Tag: jubilee

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 3/30/25

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

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

This week: new music from 2025—both released this year and overheard before a Soccer Mommy show.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 3/30/25

“Triumph of a Heart” – Björk

I’ve finished the Sonic Symbolism podcast, and all it’s left me with is a rabid desire to do a deep dive of the rest of Björk’s albums. Medúlla is enticing as it’s the next one chronologically (even though I’ve given up on listening to her albums chronologically), but also because of the uniting concept behind it. Inspired by primal, prehistoric imagery of motherhood, family, and storytelling around campfires, Medúlla was constructed almost entirely from the human voice. Aside from some synths and piano, it’s almost all a-capella, but not in the way that you’d think. Each voice becomes percussion, scattered onomatopoeia, and rising tidal forces that lift something primal from your soul. And every possible voice ends up featuring on this album—Tanya Tagaq (throat singing), Rahzel, Dokaka (beatboxing), and Mike Patton (deep backing vocals that Pitchfork described as “demonic”) all feature in the varied vocal tapestry. I ended up being too busy to write about “Pleasure Is All Mine,” but that song, in its simultaneous feminist ode and playful toying with women’s capacity to be selfless, really does succeed in digging into something innate, almost instinctual within me.

In concept, “Triumph of a Heart” is almost as ridiculous as the music video. (Fun fact: Björk’s cat husband in this video spawned the “I should buy a boat” meme from way back when.) Forming the percussion of the song, alongside Dokaka’s melodic beatboxing, is what can only be described as restrained raspberry noises and sounds that are almost akin to somebody who’s only heard a cat once trying to make cat sounds. Yet it all works in such a familiar yet alien synchronicity that comes together in a way that only Björk can make it. The track is an ode to how music can make you feel and the joy of dancing, a pleasure shared since early humans were able to whack sticks together and harmonize around the fire; maybe it’s an obvious choice for this album, but using only bodily instrumentation is the perfect medium to explore the visceral nature of music and dance, the way that it sometimes vibrates your soul: “The nerves are sending shimmering signals/All through my fingers/The veins support/Blood that gushes impulsively towards/The triumph of a heart.” I always see such sentiments of people undervaluing the arts, even as they consume it by the truckload and think nothing of it; it’s not a viable, useful profession, more fodder for AI and mindless listening. It’s so easy for us to forget that art in all its forms, the same as the need for medicine and food, is innate to us, and has been since we were gathered in the shelter of the first fires.

As a bonus: here’s some behind the scenes footage of the recording of “Pleasure Is All Mine”:

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Binti – Nnedi Okorafor – this novella also falls into that merging of preserving cultures that have survived for thousands of years and alien technology, and it blends into a bizarre, delightful trilogy.

“Honey Water” – Japanese Breafkast

For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women) sadly fell under the She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She curse on this blog, which roughly translates to “I wanted to write about at least 2-3 of the singles, but they all ended up landing on weeks where I didn’t have time to write.” Shame, really, because “Orlando in Love” and “Mega Circuit” were silk-drapingly romantic and creepily artful, respectively. Now that I’ve listened to the whole album, at its best, it embodies those qualities, oscillating from semi-autobiographical, tragic stories to some of the more fictional songwriting that Michelle Zauner drew on for Jubilee. She simultaneously leans into the notion of the “sad girl” while critiquing the fact that women are so often pigeonholed into this description (see the title), embroidering her own dramatic melancholy with orchestral arrangements and references to Greek mythology. Though it wasn’t always successful and the end dragged (see: “Men in Bars,” an faux-earnest, ballad-y duet with…Jeff Bridges? Huh?), For Melancholy Brunettes was, for the most part, an artistic leap that was a good 75%-80% successful in its feats of daring. It acknowledges its place amongst the traditionally emotional role of female musicians, but also acknowledges the light that peers in through the cracks (see: “Here Is Someone”—for maximum enjoyment, transition it with “Frosti” by Björk).

“Honey Water” was one of the standout tracks. I never thought of Japanese Breakfast as someone who could necessarily conjure up eeriness. Sure, she’s written plenty about all manner of unpleasant feelings, but I’ve never gotten dread as one of the most prominently featured ones. Zauner’s signature, breathy whisper takes on the feeling of a carnivorous plant laden with dew, ready to ensnare all manner of insects. Yet she’s not the one doing the ensnaring in this song—the narrative, toeing the line between fiction and reality, as her songs often do, speaks of an unfaithful lover repeatedly leaving her for someone else: “The lure of honey water draws you from my arms so needy/You follow in colonies to sip it from the bank/In rapturous sweet temptation, you wade in past the edge and sink in/Insatiable for a nectar, drinking ’til your heart expires.” The dread that Zauner dredges up is more a kind of stagnation, the sinking feeling of seeing the inevitable unfold around you, and yet somehow feeling powerless to move—or leave. The closing refrain, as the guitars rise in a crashing, insectoid drone, echoes Slaughterhouse-Five’s famous tidbit: “So it goes/I don’t mind”; the narrator convinces herself that all of her partner’s unfaithful transgressions are a fact of life. That tired powerlessness is what makes the dread so palpable, the music swallowing her as she mutters the last repetition of her exhausted mantra.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Familiar – Leigh Bardugo – “In rapturous sweet temptation, you wade in past the edge and sink in/Insatiable for a nectar, drinking ’til your heart expires…”

“God Knows” – Tunde Adebimpe

Remember how I was halfway chiding myself for hoping that Thee Black Boltz was just going to be TV on the Radio 2: Electric Boogaloo? Now that “God Knows” is out, I think that might honestly just be what the album is like regardless of expectations. “Magnetic” introduced us to a familiar, nostalgic sound full of energy, “Drop” was the point where Adebimpe seems to diverge, and now we’ve got “God Knows,” which sounds straight off of Nine Types of Light or even Dear Science. It’s giving me some perspective on how much Adebimpe made TV on the Radio—Dave Sitek constructed the scaffolding, but Adebimpe was the heart of it all, without a doubt. Balancing sharp acoustic strumming with synths that ripple and bubble, this track adds to “Drop” in the sense that both songs feel like they’re floating. It fits with the album cover for me—as Adebimpe clings to his geode island in the middle of an undefined void, he’s buoyed through it, like an ocean, propelled by nothing but the endlessly catchy hooks he’s been producing of late. “God Knows” stands out to me as the strongest of the three offerings so far—like “Magnetic,” it’s been sharpened to its tightest point to make indie rock tracks that wouldn’t be out of place 10 or even 20 years ago. Tunde is timeless.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Full Speed to a Crash Landing – Beth Revis – “God knows you’re the worst thing I’ve ever loved/And you’re bad news/But we still got to have our fun…”

“Whole Love” – Wilco

Man, YouTube comments are so funny sometimes. I hope the Latina woman who posted “I love this white song, don’t tell my homegirls I listen to this” is doing okay and still listening to Wilco happily. Wilco really is the great unifier.

Here’s an album that I’ve probably listened to in full, but only remember about half of. The Whole Love soundtracked many a car ride to school or piano lessons and whatnot back in 2011. I even remember popping my dad’s borrowed CD into my old Hello Kitty CD player while I was playing with my Build-A-Bears in my room. That should give you a picture of the kind of hipster child I was, but I digress. The resulting tour was also the first time I saw Wilco—and my very first concert, at Red Rocks at the age of eight. So even if I haven’t mapped it out fully, The Whole Love was integral to my childhood, whether it was watching the music video for “Born Alone” on my dad’s old laptop (I distinctly remember saying that it “made my head spin”) or sitting on my dad’s shoulders on that summer night. Really, it boils down to my dad. Raising me on all that Wilco made me turn out alright, I think.

Back to “Whole Love” in particular. The song already carries a metric ton of nostalgia for me, but it never gets old with any successive playing. As far as The Whole Love goes, it feels like one of the more accessible tracks—it’s classic Wilco, but with the artsy twist that the album presents. There’s a passage in Steven Hyden’s This Isn’t Happening: Radiohead’s ‘Kid A’ and the Beginning of the 21st Century that talks about the significance of album openers setting the tone for the album as a whole. Hyden points to “Art of Almost” as an example—with all of the Thom Yorke-esque synth weirdness, it signals to the listener that this is gonna be the weird Wilco album. That experimental nature leeches into the most “accessible” sounding tracks—like this one. Even as Jeff Tweedy brings his gentle, acoustic sway into fruition, the background can only be described as fluttering—they jitter and judder like the freshly-dried wings of just-hatched butterflies, creating tiny fractals in the background. Yet even if you stripped that weirdness away, “Whole Love” would still be a classic—whether it’s craft or my nostalgia talking, there’s something so innately comforting about the layered harmonies, folded on top of one another like layers of fine fabric.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Heart of the World (The Isles of the Gods, #2) – Amie Kaufman – “And I know that I won’t be/The easiest to set free/And I know that I won’t be the last/Cold captain tied to the mast…”

“Get Away” – Yuck

This song played before Soccer Mommy came on when I saw her a few weeks back, and for a split second, I confused it for some Apples in Stereo song that I somehow hadn’t heard in my childhood. Turns out, there’s probably no Apples in Stereo song that I missed when I was a kid, hence why I didn’t recognize it. (Cut me some slack, it was loud in there…) Yuck doesn’t have the same electronically-oriented whimsy as the Apples in Stereo, but they seemed to branch off of the indie sound of the early 2010’s, with their synth-like guitars, ’90s distortion, and the nasally vocals of Daniel Blumberg. Those guitars were what made me nearly mistake them for the Apples in Stereo, but they’re clearly more students of, say, Sonic Youth or Dinosaur Jr. But they had that sun-soaked, 2010’s indie aesthetic down to a science; even without the yellow filter on their music video, “Get Away” just oozes the sensation of a dream of being on a road with no speed limits while the sun beats down through the windshield. Even as Blumberg laments that he can’t get away, wrestling with negative thoughts, the track speeds along with a carefree freedom, kicking up gravel as it forges its own path. Certainly fits right in with Soccer Mommy’s sound too—she’s got an eye for good indie, that’s for sure….

…and so does the Academy, apparently? You’re telling me that this guy just won an Oscar for his original score for The Brutalist? That’s a connection I didn’t expect to make in this post…good for you, Daniel Blumberg!

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester – Maya MacGregor – “Summer sun says get out more/I need you, I want you/But I can’t get this feeling off my mind/I want you, I need you…”

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: 7/14/24

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

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

This week: would you like a nice sci-fi in these trying times?

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 7/14/24

“Future Teenage Cave Artists” – Deerhoof

I don’t think I’d be alone in saying that we were all feeling apocalyptic in 2020. Fitting that Deerhoof would put out this album in June of that year, a concept album about teenagers making art amidst the collapse of society. Not intentional timing, I’m sure, but maybe too raw all the same. I wonder what it must have been like to listen to Future Teenage Cave Artists during lockdown, but what I can glean is from listening to Horsegirl; on their episode of What’s In My Bag? (worth watching for this and Sparks, The Feelies, and Brian Eno, among others), this was one of the albums that they picked, and drummer Gigi Reece shyly showed off that they’d stitched “Deerhoof” onto the flap of their book bag. So, besides thanking them for their excellent album, Versions of Modern Performance, thank you to Horsegirl for turning me onto this all-consuming song!

The title of Future Teenage Cave Artists reveals exactly what the concept behind the album is: during the collapse of society, cruelty and murder runs amok, but amidst all of this strife, a band of nomadic teenagers hold onto hope and make art. “Future Teenage Cave Artists” is that mission statement made manifest. The whole album was reportedly recorded entirely on laptops and phones (hence the iPhone/tardigrade hybrid on the album cover, drawn by Deerhoof’s vocalist, Satomi Matsuzaki), and I never thought such a simple act could have enhanced the song so much. The shaky, distorted quality of the recording sells the dystopian setting, like we’re not streaming music, but listening to it on some ancient, warped tape recorder leftover from the age of man. It gives it an almost uncanny quality, as though you’re holding onto the last vestiges of this music, and that the battery life on your device is going to run out at any second. It’s so urgent in its hope that I can’t help but play it over and over—amidst this societal collapse, every lyric is a declaration of defiance and purpose: “Gonna paint an animal on a cave wall/Gonna leave it there forever while empires fall.” Concept song or not, I didn’t expect this song to strike such a deeply resonant chord with me; not only does this society feel like it might collapse at any second, but even if it weren’t, we’re surrounded by people who lambast any kind of art as a career—what are you gonna do with that degree? Are you even going to make any money off of that? And in our capitalist landscape, I do have to get myself some money, but it’s separated the real purpose of art from art, the job—threading a piece of your soul out into the fabric of the world, and making art that reflects your image of the world, making contact with a well deep inside (and outside) of yourself. “Future Teenage Cave Artists” is a defiant ode to the lasting, breathless joy of making art—upfront and urgent, and running on an engine of joy. You can’t get a much better rallying cry than what Matsuzaki fills the jerky outro with: “try my sci-fi!”

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

This Is How You Lose the Time War – Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone – two lovers bent on making a mark in a world where individuality is all but gone.


“Sit” – Japanese Breakfast

Having the pretentious music taste that I do, I remember when Jubilee was everywhere in the summer of 2021. Persimmons, Jeff Tweedy covers, and rave reviews as far as the eye could see. Back then, I had a faint memory of hearing in interview with her on NPR sometime in middle school, but it was ultimately the combination of Jeff Tweedy’s cover of “Kokomo, IN,” my mom’s deep-dive into Michelle Zauner after reading Crying in H-Mart, and a friend’s video of Zauner playing “Paprika” with a massive gong on stage to finally give this storied album a try.

“Paprika” remains my favorite, but “Sit” came out of left field; in all of the shining praises of Jubilee, I never heard anybody talking about it. With its almost shoegazy distortion, humming and throbbing like a swarm of restless cicadas, Zauner’s voice pierces the haze like a lighthouse though the fog. Every lyric is spoken like a final message communicated from an ethereal barrier between dreams, the last words of a stranger your brain fabricated while you were sleeping that will haunt you for weeks afterwards. And like a haunting dream, Zauner sings of the memory of somebody that has clung to her with the strength of burrs, no matter how hard she tries to shake them away: “It’s your name in my mouth I’m repeating/It’s the taste of your tongue I can’t spit out.” They walk through her life with all of the transience of a hologram, a trick of the light that appears in every corner, in unexpected places with unexpected people. And what perfect instrumentals to meld with this; any sense of clarity only comes when Zauner is faced with the reality that she’s “caught up in the idea of you,” but as soon as it dips back into painful reminiscence, she’s consumed by the buzzing distortion, closing her eyes as she’s pulled back into the undertow of memory and fantasy. It’s a track with more weight behind it than most people seem to give it credit for. You can’t lift its impenetrable, stinging fog—the fog is the point.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Unbroken (Magic of the Lost, #1) – C.L. Clark – “Caught up in the idea of someone/Caught up in the idea of you/That’s done too soon…”

“Sometimes” – Erasure

I’d posit that there’s almost no queer experience that is entirely universal, as the queer community is as multifarious as the identities that it encompasses. But one thing that I think most queer people can relate to is looking back on their life before coming out and thinking how did everybody not know I was gay? How did I not know I was gay? There’s an embarrassing amount for me, including but not limited to lesbian Barbie weddings and a pair of blindingly rainbow running shoes I wore almost daily in 6th grade. But the fact that I had such an extended Erasure phase when I was about 8 or 9…yeah, there’s no heterosexual explanation for that. That CD of Union Street that I briefly kept in my room and played on my Hello Kitty CD player was probably the first to catch on. The gays yearn for the synths.

I have nothing but admiration for Erasure, not just as queer icons, but for being so consistent in their musical exploration. Well…exploration probably isn’t the right word, since they’ve been making variations on the same sound since 1986. But never once has it seemed like they’re doing it out of trying to feel young or reliving fantasies of when they were at the height of their popularity. Andy Bell and Vince Clarke are just artists that were built for the late ’80s—nowhere else could they have flourished so vibrantly. The drama. The synths. The yearning, my god. They’re not just from the ’80s—they are the ’80s. They’ve been acting like it’s the ’80s for every single decade since, never once hopping on trends or changing their sound because they know exactly what they excel at. Listen to any song they’ve put out in the past 10 years, and it’s clear that they’ve still got it. But the cosmic alignment that placed Bell and Clarke in the late ’80s was beyond fate—nowhere else could you have “Sometimes”, with its lovelorn pining…and Andy Bell dancing in the pouring rain with a soaked white t-shirt. Does it get any better than that?

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Lost Girls – Sonia Hartl – angst, queerness, romance, and ’80s holdovers. (And vampires.)

“Annihilation” – Wilco

HOT WILCO SUMMER IS HERE!!! Well, it’s been here for about two weeks, but I’m stubbornly committed to these color schemes. But the weather right now is more akin to the Hot Sun, Cool Shroud we’re talking about, so there’s no time like the present. Urgh. I’m not sure much more of this 90 degree heat I can take…

Hot Sun, Cool Shroud – EP proves just how wildly versatile Wilco are. I can’t think of a single band active today that are not only as prolific as they are, but as consistent in quality—and creativity. The prickling apprehension and Nels Cline’s pipe burst of a guitar solo on “Hot Sun” feed straight into “Livid,” a chase sequence-ready metal instrumental that rockets through the air, ricocheting off the walls like a deflating balloon set loose, complete with a barrage of Galaga-like flourishes. “Inside the Bell Bones” has the quiet, uncertain clatter of frigid water dripping from a cave ceiling, and “Ice Cream” and “Say You Love Me” ground the EP to a more emotional conclusion.

But I keep coming back to the chainlink that ties all of these vastly different songs together—”Annihilation.” Next door to “Ice Cream,” it kicks off the second half of Hot Sun, Cool Shroud, returning to a classic kind of Wilco that tugs a particularly tender heartstring. Even if it doesn’t have the sheer gut-punch of “Say You Love Me,” it reminds me of the more grounded moments of The Whole Love. Unlike “Livid”‘s riotous tailspin, this track spirals through the clouds, kept afloat by the wings of love: “A kiss like this/Is endless tonight/This kind of annihilation/Is alright.” Jeff Tweedy’s vocals bring another lyric of his to mind, from 2019’s “Hold Me Anyway”: “light is all I am.” There’s not an oomph behind it, like his voice often has, but this song is so airy and urgent that it can’t be sung any other way. Tweedy described the soundscape of Hot Sun, Cool Shroud as “a summertime-after-dark feeling…All the pieces of summer, including the broody cicadas,” and that makes the lovestruck urgency of “Annihilation” make perfect sense: it’s a secret kiss under the boardwalk as the sun goes down, the lights of the carnival slowly dying as the setting sun sets the sky alight. In that moment, there is nothing but the moment, in all of its humid, breezy warmth.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Kindred – Alechia Dow – “We’re boiling angels/Let’s kiss for hours/Equal power/Let’s make it art/This kiss is ours…”

“Old Lady City” – Shakey Graves

I’d all but forgotten about “Old Lady City” since I first listened to Deadstock: A Shakey Graves Day Anthology, and it seems that…judging from the lack of lyrics anywhere (which on the internet, the manifestation of too many people with too much time on their hands, is a rarity), so did everyone else. Tough crowd. But it’s so unlike any other Shakey Graves that I’ve heard, not even on Movie of the Week. Shakey Graves has never been afraid of being spooky, but this is a kind of off-kilter eery that he didn’t stray towards until now, or however long ago this was originally recorded. Maybe it was too risky to put it on an album for this reason, but this grittier, spookier side is one that I thoroughly enjoy. With vocals by Buffalo Hunt (Alejandro Rose-Garcia’s wife), “Old Lady City” is a scorched, rickety ball of spikes, no edges sanded down. In between twisted strains of nursery rhymes, purposeful breathing, and Buffalo Hunt’s cartoon witch-like cackle, the lo-fi recording makes for a crunching, off-kilter interlude. Rose-Garcia’s vocals are almost nowhere to be seen, but they float in ghostly tendrils in between the splinters, burnt paper, and charcoal of this B-Side.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Library at Mount Char – Scott Hawkins – a raw and rickety story that’s more than its appearances let on, just like its protagonist. (Doesn’t hurt that the book cover matches the feel of the song too.)

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

June 2024 Wrap-Up 🐻

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

Halfway through 2024…no! No we aren’t 😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀

Let’s begin, shall we?

GENERAL THOUGHTS:

After how busy and hectic my sophomore year of college was, June has been a time to recharge in more ways than one. I went on a quiet vacation at the beginning of the month (Ouray and Black Canyon of the Gunnison—the latter is a very underrated national park, I highly recommend it!), and I’ve taken the rest of the month to…well, rest. I’ve tried to be on social media less and focus on art, writing, and generally nourishing my creativity. In preparation for Camp NaNoWriMo (I only ever do the July camp these days because November and April are both abysmally busy times for me now that I’m in college), I’ve decided to round out my sci-fi trilogy and write the first draft of book three; at this point, I’ve beefed up the outline like a grizzly bear before hibernation, so at least I’ll have some sense of direction…wish me luck!

My reading month started out slower, and it’s had some dips, as always, but I ended up reading loads of fantastic queer books for pride month! Predictably, one of my vacation souvenirs wasn’t something related to where we went…no, I bought a copy of The Familiar at a local bookstore (support ’em!) knowing that it would take eons for my hold to arrive at the library. Worth it. I also figured it was as good a time as any to re-read my favorite series from when I was a kid—the WondLa trilogy. My verdict? It healed my soul and reinvigorated my creativity. Some kid’s books don’t age well, but WondLa never gets old.

Other than that, I’ve just been making art, playing guitar, going to pride (so much fun!), watching Hacks, Succession (nearly finished with season 1, and all it’s done is made me fear business majors even more than I already do), and…morbidly, Apple TV+’s new show that they decided to call WondLa. I’m three episodes in, and it’s like watching a train wreck. Expect a retrospective on the WondLa trilogy and possibly a review of…whatever that show is that definitely isn’t WondLa.

On a lighter note, photos from my vacation and pride:

Ouray
Black Canyon of the Gunnison
50th anniversary of Denver Pride!

(The bear on the title of the post is in honor of a bear we saw crossing the road in Black Canyon. Could also represent bears in general? Happy pride.)

READING AND BLOGGING:

I read 18 books this month! It’s been another relaxed reading month, and although I had a slump towards the end of the month, I read several incredible books for pride month!

1 – 1.75 stars:

Wild Massive

2 – 2.75 stars:

The Buried and the Bound

3 – 3.75 stars:

The Feeling of Falling in Love

4 – 4.75 stars:

The Spirit Bares Its Teeth

5 stars:

The Battle for WondLa

FAVORITE BOOK OF THE MONTH (NOT COUNTING RE-READS) – Freshwater – 4.5 stars

Freshwater

POSTS I’M PROUD OF:

POSTS FROM OTHER WONDERFUL PEOPLE THAT I ENJOYED:

SONGS/ALBUMS I’VE BEEN ENJOYING:

ADORE THIS ALBUM.
this song cracks me up…happy pride
forgot about this song for ages…thank you to my dad for resurrecting this one for me!
on a cocteau twins kick again…
LIVE LAUGH LISA GERMANO
great album!! with all the buzz it got when it came out, I’m surprised that I never heard anything about this one…
HOT WILCO SUMMER!!

Today’s song:

living for the Galaga noises at 0:26

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: 5/19/24

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

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

This week: in addition to my blue and black/white/gray periods, it’s become increasingly obvious that I also have a green period. On another note, food processors are great!

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 5/19/24

“Advert” – Blur

The restraint I displayed by not blowing through Blur’s entire discography back in the last half of 2021 is restraint that I have yet to parallel, so it’s only now, almost three years after the initial Blur Breakdown, that I’ve gotten around to Modern Life is Rubbish (if there was ever a more British title). I did sort of sully it with the experience of listening to it while crawling under my bed while trying to exorcise the last of the dust bunnies from my dorm (and getting caught on the rain), but that’s all me—this is the first Blur album where they started to feel like themselves.

I’d never thought of Modern Life is Rubbish, Parklife, and The Great Escape (the final Blur album to surmount) as a trilogy until Trash Theory described it as such—from my understanding, this is what cemented their reputation as the foremost clever spectators of British life in the ’90s, peering out of every windowsill with a snappy remark about the passersby. Modern Life feels like Parklife just before it morphed into the masterpiece it would later be—all of the pieces were there, and all that was needed was to make it larger than life. The melted shoegaze of Leisure was hanging on by a thread (it’s much more evident in the special edition—see: “Peach”), and they’d shifted from staring off into the distance, bleary-eyed and exhausted, into taking out that exhaustion on whatever they saw fit. Straight off of the heels of the triumphant “For Tomorrow,” “Advert” opens with a soundbite from the commercial you’ve just heard (“Food processors are great!”) before launching into what feels like the genesis of Graham Coxon’s signature assault of pounding guitars that practically demand every crowd to jump up and down. This relentless guitar work feels like witnessing the larval stage of “Jubilee,” crashing and bouncing with unending abandon. And this kind of guitar that threatens to consume the track is perfect for the endless consumerism that “Advert” comments on—commercials everywhere, a flood of inescapable offers leeching off of the dissatisfaction of the ordinary man: “You need a holiday somewhere in the sun/With all the people who are waiting/There never seems to be one.” This consumerism leads to even more dissatisfaction, which leads to more consumerism to quell said dissatisfaction, which leads to…ah, capitalism. What could possibly go wrong?

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Early Riser – Jasper Fforde – consumerism: the perfect diversion from an oppressive, unlivable winter!

“Abbey” – Mitski

LUSH, Mitski’s first album, was made for an end-of-year project when she was a junior in college; there’s an unverifiable TikTok rumor going around that she got a C on it, which, given the traction of the Mitski fandom, is just going to become an urban legend at this point. So it goes.

Either way, it’s both remarkable and understandable that she wrote all of these songs and had them produced while she was still in college. Remarkable, because just from “Abbey,” she clearly had the nascent talent for wringing emotion out like ice-cold water from a towel from a young age, and understandable, because sometimes being alone and sleepless in your dorm on the very first night of college brings out that flood of inner darkness. Leave it to TikTok to leave out the best part of the song for whatever trend it latched itself to; the slow, chanting a cappella that gained traction feels like a prayer to a void growing within your chest, a litany of acknowledgment to that which you want to reach, but cannot touch. As an instrument, Mitski’s voice, unaccompanied until halfway through the song, is a haunting, flitting machine, the slow peak and valley of a heart monitor. But once the digitized drums sweep through, it feels as though the sky has opened up. This prayer has transformed from a whisper into the confession box into a plea bellowed to the heavens. “Abbey” chronicles a search for the soul, a ravenous hunger that cannot be sated that lies just out of reach: “There is a light, I feel it in me/But only, it seems, when the dark surrounds me/There is a dream and it sleeps in me/To awake in the night, crying, ‘Set me free’/And I awake every night, crying, ‘Set me free.'” Hoowheee. God. Makes me want to travel back in time just to give her a hug, but it seems like she’s now far removed from that time in her life, emotionally: she described the version of herself that wrote the album as being “long gone,” so I can only hope that she’s been able to fill her heart, as much as the music industry has kept her from doing so.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Hell Followed With Us – Andrew Joseph White – a void within that only becomes hungrier the more it grows.

“Side By Side” – Crumb

AMAMA, which came out on the 17th, wasn’t at the top of my most anticipated albums of the year, but after only one listen, it’s cemented itself as one of the most exciting ones so far. It’s a side of Crumb that hasn’t been let loose until now, one that, instead of gently dribbling like age-old water from the precipice of a glacier, skitters around on the smallest legs, darting this way and that like a frightened millipede. The whole album feels like watching a bunch of beetles hopped up on sugar water run a race: their iridescent shells catch the light as they crawl about, scaling walls instead of the tiny racetrack and occasionally clambering over each other to get ahead. No wonder they named a whole song “The Bug”—I need the instrumentals of AMAMA just so that somebody can use them for a documentary about insects.

AMAMA‘s three openers—“From Outside A Window Sill,” this song, and “The Bug”—are its strongest links, and although the album never falters, these three shine the brightest. “Side By Side” ricochets with an energy that I never would have expected from the likes of Crumb; both the drum machine and the actual drummer are working overtime to create a scampering beat that frantically bounces like a honeybee trapped under a plastic cup. It’s a song that yearns to go, go, go, and go it does—the swirl of rapid-fire synth beats are unpredictable in their flight path, so much so that I feel a jittery, sugary rush just listening to it. For me, the most fascinating part of this change in speed for Crumb is how easily Lila Ramani’s voice adapts to the change; it’s not like I thought she couldn’t sing more quickly, but her voice only slightly seemed to change speed along with the music. Her voice is permanently trapped in a slurry of amber, unaffected by time or space—I feel like her vocals, no matter the speed, would mesh with any tempo. It retains that syrupy calm that made the rest of Crumb’s catalogue so soothing and laid-back—a quality that feels suspended in a space beyond time.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

A Half-Built Garden – Ruthanna Emrys – skittering with life and energy (and some insectoid and arachnid aliens).

“Lusitania” (feat. St. Vincent) – Andrew Bird

It took me how long to find out that Andrew Bird had recorded a song with St. Vincent? I’m surprised that 12-year-old me didn’t find this drifting around somewhere, but to be fair, St. Vincent’s name isn’t listed on the official track.

In 2024, Andrew Bird and St. Vincent do seem like an odd couple; since 2012, Clark’s style has morphed so many times that it’s difficult to imagine her stylistically even going near Bird’s songbird-whistling, violin-dominated alternative folk. It makes sense that this was probably recorded sometime in 2011—post-Strange Mercy, but before the last dregs of Actor and Marry Me were out of her system. She’s still never been fully folk, but the intersection of the Venn diagram of her early style and Bird’s is wider than I thought it would be. With her guitar playing mostly absent, what shines in “Lusitania” is her voice; you can tell in the first half that she’s been quieted in post-production or that she’s holding back on completely dominating the track. “Lusitania” makes me miss those artsier sensibilities of 2008-2010 St. Vincent, the delicate turns of phrase and the more feathery clarion calls her voice twisted into. Just like that, I’ve got another song in my hypothetical playlist of songs where artists sing certain phrases in a way that scratches all the itches in my brain: in this case, her singing of “there’s no shame” at 2:44. Her warble seems to chain-link with Bird’s in a way that produces its own chord, something more than a harmony that feels like a tuning fork struck at my heart.

But why don’t I talk about Andrew Bird, though, since…y’know, he’s the one who made the bulk of this song, anyway? Totally unlike me to go on about St. Vincent…completely uncharacteristic. (I have not changed a bit since middle school.) The instrumentation doesn’t stand out to me on this one as much, save for the rising cymbals that nearly swallow both Bird and Clark’s voices. But it’s clearly to make way for the lyrics—a clever string of World War I metaphors, presumably about a relationship where one party suffers volley after volley of abuse, while the other doesn’t even think to recognize that their behavior is harmful: “If your loose and libel lips/Keep sinking all my ships/Then you’re the one who sank my Lusitania/But somehow it don’t register as pain at all.” As far as ship metaphors go, the Titanic has likely been used one too many times, but the Lusitania feels especially potent on several fronts. The use of such a large passenger ship (and its sinking) drives home the metaphor of weathering emotional abuse until it drowns you. What’s more effective still about the Lusitania was its eventual role in the First World War; since a significant number of its passengers were Americans, the sinking of the Lusitania by a German U-Boat was part of what pushed public opinion towards entering the war on the side of the British in 1917. Just like the boiling public outrage of the American public, the Lusitania was the straw that broke the camel’s back, an event so explosive that there could be no other option than to break away, no matter how many casualties it cost. “You laid mines along the shore” feels like the last gasp of this deeply harmful relationship, the claws that scored scars down the narrators back as they squirmed free of their bloodied grasp.

I really should have seen this collaboration coming, not because of my middle school obsession, but also because it slipped my mind that it wasn’t the first time. Here they are in 2009 performing “What Me Worry?” (15:51) and “Black Rainbow” (21:09).

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Fireheart Tiger – Aliette De Bodard – “If your loose and libel lips/Keep sinking all my ships/Then you’re the one who sank my Lusitania/But somehow it don’t register as pain at all…”

“The Mainline Song” – Spiritualized

How I’ve never covered Spiritualized on Sunday Songs is genuinely beyond me. I did sort of discuss them when I talked about “Monster Love” last June, but that was more of a remix than anything. They’ve been in my top 5 artists of all time for at least 4 years now, but I suppose I blew through most of their catalogue before I started writing these posts. Mark my words, “Ladies And Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space” is always on in the background of everything else I’m listening to.

Everything Was Beautiful, which came out around two years ago, was some of J. Spaceman’s best work to date; at the time it came out, I remember describing it as Ladies And Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space but happy. Insane concept, I know…when was the last time you saw J. Spaceman and happiness in the same room together? Hardly ever, up until maybe 2017, right? Jesus. This poor man has to be the dictionary definition of “going through it.” Which is why the “happy Ladies And Gentlemen” hit me so deeply—all of the heroin, heartbreak, and near-death experiences have begun to fade away from his newer music, but the explosive, immersive creativity remains the same—you can really tell that these positive changes in his life have really begun to take root. And I am so glad. This man has been on the brink of death not once but twice. He doesn’t just deserve it: he needs it.

Like Ladies And Gentlemen, Everything Was Beautiful is always at the back of my mind, usually in the form of the uproariously celebratory “Always Together With You” and the nearly 10-minute long, haunting and cinematic closer “I’m Coming Home Again.” “The Mainline Song” lands on the side of euphoria, and thank god that it’s not heroin-induced this time (as much as “She Kissed Me (It Felt Like a Hit)” slaps). J. Spaceman’s immeasurable talent lies in how quickly he can not just create an atmosphere, but how he can create one that consumes so instantly. It’s not a building wave that darkens you with shadows before swallowing you whole: a more apt comparison would be falling into the core of a star, instant immersion with stardust sounds and white-hot flares roaring all around you. Every song is a universe contained in a spare amount of minutes. However, even if I did cast aside the part about there not being a build before the immersion, the buildup to “The Mainline Song” may just be its main draw. The build itself is part of the universe; J. Spaceman doesn’t even start singing until the halfway point, letting the song construct itself from fragments of stardust and train tracks as it swirls into being. It’s a song patched from the breeze of night, the kind you only find when sticking your head out of a car window, breathless and ecstatic. It’s a sprint through the streets as city lights blink like so many stars. It’s the wind parting your hair as you run to catch the bus, panting as you stumble inside with a fit of laughter. As many songs as there are about this kind of adventuring, none of them quite capture the hopeful feeling of “The Mainline Song.” No feeling necessitates J. Spaceman’s magical universe creation more—the swirl of horns, choir, and machinery bottle the feeling in all of its rapid euphoria, as blurry as the world passing by from the window of a train. Like nothing else, “The Mainline Song” captures the look you share with your friend as you reach a silent agreement to leave everything else and run. The destination isn’t what matters: it’s the breathless thrill of love.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

A Scatter of Light – Malinda Lo – warmth, adventures in the city, and an unforgettable summer.

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 Uncategorized

Sunday Songs: 4/9/23

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles, and happy Easter for those celebrating! 🐣

I’m still riding the boygenius high, and I will most certainly be riding it for much longer (that is a threat), but I promise I’m listening to a few more songs…maybe…

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 4/9/23

“Cool About It” – boygenius

Never in a million years would I have predicted having a song with banjo in it constantly on repeat, but life is full of surprises. All the better if said songs are delivered by the likes of boygenius.

I’ll surely be raving about boygenius’ recently released full-length debut the record for the next month, but this song, after their first four singles, is taking center stage in my head constantly. With a melody inspired by Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Boxer” and sparse, gentle instrumentation that lets each member of the supergroup bathe in the spotlight, it’s a quiet, introspective highlight. Julien Baker, Lucy Dacus, and Phoebe Bridgers take turns reflecting on the mixed emotions of painful, strained reunions with exes and old friends, hidden lyrics shine through in not-so-hidden lyricism—”I can walk you home and practice method acting/I’ll pretend that being with you doesn’t feel like drowning,” in Bridger’s final words. boygenius have let their joint talents meld together in a handful of different structures, but somehow, this neat, boxed-in sections where one singer takes the lead per verse make for a song that truly feels like all of them. And as gently as bubbling water in a creek, their harmonies rise as one for each chorus—my heart can’t help but leap a little when each of them harmonize to the final line of each verse: “even though we know it isn’t true…”

[fanning face] The power they have, I swear…

“You & I” – Graham Coxon

I’ve been meaning to get more into Graham Coxon’s solo work ever since my 2021 Blur frenzy, and through the nuggets of song titles that I seem to remember completely at random, I’m getting more and more excited about it. The only song of his that I know that isn’t a cover or from the soundtrack of The End of the F***ing World (which I still need to watch…), it’s an unadulterated dose of tight, anxious Britpop straight to the veins; even without Blur and all of the detriments that came with its fame, it’s clear that this is the kind of music that Coxon was meant to play. And he plays it well. Each punchy chord feels laid out on a precise grid, and from what I can gather about him, it seems like something he would do. “You & I” is a distinctly polished song—not in the way that an over-produced, Top 40 hit is, but polished in the way that every edge has been meticulously sanded down to perfection, not a note out of line. These nervous, uptight white guys know their stuff sometimes…

“Everybody Wants To Love You” – Japanese Breakfast

I’ve gotten bits and pieces of Japanese Breakfast over the years—I remember being in the car all the way back in middle school and hearing a piece of NPR about her debut album, Psychopomp, and being interested, but I don’t think I ever got around to listening to it then. With all the buzz around Jubilee and her acclaimed novel Crying in H-Mart, I figured I might get around to giving Michelle Zauner and company a listen. Like “You & I,” I remembered the title of this song at random, and I’m so glad I did!

“Everybody Wants To Love You” feels like the 2010’s, indie rock answer to a poppy love song of the 50’s or the 60’s. Everything about it feels cheery—the bright, practically glittering guitar tones, the sharp pep of Zauner’s voice, and the starry synths that seem to leave sparkling trails over every second of the song. Add a wonderfully catchy guitar riff and package it into the pop-standard 2 and a half minutes, and you’ve got something that feels like it could come out of any era. Well…maybe not any era—some of those lyrics definitely would not have flown in the mainstream before the 60’s, but that’s not the point. It’s just 2 and a half minutes of joy, purely and simply.

“A Quiet Life” – Teho Teardo & Blixa Bargeld

Over break, I went through the first season of Netflix’s Dark with my family, and ever since, I’ve ripped a solid half of the songs from that show and slapped them haphazardly into my music taste. Seems like that’s largely the case for a lot of the commenters on this video too (all of the Dark references have passed the vibe check with absolutely flying colors), and, among other things, Dark reminds me how good it feels to be so invested in every part of a show—not just the story itself, but every little detail that goes into it. Like the music.

I won’t go into how perfectly this song melds with the overall themes and the last episode of season 1 of Dark for fear of spoiling something so wonderfully intricate, but it’s chilling on its own as well. Blixa Bargeld boasts such a rich voice—it reminds me a lot of Jarvis Cocker, with that same rasp at the edges of the resonance you can feel in your chest. Just like Dark’s absolutely disturbing score, Bargeld’s vocals seem to buzz in moments, turning from something human into the hum of putting your ear next to a beehive. There’s a deeply poetic feel to everything in this song’s atmosphere, with the orchestral composition forming in the background and the gloom that seems to settle over every note like fog. It creeps along like frost, painted in the same grays as the album cover. What I’m trying to say here is this: whoever was in charge of the music direction for Dark—I SALUTE YOU. BLESS YOU.

“Demi Moore” – Phoebe Bridgers

Phoebe Bridgers is a distinctly 2020 artist in my musical canon. I first listened to Stranger in the Alps in the early months, before everything went…y’know, and Punisher came out that summer. But unlike Punisher, an album that’s a no-skip for me to this day, some of the songs on Stranger in the Alps didn’t do it for me on the first few listens. It’s understandable—Stranger was her debut, and with Punisher, she had more time to hone her craft and sound. But I’ve recently come back to some of those songs that I didn’t warm up to the first time; some of them still don’t impress me, but “Demi Moore,” along with the harrowing “Killer,” took a while to grow on me.

With a title borne from a misheard lyric (“I don’t wanna be stoned anymore” became “stone Demi Moore,” this song, like many of her others, lingers in the hazy, middle-of-the night lairs of vulnerability. Especially on Stranger, the instrumentals often take a backseat to Bridgers’ singing, letting the emotional side speak for itself amidst quiet synths that flicker like satellites in the night sky. Phoebe Bridgers’ voice floats along like misty fog over a creek, all at once thin and full of emotion.

And again—normally I can’t stand banjos, but these somehow work because of how…quiet they are? Sorry for the banjo slander here, but…I can’t help it, I’m sorry. I was forced to learn in 7th grade for school, but I didn’t enjoy much of it, save for trying to pluck out a rendition of “It’s A Wonderful Life” from memory. I’ll begrudgingly admit that it did help me get a bit of head start on playing guitar, but I still have a vendetta with the instrument. I digress.

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 Tags

2021 Book Tag

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Wednesday, bibliophiles! Finally back here! Today’s my first day of winter break, and I’m SO relieved. I got through finals with straight A’s (first time!!), so I’m proud of myself! Exhausted, though. But now I have a few weeks of rest.

Anyway, here’s a book tag for you! It’s an original tag by Phoenix @ Books With Wings. I loved doing her 2020 Book Tag, so I though I’d participate in this year’s tag since this year was…trash.

RULES:

  • Link back to the original creator, Phoenix @Books With Wings
  • Thank the person who tagged you
  • Answer all the questions
  • Tag at least 3 people
  • While the events covered in this tag are mainly centered around the going-ons in the U.S.A., if you live in another country feel free to add another question or two to this tag that you think goes with an important event that happened elsewhere!
  • PLEASE NOTE: While this tag discusses events that happened in 2021, it does not at all need to be completed in 2021. This is NOT a time-restricted tag and you may do it whenever you want. (you also do not need to talk about books that you read in 2021! It can be books you read whenever!)
  • Some of these questions are rather vague; these are totally up for interpretation!

Let’s begin, shall we?

2021 BOOK TAG

  1. A sequel that didn’t live up to expectations
A Gathering of Shadows: A Novel (Shades of Magic, 2): Victoria Schwab: 9780765376473: Amazon.com: Books

A Gathering of Shadows was still entertaining for me, but not nearly as good as books 1 or 3. Lila gets on my nerves.

2. A book where everything immediately went badly

Amazon.com: Ace of Spades: 9781250800817: Àbíké-Íyímídé, Faridah: Books

Ace of Spades comes right out of the gate with everything immediately starting to crumble around Chiamaka and Devon. I went on an unexpected mystery/thriller kick this month (the results of which were hit-or-miss), but this one was a standout—so cleverly written and consistently suspenseful!

3. A book where things seemed to change for the better

Amazon.com: The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea eBook : Tokuda-Hall, Maggie: Kindle Store

Most of The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea was rough for everyone involved, but Evelyn and Flora got their happy ending eventually, and I thought it was beautiful. I know I’ve blabbed a lot about this one, but it’s such a lush and tender story!

4. A book where some kind of science/sci fi plays a major role

Amazon.com: The Darkness Outside Us eBook : Schrefer, Eliot: Kindle Store

[scours my sci-fi shelf on Goodreads for a sci-fi book that I haven’t already talked about endlessly]

The Darkness Outside Us is such an intricate masterpiece of a book—sure, you’ve got the setup for a typical space mystery with a little romance sprinkled in, but it becomes such a resonant song for cherishing every moment of life and love.

5. A book where the characters get a reprieve

Tea And 'A Psalm for the Wild-Built' On The Moon - Book and Film Globe

I struggled to find a book that would fit this prompt, but I’d say that both Sibling Dex and Mosscap get a reprieve of sorts in A Psalm for the Wild-Built. A walk in the woods musing about the unknown facets of life tends to do that for a person. (Or a robot.)

6. A book about sports/centered around competition

Amazon.com: Crownchasers (Crownchasers, 1): 9780062845160: Coffindaffer, Rebecca: Books

Crownchasers certainly has a lot of high-stakes competition—with deadly consequences. I really need to pick up book 2, I’m excited to see what happens next!

7. A book with a terrifying plot twist

I'm Thinking of Ending Things: A Novel (Packing may vary ): Reid, Iain: 9781982155841: Amazon.com: Books

Honestly? I could’ve put Ace of Spades OR The Darkness Outside Us here too…

Even though I’d already seen the movie adaptation of I’m Thinking of Ending Things (shhh I didn’t know it was a book back then), the twist at the end still hit me like a freight train. Such a masterful, genre-bending, categorization-defying book!

8. A book with awesome behind-the-scenes characters (eg side characters) (THANK YOU ESSENTIAL WORKERS)

Amazon.com: The Outside eBook : Hoffmann, Ada: Kindle Store

There were so many background characters in The Outside that I found myself wanting to know more about, especially all the different angels and aliens! I hope we see more of them in book 2.

9. A book where there were HUGE consequences to an event/decision/etc.

Aurora's End eBook by Amie Kaufman - 9781524720902 | Rakuten Kobo United States

Chekhov’s gun? Nope, this was straight-up Chekhov’s war cannon. (Chekhov’s Weapon, if you will…yeah, I’m the only one laughing at that one)

Everything building up to Aurora’s End had unimaginable consequences. It all amounted to the last 100 pages of the book, which were unbelievably stressful, but built to such a beautiful and fitting ending for Squad 312. I love this series with my whole heart.

I TAG:

Today’s song:

I know you’re probably all tired of the Blurposting BUT I finally listened to all of Parklife last night!! Such a fun album

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

Posted in Books, Movies

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (Movie review)

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Hey, everyone, and happy Labor Day!

 

Let me just start off by saying that I didn’t have the highest expectations for this movie. I read all three of the books in Jenny Han’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before series earlier this year (not review, but well loved by yours truly), and I didn’t want the movie to drastically change from the book, as all too many YA adaptations have in recent years. (Looking at you, Love, Simon…fantastic book, but way too much changed between the book and the movie…😬) The trailer really didn’t do anything to ease my suspicions.

Then it came out a few weeks ago, and it seemed to be getting some positive reviews. About two weeks after its initial release, my mom and I decided to watch it on Netflix. And I’m happy to say that the movie adaptation of To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before exceeded my expectations!

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For the most part, I felt like they did a great job of staying true to the book. No unexplained characters that didn’t exist in the books, hardly any deviation from the plot, all the good things. They nailed all of the characters. No kidding. Nailed them.

 

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Let’s start off with Lara Jean. Her portrayal was spot-on, down to the little details. Not to mention, I loved all of those perfect lil outfits she put together. Absolutely adorable. A+, Netflix. Thank you.

Also, kind of unrelated but kind of not, throughout the movie, I had this feeling at the back of my head that I recognized her from somewhere else.  It wasn’t until the end of the movie that I realized…

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…JUBILEE!

She was so adorable! I wish we’d gotten more of her and all of her wonderful, neon 80’s-ness. Maybe we’ll see more of her in Dark Phoenix. Or maybe not. But I kinda want to see more of her. I mean, the only time we got to see her powers was in the deleted mall scene (which, by the way, is totally worth it to watch).

 

Now, back on topic.

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They TOTALLY NAILED Kitty. I mean, they captured all of her hysterical sass and charm. Oh, my goodness. I missed lil Kitty.

Overall, I liked Margot, though I felt like she was slightly more of a jerk than she was in the books. Also, I imaged her with a bob and straight-ish bangs. Kind of like a younger version of Jenny Han’s original author photo, come to think of it. Weird, I know, but that’s just my brain. Don’t judge me.

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I felt that Josh and Peter were also pretty spot-on, mostly how I imagined them in the books. Peter had always gotten on my nerves in the books (Really, Lara Jean? You chose him? Out of everyone? God…), and he got on my nerves in the movie, so…I guess that was a good sign? Kinda? 🤷‍♀️

Also, this might have just been me, but…did Peter and Josh look eerily alike? For the first twenty minutes, I had a bit of trouble distinguishing between the two of them…

 

Aaaaanyway, they pretty much nailed most everything. My only major problem was the ending.

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I…just don’t remember if it even happened in the book. And even if it was, it felt really forced. Like, no, this is not Lara Jean and Peter. This is over-the-top, corny, Hollywood chick-flick material. No. Stop. Just act normally. Please. Oog.

 

But as I said, overall, a great movie. I was happy to see that they’d done just enough justice to the original series, and it was an all-around, cute and feel-good movie. Perfect for Saturday afternoons and whatnot.

 

I hope you’ve had a good long weekend, and enjoy the rest of your day! I’ve got the first BRT of September 2018 coming up tomorrow, and I’ve got a couple more posts planned out for the near future. So stay tuned, everyone!