Tag: 2023

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 8/20/23

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

Here we are near the end of August, and I’ve got a color scheme adjacent to the aesthetic of my 10th birthday party. It may not be my favorite color anymore, but I still hold that pink is an underrated color. And it’s fitting, since my actual birthday is coming in a few days from now! August is apparently the most common birthday month, so I guess I’m not that special, but I love August simply because of that. Now that I’ve gotten to the point in my life where my birthday doesn’t land a week into the school year anymore, it’s a lot nicer. And it’s not on my first day of college either, like it was last year, so it’s a nice change this year. So let’s all settle down, eat some cake, and come to grips with the fact that we are all Kenough.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 8/20/23

“I’m Just Ken” (from Barbie) – Ryan Gosling

Here we are, a month removed from Barbenheimer, and this song remains stuck in my head. Everybody’s saying it, but it’s true: Barbie really is a masterpiece. It summed up modern womanhood more than any other film that I can think of. It’s whimsical, it’s clever, it’s incredibly funny, and for a movie populated by plastic dolls, it’s deeply human. My mom and I cried together so many times during the movie. Ah, womanhood. And anybody who says that this movie is “anti-man” is delusional—it’s just as empowering for men as it is for women. What’s “anti-man” about Ken realizing that his self-worth doesn’t have to hinge on romantic pursuit or material possessions?

If there’s anything that men—and anybody—can take away from this movie, it’s as the song says: “I’m just Ken, and I’m enough/And I’m great at doing stuff.” Look within. You are Kenough. What else is there to say about this song? Ryan Gosling stole the show. Feel the Kenergy.

“You Wouldn’t Like Me” – Tegan and Sara

And here’s today’s report on “why yes, I did blow through season 2 of Heartstopper last week, why do you ask?”

Tegan and Sara have been names that have been on the very edges of my radar for years; they’ve popped up alongside other artists that I listened to for years, and recently, the great Tillie Walden (!!!) illustrated a graphic memoir about their childhoods. But the snippets I heard of their music faded away—until last week, when this song was featured at the end of the second episode of season 2 of Heartstopper. (Both seasons always have a few gems on their soundtracks—Lucy Dacus and Wolf Alice in the same episode? We are truly blessed…) And as the backdrop to queer teen angst, “You Wouldn’t Like Me” meshes perfectly. It’s the perfect acoustic earworm, all at once gentle and soaring. The harmonies of twin sisters Tegan and Sara Quin intertwine as seamlessly as you would think twin sisters would, blending into each other and branching out once more with smooth, warm ease. As the two Quins sing of “…a war inside of me/Do I cause new heartbreak to write/A new broken song?” their voices command a gentle acoustic strumming—again, I can’t think of a more perfect fit for Heartstopper. Again, I’m very new to Tegan and Sara, but this version feels like a vast gulf from the original, which takes a far more pop-rock direction. (Still Jealous, where this version is from, is an acoustic reworking of their album So Jealous.) I like the guitars on the original, but…how are their voices so nasally and grating there? It just feels so forced compared to how gorgeous their voices—and their story—sounds on this version. Needless to say, I’m far more partial to this acoustic version.

“Taking What’s Not Yours” – TV Girl

I never expected that a TV Girl song would ever end up on one of these posts, but life is nothing if not full of surprises. I’ve felt fairly lukewarm about most of their music that I’ve been exposed to; songs like “Blue Hair” and “Lover’s Rock” seem to have been everywhere after experiencing TikTok fame in the past few years, but they never really caught my eye. They were catchy, but not something that I would find myself listening to regularly.

Enter this song. I forger where I heard it first, but either way, it hooked me like no other song of theirs ever has. It all feels so carefree in its composition, and all of the sampling and the way it’s cobbled together is clear proof that somebody’s been taking some pages out of the De La Soul/Beastie Boys book. “Taking What’s Not Yours” gives it a more indie pop spin. The samples are just delightfully goofy, but so clever at the same time. The main sample comes from, of all things, a rap included in the video “Don’t Copy That Floppy.” (“That’s thieving/stealing, taking what’s not yours!”) I doubt it can get a whole lot sillier than that. And as Brad Petering talks about all of the things that he’s taken and left at various girlfriends’ places (sorry, “various apartments and domiciles”) over the years, what should get sampled but Richard Nixon’s infamous declaration of “I am not a crook” as the chorus starts over? It all seems so random, but the way all of these wild samples are tied back to the narrative is undeniably clever. I’m still not the biggest fan of the blasé, nasally drone of Petering’s voice, but it almost works as he rambles on about leftovers, jewelry and records left in the wake of his relationships. Fitting that the album that “Taking What’s Not Yours” is on is called Who Really Cares—it certainly fits Petering’s laid-back affect.

“Unpeeled” – Naked Giants

Here’s a pandemic memory that, for once, isn’t painful to recall! Thanks, Naked Giants. Weird name, but I’ll take it.

Naked Giants’ great album The Shadow also came out right around my birthday—it turns three years old tomorrow, as it happens! I was originally introduced to them when they opened for and performed with Car Seat Headrest, but they’re just as fantastic performing with them as they are solo, even if their brands of indie rock are more than a little different. (some of it definitely rubbed off on “Hollywood,” but I digress.) The Shadow, with propulsive tracks like “(God Damn) What I Am” and “Take a Chance” soundtracked that late August heat and cloudless skies, endlessly hooky and head-noddable. I can’t think of a single bad track on that album, but a few inevitably got a bit lost in the dust, as is what generally tends to happen when I love an album, but love a handful of songs just that much more. But that just means that it feels that much more joyous when you rediscover something else from that album. That’s where “Unpeeled” comes in. Although it’s slower and more droning than the previous tracks that I mentioned, the power it holds is unmistakable; with its hints of punk, psychedelia, and pure, guitar-driven rock all rolled into one, there’s never a moment where “Unpeeled” loses its touch. Like a great machine, it puffs along in a smoky, delirious haze, a different brand of their usually jangly 60’s influences. Even the harmonies on the chorus (“it’s unpeeling again”) sound off-kilter enough to sound like it belongs on the trippier side of Yellow Submarine. But nothing brings me more joy than the grinding, 13-era Graham Coxon-esque guitar chords that chug in at the 2:21 mark, cutting through the veil of smoke. It’s a truly hypnotic song in every way I can think of.

“Big in the World” – Shakey Graves

Another exciting song coming out of Movie of the Week, and with a great music video to match! Made me think of…I think it was a National Geographic Kids article about what they actually do to food in commercials to make it look appetizing. You can see a lot of it in the video, but that article was where I learned that glue is used as a substitute for milk for cereal in commercials so that the bits of cereal stick to the surface. The more you know.

True to form, all of what we see in the music video perfectly reflects the ethos of the song. As we see a man painstakingly pinning blueberries to the top of a stack of pancakes and painting a bowl of strawberries with red nail polish, Alejandro Rose-Garcia laments on “why I’ve gotta be somebody’s enemy/to be big in the world?” Something so curated and manufactured, like those nail-polished strawberries, is what Shakey Graves—or, at any rate, the protagonist of his imaginary movie—is musing on: the nature of how the media rewards drama instead of sincerity, only boosting fame if there’s a sensational story to be churned from it. In short: you’re only appetizing if you’re covered in shiny, fake crap. And even though that message comes through loud and clear, the musical drama of this song is what really sells it. Rose-Garcia’s rasping howl comes in at full force in the chorus, ringing out through almost Beatles-esque pianos and an ever-shifting atmosphere that really does feel like the fuzzy light edges around the multitude of screens on the album cover. It’s a lot more smoothly produced than most other Shakey Graves songs that I can think of off the top of my head, but it fits the feel of the direction that Movie of the Week seems to be going; it was conceived as the soundtrack to an imaginary film, and “Big In The World” has that cinematic touch in spades.

Since today’s post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

That’s it for this week’s Sunday Songs! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 8/13/23

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.

Since I’ve been making these Sunday Songs graphics for just over a year and writing about them for about half that time, I’ve noticed that there’s inevitably at least one light blue week per month. Different shades of blue, but there’s always at least one, and it’s always pale. Like this one. Or this one? Either way, here’s the court-ordered blue period for August. Bon appetit.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 8/13/23

“1 Billion Dogs” – Jay Som

I listened to Everybody Works entirely on a whim, just to have something shorter to have as a soundtrack while I rearranged the bulletin board in my room. But I should’ve predicted that any given Jay Som record—much less this one—would be so much more than that. Perfect summer album, I have to say. Go listen to Everybody Works, guys.

Everybody Works is an album of many faces, from the chugging indie rock of “Take It” (which works way too perfectly with boygenius’ “Satanist“—can somebody with the ability to make mashups make this a reality?? please?? makes sense, seeing that she’s the bassist for boygenius’ touring band), the pop hooks of “The Bus Song” (BUT I LIKE THE BUS!), and the fever dream atmosphere of “(Bedhead).” But never once does it feel inconsistent or lacking cohesion—if I had to pick them from a crowd, all of these varied songs would still feel distinctly Jay Som. But amidst all of that, aside from the two tracks I already remembered from the album (“The Bus Song” and “Baybee”), “1 Billion Dogs” was an immediate standout. The title alone would have caught my eye on any other record, but strangely, even though it has nothing to do with dogs, much less billions of them, it has that feel to it. It fits. “1 Billion Dogs” is a song with an immediate urgency; even with Melina Duterte’s reserved voice almost melting into the instruments, it’s a song that grabs you by the shirt collar, then invites you to jump around and dance. But even the crashing rhythm guitars, steady bass, and just-so off-kilter riffs can’t take away from the electronic haze that never lifts from Duterte’s music. It’s a uniquely Jay Som flavor to me: dreamlike and fuzzy, like it’s cloaked in multicolored static.

“Evicted” – Wilco

September is shaping up to be a heavy hitter as far as albums go. I’ve already talked about tracks from Shakey Graves’ Movie of the Week and Mitski’s The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We, but I haven’t yet talked about the new Wilco, with their new album Cousin coming out on September 29! And only about a year and a half removed from their last double album, Cruel Country…Jeff Tweedy is just cranking ’em out, huh?

Tweedy and co. have advertised the upcoming Cousin as their art-pop/rock album. Wilco has always had a penchant for the experimental, but I feel like when they’ve previously advertised their albums as a certain genre, it doesn’t always fit the label. Take Cruel Country—”country” was literally in the name, but it felt like more of a folkier side of Wilco than anything, which, given their roots, wasn’t much of a stretch. Rather, as Tweedy said in his Starship Casual newsletter, “Cruel Country was our idea of country music and a lot of people went, ‘Huh?! this doesn’t sound like Colt Steed!’ (or some other plausible sounding country mega-star name).” So I’ll have to go into this album knowing that it’s Wilco’s idea of art-pop—and that’s certainly promising. And maybe I was screwing myself over when I saw “art rock” and immediately went into this song thinking it was gonna be “Art of Almost” 2. It isn’t. Even as much as I love Wilco, I feel like even that would be hard to reproduce. That’s not to say that “Evicted” is a bad song in any way—if there’s anything that Wilco has been in the last 10 years or so, it’s consistent. Regardless of our personal definitions of where this song fits into, “Evicted” is proof that Wilco’s ability to feel relevant and rock-solid will likely never fade. With its timeless guitars and the gently ethereal backing vocals and Nels Cline’s quietly glittering riffs rising like plumes of dust in the background, it’s a deceptively simple song—much like the Trojan Horse that Tweedy compared his definition of bubblegum pop to. And if I’ve learned anything from Cruel Country, it’s that I can’t judge an album by its first single. I’d be lying if I said that “Evicted” wasn’t an earworm. Jeff tweedy is true to his word.

Also, can I take Colt Steed as my new stage name?

“Crash” – Lisa Germano

EMERGENCY WEATHER REPORT: we regret to inform you that sad girl fall is scheduled to arrive two months earlier than expected. Hunker down, everybody.

A song that begins with the line “You could say I feel this way/’Cause it’s the way I feel” doesn’t seem terribly memorable at first glance. But that’s the thing. You have to wait. Not even that long of a wait, really. Because it’s followed up with “Or you could say I’m making it up/I want it to be real.” See? Have a little faith in Lisa Germano, in all of her raw, dilapidated-house-with-rusty-nails-lying-everywhere craft.

My introduction to Lisa Germano goes to show, once again, how deeply and wonderfully my dad knows me. Here I was, almost a year ago, when my dad made his annual birthday playlist for me (yep, that’s how cool of a dad he is), and played me “Victoria’s Secret” in the car; Immediately, I was lost in the eerie, spare-and-found-parts, and 90’s (in the best way…I really do love the 90’s) universe of Lisa Germano. (Guys. C’mon. “Victoria’s Secret” has her cat purring in the outro. It’s so good.) I listened to Slide in its entirety a few months later, during what we can actually call sadgirl fall (read: November), and bits and pieces of that record have constantly drifted around me ever since: specters, all of them, but welcome ones. Somehow, though, as much as I played tracks like “Way Below the Radio” and “Reptile,” I forgot about “Crash” until it came on shuffle not long ago. And now that I’ve listened to it more and more (you know it went STRAIGHT to the library playlist), I’m almost ashamed that I let it slip through my fingers, if only temporarily. On further listens, it’s so clear to me that it’s one of the best tracks off the whole album. “Crash” is a song that purposefully droops and lumbers, only faintly held together with fraying twine and half-intended promises. As Germano creates her oft-expressed lyrical landscape of languishing in depression and a lack of motivation (“Wonder why it’s so easy/to be the way I hate”), the instruments sit on the verge of falling apart; they all play in time, but they teeter enough to get the sense that it would only take one sneeze for them to collapse. Germano’s silk-thin voice is a gentle hand that barely caresses you, cool and ghostly, but undeniably present. And it wouldn’t be a Lisa Germano without an uneasy, 40-second piano outro. If there’s anything that she can do, it’s create an atmosphere. Slide was the perfect album to listen to in November, in retrospect; there’s something about this song (and most of her other songs that I’ve heard) that capture the melancholy limbo of that snowless but undeniably wintry chill.

“The Rabbi” – Blur

I’ve been conned. Again. And Damon Albarn is to blame. Twice this year, we’ve gotten albums from projects of his where the album as a whole has been disappointing, but then he comes back with the deluxe edition, and at least one song that would’ve made the original album SO MUCH better. Damon, you sly dog, you pulled a “Captain Chicken” on us AGAIN. (For reference: the other disappointing album happens to be Gorillaz’s Cracker Island.)

I wouldn’t call “The Rabbi” as good as “Captain Chicken,” but then again, it’s hard to replicate the chokehold that the latter had on me for at least 2 months after it came out. But amidst the decent but disappointingly flat expanse that was The Ballad of Darren, this new addition was a breath of fresh air and energy. Equipped with the jangly brightness that Blur has been the master of for 30+ years now, “The Rabbi” is an upbeat spark, and a welcome injection into the album. Graham Coxon’s guitar finally gets its time to shine outside of “St. Charles Square,” but where that recalled the grungy, disillusioned punch of their self-titled record, these joyful riffs feel more youthful, calling back to Parklife and even further back. Like “Barbaric,” the instrumentation of “The Rabbi” is nothing short of upbeat, but cleverly cloaks the underlying disillusionment and melancholy that permeates through the rest of The Ballad of Darren; as Coxon goes off with said jangly guitars, Damon Albarn drawls about how “‘Cause where’s the joy in this self-delusion?/We’re all practitioners of vague illusions/Hieroglyphics and pictures.” Even if I’ve come away from The Ballad slightly sore, at least I have one more song that I can actually nod my head along to and believe that it’s Blur. I refuse to shut up about “St. Charles Square,” though.

“Monkey” (Low cover) – Robert Plant

A reenactment:

The family car. Some time in the early evening. MADELINE and her family are driving on the highway. Robert Plant’s cover of “Monkey” plays over the speakers.

MADELINE: Huh, this song sounds like it could be in Legion.

EITHER MY DAD OR MY BROTHER (I FORGET): That’s because it was in Legion.

The realization hits MADELINE. Cue vine boom.

~

There have been many such moments in my life. But for all the ones that my brain decides to loop in the odd hours of the morning, at least I got a song out of this one.

Unlike my brother, the world’s biggest Legion fan in the world, I haven’t gone back and rewatched any of it since it came out. I’d rank it as my second favorite TV show, right behind Fargo, but I haven’t gone back to any of it in years, save for the fantastic Superorganism musical number in season 3. I don’t think it would ever be ruined by further rewatches (simply impossible for any Noah Hawley project, the man can do no wrong…okay, Anthem was a lot, but other than that), but it’s been like a beautiful, terrifying insect trapped in amber in my mind—it’s hard to replicate that feeling of sheer confusion, horror, and wonder when I had no idea what was going on with that show. But even with the mounting pile of shows and seasons that I need to catch up on, this song reminds me of Noah Hawley’s unmatched craft—and his unmatched music taste, along with the keen eye of Maggie Phillips, the show’s music supervisor. I can’t find the clip anywhere on the internet for the life of me, but this song is slipped into a chilling scene in season 1, episode 3, where a young David Haller chases after his wayward dog on Halloween night. It’s a scene that stressed me out, even if only for a few minutes’ rewatch—Cary did tell present David to “think of something stressful,” after all. And I can’t think of a better song to illustrate that pit-stomached sense of creeping dread than this. Low’s original version has that feeling of dread, but with an unmistakable urgency; Robert Plant’s version (and yes, it is that Robert Plant) swaps that urgency for a grinding, chugging sound that watches you from the darkest corner of the room. “It’s a suicide/Shut up and drive” would have been a blatantly chilling lyric in any other circumstance, but Plant’s strained, hollow whisper makes the chill up my spine all the more chilly. Patty Griffin’s backing vocals, somehow more audible than Plant’s, seem strangely sinister, even with the lightness of her voice. I can’t help but get a little anxious every time I listen to it—all the more reason that Hawley and Phillips were really onto something when they picked this one.

Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

That’s it for this week’s Sunday Songs! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (8/8/23) – Machinehood

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

After I read Meru back in June, I immediately went through the rest of S.B. Divya’s full-length books and put them on my TBR. Even though sci-fi is my favorite genre, I don’t readily jump for sci-fi thrillers quite as often, but after loving Meru, I was willing to give this one a chance. And while it wasn’t without its flaws, Machinehood was an incredibly detailed and twisty novel!

Enjoy this week’s review!

Machinehood – S.B. Divya

2095. In Welga Ramirez’s world, humans and machines work in an uneasy symbiosis. Artificial intelligence has become so advanced that humans must take all manner of pills, not only for them to keep from getting sick, but to be strong enough to compete with the machine labor force. Welga has intentions to retire from being a bodyguard. But after a client is killed in front of her and a hybrid human-machine terrorist group called the Machinehood is to blame, she must track down her killer—and the members of the Machinehood that have threatened to attack every major pill funder until production comes to a standstill.

TW/CW: violence, murder, racism, substance abuse, abortion/forced pregnancy, miscarriage

You ever finish a book that’s so detailed in its worldbuilding that not only can you imagine all of the described conventions and their ramifications, but the massive google doc that was probably behind it all? That’s how Machinehood felt to me—aside from the one other S.B. Divya book that I’ve read so far, Machinehood was one of the most thoughtfully-crafted books I’ve read in a long time.

At its best moments, Machinehood felt like a good Christopher Nolan movie. There was no shortage of suspense, and while it was difficult to keep up with at times, it was always an enjoyable read. I don’t gravitate towards sci-fi thrillers as much, even though sci-fi is my favorite genre, but this novel reminded me of what the really well-written ones are capable of doing; the suspense kept me guessing, the tension hardly ever let up, and there were twists aplenty to satisfy any sci-fi reader’s appetite. And of course, nothing makes a thriller like a main character about to retire, and then has to do that One Last Mission™️. When it’s not a part of a huge franchise, it works for me.

Machinehood is S.B. Divya’s first novel, and even then, it’s easy to see the threads from where they eventually branched off to Meru. The most prominent of those was, by a long shot, the worldbuilding. Like Meru, the dystopian, AI-dominated world of Machinehood is painstakingly detailed, down to the most minute consequence of any given sociopolitical ramification. I wouldn’t be surprised if Divya had some kind of Pepe Silvia-style conspiracy cork board to keep track of all the possibilities of this world that they created. There truly was no stone left unturned, and for the most part, it was a positive experience—between the moments of suspense, it was fascinating to see these possibilities unfold. From the myriad of pills that keep humans competing with the AI labor force to the ways that genetic and physical modification advanced, there was nothing that Divya didn’t think of, and that created one of the most fleshed-out sci-fi worlds that I’ve read recently.

Unfortunately, the downside of all of that excellent worldbuilding was its delivery. Having read Meru first, it’s easy to see how Divya improved on this delivery from Machinehood to there. Meru deftly toed the line between explaining its complex worldbuilding and dumping it all in one sitting. Machinehood, on the other hand, could have used some work in that department. As much as I enjoyed how richly layered the worldbuilding was, Divya had a frequent tendency to ramble on about said worldbuilding; even with all of the suspenseful plot points falling into place, this novel took frequent breaks to explain why [x] was a result of [y] and [z], which took away from the tension built up during the parts where the actual plot occurred. It’s a pitfall that I can almost excuse, given that a) Divya’s worldbuilding is obviously top-tier, and b) this was their debut novel, but it definitely took away from some of my enjoyment of the book as a whole. This novel probably would’ve gotten the full 4 stars from me if not for all of this.

All in all, a twisty and suspenseful debut with extensive worldbuilding that sometimes suffered from just as extensive rambling. 3.75 stars, rounded up to 4!

Machinehood is a standalone, and S.B. Divya’s first novel. Divya is also the author of the Alloy Era series (Meru, Loka, and an untitled third book) and Runtime, and has contributed to many short story collections.

Today’s song:

been listening to this song a bunch again, we’re levitating over here

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Tags

Waffle Book Tag 🧇

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Monday, bibliophiles!

This was supposed to be published earlier today, but WordPress was being weird, so I ended up having to reconstruct the whole thing from scratch. Oops. At least it’s here now.

I feel like I’ve prefaced almost every book tag I’ve done in the last year or so with this, but I feel like I always take too long between book tags, and…it’s been a while. They’re so much fun!! But, of course, a combination of work, NaNoWriMo, and prioritizing my book reviews and Sunday Songs has taken the forefront, so I haven’t been able to do quite as many. But I figured that I had some time today, and this one sounded like a super cute tag. I found the tag over at The Corner of Laura (she always finds the best tags! Go check out her blog!), and the tag was originally created by Kat @ Novels and Waffles. I love a good waffle, so of course I had to do this tag!! Very glad that there’s a waffle emoji for th

The Rules

➽ Link back to the original creator, Kat @ Novels & Waffles

➽ Feel free to use any of the waffle graphics in this post, just make sure to credit Kat!

➽ Tag as many people as you want (or don’t want) to. No pressure here, folks! ♡

Let’s begin, shall we?

🧇THE WAFFLE BOOK TAG🧇

BELGIAN WAFFLES: A book that’s a total classic

I’ve read Slaughterhouse-Five for two separate classes for school in the past few years, and it never loses its punch. Such a unique book.

WHOLE WHEAT WAFFLES: A book that’s completely wholesome

I always take care to put trigger warnings in my book reviews, but A Psalm for the Wild-Built was such a gentle, pure book that I couldn’t even think of any. Becky Chambers is so kind to us.

EGGO WAFFLES: A book that fills you with nostalgia

I’ll always look back fondly at when I first read Madman back in middle school; beyond the beautiful art and the David Bowie references that 13-year-old me immediately latched onto, there’s something so comforting and pure about these comics.

CHOCOLATE WAFFLES: A fictional character that’s sugary sweet

Even without her selkie puppy eyes, Keltie from The Girl from the Sea would still be so adorable.

BLUEBERRY WAFFLES: A book that made you feel blue

A House Between Earth and the Moon was just such a dismal book all the way through. The premise had potential, but it ended up being a chore to read, in my experience.

WAFFLE CONE: A book that’s a bit different

Considering that Magonia was published in 2015, it was so refreshingly whimsical and weird for a YA book of that era.

MAPLE SYRUP: A series that you stuck with until the end

One of my best friends recommended The Aurelian Cycle to me, and it was fantastic all the way through!

WAFFLE IRON: Your favorite bookish accessory

My parents got me this super comfy Frankenstein shirt for my birthday last year! Out Of Print has the best bookish merchandise—got my Six of Crows and Little Prince socks from there too!

I TAG ANYBODY WHO WANTS TO PARTICIPATE!

Today’s song:

listened to this album the other day, fantastic all the way through!

That’s it for this book tag! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 8/6/23

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

Here we are in the heat of August, and I bring you a batch of songs with a Halloween color scheme. I say, it’s my birthday month and I get to choose to color scheme, and I say that every day is Halloween over here at the Bookish Mutant. It’s only fitting that we have the band who probably originated that phrase on here. Plus some vampires. A whole empire of them, as a matter of fact.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 8/6/23

“Vampire Empire” – Big Thief

With almost every Big Thief song that I hear, I’m convinced more and more to go deeper into their discography. Plus, the sisterhood of queer women growing out buzzcuts has to stick together. 🫡

As I clumsily tried to explain to my dad with some tired, T-Rex arm moves before dinner the night that this song came out, “Vampire Empire” is a song that really feels like it’s pressing down on you. After the curtain lifts on the deceptively silent opening, the steadfastness of this song never lets up. With each drumbeat, I feel like I’ve been sucked into a water wheel, bobbing along with its machinery. Each punch of the impeccably rhythmic chorus feels like a spoke passing over me: “You give me chills/I’ve had it with the drills/I’m nothing, you are nothing, we are nothing with the pills.” And if there’s anything I love in a song, it’s that quality where everything feels like it’s teetering on the edge of collapse, but is reconstructed just as quickly. From the pots-and-pans banging sound of the percussion to the way that Adrianne Lenker’s voice strains, soars, then screams in the final verse: “You say you wanna be alone, and you want children/You wanna be with me, you wanna be with him.” Even if the now beloved version that they performed earlier this year on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert excelled in its indie tightness, the barely-contained fury of this version matches matches the lyrics so much more, with its unpredictable, pressing highs and lows. And as much as I loved the original “I’m a fish and she’s my gills” lyric, the way it was squashed right at the end of the chorus did feel like it was interrupting the flow of an otherwise impeccably rhythmic song.

“Swim to Sweden” – Co-Pilot

Rotate has been getting great reviews ever since it came out about a week ago, and even before that—and I’m so happy. I don’t know as much of the context behind Leonore Wheatley, it makes me so happy to see Jim Noir FINALLY getting more of the recognition that he deserves! If there’s anybody who deserves to have their album called “the album of the summer,” it’s him and Leonore.

Co-Pilot (Leonore Wheatley and Jim Noir, a.k.a Alan Roberts) make the perfect music for getting things done; I normally put on an album when I clean out my bathroom, but there are some albums that are…shall we say, better than others for doing such things. (Cue an Arrested Development-style cutback to me crying into the sink to “Don’t Give Up”.) I don’t know much about Leonore Wheatley or her other projects, but Jim Noir always makes that perfect kind of music—it can tickle your brain in a pleasantly creative way, but it makes for the perfect soundtrack to washing down the bathroom mirror or shelving books at the library. So Rotate was bound to be just like that, and that’s exactly how it turned out to be. But as with anything by Jim Noir, it’s so much more than just quirky background music—it’s the sonic equivalent of a Russian doll, layered with oodles of hidden samples, sounds, and fun. “Swim to Sweden,” the Rotate’s second single and opening track, is the perfect display of that explosive, wondrous weirdness. It’s a whole sensory experience; all of the many, layered synths make sounds that crackle, writhe, and, as the title suggests, swim around in your head as the song plays. It’s like a stimulating massage for the brain: the music grows fingers that wiggle all around you, invoking images of bubbles and pulsating lights. I’d be remiss if I didn’t say anything about Wheatley’s contributions, even with my minimal context; I don’t know how much of the instrumentation was from her, but her voice was clearly the anchor that steadied the whole record, richly lilting and magically suited to everything surrounding it. Wheatley and Noir’s vocals weave effortlessly together, diving and darting through the current between the synth melodies like fish.

Bottom line: if you’re looking for something refreshing and perpetually exciting to listen to, go listen to Co-Pilot. Rotate is out now on all streaming platforms! I almost put “Move To It” as this week’s pick, but I’ll direct you to this one too—it samples the same keyboard track that C418 sampled for Minecraft’s “Chirp.” And while you’re at it, I’d once again encourage you all to support Jim Noir’s solo work via his Patreon, if you can.

“Stigmata” – Ministry

With these Sunday Songs posts, I hope to give you all a glimpse into my shuffle. Some weeks, it’s fairly curated. On weeks like this, it really does feel like my shuffle. And by that, I mean four tangentially related songs that sort of fit together, and one of the two (2) Ministry songs in my library. Gotta keep you all on yours toes somehow.

I’ve never been the biggest fan of most metal or industrial music, but as I’ve gotten older and started to appreciate more of it, I’ve noticed a pattern. I doubt I’ll ever completely warm up to all of it (there’s only so much screaming in my ears that I can handle), but for a fair amount of those bands that I’ve been exposed to, there’s always 2 or 3 songs that I just inexplicably love. For Black Sabbath, it’s “N.I.B.” For Nine Inch Nails, it’s “Terrible Lie,” “Head Like a Hole” and “Reptile.” And for Ministry, who famously inspired the name of the latter, it’s “So What” and this song. (Don’t think I’ll quite warm up to Iron Maiden, though. I’ve tried. Apologies to my dad and brother. Bruce Dickinson is undeniably a king, though.)

I don’t really remember enough Ministry to see what separates this song from everything else I’ve heard and passed by. But “Stigmata” came back to me in one of those joyous moments where my shuffle decided to dredge something from the dusty depths of my iTunes library, to my surprise. And instantly, I remembered the rush it gave me in my sophomore year of high school, when I first remember hearing it and liking it. I know the word “feral” is tossed around more often than not these days, but…that’s exactly the way this song makes me feel. The instant the drums kick in, I just start grinning from the anticipation. Then comes one of Al Jourgensen’s many raspy shrieks (which he can keep up for a surprising amount of time), and then it all comes crashing into you. From there, it never lets up—it’s the very definition of abrasive, but the kind of theatrical abrasiveness that never holds back. You can just picture this guy maniacally grinning and wiggling his fingers as he draws out “I’m chewing on glass/And eating my fingers.” Again, who knows what line my mind drew between this and the rest of Ministry, but this song is just so fun. I’ve heard enough to know that metal probably won’t ever fully be my cup of tea, but my brain knows exactly what it likes, no matter the arbitrary, inexplicable distinctions it makes.

“Evergreen” – Shakey Graves

This song and “Vampire Empire” seem to be cousins in a lot of ways. Both of them were famed, unreleased songs that became live gems and staples for their respective bands, and, lo and behold, were released on the same day. Even though I’m far more familiar with Shakey Graves, Big Thief overshadowed my listening, out of the two—as you could probably tell, I couldn’t get enough of it. But “Evergreen” is just as uniquely wondrous, even if I’m admittedly overdue in appreciating it.

No matter how many times I listen to this song, I always fall into the trap of turning the volume up for the quiet acoustic plucking that makes up the beginning of the song. Then, of course, in true, modern Shakey Graves fashion, it’s all gone in a flash and a bang of static as the true beginning of the song kicks in. It’s exactly like the image on the album cover of the forthcoming new album Movie of the Week (!!!)—the silhouette of Alejandro Rose-Garcia, arms outstretched in ecstasy like the black and white monster movie version of Victor Frankenstein declaring “IT’S ALIVE!” The rest of the track continues in that unexpected trajectory. “Evergreen” is a sea of purple-hued fuzz and distortion, dreamy and explosive. Like the trees it’s named after, it’s a song that seems to lure you into the woods, tinged with dreams but hiding something faintly sinister: “Let me rest, yeah let me be/Overgrown and evergreen.” Guess we were all feeling that “I need to go off into the woods and let myself be covered in moss” feeling. It feels like the next natural progression from Can’t Wake Up, which saw Shakey Graves leaning more towards the alternative in alternative folk, with its array of spooky, adventurous tracks (see: “Aibohphobia,” “Dining Alone,” “Counting Sheep”). The folk part was never lost, and judging from Garcia’s penchant for cowboy hats, I doubt it ever will be, but either way, “Evergreen” is surely an exciting window into what’s to come.

Wilco, Shakey Graves, and Mitski this September? BUCKLE UP! And I’m seeing the first two live later this year, so that’s even more fun! (I doubt I could ever do a Mitski concert. I……yeah, I’ve seen so many articles linked to the fandom’s weirder-than-usual parasocial relationships with her and FAR too many “mommy” comments on posts about her. I couldn’t do it.)

(more on Wilco next week…)

“Can You Feel It?” – The Apples in Stereo

Chances are, if you thought of a creatively-inclined person having a sudden change in their career to pursue their passion, it would go something like this: person gets stuck in an office job crunching numbers, person writes songs in their spare time, person quits job in order to pursue music. Happens all the time. But it’s hard to think that the opposite might be true. And that’s the case for Robert Schneider, frontman of The Apples in Stereo, Thee American Revolution, and one of the founders of the Elephant 6 Collective. As his indie rock music gained traction, his hobby and eventual passion was math; while on tour, his bandmates often recollected him scribbling his way through equations in his spare time. And now, he teaches math for a living: in a 2018 interview with Atlanta Magazine, he described the relationship between math and music as such: “Music, art, poetry, and mathematics—these have the feeling of mysticism and religion to me…It’s more than just something you do or something you’re good at. These are things that to me are fundamentally as important as something could possibly be.”

Looking back at The Apples in Stereo, a delightfully weird staple of my hipster childhood, with this context makes their entire sound make more sense. “Delightful” is always the word I end up reaching towards with their music, with their bubbly, electronic sounds and penchants for adding in backing vocals made to sound like a choir of robots. But even if they haven’t been as active in a little over a decade, every time I rediscover one of their songs, it’s simultaneously like reuniting with an old friend and unearthing something wholly new. Like “Stigmata,” “Can You Feel It?” got dragged in by my shuffle, bringing with it a whole slew of pure, joyous childhood memories. Many a car ride was soundtracked by this song, electronic happiness and the impressively swift maneuver of my dad turning down the volume down and back up again just in time for my brother and I to miss the word “bullshit.” And to this day, no matter how many times I listen to it, “Can You Feel It?” remains supercharged with that pure joy. Even if his passion turned out to be math, there’s no denying that Robert Schneider could write an excellent pop song—instantly hooking, it bubbles with infectious joy, calling on you to “drown out the static on the FM radio.” As the call to “turn up your stereo” fades to near-a cappella, something about said choir of robots keeps the excitement of the whole song at a fever pitch, waiting for the instrumentals to crash down once again. Whatever the case, I’d say that Robert Schneider and company found the equation for indie rock joy, and it’s never once lost its shine.

Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

That’s it for this week’s Sunday Songs! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Monthly Wrap-Ups

July 2023 Wrap-Up 🕶

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Monday, bibliophiles!

For once, it’s felt like this month has been…the right length? I often come to the end of any given month still internally mid-month, but it really does feel like it’s the end of July. Maybe I can chalk that up to either a) being nearly finished with my Camp NaNoWriMo goal (!!!) or b) the fact that I’m always looking forward to August, since it’s my birthday month, but either way, July is nearly out the window. Hopefully this awful heat will be out the window, too.

Let’s begin, shall we?

GENERAL THOUGHTS:

July has definitely been on the busier side for me; between working at the library and going for my Camp NaNoWriMo goal, there’s been a lot of writing, a lot of shelving, and a lot of straightening. But it’s all been good busy, as tired as my legs get after standing up for so long on a shift; working in a library has been such a welcoming environment, and I’ve been having tons of fun writing out the first draft of my sci-fi sequel. (I also got to put some books on my library’s unofficial Disability Pride Month display, so that is ALWAYS a plus.) And as of tonight, I’ll be finished with my goal of 50,000 WORDS! I know I technically haven’t done it yet (I’m only about 700 words away from finishing right now, so that’s no big deal), but I’m super proud of myself. I’ve been working towards 50,000 for around 4 and a half years, so it feels amazing to finally be this close.

Despite that, I’ve had a lot more time to read this month! It’s been a good batch of books, too; there were only two books this month that I didn’t really like, and all of the others were good to amazing. Most of what I read was for Disability Pride Month, and I found so many amazing books with great disability rep, which is always wonderful. And now that I’m back home and working at the library, it’s been great to be reading physical books more often. As convenient as my Kindle is, nothing beats the feel of a physical book.

Other than that, I’ve just been listening to the new Palehound (fantastic) and Blur (disappointing) albums, continuing to binge my way through Taskmaster (almost halfway through season 10 now, Johnny Vegas being incredibly flustered has no right to be as funny as it is), watching Barbie (sobbing) and Oppenheimer (never in a million years would I have thought that Robert Downey Jr. would be THAT creepy), and trying to get out of the heat whenever possible. (How is it that it got to almost 120 degrees in Arizona and people still don’t think that climate change is real 😭)

READING AND BLOGGING:

I read 18 books this month! I think this may have been the best (if not one of the best) reading months I’ve had this year, in terms of quantity. And it was a great batch as well—only two books that fell into the 2-star range, a 5-star read, and tons of great reads for Disability Pride Month!

2 – 2.75 stars:

Far From You

3 – 3.75 stars:

Magonia

4 – 4.75 stars:

Some Desperate Glory

5 stars:

So Lucky

FAVORITE BOOK OF THE MONTH: So Lucky – 5 stars

POSTS I’M PROUD OF:

POSTS BY OTHER WONDERFUL PEOPLE THAT I ENJOYED:

SONGS/ALBUMS THAT I’VE BEEN ENJOYING:

XYLOPHONE SOLOOOOOOOOO
sad that I didn’t get to see her but I LOVE this song
lovely album for this summer!
this song is singlehandedly gonna derail my apple music replay lol
disappointing album overall but at least this and “St. Charles Square” were great
this song is seeing the light of day AT LAST
you give me CHILLS I’ve had it with the DRILLS

Today’s song:

THIS ALBUM DESERVES SO MUCH MORE RECOGNITION

That’s it for this month in blogging! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 7/30/23

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

I only just found out that today is Kate Bush’s birthday, and sadly, I don’t have any of her music on this week’s batch for the occasion. But it’s just been announced that Mitski is getting ready to play with our emotions again this September, so I guess we’d better buckle up…

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 7/30/23

“I Just Threw Out The Love Of My Dreams” – Weezer

Listen. LISTEN. I didn’t intend to weeze you all without warning, I promise. Blame Snail Mail for this one. Get weez’d.

Weezer (The Blue Album) was one of those random albums that I happened to listen to on a whim sometime during the summer of 2020. And, yes, despite the abundant memes and the general smelly incel vibe of most of the male portion of the fandom, Weezer can write a good song. Key word there is a good song. The Blue Album is basically the same song 10 times over, but it’s a good song. I’m not gonna sit here and act like “Buddy Holly” isn’t one of the catchiest tunes that the 90’s ever conceived of. But it wasn’t enough for me to go deeper into their discography, and everything that Pitchfork/Stereogum posts about Rivers “I won’t rest ’till I drop and the crowd goes YEET” Cuomo and co. hasn’t exactly encouraged me. And yet…Weezer with a woman singing? Such a simple change made me feel like I’d ascended into some whole new dimension. Look. I don’t have a CLUE how this song has had the chokehold that it’s had on me for the past two weeks. Never in my life would I have anticipated enjoying a Weezer song nearly as much as I have with this track. But I’m enjoying it wholeheartedly.

“I Just Threw Out The Love Of My Dreams” (if that isn’t the weeziest Weezer song title to ever weeze) has apparently been making a comeback; I must’ve missed it trending on TikTok last year for whatever reason, but either way, Weezer have been bringing it back for their most recent tour, calling on the likes of Snail Mail and Momma to fill in for the female vocals, originally sung by Rachel Haden. It’s a b-side, originally from a scrapped rock opera (again, exactly the kind of thing you’d expect Rivers Cuomo to do) titled Songs from the Black Hole, that only saw the light of day once they came out with the deluxe edition of Pinkteron, which was partially cobbled together from Black Hole; Haden, shamefully, wasn’t paid for her phenomenal vocals on this song, but given its recent spike in popularity, I would hope that she’s getting the last laugh now. There’s really a special magic to this song: it’s got just the right amount of glimmering, space-tinged power pop to make me smile with every listen. The texture of it really does recall some kind of shiny, retro space opera world, with bright red starships and glittering cities on faraway planets. Rachel Haden has a voice that truly soars—it’s already a feat to keep her range so high for most of the song, but once she reaches the second chorus, her voice really seems to burst like a rocket hitting light speed, all at once sweet and rich—perfect for the tone of this contagiously catchy lament. And of course, it’s that perfect earworm length, just over two and a half minutes long, making it impossible to not listen to it on repeat. (Needless to say, my Apple Music Replay is gonna be a wreck this year…)

“the way things go” – beabadoobee

beabadoobee has always been someone on the edges of my periphery; she seems somewhat adjacent to a good amount of the music I listen to (Soccer Mommy, boygenius, Beach Bunny, etc.), but I’ve only ever heard snippets of her music. They were all good snippets, but none of them fully convinced me to listen to her music. That is, until I came upon this video of her first time performing “the way things go” in its infancy last year, a clip taken from her Instagram live:

You know me. This video was perfect sadgirl bait. But something about the combination of the original key and the hypnotic melody made for a song that latched itself to me in the times that I thought I’d forgotten about it. Plus…okay, her expressions are just adorable. I love her already.

Part of me is still partial to the original key, but seeing the shift to the more mature, healed version that finally saw the light of day about a week and a half ago has been such a treat, even from me, pretty much a beabadoobee virgin. Setting aside the fact that the first beabadoobee song to catch my eye seems to be one of her only breakup songs (ouch), “the way things go” is such an immaculately curated song; even if we hadn’t seen several iterations of it shift over the months, it would still be the delicate slice of melancholy-but-hopeful meticulous craft that it is. Everything about it sounds lush and richly-layered, with Bea Kristi’s original guitar twisting through all manner of other instruments (strings, flutes…maybe even a bit of mandolin?) like vines up an old stone wall. Kristi’s voice is as feather-light as the tutus on the music video’s ballerinas, even more endearing than the candid video; even though the change from “the love you said you had, it never showed” to “sometimes showed” is, on the surface less powerful than the original (the inverse of Will Toledo changing “filling out forms from a working printer” to “busted printer” on “Something Soon”?), it’s more evident of personal healing, and that should always be prioritized over emotional “depth” just because it’s sadder. As Kristi says, “I’m happy now, I ought to let you know.”

(sidenote: does anyone have a good place to start w listening to beabadoobee? I think I’m convinced now…)

“Caroline” – Arlo Parks

I talked a bit about Arlo Parks’ more recent music last week, and that was about when I started dipping my toes into her music. I’m still not sure about albums at this point, given my ridiculously Sisyphean album bucket list, but I had a vague recollection of hearing about this song and “Eugene,” both some of her more popular songs, and both of them names, as you could probably tell. And like “Pegasus (feat. Phoebe Bridgers),” both of them went STRAIGHT to the library playlist. I’ve already made many a memory of straightening shelves to the tune of Parks singing “Caroline, I swear to god I tried/I swear to god I tried.”

“Caroline” has an undeniable rhythm. It’s the perfect kind of mid-tempo song: fast enough to nod your head to, but slow enough that it draws you in like honey. Filming parts of the music video in a swimming pool was the perfect choice; the bright blue of the chlorinated water and its gentle, cool flow match this song perfectly. It steadily ripples along, anchored by its hypnotic, immediately hooking drums and the flitting guitar notes that fade into it. I still hold that Arlo Parks has one of the more unique singing voices that I can think of—it has a strange, mercurial quality of being both high and rich, light and thick. And without a doubt, it’s a voice that has no trouble telling a story. In this case, that story is of watching a couple fighting in public. Parks’ fly-on-the-wall approach to framing “Caroline” makes for no shortage of fleshed-out imagery, from the man’s spilled coffee to the necklace that the woman throws into his face. It’s got all the instrumentation of a catchy, indie pop tune, with just the amount of storytelling I like.

“Amen” – Gruff Rhys

In my on-and-off, two year Super Furry Animals kick, I hadn’t even thought to look into Gruff Rhys’ solo career. That’ll come later for me, of course, but again, as always, my dad came through with two of his newest songs, and even though I don’t know a single thing about the soundtrack that they’re from, I’m 100% hooked.

Taken from the soundtrack of the 2022 movie The Almond and The Seahorse (fun name, for sure), “Amen” would be begging for some kind of movie scene if it wasn’t already on this album. Without the context of hearing the rest of Rhys’ solo career, it’s hard to say exactly where the sonic shift from Super Furry Animals to just him happened; whether or not it’s just more suited to the tone of the movie (which would make sense, given that the inciting incident appears to be the main character having a traumatic brain injury) is up in the air, but either way, there’s a more stripped-down quality to “Amen.” Super Furry Animals, for me, were defined by making wacky, experimental, and purely fun (Welsh) Britpop records, sometimes delving into EDM-adjacent insanity (“No Sympathy”) and longer, emotional tracks (“Run! Christian, Run!”), often on the same album (Rings Around the World, #9 on my top 10 favorite albums). They could do grandeur, they could do silliness, they could do political statements. And even though the weirdness is what usually what endears me to Gruff Rhys, “Amen” presents that grandeur without as much of the weirdness, but with no emotional weight lost along the way. Accompanied by strings and Rhys’ gently rasping voice, the piano is the real star of this song; when the instrumentals almost fade to silence at 0:43, only to give way to Rhys’ plea of “I can give you more” and his steady, descending piano chords, I can’t help but feel as though something monumental is shifting around me. I feel like somebody’s pulling at the folds of a dress I’m wearing, and those piano chords turn it from a simple thing into a flowing, layered wedding gown. It’s a song that takes you by the hand and spins you around, and to get that feeling with every listen is such a joy. We really need to appreciate the genius of Gruff Rhys more.

“Bug Like an Angel” – Mitski

As if this year wasn’t already rife with exciting new music, we’ve got new music due from Mitski in September, only a year and a half after her last album! Granted, I feel like her last album (Laurel Hell) was hit or miss, but I’ve gotten to the point where I can expect for most of her music to be compelling, at the very least. And with a title like The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, at least something’s bound to be compelling about this new record.

“Bug Like an Angel” certainly is, in its own, quietly captivating way. This title, like the album title (there’s a fair amount of interesting titles on this record…”Buffalo Replaced” is certainly memorable), immediately grabbed me, and from there, Mitski sucked me into another hypnotically haunting song. Most of the song is just her accompanied by an acoustic guitar and the same audio effects that she seems to have been using for most of her careers, but it’s a tricksy. Just as you turn the volume up to hear it better, she hits you with the thrumming, cavernous hum of her voice against a 17-member gospel choir. And as many have noted, “Bug Like an Angel” really does have a hymnal feel, with or without of Mitski’s choral garb in the music video, as well as the track’s final refrain: “I try to remember/The wrath of the devil/Was also given him by God.” There’s no real chorus, but after each verse ends, the choir takes up a chant of the verse’s final (or close to final) words in repetition, voices abruptly rising in volume as Mitski commands them. She has always been commanding—with her combination of lyricism and the power in her voice, it’s hard not to take up the chant of one of her songs or another. So here I am, knowing that I only really liked half of Laurel Hell, returning to the gut feeling of knowing that Mitski has at least a few more gorgeous tracks up her sleeve. I’m certainly saving this one for safekeeping.

Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

That’s it for this week’s Sunday Songs! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 7/23/23

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles! I hope this week has treated you well.

What a momentous few days it’s been. Barbenheimer weekend (I HAVEN’T SEEN EITHER YET NO SPOILERS), two highly anticipated albums coming out within a week of each other, and entirely too much heat. So how do we celebrate? With resurrected memes and cryptids, of course!

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 7/23/23

“Barbaric” – Blur

And here we are…Blur’s reunion album is finally here! My mom and I listened to it all the way through twice on the day it came out, continuing our recent tradition of supercharging my car with the music of Damon Albarn and co. But after both of those listens (and some change), I’m divided on how to feel about it. Albarn called it Blur’s “first legit album since 13,” which…if that isn’t a surefire way to get hype, then I don’t know what is. But it makes sense—only 3/4 of Blur recorded and performed 2003’s Think Tank after their pseudo-split in 2000, and the recording of 2015’s The Magic Whip was completely by chance after the cancellation of a festival that left them in Hong Kong. And with the dubious connections between 13 and Ballad (the former is definitively about a breakup, while the latter is more of a rumor), it’s not impossible to try and connect the dots, even if the dots may or may not be even there.

But as with “The Narcissist,” The Ballad of Darren is largely a solid album, but it rarely feels like Blur. Save for the obvious best track (that would be “St. Charles Square”), it doesn’t feel like anything more than Damon Albarn’s solo work. For all of the buzz around their reunion, it lacks the equilibrium that they had down pat until around 2000—that’s when it felt like Blur was a four-man band, not just Damon Albarn with the occasional hint of Graham Coxon’s backing vocals. And given how Coxon’s guitar work, James’ iconic bass lines, and Rowntree’s precise drumming all contribute, it doesn’t feel like a “legit” Blur album at all. Even The Magic Whip, as fan service-y as it was, felt like Blur. I’m sure it’ll grow on me, but I can’t help but be a little disappointed.

However, that’s not to say that it isn’t a good album. It is good, but it rarely strays beyond just good and into great or fantastic. And it does have some moments—this song included. “Barbaric,” despite the fact that it could pass just as well for a more recent Gorillaz or solo Albarn effort, is still a catchy, deceptively bubbly song. With the marriage of its synths and guitars, the music brims with new summer radiance, Coxon’s few moments of guitar making the edges glitter. But it wouldn’t be Damon Albarn’s midlife crisis/breakup album without an upbeat, joyful sounding song that betrays lyrics positively dripping in melancholy. Nothing like bopping your head to this song in the car and then realizing that the chorus starts out with “I have lost the feeling that I thought I’d never lose/Now where am I going?” YIKES. You wouldn’t expect a song as musically upbeat as this to describe an “empty grove, winter darkness,” would you? I certainly didn’t. “And I’d like, if you’ve got the time/To talk to you about what this breakup has done to me” is no “No Distance Left to Run” in terms of Blur breakup songs, but in the midst of several solid songs whose slowness matches their lyrics, “Barbaric” is one of the few pleasant surprises on this album.

Probably for the best that we didn’t get “No Distance Left to Run” 2, though. Yeesh. Rough ride, that one. Wouldn’t wish that on Damon.

“Head Like Soup” – Palehound

I’ve already talked about this song and Eye on the Bat in general on my review of the album (gave it 5 points more than Pitchfork did bwahaha) but I still find myself coming back to this song again and again.

Eye on the Bat saw a return to El Kempner’s earlier form, weaving intricate, punchy riffs into meticulously-crafted indie rock songs. The meticulous approach to every lyric never stopped, but I did find myself missing some of Kempner’s more riotous guitar work, as in “Molly.” (I feel like I always go back to that song when I talk about Palehound. I swear it’s the blueprint.) But Eye on the Bat was a welcome return to shreddy form, and if “The Clutch” wasn’t convincing enough, then “Head Like Soup” should do the trick. The whole song brims with bits of creative experimentation; as Kempner sings of sacrificing herself for her partner’s sake (“I live to fill you up/And I burn unwatched”) and doing all of the work to support them as they seem to do nothing for her (“Holding your body like a paperweight/heavy glass resting in my hand/changing something in me”), the instrumentation is as vibrant as ever. From the pounding guitars that smash into the chorus to the synths that leave their marks like insect feet over the second verse. It’s a song that constantly keeps you guessing, and keeps you nodding your head all the way. And there’s nothing like letting your distorted guitar ring out for the final seconds of the song—nothing gets the serotonin a-flowin’ quite like that.

“Hindsight” – Built to Spill

Before I get into the actual song—can we take a moment to appreciate the looming cryptid on the album cover of There Is No Enemy? Faceless, barely has any form, the height of at least two and a half to three of the houses on the cover…does it get any better than that? There Is No Enemy was clearly the right name to assign to the album—of course that thing isn’t an enemy. He’s just a guy. Just stopping by to see if you he could use the phone or borrow a bag of chips for the block party next week. He’s just your friendly neighborhood eldritch horror.

Built to Spill is one of those bands that’s been ever-present in my life, but I’ve only started to appreciate them in the past few years. Even though I did like some weird stuff as a kid (I remember asking my parents to play “Circuit” by The Apples in Stereo on repeat when I was 5), I guess my ears hadn’t been fine-tuned to the hipster frequency just yet. But once I did, I found that there was so much to unravel: “When I was a kid, I saw a light/Floating high above the trees one night/Thought it was an alien/Turned out to be just God.” In such an already meticulously-crafted song (“Goin’ Against Your Mind”), atmospheric, multilayered lines like that are an experience in and of themselves. But “Hindsight” isn’t exactly like that; it’s a gentler, janglier tune, slow and meandering. And yet, it feels just as meticulous, even with its simplicity. I’ve come to realize that I’m a sucker for songs about dwelling on the past and the future (see also: “Darkness”)—maybe that was what drew me to “Hindsight,” with its old folks reunion music video and the smack in the face of the first verse: “Hindsight’s given me/Too much memory/There’s too much never seen/It’s always there.” And Doug Martsch comes to the same, grounding conclusion that I always have to tell myself when I get in that headspace: “Now I’ve come to find/That tricks are played/With human brains.” Sometimes, when you can’t smack yourself upside the head yourself, you’ve got to find a song. So thanks, Martsch and co.

…hold on, you’re telling me that Bob Odenkirk directed this music video? That Bob Odenkirk?

“The Recipe” – Shakey Graves

I’m glad to live in a world where, occasionally, quoting “We’re Not Gonna Take It” in a song actually feels clever. As is with everything: leave it to Shakey Graves to pull it off.

With the exception of July 9th, I’ve had a Shakey Graves song per week this month (nothing next week, though, whoops). It can definitely be owed to seeing him live this summer; I’ve been picking bits and pieces more from his catalog ever since, whether or not he actually played them live when I saw him. (And now we’ve got a new album due in mid-September! The harvest is bountiful this year!) “The Recipe,” taken from his 2020 EP Look Alive, was one that I’d been meaning to check out, but had never gotten around to downloading. The only percussion for half of the song is Rose-Garcia’s muted guitar strums, dragging out a scratchy, hazy beat as grainy as the filter and fog machine smoke on the album cover. It’s a really scratchy song, a song that creaks and groans like stepping on old wooden floorboards. Rose-Garcia’s voice never rises above a haunted whisper, humming above the percussive guitar in discordant harmony with himself. And “haunted” is the perfect word to describe this song, detailing an aimless journey through substance abuse, ruin, and unease as time passes. But as with any Shakey Graves song, it’s a cleverly-penned journey. There’s some kind of self-contained perfection to the fourth verse: “Finally a beggar down on King Street/Tryin’ hard to tune my E string/Singin’, “We’re Not Gonna Take It” for a dollar in a jar/I only know the chorus, but it’s gotten me this far.” Rarely does a simple set of rhymes get me that excited, but the eerie delivery of it makes the genius of it shine even more than it already did. And then the faint singing of said chorus of “We’re Not Gonna Take It” at the 4:25 mark?Pure spooky genius.

“Pegasus” (feat. Phoebe Bridgers) – Arlo Parks

This one was due to appear in a Sunday Songs post for at least a few weeks; my dad has sent me several songs with Phoebe Bridgers featuring in them over the years since I got into her (one of the infinite reasons why I love him & sharing music with him), and this was one of them, right before we went on vacation in Washington. Since then, it’s become a staple of my library playlist, the perfect combination of soft and sweet that fits right into the atmosphere.

I’m slowly starting to dig into more of Arlo Parks’ music, but this was my first real exposure, save for seeing her play piano with Phoebe Bridgers on their cover of Radiohead’s “Fake Plastic Trees.” Park’s distinctive voice is only a whisper on the chorus there, and three years later, it seems as though the two have come full circle. Now, on Parks’ new album My Soft Machine (which is an excellent album title, if I’ve ever seen one), their roles have reversed: Parks takes center stage, where Bridgers’ haunting whisper provides drifting backing vocals that seem to peer behind the curtain of the music. It’s not often that I feel like a musician’s voice is truly unique, no matter how powerful it may be, but Arlo Parks has struck me as having a strange combination of sounding simultaneously high-pitched and thick, almost nasally, but delightfully unique enough to sound like some sort of woodland fairy. And those vocals, paired with Parks’ arrangement of humming, synth-heavy instrumentation, make for a dreamy slice of indie pop. As Parks adds spliced moments with her partner into her collage (“holding your puppy in your Prussian blue sheets” or “blue jewels round your neck”), it all swirls in a song that feels like it holds the soft glow of sunlight—not enough to blind you, but just the right amount to make you feel all warm and sappy on the inside.

Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

That’s it for this week’s Sunday Songs! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Music

Eye on the Bat – Palehound album review

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Wednesday, bibliophiles!

I haven’t even been into Palehound for a year; after loving Bachelor, her collaborative project with Jay Som, I decided to get a taste of her music last September, poring through her albums and EPs in a somewhat chronological order. There were hardly any misses that whole time—solid, guitar-driven indie rock the whole way through. So you can imagine my excitement when I found out that Palehound was releasing a new album this summer! And now, after playing it through many times, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s a perfect indie summer album, full of sharp lyricism and shredding.

Enjoy this album review!

EYE ON THE BAT – PALEHOUND (album review)

Release date: July 14, 2023 (Polyvinyl records)

TRACK 1: “Good Sex” – 7.5/10

“Good Sex” is the perfect intro to Eye on the Bat: short, funny, and self-awarely so. It seems to stumble around as it builds to a nonexistent crescendo, as El Kempner paints a scene of plans gone wrong, each note climbing as the situation mounts into more and more awkwardness. The laugh in her voice escapes as she describes “our cat licking his ass and looking confused,” backed by two, persistent guitar chords in this song’s 1:41 entirety. Not the best track, but a great bit of self-deprecating, awkward humor to start the album off.

TRACK 2: “Independence Day” – 8.5/10

I am living life like writing a first draft

Cuz there is nothing to it if I can’t edit the past,

And even if I could, it would kill me to look back

No I don’t wanna see the other path…

Palehound, “Independence Day”

“Good Sex” may have been track 1, but I feel like “Independence Day” is where Eye on the Bat really starts off. One of the undeniable highlights of the album, Kempner presents a tumultuous breakup in the middle of a holiday, woven through bright and spidery acoustic riffs. It’s one of those great songs that doesn’t just paint an image, but makes you visualize it so clearly that you might as well be watching a movie. With every detail, Kempner sets her breakup against the backdrop of “foaming sugar in our laps/sparkler in my throat, can we just take it all back?” And the chorus, with its driving guitars and musing on alternate paths, makes for an exceptionally catchy and witty indie rock track.

TRACK 3: “The Clutch” – 8.5/10

I’m glad that you know better now

And I’m glad that you found yourself

But you didn’t need my help…

Palehound, “The Clutch”

Whoever decided to release “The Clutch” as the very first single from this album needs a raise. What better song to build up excitement for the album than this one? Eye on the Bat is undeniably a breakup album, but it’s the shreddiest breakup album that I can think of—and “The Clutch” is proof. From the get-go, it launches into guitar work that pierces its way through your headphones and feels, just as the chorus says, like “a punch in the gut.” The shift from the quieter instrumentation of Black Friday to Kempner’s fiery riffs on this album never feel unnatural—in fact, it feels like a return to form, calling back to earlier tracks like “Molly” or “Drooler.” Punchy and vibrant, this is, without question, one of Eye on the Bat’s best tracks.

TRACK 4: “Eye on the Bat” – 8.5/10

Broken wing ails a standing bird
She sings a gravelly call,
But flightlessness is nothing new
For an ostrich after all…

Palehound, “Eye on the Bat”

Eye on the Bat’s title track may slow the pace right after “The Clutch,” but the quality stays just the same. With its tangled riffs and steady drumbeat, it’s a real showcase of the deadpan wit of Palehound that endeared me to them when I first started listening to Dry Food. There’s not a single lyric that doesn’t pass my notice—I listened to these first few singles so much that I gaslit myself into thinking that “eye on the bat” was the actual expression and not “eye on the ball,” but that’s the power of a hooky song/album title. Other than being as snappy as it is, I can almost piece it into some of the album’s themes of being in the present; could “suckers will all tell you to keep watching for the ball/but better than that/keep your eye on the bat” be a mantra to focus not on what’s coming at you, but to focus on what’s tangibly in your hands? I certainly need to take that to heart, if it’s true.

TRACK 5: “U Want It U Got It” – 7/10

With a clicking, pulsing drum machine that sounds more like an old arcade game than Palehound’s normal sound, “U Want It U Got It” is a brief departure from the album’s cohesiveness—and from their sound in general. Though not all of it’s successful, it’s certainly catchy; though Kempner’s attempt to lower her voice comes out unsure and wavering, the steady, pulsating beat makes the song almost as vibrant as the other tracks. I wouldn’t say that there are any bad songs on this album, but this was a very brief low point. Experimenting is always welcome from Palehound, but this one doesn’t feel quite as successful, even if it’s a good listen. I’d still call it a good song.

TRACK 6: “Route 22” – 8/10

An instant head-nodder, “Route 22” feels all at once like classic Palehound and something fresh and new. It could’ve been right at home on A Place I’ll Always Go or Black Friday, but the maturing of Kempner’s songwriting makes it stand on its own. With its steady, Wilco-reminiscent, twangy-at-the-edges instrumentation and Kempner’s light, dreamy harmonization with herself, it’s a track that feels baked in the summer sun, smelling of fresh-cut grass and thinning clouds. Another highlight of Eye on the Bat, no doubt!

TRACK 7: “My Evil” – 7/10

This second single to come out of Eye on the Bat was my least favorite, and although I still like it, “My Evil” still hasn’t really grown on me. The lyrics are just as witty as any other song on the album, telling a narrative of grappling with yourself and the problems you’ve caused. But every time I listen to it, something feels like it’s missing. I still can’t quite put my finger on it, but something about “My Evil” feels almost bare and restrained, and not necessarily in an intentional way. With how well-written the lyrics are, it’s as though the music is struggling to catch up. That’s not to say that it’s an enjoyable song, but for Palehound’s fourth effort, it feels like it’s holding itself back. Either way, there’s no denying how great the lyric video is—whoever had the idea to make it mirror the opening credits to The Sopranos was genius.

TRACK 8: “Head Like Soup” – 8.5/10

My head like a pot of thick soup,
Stirred and tasted
I live to fill you up,
And I burn unwatched…

Palehound, “Head Like Soup”

What I thought was going to be a song about burnout or sickness (we’ve all had that feeling of having soup for brains, right?) turned out to be a great song about sacrificing your well-being for somebody else. And it’s one of the best songs on the whole album—certainly the best non-single tracks. I genuinely can’t find anything bad about this song; the instrumentation is impeccable, from the Wilco-esque chorus to the electronics creeping into the second verse. It pounds one minute and crawls in the next, never once losing its consistency or momentum. And what better way to end it than cranking up the distortion and letting it ring? Fantastic.

TRACK 9: “Right About You” – 7.5/10

With a gentler, folk sensibility to ease the album into its final minutes, “Right About You” is a tender, orange-colored piece of introspection. Every lyric makes a collage of moments leading up to an inevitable implosion, but lingers in the space between them. It’s a song that makes a gentle impact, like Kempner’s first lyric of “cold water breaking at our feet.” It isn’t as punchy and powerful as the rest of the album, but there’s no need for it to be—the final bits of introspection and quiet on this album are a perfect rest stop.

TRACK 10: “Fadin'” – 7/10

The fading (no pun intended) that “Right About You” set up culminates perfectly in this soft, gentle end of the album. With its drifting, subtle electronics painting the backdrop, “Fadin'” lingers in its faint distortion, almost all acoustic guitar and Kempner’s whispery vocals. However, it comes across as a song that solely came into being to be an album closer. Although it fits neatly into the themes of the album at large, I think it would have trouble standing on its own, as opposed to almost eery other track on this record. Nevertheless, it’s still a delightfully woozy, sleepy song, gently tucking you into bed as you say goodbye to the album.

I averaged out my ratings, and they came out right at a 7.8! Definitely reflects my thoughts to a T: a short, punchy album with no shortage of witty lyrics and songs to nod your head to. A perfect summer album, and a great addition to Palehound’s catalog!

Since this post consists entirely of songs, consider all of them to be today’s song.

That’s it for this album review! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Book Review Tuesday

Book Review Tuesday (7/18/23) – So Lucky

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

I came upon this book after poring through the “further reading” section of Alice Wong’s incredible Disability Visibility anthology (which you should also go read!!), and I put it on hold at the library soon after I heard about it. I was completely unfamiliar with Nicola Griffith before reading this novella, but she delivered so much power and resonance in the span of only 180 pages. We’re barely halfway through the year, but I know that I’ve got another favorite read of this year.

Enjoy this week’s review!

So Lucky – Nicola Griffith

Mara Tagarelli has it all. Happily married and the head of a multimillion dollar AIDS foundation, she lives a life of contentment and security. But in the span of days, Mara is diagnosed with MS, and her wife leaves her soon after. Her colleagues now dismiss her needs, and she’s left without work, without the care she needs, and without any prospects for the future. But as she slowly begins to find a community, she realizes the power that she holds—to put those she values in danger, but to give them the justice that they deserve.

TW/CW: ableism, hate crimes, murder, medical mistreatment, misogyny

I finished this book several days ago, but I’m still positively reeling from the effect it had on me. I picked it up after seeing it included as a recommendation in the “further reading” section of Alice Wong’s Disability Visibility, thinking it would be something good to read during Disability Pride Month. What I found was something far more than just “something good to read”—it was wholly refreshing, resonant, and both heartbreaking and heartwarming. So Lucky wasn’t a novel that I expected to hit me so hard, but it did, and I am forever grateful for it.

I’ve never been more in love with such an angry character, to be honest. Griffith’s writing of Mara felt more than authentic, a character that climbed out of the page, demanding to have her voice heard. And although her anger is her primary character trait, it’s an anger that resonated with me like nothing has before; in a landscape where disabled women, both fictional and real, are expected to be demure and sadly accepting of their fate (but in a sexy way, of course, because they obviously only exist as objects of pleasure for men), having a character as fiery and determined as Mara very nearly made me cry. I don’t have MS, but I am a disabled reader, so watching Mara express her anger at her treatment, at her life, and at the world around her was more than I could have asked for. More disabled women who aren’t conventionally likable and are written authentically, please! Use this novella as a guide.

So Lucky is a hard read—it doesn’t pull any punches, and that’s exactly how it should have been. It displays a lot of some of the more harsh realities of being disabled, especially being physically disabled: dismissal by your colleagues, mistreatment at work (and eventually being fired because of said diagnosis), relationship turmoil, medical mistreatment, and disability-motivated hate crimes are all a part of the narrative that Griffith portrays. It’s visceral and heartbreaking, and it doesn’t hold back in the slightest. But never once did it feel amped up for tension, or unnecessarily exaggerated: this is the story of an angry woman, and the story of a system built on bringing her down, as well as others like her. It really represents a good portion of the spectrum of issues that disabled people, especially disabled women, face, and Nicola Griffith captured all of it with incredible aplomb.

Despite that, So Lucky never falls into hopelessness. Even though Mara faces hardships aplenty, it never portrays the disabled experience as defined solely by tragedy and suffering. In spite of it all, there is always hope: Mara finding an online community of other disabled people, taking care of her cat (shoutout to Rip), and coming to the realization that her anger was never from the MS itself: it was from the experience of living in a world that did not want her to succeed. At its heart, So Lucky is an incredibly raw story, but a fearlessly hopeful story, one where our protagonist knows that her anger doesn’t come from being disabled, but from existing in a world where disabled people are treated so poorly. And that anger only adds to her determination to continue to fight for a better, more accessible world. There is no disability to inspirationally overcome, only a system. I can’t think of much that’s more beautiful than that.

All in all, a short novella that packs a deeply impactful punch, and portrays disabled womanhood in a refreshing light. 5 stars!

So Lucky is a standalone, but Nicola Griffith is also the author of Ammonite, Hild, Cold Wind, Slow River, and many other books for adults spanning several genres.

Today’s song:

never in my life would I have anticipated liking a Weezer song THIS much, but you can blame Snail Mail for this one

That’s it for this week’s Book Review Tuesday! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!