Recently I've accepted music listening back into my life. It started with my accepting ownership of dish washing.
Nahko and Medicine for the People:
Rumors of Mount Vernon: young, talented musicians, hopeful, passionate, not quite polished, not quite subtle, playing jam band stuff, funk, ska, before the leader steps aside for a deep centripetal dive.
A few albums in, I far prefer Nahko's solo album. I'm privileged not to have to rally around social justice music (I'm being served relatively well by my society), so Nahko's more personal struggles in My Name is Bear resonate deeper than the war cries of his band. War cries indeed -- the prevailing tone is much more aggressive than the solo album. One of my favorite things about the latter is how Nahko stays steady and mellow amid swelling orchestration. The groove builds and his voice is solid, serious. A couple of my least favorite moments on that album are when he raises his voice to amplify an already-functioning groove ("yeah, this is resistance", "I love I love I love you just the same"). The groove loses subtlety, but that's rare enough on that album. I also don't like the happy-go-lucky ska-ish stuff quite as much on that album. Anyway, the Medicine for the People albums seem to have a lot more of what I didn't love on My Name is Bear, plus more politics. Much more ska, much more rally, much more anger. The songs are generally solid, some quite good, but generally less aligned with my taste. Regarding "social justice music", as I called it (protest music?), I realize my GOAT is one of the faces of protest music. But that characterization is limited, and anyway Dylan is the far superior lyricist. Lyrically, Nahko is hit-and-miss. His poetry can be stylistically immature. I also prefer the musical taste of Dylan's protest songs to that of Nahko's. Some of Nahko's more personal songs, though, on his solo album, rank pretty high against my lifetime of musical sensibility.
I should clarify: Nahko's solo album My Name is Bear has massively featured in my music listening revival these past six months. It just featured earlier on, so I speak of it in a little more of a past tense, as more of an immutable reference. But six months ago it was surely not. I suppose I can write about it now.
Nahko:
In 2017 or 2018 I heard bits of My Name is Bear on my cousin's record player. Some of it was groany hipster (the interludes, the album art), but a few of the songs stuck with me better than most songs I've only heard a couple of times do. First "Hamakua", also "Kirby, Joe" and "Dragonfly". Somehow I remembered them well enough to occasionally sketch them out on piano or guitar over the next couple of years. But largely I refused to listen to them again. They became symbols of my good times in 2018, living out East and visiting my cousin, tinted rosy by memory of family, scratchy vinyl, good beer. I was a blooming luddite, strict with my consumption, and anyway didn't want to taint my Nahko memory. I'd rather hear it again in my cousin's house, on the record player. I wish I could only ever hear it that way.
I didn't return to Richmond for a while. This June I finally did, but things were busy; I managed to squeeze out maybe the first couple sides of the album. The good songs were at least as good as I remembered. It was joyous.
Maybe I'll write more later...
Big Red Machine:
I hadn't heard them until this year, but with Bon Iver tickets in my pocket, I wanted to catch up on his last few years.
My expectations were low. My first listen to i,i was (mistakenly -- I'll mention this later) disappointing, and I was down on 22. I was thrilled with his trajectory.
I really enjoy Big Red Machine. In fact, independent of Bon Iver, they rank among the bands I'm happiest with these days. That's not independent of the Bon Iver bias (hometown pride) but independent of my musical evaluation of Bon Iver. Big Red Machine is different, and solid.
For years I've been really harsh on any music that isn't hip hop, jazz, classical, or consciously cheap (a lot of pop). It's been hard for indie, alternative, stuff like that to impress me. Enter BRM and Nahko... Again I have the hometown bias, and both artists are closely linked to my cousin in my mind, whose influence really rearranges my standards. Being around him I've learned to find happiness in some things that previously didn't impress me. For whatever reason, I'm impressed by and really enjoy BRM.
Bon Iver:
I also thoroughly listened to Bon Iver in anticipation of June's show. Most of the old stuff was unsurprising, but I really came around on i,i. I downright love a few of those songs now; they're in the Bon Iver canon. Others I'm not a fan of. But it's a real Bon Iver album to me now.
Dave Matthews Band:
I listened to a few albums in anticipation of November's show. I didn't have time to track back too far... apparently he has a lot of stuff I've never heard. I was a little lost, for almost half of the show. I'm really neutral on a lot of his stuff, but I like Dave Matthews. I respect him. There's a really strong link to my cousin here too, which always makes me more forgiving. But I like Dave.
Enya:
I listened to five or so Enya albums. I'd heard and liked a few before. I guess I'll keep talking about bias and associations in this post... this one's not with my cousin though. I very vaguely associate Enya with two things strongly associated themselves: Tolkien and a past relationship. It's really vague though. I think if I had more mystical beauty sort of stuff in my life the association wouldn't be so strong. But there's some direct connection as well (Enya sang "May It Be", and so did my past partner, once). And obviously Enya is our closest thing to a Tolkien elf, as Chilly Gonzales suggested in his book Enya book. He's another reason I returned to her.
I like Enya a lot. Some of it is truly mediocre, some cringey, but if you suspend your cringe, most of that clears up, and even if you don't, some of this shit stands alone. Enya is special. She's my antithesis. I felt that listening to her music was good for my soul -- any soul, but especially mine. I need stuff like this. I need to suspend my analysis betimes. I need more intuitive purity.
This could use validation, but I remember thinking she peaked with either Shepherd Moons or A Day Without Rain. But those were the two I knew best, so I'm not 100%. Watermark, A Memory of Trees, and Amarantine didn't quite strike me so well. "Anywhere Is", though, from A Memory of Trees, is one of my favorite least-favorite but actual favorite Enya songs. It took some inner strength to admit that, aligning with Chilly's principle of unguilty pleasures. Enya is not a guilty pleasure, just an antithetical one.
Kendrick Lamar:
see posts on MMBS and DAMN
Jacob Collier:
He doesn't deeply threaten my self-worth like he used to, but he is truly amazing, and also idiosyncratic. I don't always love his music, but he's extremely impressive. Here's what I wrote a few months ago:
The first time I heard him I had an identity crisis. I felt overwhelmed by his talent and execution. I felt discouraged as a musician. So I've tried to understand him better.
I think he's probably a prodigy -- maybe an exceptionally empathetic one -- but I've pulled my opinion down to earth in some ways, probably inspired by my ego's self-defense. I don't think it's as easy for him as it looks. His Logic session for Moon River reveals what are for me unfathomably long hours in his basement, recording and editing. If he's alone in all of this, his dedication surges far beyond my interest.
I'll quickly over-justify our disparity in skill, so be careful, but over time I'm seeing through the talent to the quirks (dare I say weaknesses). I don't mean the talent is a mere mask, just that I've listened to him enough now that the talent doesn't overwhelm all other perception. I can perceive more of his nuances, now that I've grappled (sonically and existentially) with his talent.
I listened to to five albums, all Spotify has. In a way I think he declines from his early stuff, though I'd need to re-evaluate Djesse 3, since it seemed unexpectedly subdued. But generally, as he goes from in his room to Djesse, I think he gets overproduced, and some weak songwriting is revealed. I think he's always been an inconsistent songwriter -- brilliant at creating music, but there's some about the song he doesn't seem to comprehend. Bob Dylan is all about songs. He has a new book on songs. For generations people have focused on songs. In jazz they're called tunes, but I'm especially talking about songs, which often have lyrics. There's this great tradition of songs, forged by people who have probably experienced far more pain than Jacob Collier. Bob Dylan was sort of an exception... he somehow convinced the world he was authentic, to the point where he's probably really authentic. Jacob Collier is writing songs as a young and (I assume) hyper-privileged millennial. It's hard for me to believe his writing, and I was saying that before I knew much about him. He doesn't have the air of authenticity. As Hannah says, he sounds like AI. He has great musical sense, and truly beautiful, but at the same time he's too obsessed with theoretical gimmicks, and has he experienced anything he's writing about? His lyrics sound sort of AI -- mashed and smoothed from thousands of similar songs.
