Tag: Chelsea Wolfe

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 7/6/25

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

This week: (Almost) three years of making Sunday Songs graphics! As for right now, baby’s on fire, better throw her in…la mer?

Enjoy this week’s review!

SUNDAY SONGS: 7/6/25

“Baby’s On Fire” – Brian Eno

I…oh, shit. It took me until I published this post to realize that I’ve talked about this song twice now on this blog. Welp…

Music hot take of the week: this song needs to be, like, 8 minutes long. At least. I love an album that has songs that smoothly transition into one another (as is the transition from “The Paw Paw [Redacted] Blowtorch”* to this track), but oh my god, it needs more time!! The way that the song builds up is so monumental—it’s a whole fizzing, crackling Rube Goldberg machine of compounding suspense. The intro needs to be at least a minute long to stretch it out, just to give the first lyrics the punch they need. It’s a glam rock/art rock masterpiece, but it feels like a study in buildup and release more than anything. The percussion stays steady throughout the entire song, giving way for every other instrument—most of which were apparently woefully out of tune when they recorded it—to spiral outwards into a tidal wave that doesn’t crash until three minutes in—it just looms for so long. Most of me wants that to be extended, but Eno is a master of creating such a layered atmosphere.

What most people rightfully remember “Baby’s On Fire” for, however, is that truly insane Robert Fripp solo. The Genius annotation on the lyrics where it denotes the solo simply says “holy fucking shit,” which I think sums it up better than most music critics have. It’s the moment that the tidal wave that Eno has built up fully crashes, sending a kaleidoscope of chaotic spray down on the listener. As the story goes, Fripp had the flu while recording this marvel of a solo…I can only imagine the kind of tricks he was able to pull off when his health was stable, because GOD. It really is chaos personified—you can never predict which direction it’s striking next, and the stark contrast between it and the consistent, steady build of Eno’s background instrumentals make it feel like modern art. I get the same feeling of listening to “Baby’s On Fire” as I do looking at abstract, geometric paintings. It’s a masterclass in contrast.

Eno’s lyrics, especially in this era, are rarely serious, mostly just surreal word-play. Dehumanization is at the heart of the story, with a figure actively ablaze whose suffering is being exploited for photos. Here’s where I feel like Eno’s genius working with glam rock really comes in. He’s got this disaffected, theatrical tone, but what he’s saying is so deeply sarcastic that I can’t help but read it as critique of how the fictional subject is being exploited while she’s actively suffering; “Photographers snip-snap/Take your time, she’s only burning” reads to me as the photographers seeing her pain as tabloid fodder, a spectacle to make money off of. His nasally, sarcastic tone feels like a cue to laugh at the clowns who would ignore her plight just to make an extra buck. But whether in the fictional realm or in reality, I’ve always admired that Brian Eno has always been committing to condemning dehumanization of all kinds, from the 1970’s right up until today. It’s always comforting when the best musicians have consciences to match.

*It’s more an outdated term than anything, and I really don’t think Eno used it with any disrespectful intent—it was normal for the time. However, it feels uncomfortable for me personally to type it here, so see for yourself.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Some Desperate Glory – Emily Tesh – a fantastic sci-fi book that interrogates our casual comfort with dehumanization of others.

“davina mccall” – Wet Leg

BREAKING: Wet Leg actually has another song? I’m doing my best to not sound like a broken record whenever I talk about them, but I swear this feels like the most growth I’ve seen them have as far as songwriting range. It’s not a wild left turn for them, but it feels fresh.

Snuggled in between the ’90s and the 2010’s, somewhere between The Cardigans and early Wolf Alice, “davina mccall” stands out partly because it’s probably their first love song—and maybe their most sincere song. However fun they make their music, a lot of it is mostly the more maddening sides of modern life, whether it’s being bounced between stupid men or being apathetic and numb about the world. It’s never come across as abjectly doomery or irony-poisoned, mostly because they have a sense of humor about it. Yet they have kind of run themselves dry with the subject matter. I know that love songs are pretty much the most common kind of song you’ll hear these days, but for Wet Leg, it feels like a more vulnerable step. When your entire body of work is about being relatable and vulnerable about how silly and artificial modern life is, it feels significant for them to embrace the idea that vulnerability is not all phone addictions and bad sex. I might be getting too deep with it, but strip it all away, and “davina mccall” is just a lovely, summery love song, content to linger in the ordinary, quiet moments of romance.

Also, I can’t not talk about how delightful this music video is! Directed by Chris Hopewell—who I forgot I knew from the glorious stop-motion music video for Radiohead’s “There There,”—it reminds me of Fantastic Mr. Fox in the best possible ways. Luckily, none of them go the way of Thom Yorke in this video—the song’s too happy for that kind of thing. The members of Wet Leg are all rendered in claymation, and they all look an awful lot like Petey and the rest of his gang (at least it’s not weak songwriting this time). Wet Leg’s task force for bird-related crimes is nothing short of hilarious—and surprisingly sweet at the end.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Love Letters for Joy – Melissa See – “You know that I would/Do anything for you/It’s like a dream come true/Every day is spent trying to say something to make you smile…”

“Mer” – Chelsea Wolfe

I don’t talk about Chelsea Wolfe nearly as much as I should, even though, by my count, she’s featured on one of these posts/graphics…four times? Only four? Granted, she fell into that curse where every time I’d put one of her singles on a graphic, I’d be too busy to write about it. Shame, really, given that She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She was one of the best albums of 2024. Go listen to it—the album didn’t get nearly enough love as it deserved!!

As penance, let’s take a look back at one of her older tracks, 2011’s “Mer” from her album Apokalypsis, which has to have one of the most wondrously goth album covers ever (though her entire discography puts in a lot of great contenders). “Mer,” named for the French word for the sea, embodies its title, but not in the way you’d expect. The mer that Wolfe is channeling here isn’t the gentleness of waves lapping against the shore in July—it’s more the dread of looking out onto a roiling ocean as storm clouds gather over jagged, rocky cliffs. It’s a landscape that calls something along the lines of “Annabel Lee” for me. Even though I do play music, I’ve never been super keen about deciphering time signatures and the like, but I swear there’s something going on with “Mer”‘s timing—I swear there’s some syncopation going on with the percussion and the other instruments, but it all feels like each instrument is keeling ever so slightly to the side of the others, a sinking ship pulled in all directions. It all feels so off-kilter in Wolfe’s classic, sinister way. Even without the barely decipherable noises in the background, which for all the world sound like wailing Tim Burton-like spirits trapped in glass bottles, “Mer” would remain fundamentally eerie.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

House of Hollow – Krystal Sutherland – though the sea doesn’t factor as much into this novel, the general eerie, misty atmosphere very much carries over.

“Big Drops” – Avery Tucker

I only found out that Avery Tucker was finally going solo when I was writing about girlpool back in June. Compared to the more pop direction that Harmony Tividad has embraced now, Tucker’s single reminds me more of mid-career, more guitar-driven girlpool—something close to Powerplant or the first half of What Chaos is Imaginary. As far as new directions go, the more electronic turn that girlpool took in their later years was hit or miss—when they hit it (see: “Like I’m Winning It”), they made fantastic, sultry, synthy indie-pop; when they missed (see: …uh, pretty much 75% of Forgiveness), it almost smothered their candid lyrics and how well they worked together as a duo. It felt plastic.

So I can’t help but be relieved that Tucker’s returned to the band’s roots. Even though he’s…well, he’s playing a tele during some of the acoustic parts of the song in the music video, which is admittedly a little silly, seeing Tucker back in his element makes the music feel more natural. Though some of his delivery and lyrics veer on being too earnest, “Big Drops” shines a light on some of the more candid, bare songwriting that made girlpool so memorable. Solely in his hands, he crafts a narrative from intimacy, late-night talking, and musing about unexpected events and the regrets that come from them. With the (mostly) acoustic guitar, it gives the song a tender, warm spaciousness that evokes the exact imagery he conjures—sitting on pool chairs, looking at the sky, and spouting off about your life.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester – Maya MacGregor – “Last night we talked about big drops/Big drop on the boardwalk ride/Big drop thinking about her life/Should we visit the two of them?/Or did the town get too violent?”

“My Baby (Got Nothing At All)” – Japanese Breakfast

In keeping with last year’s Sunday Songs anniversary, I am once again reviewing a song from a new movie that I haven’t even seen. (Update: I still haven’t seen I Saw the TV Glow. Someday…) Materialists doesn’t seem like my thing, but Japanese Breakfast certainly is. Ever since the trailer for the movie came out, I was enchanted by the way Michelle Zauner breathily sang “my baby.” I was fooled into thinking that this song was going to be on For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women), so you can imagine my disappointment, as fantastic as that album was.

Regardless of whether or not you’ve seen Materialists, the swoony, rom-com feel comes away in waves on “My Baby (Got Nothing At All).” The more delicate range of Zauner’s voice shines through in this environment, accompanied by the gentle strum of acoustic guitars and swelling strings. As Zauner (and the protagonist of the movie, presumably?) affectionately admits that her lover is broke (but he gives it all to her anyway), she sings with the relaxed, daydreaming posture of someone leaning over a fire escape, watching the glow of the city lights below and the cool wind tossing her hair. As her voice climbs on the bridge (“You’re in love/There’s no doubt about it/There’s no use in messing up”), it cements the song as one of the more perfect rom-com songs—it’s not cloying or earnest, but it sounds appropriately like a lovelorn hand draped over a sighing forehead.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Water Moon – Samantha Soto Yambao – the best parts of this novel have the same dreamy, swoony feel of watching the lights of a glittering city and falling in love.

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

March 2024 Wrap-Up 🌾

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles, Happy Trans Day of Visibility, and Happy Easter for those celebrating!

Mentally, I’m still at the beginning of the semester, but somehow midterms are over and I’ve just gotten back from break…ignoring that…

Let’s begin, shall we?

GENERAL THOUGHTS:

I’ve continued to be busy in most of my academic aspects of life, but I’ve managed to stay on top of it—midterms season wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be, and it certainly helped that we got an accidental four-day weekend thanks to a snowstorm so drastic that my college called two snow days in a row. I’ve lived in Colorado my whole life, and I’ve never experienced a double snow day…good times, gotta say. I didn’t leave my dorm for all of that Thursday and spent my time playing Minecraft and drinking hot chocolate. A win is a win. But now, the weather’s warming up, and I’m looking forward to soaking it all in.

I honestly thought that this month was going to be my worst reading month, but I read a lot more than I expected; spring break definitely gave me a boost, and March has ended up being my best reading month of 2024 so far! Rating-wise, it’s a different story (certainly more stinkers in this batch), but there were plenty of excellent reads before and after my brief reading slump. Blogging has been about the same—again, school has made it so that I’m mostly sticking to my usual book reviews and Sunday Songs, but I’ve had fun writing them all the same.

Other than that, I’ve just been drawing, playing Minecraft (WE’RE FINALLY GETTING THE DOG UPDATE), studying, watching The Bear, The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin (STAND AND DELIVAH), Abbott Elementary, and Constellation (I haven’t been this stressed out and baffled by a show since Dark, and that’s really saying something), series 17 of Taskmaster, Dune: Part 2 (may thy knife chip and shatter), seeing Chelsea Wolfe live (!!!!! THE QUEEN), and reverting from human to hibernating grizzly bear the minute snow started falling.

READING AND BLOGGING:

I read 19 books this month! I thought it would end up being a lot less than that, but spring break gave me much more time to read. As far as ratings, this has probably been my worst reading month (first DNF and 1-star rating of the year…), but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t read a ton of fantastic books!

1 – 1.75 stars:

The Sevenfold Hunters

2 – 2.75 stars:

Pangu’s Shadow

3 – 3.75 stars:

Womb City

4 – 4.75 stars:

Wuthering Heights

FAVORITE BOOK OF THE MONTH: The Bad Ones – 4.25 stars

POSTS I’M PROUD OF:

POSTS FROM OTHER WONDERFUL PEOPLE THAT I ENJOYED:

SONGS/ALBUMS THAT I’VE BEEN ENJOYING:

APRIL 26TH CANNOT COME SOON ENOUGH
returning to my sad bastard roots
shoutout to this absolute weirdo and his lyrics
alright I FINALLY listened to this album, great stuff
and the best song title goes to…
such a delightfully summery album
already loved TVOTR, but chelsea Wolfe turned me on to this one. haunting…

Today’s song:

listen this is a banger but don’t think I wouldn’t deck Morrissey in the face without hesitation

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: 3/24/24

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

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

This week: sit down, kiddo. Soon you’ll be a mature adult, so your father and I have decided that you’re ready to learn about the (acid, lady) birds and the bee(tle)s.

…why are you leaving?

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 3/24/24

“Dissolved Girl” – Massive Attack

Like Odelay, I’ve very much screwed myself over when it comes to this album; as my brother was showing this song to me in the car (thank you, by the way), I talked to him about the album, and after we talked about all of the songs I’ve heard off of Mezzanine, we concluded that I’ve…basically listened to the whole thing, save for some of the apparently duller songs and some instrumental breaks. Oops. My brother’s advice was to go through the album in its entirety anyway, so I’ll still take that advice. Eventually. The Sisyphean album bucket list persists.

I have a special soft spot for songs that sound like their album art. Most of the tracks on Mezzanine have a similarly creeping feel, but “Dissolved Girl,” to me, feels the most like Nick Knight’s photograph of a shiny, almost glistening stag beetle; the initial photo was taken by Knight at London’s Natural History Museum. Minus the pincers, it almost looks like the exoskeleton of a xenomorph—also a fitting image for the creeping feel of some of Mezzanine’s tracks. Much of the album retains that prickly feel of looking at the fine hairs adorning the beetle’s legs, but this song, especially the intro, captures it best. I can almost imagine that same beetle in captivity, scuttling around across a blank canvas in erratic patterns, like a shot from an old nature documentary. Its antennae twitch, it pauses in thought, then scuttles off into a corner again, only to emerge a few seconds later. Looking back, I’m ashamed that I completely missed that fact that this track was also featured in The Matrix. Granted, I was also so caught up in the glorious cheese of that movie that there wasn’t much else to focus on except for a) that one absolute monster of an H.R. Giger fever dream scene, and b) the fact that Keanu Reeves can barely act (sorry, dude, I’m sure you’re a nice guy). But like the stag beetle’s shell, that sleekness blends in with the landscape that the Wachowski Sisters crafted all those years before. I’ve tricked myself into thinking that there were raindrops or dewdrops on said beetle’s shell, but no—it was a trick of the light, and a trick of the music. “Dissolved Girl” runs over your skin like frigid water and catches all the colors of light like an oil spill, darkly alluring in the dapples patterned across it. Sarah Jay Hawley’s voice isn’t just sultry—it’s a puff of rasping steam from a rusty teakettle, blossoming into strange clouds as it’s swallowed by synths and guitars that were made for dramatic entrances and nothing more. It really is dissolving, but it seems to reform itself every passing second, an ouroboros of electronic deja vu.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Fifth Season – N.K. Jemisin – the lyrics don’t reflect the connection so much as the feeling of it does—uncertainty, circularity, and deja-vu abound.

“Acid Bird” – Robyn Hitchcock

Note to any aspiring songwriters who may come across this post: I accidentally typed “acid birthday” into YouTube while looking this song up, so there’s a good song title right there. It already sounds ten times ickier in subject matter already, but…it sure is a song title.

Robyn Hitchcock seems to have been planted in the rich, fertile soil of ’60s musical inspiration from the start. Listen to any of his songs from his solo works or from one of his many groups over the years, and that bright, whimsical jangle always pops out of the woodwork. But before I saw him back in January, I found out that he’d played several short shows where he only played sets of Syd Barrett covers, and the comparison clicked instantly. Personally, I’m glad that Hitchcock took the good parts from Barrett’s legacy and never went off the deep end, but if there was ever a perfect fit, the two’s musical and lyrical styles were practically made for each other. There’s no doubt that plenty of artists have found drugs to be an outlet for imagination, but it’s always temporary; I never mean to make light of addiction and the very real consequences it can have on a person and their loved ones, but every time I hear about any of these instances, it’s a short-lived outlet. We know where it tragically led Barrett (rest easy) and many other artists of his time, but often, these things have been discovered have always been dormant—maybe it was the drugs that exposed them, but that kind of creativity lingers in all of us. We all have different ways of finding it, and all we can do is learn to live with it carefully—the very things that we perceive as opening it can destroy it just as quickly. At least we can look to Hitchcock as an example—it seemed he knew early on that his wild creativity was at the wheel, and he’s managed to preserve it for decades.

That kind of easygoing, ’60s feel is etched all throughout his decades-long, insanely prolific career, but some of the earliest notes of it, to me, can be found in his first solo album, Black Snake Diamond Role, and in particular, “Acid Bird.” Aside from the unmistakably sixties jangle of it all, from the lazily swaying chords to the way that the guitar is almost made to sound like the limbo between a guitar and a sitar. And like the entirety of Hitchcock’s career, this song is full of oddball wordplay, entirely nonsensical, but somehow sensible, in the sense that, having seen him live, he had every intention of putting these words together in this exact order. It’s unmistakably late ’60s psychedelia—I can hear the lyricism of Pink Floyd’s “See Emily Play” and the instrumentation of…well, probably any late ’60s Beatles song you can think of, and yet, it couldn’t be anybody else but Robyn Hitchcock. Going even later, I’ve always thought of his wordplay as so much like Marc Bolan, like he has access to some bizarre fantasy world that can only be described to us mortals in words that don’t fully make sense when strung together in the order that they are. I’m just glad that Hitchcock has dedicated his career to mapping it in all of its hills, valleys, and acid birds.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Crane Husband – Kelly Barnhill – a hazy, eery crawl between genres, steeped in slipshod tapestries and sinister birds.

“Barley” – Water From Your Eyes

If you laid out all of the elements of “Barley” bare, it would fit a pretty common definition for really pretentious music. You’ve got your discordant synths, you’ve got your avant-garde, nonsensical lyrics, you’ve got some off-kilter guitar riffs for good taste, and you’ve got disaffected vocals courtesy of Rachel Brown, who sounds for all the world like they did not want to be there. But this song feels more in the vein of play than construction—the minimalism and freeform feel of it all feel like just that: freeform. It feels like this song was conceived in 5 minutes tops, and I’ve grown to enjoy that quality about it. I keep bringing up Beck in this post for reasons unknown to me, but the technique of Water From Your Eyes (or, alternatively, what sigma male gymbros call tears) seems to be similar: stick a bunch of parts together with a bit of synths and Elmer’s glue, then create the most earwormy eyesore you’ve ever heard. I say “eyesore” only because it’s the best word that comes to mind—it doesn’t sound pleasant, and yet, it sounds good. Between Brown’s vocals, the hectic instrumentations, and the urgency of it all, “Barley” feels like the squirming child of Guerilla Toss and Wilco’s “Spiders (Kidsmoke)“—drolly sung, but full of lyrics that could be prophetic, and as jagged and crawling as all get-out. I’d never thought I’d compare those two, but that’s the beauty of this song—it’s a strange, stiff chimera of a song, and I love it and all of its jerky, weak-kneed beauty.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Aug 9 – Fog – Kathryn Scanlan – a similar connection of loose bits and bobs, this time in the form of poetry made from what remained of a stranger’s diary that Scanlan found at an estate sale.

“Ladybird” – Jim Noir

HE’S BACK! Well, he never really left, and was doing some incredibly impressive things while he was “gone,” but he’s back to serving up EPs via Patreon (as always, support a fantastic independent artist if you’re financially able! It’s worth your while!).

Before the switch from monthly EPs to releasing the excellent record Rotate as half of Co-Pilot, a lot of the EPs he was putting out were starting to feel thinned out; even at the beginning of the project, many of the tracks were throwaways that he later polished up, but as time went on, some of the whimsical, lighthearted creativity that he’s known for seemed to have bled out somewhere down the line. The last few EPs felt a little hollow—the last thing I’d expect of Jim Noir, the same mind that could make a song about putting off going to the store to get tea (if there was ever a more British concern) into a sunny, ’60s-flavored synthfest. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was saving his musical time and energy for Co-Pilot during the weaker run of EPs (justifiably so, I mean, God, what a record), but I did miss the more creative tidbits. It seems that some time away has given him time to shake things up, and now we have Ladybird – EP, which I can happily say is a delight! I found myself particularly drawn to the title track; there’s still a hesitant restraint about it, but it has every hallmark of a catchy Jim Noir tune—cymbal heavy drumming, humming vocals, and of course, bleep-bloop aplenty. Gotta have that good bleep-bloop. The background is decorated with sounds that almost ring like a submarine’s radar, and the rest of it hums with buzzy energy, nervously scuttling about like the insect it’s named for. It’s hesitantly bouncy, with eyes that seem to dart about every few minutes before ducking behind the nearest door. I wouldn’t call it his masterpiece, but it gives me hope that this could be the start of the album that he’s been teasing for…almost two and a half years now, I think? If Rotate is all we get, then I’d certainly be happy, but I find myself wanting another win for Jim Noir. It’s what he deserves.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Binti – Nnedi Okorafor – “I’m surrounded by things I’ve never needed so much/I’d rather give it away instead of finding it’s not enough…” right there, huh?

“Spun” – Chelsea Wolfe

As I’m writing this, it’s been about a day since I saw Chelsea Wolfe a second time for the She Reaches Out To She Reaches Out To She tour. Insufferable crowd and headache-inducing opening band notwithstanding (2/3 times that I’ve seen shows at this venue, the crowd has been gross and disrespectful, so…hopefully not a curse), she and her band put on an incredible show; obviously, nothing’s going to compare to my first experience seeing her at the Stanley Hotel, which is about as goth as one can get even if Wolfe isn’t present, but what this show had going was the fact that one of her songs was performed whilst some kind of trick of the light made her look like she’s standing astride some kind of fiery, inter-dimensional portal. What I’m trying to say is that she absolutely brought down the house. As usual.

Somehow, I thought that “Spun” would be on the setlist, and I listened to it a handful of times before the show, but…I guess I remembered wrong? It wasn’t one of the songs I was sorely looking forward to seeing, but I do feel a little silly now that the song I’ve picked for this week is the one she didn’t play. Well, any excuse to talk about Chelsea Wolfe is a good excuse, so here we are. Seems I need to add Spun to the album bucket list, since almost everything off of it has been nothing short of arresting. “16 Psyche” was the first song from Spun I heard, back when my tender, 14-year-old brain was as impressionable and soaked up melodramatic lyrics like a sponge (listen, there’s nobody else who can deliver “my heart is a tomb/my heart is an empty room” but her); now that I’ve seen it live, it’s one of her most captivating tracks. But “Spun” is captivating in an entirely different way; where “16 Psyche” takes a nosedive into cloak-billowing wails and drama almost immediately, “Spun” has the pace and feel of mold crawling up the walls. Staunchly on the more metal side of Wolfe’s brand of goth-metal (I promise I’m not stringing buzzwords together, that’s just her brand), the industrial drums and guitars march like a legion of robots summoned from hell, armor cracked as they trudge through the flames. Fleeting moments of said drums speeding up provide a cliff for the instruments to dive off, then leap straight down into the lake of fire, a tenuous equilibrium shattered when you least expect it. “Spun” prowls with its hackles raised, poised to bolt from a history best left in the flames: “I lift my eyes, I slow my gait/And I never wanna see you again.” But the final breaths of “Spun” are exhales released from a clenched chest, fittingly whispered by Wolfe as though she’s speaking in tongues: “And all and everything or nothing.”

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Genesis of Misery – Neon Yang – the title already sounds like something that Chelsea Wolfe would name an album, but even if that weren’t true, this novel is chock-full of fiery forges, prophetic madness, and the voices of angels (or are they?)

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

February 2024 Wrap-Up 🫀

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Thursday, bibliophiles! Happy Leap Day too, I suppose.

Already the end of February, huh? Good riddance honestly. Not that I had a bad month, but I’m just ready for all this gross, slushy weather to be over with.

Let’s begin, shall we?

GENERAL THOUGHTS:

February’s definitely still been busy, but now that I’m more used to my schedule and able to keep myself on track, it’s all good. Things are getting into gear with my classes, I’ve been able to make time to write and make art and hang out with friends, and the weather is starting to warm up. Key word is starting. We’ve had snow almost every Friday or weekend without fail for…probably a month or two? Colorado. The meteorological indecision never ends. But luckily, other than that first week, I’ve been able to blog somewhat steadily.

Reading has been similarly good—sadly, most of the books I’ve read for school so far haven’t been my favorites (apologies in advance to all the Jane Austen fans here), but other than that, there have been very few misses! I also shifted my focus to books by Black authors this month for Black History Month, and I’ve read both familiar and new-to-me authors and had tons of fun. I also ended up having two five-star reads in a month, so I’d call it good! I’m glad that I’ve been able to keep up my reading schedule, because there’s so many books I’m excited to read soon! A whole bunch of holds from Libby have been pouring in, all of which I’ve been eagerly anticipating…

Other than that, I’ve just been cranking out tons of writing, drawing here and there, watching Abbott Elementary, BEEF (absolutely SHAKESPEAREAN lemme tell you), The Bear (ngl I’m mostly just in it for the needle drops), and Constellation (WHAT IS GOING ON 😀), and being in a near-constant state of being on my toes since I never know when we’re gonna get dumped with snow.

Oh, and I think we have the best possible end to a month that I’ve had in several months…BABE. WAKE UP. NEW ST. VINCENT JUST DROPPED. WE’RE GETTING THE ALBUM, TODAY’S THE DAAAAAAAAAAAY

APRIL 29TH CANNOT COME SOON ENOUGH.

READING AND BLOGGING:

I read 17 books this month! Definitely more than I expected to read, but I’m about at the point in the year where I’m familiar enough with my schedule that I can squeeze in more time for reading. There were definitely a few stinkers in the mix, but I had not one but two five star reads this month, which was pretty incredible! My eternal thanks to Audre Lorde and R.F. Kuang.

2 – 2.75 stars:

Harlem Shuffle

3 – 3.75 stars:

Your Plantation Prom Is Not Okay

4 – 4.75 stars:

We Are the Crisis

5 stars:

Babel

FAVORITE BOOK OF THE MONTH: Sister Outsider – 5 stars

POSTS I’M PROUD OF:

POSTS FROM OTHER WONDERFUL PEOPLE THAT I ENJOYED:

SONGS/ALBUMS I’VE BEEN ENJOYING:

I’ve listened to this an unhealthy amount of times
NEW CHELSEA WOLFE WOOOOOOO
it always comes back to Bowie
AND NEW IDLES we are truly blessed
obsessed now
fantastic album

Today’s song:

“All born screaming” YEAH I CERTAINLY AM. MY GOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDD THE QUEEN HAS RETURNED

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: 2/25/24

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

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

Took me this long to get to a blue period…it didn’t happened until almost three months in the year, but of course it’s the one that ends up having Faith No More and Kermit the Frog in the same breath. Duality of Madeline.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 2/25/24

“House of Self-Undoing” – Chelsea Wolfe

In an outcome that should be surprising to no one, Chelsea Wolfe’s new record, She Reaches Out To She Reaches Out To She, absolutely rocks. Dare I say it might be one of her best albums in years? Birth of Violence was a solid album, but I remember it having some lulls, but then again, I haven’t listen to it since its release in 2019. I haven’t listened to her entire discography, but I’ve never met a Chelsea Wolfe album I didn’t like, but there are some that nudge their way past the others to the tidal wave of goth revelry that she’s come to be known for. I’ve meant to review at least a handful of the excellent singles that came out of this album, but I remember specifically that “Whispers In The Echo Chamber” came out at a time when I got unexpectedly swamped…when there were a bunch of fantastic blue songs I wanted to talk about. Oopsie. No time like the present, amirite?

In terms of themes, Wolfe always has something poetic up her sleeve, whether she’s making the skeleton of her album out of Jungian analysis or Tarot. They’re all deeply personal, but She Reaches feels more intimately so; here, she grapples with separation of all kinds: from past relationships, from present systems, and from future pathways that her life could lead her down. But as she’s draining the gore of all the past messiness out of her system, she’s burning bridges and building her new phoenix of a self out of the charred remains. Back to “Whispers In The Echo Chamber,” where she declares “this world was not designed for us,” (GO OFF QUEEN), whispering like a mysterious necromancer into the ear of the magic-oblivious king. The album finishes on “Dusk” and its promises of “Watch[ing] this empire as it burns and dissipates/Haunted, on fire, on the wings that we create” (GO OFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF), with Wolfe finally detaching herself from this lowly, undeserving mortal plane, and giving a final, cold look to us mortals before disintegrating into a cloud of vampire bats. God, I love her. With such stacked competition, I was grasping for a real favorite on the album, but I cannot stop coming back to “House of Self-Undoing.” After the triumphant declaration of independence in “Whispers,” the second track finds Wolfe extricating herself from the turmoil that she sought to free herself from (“In the house of self-undoing/I saw your face”). Most of the heavier tracks on She Reaches are heavy in the way of Wolfe’s goth dark theatricality and billowing cloaks, but “House of Self-Undoing” is pure rock, grinding with percussion like speeding footsteps and guitars smoother than hotel bedsheets. There’s a nervous, frantic energy that claws its way out of every note, just as Wolfe’s lyrics point to, as the boldness of separation gives way to the physicality of fleeing the old and bursting into the new. It’s the journey of clawing up through the earth and spitting out the dirt in your mouth, before your caked fingernails break the surface to find the sunlight.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Gideon the Ninth (The Locked Tomb, #1) – Tamsyn Muir – as much of a disappointment Harrow the Ninth turned out to be, I can’t deny how fun this book was. The general underworld/undead imagery is already fitting enough, but the themes of separation from a past life are the icing on the cake.

“Midlife Crisis” – Faith No More

The only proper way to describe “Midlife Crisis” is something along the lines of a feat of acrobatics. There’s so many twists, turns, and midair flips that this song executes one after the other that just makes you wonder about the mad scientist’s lab that it was surely cooked up in, because surely something bizarre and outside of human comprehension went into polishing this track to a shine. God, it just goes so hard.

Like Post, “Midlife Crisis,” over 30 years after its release, sounds like everything and nothing, but in this case, what a decent portion of the world of hard rock took from Mike Patton’s vocal acrobatics and spit out was…nu metal. Jesus. Urgh. I’ll dispense from my rant about why nu metal gets on my nerves since it’s more of a personal vendetta than one that has any kind of logical basis (listen, you try and do 50 push-ups at Tae Kwon Do while Linkin Park is blasting through the speakers), but they would’ve had nothing if not for this song. You can hear exactly where Korn got their Cookie Monster gibberish-vocals from on a single go-around on this song. What sets Mike Patton apart from them, however, is the range that he crams into these astounding four minutes; you’ve got said grimy Cookie Monster vocals, but just as quickly, he turns a corner into a soaring smoothness that makes you wonder if somebody slipped him the world’s most powerful cough drop in the time it took him to switch over. Going from those kinds of extremes so quickly and seemingly without breaking a sweat…if that’s not talent, I don’t know what is. And the scorn that this song radiates—”You’re perfect, yes, it’s true/But without me, you’re only you.” DAMN. Also, for the longest time, I thought that the line afterwards was “you’re menstruating hard” and not “your menstruating heart,” which…yeah, the actual line makes much more sense, but somehow, I feel like Patton seems like the type of guy to just say a line like “YOU’RE MENSTRUATING HARD 🗣🗣🗣🗣” with that delivery out of the blue. It was ’90s hard rock. Somehow, it works. Faith No More struck gold with this gift of a song, for sure.

…and I haven’t even gotten to the synth breakdown at 2:22. Good lord. Speaks for itself, really.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Invisible Things – Mat Johnson – scorn, grime and polish in equal measure, and a bunch of alien abductees recreating Trump-era American in a bubble city on Europa. Time to party, right?

“Sweepstakes” (feat. Mos Def & The Hypnotic Brass Ensemble) – Gorillaz

I meant to talk more about Plastic Beach back in December when I first listened to it, but I can’t not come back to it, like most Gorillaz albums that I’ve listened to in full. (Maybe not Song Machine. Like…half of Song Machine. And not Cracker Island. Okay, the first three Gorillaz albums.) Besides being a sweeping showcase of both Albarn’s overflowing musical talent and the storytelling about a tech-invaded future and rampant consumerism, Plastic Beach, I think, is the first album that cemented their reputation for having a continuously stacked list of guest artists. I sincerely doubt that there will ever be another band to have Snoop Dogg, the surviving members of The Clash, and Lou Reed on the same album, and that’s not even because Lou Reed is no longer with us. The minute that I found out that there was a song that had both De La Soul and Gruff Rhys from Super Furry Animals on it, my soul just about left my body. There’s just no band quite like Gorillaz in the way they can unite and fuse genres and appeal to so many without selling their souls. I fully believe that Gorillaz are the people’s band. The arty people like them. The pretentious music nerds like them. The jocks like them. The alt people like them. I have a distinct memory of these two bros in my senior year chem class going through their Spotify, and then one of them declared “BRO, THIS IS OUR SONG,” and I fully expected something absolutely rancid, but no. It was “Dare.” DARE. Gorillaz is one of the few bands that have something for everybody, and not in the way that people say that they like “every genre” of music. Albarn’s many strengths in this part of his life hasn’t just been the varied influences that he brings to his music, but the way that he gives them a chance to have their say—Gorillaz is an amalgam of so many gems from so many places, and yet, save for some of their newer albums, hardly any of it doesn’t feel like them.

Onto “Sweepstakes.” This is one of the two Mos Def features on Plastic Beach (the other being “Stylo,” which was incredible live, by the way), and I’m frankly baffled that this one doesn’t get the attention that some of the other tracks on the album do. I’d risk it all to see this one live, especially if they actually bring out Mos Def and the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble onstage. In the video above, Mos Def comes out in…basically an Abraham Lincoln getup, if we count the beard, announcing prizes like a slick auctioneer, before launching into the truly charged, energy-pumped vibrations of this song. Energized is the only word you can ascribe to this song, really. From the beginning, the drum machine thrums a beat that hiccups so deliberately that you can’t help but start jumping. Bringing these three creative forces together on the song was the perfect recipe for a classic—Albarn’s penchant for engineering iconic dance beats, Mos Def’s commanding gravitas that he brings to each lyric, and the creeping, tidal force of the Brass Ensemble as the joyous, urgent burst of horns emerge from the curtain of synths like the chestburster clawing its way out of Kane’s body. It’s a song that begs to be heard, meant to be blasted down the streets in waves of confetti and marching feet—and that’s not just because of the brass that commands the latter half of the song. And for a song about mindless consumerism, exploitation and the duping of the working class by the rich (“‘Who’s the winner?’ Said the dealer/Every player, ‘Yeah, me'”), the infectious triumph is the most intentional thing about this track. Only fitting that The Hypnotic Brass Ensemble’s track “War” would be used for the Hunger Games movies only a few years after this. You’re a winner!

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Prime Meridian – Silvia Moreno-Garcia – telling the working class that they can do anything they set their heart to while the ruling class ignores them completely and colonizes Mars, anyone? Sound familiar?

…oh, wait. Damn.

“1000 Umbrellas” – XTC

Guess I just can’t stop listening to XTC, huh? In case you were wondering (because you totally were, I’m sure), “The Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead” continues to have me in an unbreakable chokehold, but this one is good competition.

’60s inspiration can be found in almost any XTC song you can pull out of a jar, even if you ignore The Dukes of Stratosphear, which were just them under another name marketed as a “lost find” of the ’60s (and then ended up outselling any of their XTC records…ouch). For me, “1000 Umbrellas” immediately screams The Beatles, specifically in 1967—somewhere between Sgt. Pepper and Magical Mystery Tour. It’s pure theatre; even if the album, Skylarking, wasn’t a vague concept album, it practically begs for some kind of dramatic performance. Can’t you just imagine a scene of an aerial view of a bunch of pedestrians holding umbrellas in the rain, and Andy Partridge right smack in the middle of them, lamenting the loss of love as the rain pours down on him? Maybe the umbrellas morph into those pastel, spinning teacup rides as Patridge sings “And one million teacups/I bet couldn’t hold all the wet/That fell out of my eyes/When you fell out with me?” I particularly love how the orchestral arrangements seem to rise and fall, tilting just barely out of neatness and into delirium as Partridge wails, stumbling right along with the beleaguered strings section. On the heels of “Ballet for a Rainy Day,” the rain turns from the kiss of spring to cold, damp misery (a word that he frequently drags out like a ridiculed prisoner in medieval times) and like the swells of the orchestra, Partridge moans and wails like an actor trudging across the stage, the spotlight following him as he holds his broken umbrella against the downpour. I swear that this song needs a broadway-style, “It’s Oh So Quiet” music video—the imagery is jus too vivid for it to go without it.

And then we’re right back to having a jolly old time with “Season Cycle.” Duality of Skylarking.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Scattered Showers – Rainbow Rowell – messy love and a chance of rain.

“The Rainbow Connection” – Kermit the Frog

Yeah. Well. If you need me to pay for your insurance following this whiplash, I’ll fork it over. But this is more of a palate-cleanser, right? Guess I ought to keep you on your toes. Or maybe you just need a bit of a break from Mike Patton growling about your menstruating heart. Take a breather. Find the rainbow connection.

Honestly, this song came on here solely since I’ve been thinking about The Muppets lately, and how glad I am that I had such an absurd and clever slice of positivity in my childhood. There seriously will never be another creator quite like Jim Henson, but it’s worth it to take his felt-covered gospel to heart: to keep imagination and joy close to your heart, always, whether or not you have an equally whimsical puppet on your hand.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Any comforting book from your childhood – whatever made you feel good when you were younger should do the trick.

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: 2/18/24

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

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

Welp. Back to the black and white (mostly) color palettes again. Oops. But ’70s David Bowie heals all wounds, right? Right?

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 2/18/24

“Do You Want To” – Franz Ferdinand

From all accounts, it seems like Franz Ferdinand peaked at this album, You Could Have It So Much Better. But I feel like it’s understandable, on some level. You try to replicate something as iconic as “Take Me Out” or this, and you risk flying too close to the sun. Lightning can’t strike twice. Well, I guess it can, if you count this and “Take Me Out,” but…okay, three times?

This song. It’s so stuffed with infectious hooks that it’s practically a thanksgiving turkey. It’s pumping with allure and adrenaline, and not a single bit feels wasted. You hear the first 20 seconds and think “oh, that’s a great start to the song,” but lo and behold, every single band member pulls of their top hats to reveal a second, even more spectacular hook to propel it to unforeseen heights. And from that meteoric rise, “Do You Want To” feels like the most delightfully slick, guitar-driven gold mine of 2000’s indie rock. It’s a song that wrenches you by the hand into a nighttime world of leather jackets, impeccable hair, and shiny guitars. Lyric-wise, it’s nothing that the band hasn’t covered, but lyrics were never their legacy—the absolute sheen of it all overpowers the rest of it, and it’s the kind that you can keep on repeat for hours and never get tired of. For a few years, Franz Ferdinand seemed to have perfected that kick of leather-jacket, smooth indie rock, and even though it seemed to have burned out a decade or so down the line, for a moment, their talent was clear—and explosive. The only sin that “Do You Want To” ever committed was not having a third hook hidden beneath their other top hats—the last thirty seconds (“Lucky, lucky/You’re so lucky”) are just begging for at least one more burst of smooth guitar that sounds like it’s been fired out of a cannon. It’s such a frustrating ending. With that kind of buildup, how could they not be extending the song for a finale as glorious as the entrance? Either way, the three and a half minutes that we do have is joyous enough. Almost enough to make me forgive Alex Kapranos for permanently freezing his face in this expression for no good reason:

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Vicious – V.E. Schwab – come to think of it, a lot of V.E. Schwab’s male protagonists fit a similarly charismatic and boundary-pushing (mostly in terms of magic and science, anyway), but this novel absolutely fits the slick, Franz Ferdinand vibe.

“Fascination” – David Bowie

Frustrated that “Do You Want To” ends right before it should theoretically go on for at least two more minutes? Fear not! At least David Bowie wasn’t afraid to make his timeless grooves almost six minutes long.

Welp. I don’t know how Young Americans wasn’t on my album bucket list already, but it sure is on it now. The iconic title track and “Fame” should’ve convinced me, but somehow it was “Fascination” that pushed me over the edge. It reminds me just what I love about the ’70s; the production is nothing but slick and slinky, full of vibrance and a groove that never even comes close to sputtering out for all five minutes and 48 seconds. God, the saxophone. I don’t usually find myself saying that about saxophones, but oh my god. It’s not a song that just makes you feel like dancing—you’re all but transported to a dance floor somewhere, amidst loose ties and sunglasses and warm lights bathing everyone’s faces. Strangely, the only thing that doesn’t scream vibrant or groovy is Bowie’s voice. The more you focus on it, the eerier it feels. Even though his voice was a decade or so from becoming as rich and resonant as he was later known for, it had thinned out even more so that he was in his youth. Young Americans was recorded during the height of his crippling cocaine addiction, and you can hear it in this song more than any other on the album. I could just be projecting, given how he was able to belt out the classic “ain’t there one damn song that can make me…break down and cry?” on the same album, but whether or not it was purposeful to add to the slick, sultry air of the album and his persona, it’s not a stretch to make. His voice often takes a back seat to the sheer power of the backup singers, and despite the seduction written all over “Fascination,” I can’t help but think of the exhaustion that eventually led him to pack his bags for Berlin in a few years’ time. No judgement, but it’s kind of the reason why I’m always a little suspicious of people who say that The Thin White Duke is their favorite Bowie persona. Iconic as all the others in both looks and musical output, but…I don’t know, it feels like a red flag that the Bowie you remember most fondly is the Bowie that was characterized by exhaustion, excessive substance abuse, and behaviors that he later condemned as a byproduct of the worst period of his life. I just feel like if that’s your favorite Bowie…again, no judgment, but calm down, you edgelord. You’re not impressing anybody. Music isn’t automatically deep just because the artist was at rock bottom when they made it.

Nonetheless, it is a truly fantastic, masterful song. David Bowie was just almost incapable of having an album without at least one good song, even if it was the more commercial ’80s albums.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Final Revival of Opal & Nev – Dawnie Walton – steeped in mid-’70s rock, I suspect the fictional music that Opal & Nev made was partially inspired by Bowie’s work around the same time.

“A Gospel” – IDLES

TANGK is a bizarre album in the best possible way. IDLES seem to have partially (but never fully, this is still IDLES we’re talking about) shed the punk sensibilities that they’re known for, and in its wake, Joe Talbot and company have gone on to explore uncharted territory for the band. Tracks like “Gratitude” and “Hall & Oates” prove that they’ll never stop being their aggressively positive selves, but TANGK has given them room to grow. How much of it we can credit to Nigel Godrich is up in the air, but either way, it’s a fascinating evolution.

Emotional vulnerability and healthy masculinity have always been cornerstones of the IDLES image, but never have they been so soft and bare on “A Gospel.” Looking back, the Ultra Mono track “A Hymn” feels like its spiritual predecessor, both in title and nature, but even then, this is the first time that IDLES have ever felt quiet. No screaming, no bass, no rasp roughening Talbot’s voice. “A Gospel” presumably finds Talbot after his recent divorce, solemnly wallowing in the aftermath: “Delete my number/I’m no more/Ignore my eyes, babe/They’re just sore.” (“I’m not crying, it’s just been raining…on my face…”) But true to IDLES’ commitment to love and mutual understanding, he harbors no ill will towards his own partner, gently offering solace and closure instead of the biting words that are all too common in these kinds of songs: “I know you better/I’m your half/Just tell me darling/And I’ll be your past.” It’s sad that it’s so rare that you find songs about relationships that aren’t malicious towards the partner in some way; in some cases, the other party is in the wrong, but we’ve had so many songs about conniving women (from men who are likely the problem) and whatnot that finding a song like this feels like a needle in a haystack. “A Gospel” seems to come, refreshingly, from a place of genuine remorse; you can feel the embarrassment in Talbot’s confessional lyrics, but they’re never overly self-deprecating or, on the other hand, aggressive. It’s a melancholy song, but it feels like the most amicable breakup song I’ve heard. Talbot has repeatedly said that the thesis of TANGK revolves around love, and although “A Gospel” takes it from a more distraught angle, it’s still love—being able to step away from a situation where you know you’re in the wrong, and encouraging a peaceful resolution.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Aurora Burning (Aurora Cycle, #2) – Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff – no spoilers, but I was distinctly reminded of a certain character after the fallout of a certain reveal near the end of the novel. Ouch.

“Virginia Woolf Underwater” – Chelsea Wolfe

No matter what Chelsea Wolfe album I listen to (you’ll definitely be hearing about her latest next week), it almost always makes me come back to some of the material off of Unknown Rooms. I adore Chelsea Wolfe’s shreddier, overtly goth style, but unfortunately, I drank the sad girl Kool-Aid long ago and I can never come back, so here I am, back at the acoustic album. There’s no doubt that Wolfe can wring out emotion whether or not she’s playing electric or acoustic. She’s at her best when she’s conjuring a swarm of bats from oblivion with a full assault of instrumentals, but the power always lingers. Like my favorite of her songs, “Boyfriend” (also from this album): naught but guitar and Wolfe’s ghostly rasp, it evokes the same rise of power and overwhelming emotion as anything else she’s written. In the end, it all feels cavernous.

“Boyfriend” is plenty bleak, but there’s something about “Virginia Woolf Underwater” that feels so much more so; although it’s just as sparse as any other track on this album, the discordant nature of it all ties the despair of it together, with off-kilter chords punctuated by a tambourine. Only later do the orchestral strings come in, but they feel just as cold as the rest of the song. Alluding to Virginia Woolf’s early death by drowning, the song feels as distorted as voices floating in the water. Wolfe’s voice drifts in and out of focus. The lyrics imagine Woolf’s state: “Everything you’ve owned is gone/Everything you know is wrong/Everyone you’ve loved has left/Everything you’ve touched is dead.” Given Woolf’s struggles with depression and trauma from the second World War towards the end of her life, it’s not a stretch to think that she was thinking thoughts along these lines. That’s what makes the song tragic, but there’s something touching about how Chelsea Wolfe was able to connect to her all these years later, and was moved enough to write her an elegy of sorts. It’s a cross-temporal love letter, a call through the ether to tell not just Woolf that she understands, but for others to relate to and know that they are not alone in their experiences. Only fitting that now, 12 years after the release of Unknown Rooms, that her newest album is titled She Reaches Out To She Reaches Out To She. What better way to sum up Chelsea Wolfe’s brilliant career?

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Godkiller (Fallen Gods, #1) – Hannah Kaner – this story similarly begins with Kissen, who has lost everything, and the novel follows her finding her purpose…with some killing gods on the side.

“Floating on a Moment” – Beth Gibbons

I feel like I should be more invested in the fact that Beth Gibbons is releasing a solo album this May. Then again, I still haven’t picked myself up and listened to Dummy, so I feel like that’s the top priority. The only thing keeping me from it is the Sisyphean album bucket list I’ve created for myself, so we’ll see when I get around to it. Soon, given that at least a quarter of it had me in a nearly unbreakable chokehold in early 2022.

“Floating On A Moment” feels further removed from the trip-hop that Portishead was known for, opting for a more stripped-down form. Synths and samples have been exchanged for acoustic guitars and a choir, and the result is slow and gentle, like water trickling from the gutter. Admittedly, I expected something weirder from Gibbons, but I don’t not like this song—it’s good, but it’s not the kind of slow that’s always compelling (that would be Portishead). It’s good when you’re in the moment (no pun intended) and listening to it, but on the outside…I hate to say it, but it feels a little predictable? The fact that it’s track two on Lives Outgrown seems kind of bizarre unless the whole album is going to be this slow, or if it just has a slow start. What’s weirder is that “Floating On A Moment” is centered around the fleeting nature of time and staying in the present, and yet it’s so slow…I guess it could fit with the image of time slipping through your fingers, but this song feels anything but fleeting. If anything, it’s the slow drip of a memory recalled, an alternate reality pondered, a gradual crawl through the recesses of the mind. All that’s to say that this isn’t a bad song. For what it is, “Floating On A Moment” is as gentle as they come, something to have in the background. Again: I hate that I’m saying that about Beth Gibbons, of all people, but we don’t have the whole picture of Lives Outgrown. We’ll see what she’s got up her sleeve.

Even though the pervasion of AI art in music videos is maddening to me (at this point, it’s less about the fact that it’s AI and more that the “style” just looks objectively ugly), the AI elements of the music video for “Floating On A Moment” suit how the song feels; everything melting into a gloopy mess is a hallmark of AI animations at this point, but that kind of melting, combined with the real-life footage of Gibbons, melds surprisingly well with the slick, melting quality of the song.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Sea of Tranquility – Emily St. John Mandel – a quiet and understated but detailed vision of past, present, and future.

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

December 2023 Wrap-Up 🎅🏼

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles, and happy New Year’s Eve!

2023 has been a year of growth for me; I’ve taken a lot of leaps that I never thought I would take, and all of them paid off. December has been busy, but now that I’m home for break, I’m glad that I’ll get some rest before the end of the year.

Let’s begin, shall we?

GENERAL THOUGHTS:

First off, I hit 600 followers a few days ago! Thank you all for sticking with me for all these years. Lots of love to you all.

Most of December was fairly stressful and chaotic, what with finals and all. The good thing about being an English major is that I typically don’t have any final finals that I have to take in class, but instead, I typically have to write rather long papers and slap some portfolios together. But now it’s all done! Now, I’m nearly done with my science credits, and I recently declared a minor in Women and Gender Studies, so I’m starting those classes next semester!

Blogging and reading are always slower around this time of year—the finals slump comes for us all. College (and getting older, I suppose) has slowed down my reading speed somewhat, but it makes me glad to spend more time with books on some days. (Doesn’t mean I still blow through books in a day sometimes. Happens to the best of us. The Siren, the Song, and the Spy was incredible.) It’s also been fun to introduce some book pairings to my Sunday Songs—I’m glad I can introduce a bookish aspect to them!

Other than that, I’ve just been getting work done pre- and post-finals, putting puzzles together, drawing when I can, celebrating the holidays with my wonderful family, and starting every week eagerly looking forward to Wednesday because of the new season of Fargo. (Dear LORD, what was that ending for episode 7?????? I’m SCARED)

READING AND BLOGGING:

I read 16 books this month! Inevitably slower going because of finals, but I’ve had a ton of great books towards the end of the month! I also passed my reading goal of 200 books—I read 207 books in 2023!

2 – 2.75 stars:

The Splinter in the Sky

3 – 3.75 stars:

Margo Zimmerman Gets the Girl

4 – 4.75 stars:

Into the Heartless Wood

FAVORITE BOOK OF THE MONTH: The Siren, the Song, and the Spy – 4.5 stars

The Siren, the Song, and the Spy

POSTS I’M PROUD OF:

POSTS FROM OTHER WONDERFUL PEOPLE THAT I ENJOYED:

SONGS AND ALBUMS THAT I’VE BEEN ENJOYING:

excuse me while I change into an excessively flowy dress and drape myself out the window
apologies for the whiplash but I can’t wait for this album (and this show!!!)
TASTES JUST LIKE CHICKEN!
can’t wait for this album and this show either!!! love is the fing.
joy straight to the veins
I’ve been meaning to listen to this album forever, and it was 100% worth it

Today’s song:

That’s it for this year (!) in blogging! I hope you have a wonderful day, and take care of yourselves! See you in 2024!

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs (12/10/23) + something new!

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

Apologies for the lack of Sunday Songs last week; the only reason I was able to get the other two posts I made last week was because they were both at least 95% pre-written—otherwise, they would have been gone, reduced to atoms, by the absolute chaos hell week of pre-finals. (Why is the period right before finals always the worst? No, it’s…no, that’s just coming back from break and having to Do Things. Yeah.) Either way, that time has given me some space to think about a change that I’ve been kicking around for a bit—adding some more to my Sunday Songs. Although these posts were originally inspired by my brother, it’s really been a fruitful experience to write about music more—The Bookish Mutant is still a book blog, but I’d be remiss if I denied that part of me. And yet…the books always come back. It’s in my nature. So now, you get your songs with a book paired to each—similarities in plot, similarities in vibes, or just similarities that bounced around my head for no reason other than free association. Bon appetit!

I so wanted to talk about last week’s songs, but as I said, last week was chaos, so I never got the time to write anything about them. But because they’re still fantastic songs, have them + last week’s graphic:

12/3/23

Enjoy this week’s songs (and books!)

SUNDAY SONGS: 12/10/23

“Bruises” – Lisa Germano

I’ve only listened to two full Lisa Germano albums (Excerpts from a Love Circus, where this song is from, and its follow-up, Slide), and I’ve discovered a method to listening to them; if you don’t want to feel the milieu of misery seep into you like mold, give it only one or two listens all the way through. Let it sit, then the individual songs (and their genius) return to you in smaller bites. That’s what’s tugged me back to the parts of Excerpts for the past month and a half since I listened to the full album for the first time—said misery notwithstanding, there’s something undeniably intoxicating about almost every track.

While it’s just as rust-smelling and heavy as most other Lisa Germano song you can pull out of a hat, what makes “Bruises” stand out is the folksy, almost Celtic sway that surrounds it. After the interlude of plaintive mewling, courtesy of her cat Dorothy (originally meant to bookend “A Beautiful Schizophrenic (‘Where’s Miamo-Tutti?’ by Dorothy)”, arguably the album’s most “mom, come pick me up, I’m scared” track), the first thing that jumps out at you is the dipping lilt of the violins; they passionately bay and lurch like dancers against the steadiness of the acoustic guitars and humming, cavernous synths, the same that frame another favorite of mine from the album, “Baby On The Plane.” And Germano’s voice, mainly defined by its wispiness in many of her songs, rises to meet the violins, her high notes ringing out in strained, rasping harmony as she cries out the chorus of “bruises, bruises, bruises, bruises,” dragging out the last repetition as easily as guiding the strings of a marionette. Her harmonies twist together like ghosts rising out from the cracks of the underworld, weaving through the violin strings. “Bruises” has the creaking sway of a rocking chair, but not in the way of being curled into grandmother’s lap while she reads a story; like “Crash,” the looping, ouroboros rhythm seeps into Germano’s words of repetition and depression, mindlessly going through the motions; the exhausted delivery of “make it better, alright” hammers in her struggle to wake from the stupor, sleepwalking through life as she struggles to even get out of bed in the first place. It has the rhythm of a slow dance, but all of the dancers are stumbling over their own feet, heads hanging, hands slipping apart and missing cues and steps.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT: Summer Bird Blue – Akemi Dawn Bowman – even though this novel deals specifically with grief, the combination of Bowman’s very real, very heavy depiction of the lows of Rumi’s mental health and the way the melody seems to bob up and down like the waves of the ocean make this a solid fit in my eyes.

“Ptolemaea” – Ethel Cain

I’ve only come up with more recent songs as examples for this, but there’s something about adding animal sounds near the end of songs to add to the eeriness—sounds that wouldn’t normally be dread-inducing, but amp up the dread of the song. The most prominent example I can think of is the dogs barking at the end of Mitski’s “I’m Your Man”—the dog/hounds theme of the song notwithstanding, as soon as you start to hear them desperately baying in the background, interwoven with crickets and other nighttime sounds, you instantly get the feeling that something is very, very wrong. Fun way to end an album, huh?

The animals used in “Ptolemaea” are much more plainly sinister from the start—with the moaning, creeping dread that immediately swallows you only seconds into the song, the swarm of buzzing flies that trickle into your ears like a slow drip of poison shortly after is an immediate alarm bell. When I heard the flies, I heard them circling around something rotten. Something putrid is not too far away, and the flies have come to land on your skin feed on you next. Uncomfortably landing on your skin is something that “Ptolemaea” instantly does—it’s a truly astounding piece of art, but it’s astoundingly icky for all of its six plus minutes. And yet there’s something instantly, drowningly consuming about it—the instrumentation in the last half has a hard rock, almost goth tidal wave that wants to bring you down with it into the cold, unforgiving depths. And like a dog-eared, pocket Bible with a battered cover and flaking pages, the sonic layers seem infinite, from the chilling, low incantations of perverse, religious verses, to the blood-curdling cry of “STOP!” that marks the song’s halfway point. I can’t help but be in absolute shock at this song—I seem to remember being openmouthed with giddy surprise when That Part kicked in while driving with my brother. I can’t listen to this song too often, lest I get consumed by the creeping dread, and I also feel guilty having those giddy feelings about the second half of this song, when it’s so clearly alluding to some form of abuse and/or sexual assault. But from what I know about the whole Ethel Cain project, it was born out of a desire to explore a history of religious trauma, abuse, and queerness, and that is, at its best, is one of the best qualities of art—to weave all these things into something new to reach out to others; in Cain’s case, the results are unfathomably harrowing, but undoubtedly masterful.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT: Extasia – Claire Legrand – would you like your creeping dread and explorations of queer girlhood and religious trauma with a side of towering entities in the woods?

“Kill Them With Kindness” – IDLES

Don’t you love doing mundane, peaceful things and listening to albums that are the exact opposite of mundane and peaceful? Nothing like cleaning up the bathroom and quietly rearranging my bulletin board while Joe Talbot is screaming in my ears.

I finally, finally got around to listening to Ultra Mono over break, and for the most part, it was sheer fun all the way through. Apparently, it’s regarded a little lower in the ranks for some IDLES fans; in contrast to some of their other albums, this seems to be where they went full in on the aggressively positive theme, and for a lot of people, it seemed to come off as corny. And…yeah, I don’t buy it. I understand the gripes about “War,” the album’s first track—the onomatopoeia is fun, but it doesn’t make sense at all. And as much as I enjoy it, I see where a lot of the criticism comes for “Ne Touche Pas Moi“—Riot Grrl did aggressive songs about consent first, and IDLES seems to have respected that history, but there’s something to be said for a bunch of aggressive, sweaty British men who look like they could beat you to a pulp singing about “Your body is your body/And it belongs to nobody but you.” (Plus, at least they had a woman—Jehnny Beth—shout the rallying cry of “ne touche pas moi.”) I’d feel safe walking home at night with these dudes. But either way, this is how I see it: we have a sea of songs this aggressive, but that are all about how edgy you are and how much everything sucks, so as far as I’m concerned, IDLES are a breath of fresh air. The screamy edgelords and their corresponding emotions have their place (sometimes), but they’ve had their moment in the sun. KINDNESS!

As the title suggests, this song pretty much sums up the entire IDLES ethos—aggressive positivity. If you isolated the lyrics from the song, you’d probably get some accusations along the lines of “you dirty hippie(s),” but that’s what makes it so memorable—it’s earnest, it’s loud, and it’s relentlessly optimistic. But this killing with kindness isn’t the kind you associate with smiling, doing nothing, and letting yourself be stagnant or stepped on—as Talbot declares, “Ain’t no doormats here/It doesn’t mean you have to bow, or say “Your Highness”/Just kill ’em with kindness/If you wanna beat the machine, keep your teeth clean.” And what better to cement that than circles of dancing, anthropomorphic flowers and a grinning, rubberhose-style Joe Talbot spoon-feeding some kind of kindness serum to a scowling beefcake who was beating up a bunch of other guys just a few minutes earlier? It’s nothing short of delightful. IDLES are a blessing.

…and I’m seeing them in May!! WOO!!

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT: Chameleon Moon – RoAnna Sylver – it’s not in the title, but it’s in the subgenre. What better word to describe both this and IDLES but hopepunk?

“It Had To Be You” (Isham Jones Orchestra cover) – Harry Connick, Jr.

I’m 100% admitting to my status as a poser with regards to this song, because I haven’t even seen When Harry Met Sally, the movie where this version of “It Had to Be You” originally comes from. That being said, “baby fish mouth” has been permanently ingrained into my psyche thanks to my parents.

A fact that I always forget whenever I listen to this song: not only has Harry Connick, Jr. had a flourishing jazz career that starts as far back as recording in the studio for the first time at age 10, he’s also…

…yeah, oh my god. Dean has insane pipes.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT: The Spare Man – Mary Robinette Kowal – I was 100% grasping at straws for this one, but The Iron Giant would have objectively been cheating (and for once, the movie is objectively better than the book in every conceivable way). To be fair, I don’t read a whole lot of historical fiction, particularly the kind that would lend itself to this kind of big band drama, but with the lighthearted, noir feel (in space!) of this book makes me convinced that this song could’ve been in playing in the background of the bar on the opulent space liner where The Spare Man is set.

“Lose” – Jay Som

In terms of Jay Som’s catalogue, it seems that this song is one teeter away from disappearing into the ether—it was part of the Polyvinyl 4-Track Singles series (which has included artists such as Kishi Bashi, The Dodos, and of Montreal over the years) back in 2017, but as of now, the official audio on YouTube has only 10 likes (including mine, teehee) and nothing comes up when you google the lyrics. Well, nothing relevant. The top result is for the lyrics of “The Bus Song” (always fantastic), but by the time you start scrolling through several other Jay Som songs that aren’t “Lose”, it turns into…Jay Z and Coldplay, for some reason? Oof. Kinda rough. And although I’m all for being a petty hater and being bitter about songs I like getting popular and/or songs I like starting to be liked by popular people, there is no need for this song to keep going under the radar. It’s too delicately wonderful for such under-appreciation, dammit!

In my mind, the ascending notes that make up “Lose” fall somewhere between Wilco and the Beatles. It’s got that meticulous, stair-step climb in both the rhythm and the main riff that could have made up the framework for something off of Star Wars or Revolver just as easily. It’s a progression that immediately crawls into your brain, and I’d be lying if I didn’t enjoy every minute that it took up the space inside of mine. Jay Som’s signature dreamy haze of grainy lo-fi makes it sound like you can hear the gentle pitter-patter of rain trickling against the windows of wherever the song was recorded—regardless of whether or not it actually was raining, the flickering warmth that permeates through all of her songs shows its face here. Somehow, it’s the perfect soundtrack for being under a blanket forth while it rains outside. You’ve got a flashlight propped up in the corner, and it makes everything look gently orange and yellow as you uncomfortably squeeze yourself against the side of the couch you propped your blankets up against. There’s a bag of snacks somewhere, and now, your pillow feels just right.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT: A City Inside – Tillie Walden – more in vibes than anything, but Walden’s art style, with its muted, flat hues and beautiful simplicity, lends itself to this drifting air of most of Jay Som’s music, even if this single didn’t have the album art that it has.

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

Sometimes, Forever – Soccer Mommy album review

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

In a continuation of my assertion that 2022 is the year that the music gods have blessed us, here’s a review of one of my most anticipated albums of the year!

I’ve been a fan of Soccer Mommy since hearing her on the radio years ago, listening to all of her albums and even seeing her live a few times (once opening for Vampire Weekend, the next time headlining—the crowd SUCKED for that one but she was great). So when I heard that she had a new album coming out this June, I was ECSTATIC. Unfortunately, the album ended up coming out on the same day that they announced that Roe v. Wade was overturned, so…yeah, that soured my mood for the whole weekend. But when I was able to get back out of the muck, I listened to this album, and it solidified itself as my favorite album of hers—each one just keeps getting better and better, and Sometimes, Forever was particularly adventurous!

(for my review of the album before last, color theory, click here!)

Enjoy this album review!

SOMETIMES, FOREVER – SOCCER MOMMY ALBUM REVIEW

TRACK 1: “Bones” – 8.5/10

You make me feel like I am whole again,

But I think your heart could use a tourniquet…

Soccer Mommy, “Bones”

Especially with the rest of the album to contextualize it, “Bones” is the perfect opening track for Sometimes, Forever. It feels just enough like classic Soccer Mommy that it feels timeless, but it’s a catchy, familiar-feeling song that eases you into the different direction that the rest of the album goes. On its own, it’s the perfect little indie-pop song: hooky, lyrically witty, and filled with bright guitars.

TRACK 2: “With U” – 9/10

This is where the album starts getting adventurous, and I’m 100% here for it! Lyrically, Allison is sharper than ever, but the addition of the more electronic instrumentals combined with her classic guitar work makes an immersive soundscape that swept me off my feet on the first listen. LOVE IT.

TRACK 3: “Unholy Affliction” – 10/10

This. THIS.

“Unholy Affliction” was the second single to be released from this album, and after “Shotgun,” this is what made me certain that I was going to love the album. My family and I agreed that it sounded like a Chelsea Wolfe song, something completely unexpected—and highly successful—for Soccer Mommy! Dark, immersive, and pulsating, “Unholy Affliction” was an instant favorite on the album, and one of her most daring songs to date.

TRACK 4: “Shotgun” – 8/10

Look at your blue eyes like the stars,

Stuck in the headlights of a car…

Soccer Mommy, “Shotgun”

This was the first single to be released for the album, and while it’s not the best on the album, like “Bones,” it’s an instantly catchy indie-pop song. In comparison to the rest of the album, it almost seems like Allison is playing it safe, but it’s also proof that even when she’s holding back, she can produce something as fun and memorable as this.

TRACK 5: “newdemo” – 7.5/10

Hear the city roar,

A creature that feeds behind closed doors…

Soccer Mommy, “newdemo”

Dizzy and strangely sweeping, “newdemo” strays into new territory like “Unholy Affliction” did. It’s clear that Soccer Mommy and company had fun messing around with different synths and distortions while producing this song; it feels like it’s actively being warped around as you listen to it, veering slightly off-key but bringing itself back together just as swiftly. Not quite as successful as some of its counterparts, but still a success in and of itself.

TRACK 6: “Darkness Forever” – 9/10

Again with the Chelsea Wolfe sounds!! “Darkness Forever” edges close to metal on several occasions, with a creeping bassline and heavy, distorted guitars. Just like “Unholy Affliction,” Soccer Mommy’s experimentations with darker sounds lead to nothing but success—definitely one of her best songs in recent years!

TRACK 7: “Don’t Ask Me” – 8.5/10

With its fast, punchy guitars and Soccer Mommy’s airy, alluring voice, “Don’t Ask Me” has an easy time of cementing itself as one of the highlights on Sometimes, Forever. While it doesn’t delve completely into darkness like “Darkness Forever” or “Unholy Affliction,” it’s unafraid to get heavier, which works completely in its favor. An instant earworm and one of my favorites off this album!

TRACK 8: “Fire In The Driveway” – 9.5/10

Saw it in your blue eyes

When you were just a small child,

Now you’re only ashes of a man…

Soccer Mommy, “Fire In The Driveway”

“Fire In The Driveway” grounds Sometimes, Forever after the fast-paced “Don’t Ask Me,” delving into the nostalgic melancholy that makes Soccer Mommy so memorable. With its instantly memorable lyrics and bright, echoing guitars, this one is an easy standout on an already fantastic album.

TRACK 9: “Following Eyes” – 7.5/10

The lyrics are as potent as the rest of the album, but there’s something about this that puts it lower on the list for me. It’s still a fantastic song, no question, but it’s almost as though it tries to mesh older Soccer Mommy with her newer, darker sound. It’s very close to making it, but there’s some tiny bit missing, something that doesn’t quite piece the whole thing together. Nonetheless, still a great song.

TRACK 10: “Feel It All The Time” – 8/10

Like “Bones” and “Shotgun,” this feels like a timeless Soccer Mommy song—if you had told me that it had been from color theory or even Clean, I would’ve believed you. Yet still, it easily finds its place on this album, deftly adding to the mix of borderline-playing it safe to exploring new territory.

TRACK 11: “Still” – 9/10

I don’t how how to feel things small,

It’s a tidal wave or nothing at all…

Soccer Mommy, “Still”

For the closing track, Soccer Mommy brings it home with a somber acoustic piece laced with ghosts of the strange synths that adorned a good portion of the album. Unlike “Following Eyes,” the blend feels natural, and Allison’s knack for bringing genuine emotion to the forefront creates a beautiful end to the album, and a beautiful song that can stand by itself.

I averaged out my ratings for this album, and it came out to about an 8.6! I’d say that’s right on the mark; with every album, Soccer Mommy gets better and better, and Sometimes, Forever is her best work yet—dark and bold, but unafraid to return to her candid, emotional roots. Love it!

Since this is an album review, consider the whole album today’s song.

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

Posted in Monthly Wrap-Ups

September 2021 Wrap-Up 🍂

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Thursday, bibliophiles!

September started out a little stressful, but now I feel like I’m in a better place than I’ve been for most of this year. I can neither confirm nor deny that this is because it’s finally fall and it’s cold enough for me to wear my favorite jackets.

Let’s begin, shall we?

GENERAL THOUGHTS:

ɦσµรε || αɳเɱε | •Anime• Amino

September has been my first full month back in school; it started out more than a little stressful, thanks to getting my college applications all sorted out, but now that I’m (somewhat) over that hump, I’m feeling a lot better. I’ve managed to keep my grades in a good place, so I’m happy about that!

I also managed to finish draft 2 of my sci-fi WIP!! I’m super proud of myself for that one–I cut down a whole lot of filler, and I feel a lot better about it as a whole. I’m going to let it sit for a few months before I go back and edit it, but I feel great about it. In the meantime, I’ve been poring through a draft I abandoned in 2019 that was…surprisingly good, given that it was written almost two and a half years ago. I’ve been outlining on and off, but I’m going to try and actually get this writing business back in motion soon.

As for the rest of the month, it’s been peaceful. We got the book club back up and running at my high school, I spent the weekend in Vail, and I went to two fantastic concerts–Spoon and St. Vincent! They were both great, but the latter will always have a special place in my heart. St. Vincent was a major hero of mine in middle school, and she’s still a hero now, and seeing her live made all my dreams come true.

And now it’s almost October! I’m so excited–Halloween season, loads of good movies coming out (The French Dispatch, Dune, etc.), fall in general…good times.

Wes Aderson's new film is very popular in Cannes, the director of "Virgo" is back - iNEWS

READING AND BLOGGING:

I read 21 books this month! More than I expected, given that I haven’t had as much time to read this month, but I did read a lot of shortish books, so…

2 – 2.75 stars:

Namesake (Fable, #2) by Adrienne Young
Namesake (Fable, #2)

3 – 3.75 stars:

Amazon.com: Our Bloody Pearl (These Treacherous Tides): 9781721833412: Bryn, D. N.: Books
Our Bloody Pearl

4 – 4.75 stars:

Amazon.com: The Mirror Season: 9781250624123: McLemore, Anna-Marie: Books
The Mirror Season

FAVORITE BOOK OF THE MONTH (NOT COUNTING RE-READS): Curses – 4.25 stars

Curses by Lish McBride

SOME POSTS I’M PROUD OF:

POSTS I ENJOYED FROM OTHER WONDERFUL PEOPLE:

SONGS/ALBUMS I’VE ENJOYED:

I just LOVE the first 8 seconds of this song (and the whole thing, for that matter) for no particular reason
ridiculously catchy
okay I really need to listen to this whole album
can confirm now that I’ve seen these guys live twice that they are SPECTACULAR in concert
SHE’S BACK
seeing her live was simply magic
note to self: listen to more Andrew Bird

DID I FOLLOW THROUGH WITH MY SEPTEMBER GOALS?

bradpittstain | Damon albarn, Blur band, Britpop
  • Read at least 20 books: 21!
  • Don’t stress too much about college stuff oof: yep! Now that I know how things work, I feel a lot better.
  • Take care of yourself: well, I listened to “Girls & Boys” on repeat on Bisexual Visibility Day, so I’ll count that as self-care.

GOALS FOR OCTOBER:

Best Coraline Cat GIFs | Gfycat
IT’S THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN
  • Read at least 20 books
  • Post more than just Goodreads Mondays/Book Review Tuesdays (schoolwork permitting, of course, schoolwork first)
  • Celebrate SPOOKY SEASON accordingly

Today’s song:

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