounds defeated, like she knows there’s just no fixing what’s gone wrong.
This song is from the summer of 2011 and from the distance of autumn 2019, the song resonates in a slightly different way. Back then relating to this song was urgent and rooted in events of the recent past, but now it’s all stuff I have to strain to remember. Things that were once incredibly important are vague memories now, and people become strangers. So now the part that really cuts deep is the end of the chorus, in which Taylor imagines crossing paths again in the future: “I look into your eyes / you don’t know who I am.” And that’s where I am now – a stranger to even this old version of myself. It’s about a different sort of loss now.
Buy it from Bandcamp.
November 13th, 2019
Tongued Transmissions Made Unclear
Neon Indian “Fallout”
Like any genre made up by music critics, chillwave is both silly and poorly thought out AND a very useful way of categorizing an ephemeral aesthetic. It doesn’t hold up to scrutiny but you see the word “chillwave” and you know exactly what the sound and look of it is, and how it connects to a specific moment that feels very innocent and optimistic from the perspective of late 2019.
Neon Indian’s Alan Palomo didn’t run away from the aesthetics that made his project one of the defining pillars of chillwave along with Washed Out and Toro y Moi, but he did do a lot to expand its expressive range and dynamic possibilities. “Fallout,” the first single released from his post-Summer of Chillwave album Era Extraña, is emotionally heavy in a way that feels very removed from the stoner vibes of Psychic Chasms, which never got much deeper than conveying ennui or a vague pensiveness. In “Fallout,” Palomo kept the thick atmosphere of his first wave of songs but applied it to a composition with a much darker palette and an overtly romantic sensibility. The song vaguely resembles Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away,” but its sentiment is almost the exact opposite, with him trying to convince himself to fall out of love with someone who he’s realized is all wrong for him.
The most intriguing lyric of the song is the line that gives us the best sense of who the other person is – “are you still carving out a man, is that the plan?” It seems to be the type of person who wants to “fix” a partner and make them into the kind of person they want to be with, and being on the other side of that can be quite taxing. You always feel like you’re disappointing and never good enough, or that the person you are in the moment isn’t as worth loving as a person you might never actually become. Palomo’s vocal isn’t very expressive, but it suits the dejected tone of the lyrics, and when he sings “if I could fall out of love with you” in the chorus, he sounds like someone who doesn’t believe he has the strength to break it off or become this person he’d so badly like to be for them.
Buy it from Amazon.
November 14th, 2019
We’ll Never Get There
Lapalux featuring JFDR “Thin Air”
“Thin Air” has a very peculiar dynamic that’s more like a three-act structure than what would normally make sense for pop or dance music. The first section is tense and atmospheric, the middle section is a chaotic dance break, and the third returns to a more vibe-y aesthetic but gradually lets out all the tension like a deflating balloon. That up-tempo section is only about a minute long but is incredibly compelling – it ought to feel cathartic but the textures are all harsh and buzzy so it feels more like an anxious chase sequence. Everything in this song is just a bit off in an intriguing way, and the climax seems early and abrupt so the soft, glowy, sensual resolution lingers slightly longer than you might expect. Maybe it’s meant to be like a reward?
Buy it from Amazon.