Laurel Hell – The Bookish Mutant

Sunday Songs: 10/1/23

Posted on October 1, 2023 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

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

OCTOBER! Crunchy leaves and warm coffee and leather jackets and Halloween. That’s the most wonderful time of the year, if you ask me. And for the occasion, I’ve got a fall-colored graphic, complete with some sparing mentions of autumn and Lisa Germano.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 10/1/23

“The Deal” – Mitski

I went into The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We with my expectations low—as much as I like Mitski, I was prepared for another Laurel Hell that I didn’t necessarily regret listening to, but only came away liking about half of the songs. But I’ve seen consensus among diehard Mitski fans and people like myself, who know a handful of Mitski but nothing expansive—we’re all starting to agree that this album might just be her best work yet.

After several years of turmoil that saw Mitski on the verge of leaving the music industry altogether, The Land is Inhospitable sees her reclaiming a space for herself, while reckoning with the past that led her to silencing herself as she tried to endure the trials of being a musician in this creative climate. The whole album is full of some of her most grand, expansive soundscapes, more haunting and commanding than anything she’s produced in years. It feels like Mitski letting herself go, haunted by the multitude of ghosts and hounds at her back, but unleashing years of feeling and fury. Take this song, my personal favorite of the album (“My Love Mine All Mine” was a close second). As she describes a Robert Johnson-esque deal with the devil “on a midnight walk alone,” we discover that the deal was never to see her soul for fame or talent—it was for someone to take the burden of her soul away from her (“will somebody take this soul?”) The whole song is a harrowing plea for peace, no doubt taken from many sleepless nights. As ever, Mitski’s voice soars to meet every sky-reaching promise, unfolding like an ornate wedding dress with its ribcage-echoing depth and weight. And this song is the exact reason why I feel like The Land is Inhospitable is her most adventurous album yet. The instrumentals are truly mercurial, shifting from simple acoustics to an abrupt, all-consuming cacophony as the chorus kicks in, barely contained. And speaking of barely contained, can we talk about how beautiful the outro is? It’s my favorite kind of barely contained chaos, as though Mitski is scrambling to keep the battering drums and frantic movement under wraps before the song ends, but can’t help but let some of it pour through the cracks. I can’t help but be reminded of 1:53-2:34 of “Via Chicago,” with its moaning guitars disguising Glenn Kotche’s explosive outburst of drums. (It’s 100% worth putting a Wilco concert on your bucket list just to witness that live. Trust me.) And of course, it mirrors the line “your pain is eased/but you’ll never be free.” It always lingers.

Either way, I’m glad that Mitski is starting to heal, and that we have this excellent album to show for it. She deserves more than all the weirdos screaming “MOMMY” at her constantly. The horrific curse of making emotionally vulnerable music your brand, I suppose.

“Born For Loving You” – Big Thief

I’m still newish to Big Thief, but this song delightfully baffles me. I almost thought it was a cover—it seems simultaneously harmonious and out of place next to all of the other Big Thief songs I’ve heard. Somehow, I love that about this song.

“Born For Loving You” feels timeless in its warm simplicity. At its heart, it’s an earnest, folksy love song, plain about its intentions and the smile on its face. But it’s doesn’t bear that kind of earnestness that makes you cringe from the manufactured nature of it—there’s so much about this song that’s genuinely endearing to me with each subsequent listen. Adrianne Lenker frames the premise of the song in a tender collage of vignettes, from “After the first light flickered outta this motel/1991, mama pushin’ like hell/Tangled in blood and vine” to splashes of blissful childhood: “From my first steps, to my first words/To waddlin’ around, lookin’ at birds.” Every time I listen, I can’t help but imagine the fading graininess of old home movies, of giggling, squinty-eyed babies taking their first steps out into the summer grass as their parents follow in their footsteps, arms outstretched. Lenker delivers every line with a straining waver, with the band gently painting soft, acoustic brushstrokes behind her. It’s a song for peering out the car window at a sunset, letting the wind play with your hair as you think about all the things that led you to be here, right here, with the people that you love.

“The Darkest Night of All” – Lisa Germano

I know you’re all sick of me heralding the coming of sad girl fall since August, but since it’s actually fall now, I’ve got an excuse. Nothing says fall like a black-orange color scheme and some good, old fashioned baby doll heads.

After YouTube practically pied me in the face with this song, I couldn’t help but listen. For the first few times, “The Darkest Night Of All” felt like either an opening or a closing track. Turns out that I was halfway right—this song closed out her 1993 debut Happiness (touché), and even without knowing anything else from the album, this song does its job better than any other could. Even though it’s clear from the lyrics that she hasn’t nailed her darkly clever style completely, it’s evidence that Lisa Germano’s skill at crafting a vivid atmosphere was always there. This song couldn’t have been named anything else—it really does feel like watching a starless night from out the window, bleary-eyed and wishing for sleep to come. With its echoing, gauzy synths wrapping their arms around the track, it feels like the cool tucking of a too-thin blanket over your head. You can’t picture anything but sleepless darkness when this song plays. Germano’s younger voice, thin and breathy like tissue paper, can’t help but make me think of Julien Baker—I don’t know if she listened to her, but I can’t get the resemblance out of my head. Paired with Germano’s gentle piano playing and mournful accordions, “The Darkest Night of All” sits in a strange limbo between a lullaby and a dirge, cloaked in nighttime either way. And what a way to close out the album—the fading synths and her final whisper of “the night” like a secret in your ear?

“Easy Thing” – Snail Mail

Nothing like a new(ish) Snail Mail song to make my day. Even if it’s a demo, there’s nothing better.

Lindsey Jordan described “Easy Thing” as “a track that didn’t make the cut, but holds a special place in my heart.” And the more I listen to it, the more it feels like the bridge between her two albums. It’s bathed in a the cool breeze of autumn, lazily meandering around, anchored by Jordan’s plaintively plucked notes on the guitar. The lyrics meander over to the bitter, love-gone-sour malaise of Valentine (“making out’s boring,” “was there really something/or were we just drunk?”), but the delicate, meticulous guitar work reeks of the shining melodies of Lush. You could have placed this somewhere between “Stick” and “Let’s Find an Out” and I wouldn’t have batted an eye. And although I love this song dearly, I can see why it never made the cut; it doesn’t necessarily tread any new musical or lyrical ground that wasn’t already in Valentine—the same lost love, the same reminiscing. I could see why it would have gotten lost somewhere between “Madonna” and “c. et al.” But it’s a song that still deserves to see th light of day, but standing alone was the best choice for it to sprout. Now the only question left is where it’ll fit amongst the other Valentine demos on this EP.

“Come On (Let the Good Times Roll)” – The Jimi Hendrix Experience

Yep. Time for an emotional shower. I didn’t think about the order when I was making the graphic, but this is probably the best possible palate-cleanser for the lethal Mitski-Lisa Germano beatdown. Am I not merciful?

Even though I’m always mad about how stingy the Hendrix estate has been with lending off the rights to his music (every day, I not only wish for a world in which the Doctor Strange movies were actually as weird as they were meant to be, but also for a world where Jim Hendrix was their soundtrack), maybe it’s for the best that the MCU never corrupted this particular rush of late 60’s, pure, classic rock straight to the soul. This one would’ve fit right into one of the Guardians of the Galaxy movies, but again: I’m glad this song isn’t associated with Chris Pratt making some corny “it’s behind me, isn’t it…😳” type of joke after getting into some comical alien shenanigans. (Can you tell that I’m bitter about Marvel? No? Blame Disney. I’m suffering over here.) Either way, this song—and most of Jimi Hendrix’s body of work in general—feels somehow pure, like it came into being with every note in the riff already glitteringly mastered. I’ve used the “Athena bursting forth from the skull of Zeus” metaphor to death in reference to Super Furry Animals, for the most part, but if anyone else is deserving of it, it’s certainly Hendrix. The sound production feels thick enough to stretch my hand through, and each lightning-fast note ripped in the dazzlingly intricate riffs feels like the most intentional thing on Earth, just for a few minutes. It’s a 4:09 stretch of speedy blues that you can’t help closing your eyes and smiling along to. Jimi just has that effect.

BONUS: I meant to put this in last week…oops. Either way, boygenius released a gorgeous animated music video for my favorite track off the record, “Cool About It” (which I talked about back in April). The animations are by Lauren Tsai. Have a watch! (Who else is very normal about the fact that they’re releasing another EP on the 13th??)

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!

Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 7/30/23

Posted on July 30, 2023 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

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

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 7/30/23

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

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

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

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

“the way things go” – beabadoobee

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

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

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

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

“Caroline” – Arlo Parks

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

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

“Amen” – Gruff Rhys

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

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

“Bug Like an Angel” – Mitski

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

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

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

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

Music

Laurel Hell – Mitski album review

Posted on February 9, 2022February 9, 2022 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Wednesday, bibliophiles!

2022 is shaping up to be a year full of highly anticipated albums—Spiritualized, girlpool, Spoon (THIS FRIDAY AAAH), and so many others. Mitski’s Laurel Hell was the first of these; I’ve been a fan of Mitski since around 2019 after hearing “Washing Machine Heart” on the radio. Since then, I’ve delved more into her catalogue, but I’d say that 75% of what I’ve heard of hers, I’ve liked—hit or miss, but mostly hits. Bury Me at Makeout Creek was a near perfect album for me, but I haven’t listened to any of her other albums in their entirety.

So when I heard that Mitski was coming out with a new album, I was excited to take another dive into her catalogue. What I got, however, was an album that simultaneously stayed true to her past and branched out in new directions—with varying degrees of success.

Let’s begin, shall we?

Mitski: Laurel Hell Album Review | Pitchfork

LAUREL HELL – MITSKI ALBUM REVIEW

TRACK 1: “Valentine, Texas” – 7/10

“Valentine, Texas” is a sparse and eerie album opener. It slowly creeps along with only faint synths and Mitski’s breathy vocals, but eventually sprawls out into bright piano chords and a steady drumbeat. For me, it’s the musical equivalent of wading through pitch-black water—a beautifully atmospheric song and a great start to this album!

TRACK 2: “Working for the Knife” – 8/10

The fact that “Working for the Knife” was the first single released for Laurel Hell is a blessing and a curse—a blessing that it’s such a fantastic song, and a curse in that…well, it’s the highlight of the album for me, and it got released before everything else and raised my expectations. Nevertheless, this is classic Mitski at her best, with steady instrumentals and raw, biting lyricism aplenty.

TRACK 3: “Stay Soft” – 6/10

Open up your heart
Like the gates of Hell…
Mitski, “Stay Soft”

What Laurel Hell has revealed to me is that Mitski has begun to lean in the direction of poppier material. After the success of songs like “Washing Machine Heart” and “Nobody,” her songs have become more synth-dominated and upbeat (…well, musically upbeat) while still retaining their signature lyrical vulnerability. “Stay Soft” is just that, but for me, it didn’t reach the level of the latter two songs; the lyrics are some of Mitski’s best, but musically, it feels…strangely weak. Restrained, almost. Mixed feelings.

TRACK 4: “Everyone” – 8/10

And I left my door open to the dark,
I said, ‘Come in, come in, whatever you are,’
But it didn’t want me yet…
Mitski, “Everyone”

Although this isn’t *quite* as strong as “Working for the Knife,” it’s doubtlessly one of my favorites from this album. Like “Valentine, Texas,” its instrumentals are sparse, but it’s just as powerful and moving a ballad as any of her previous works. The imagery the lyrics evoke are especially strong, almost like dark fairytales in their sensibilities.

TRACK 5: “Heat Lightning” – 7.5/10

Sleeping eyelid of the sky
Flutters in a dream…
Mitski, “Heat Lightning”

By now, everyone’s made this comparison, but “Heat Lightning” REEKS of The Velvet Underground’s “Venus in Furs”—and it’s great. There’s a feeling of quiet helplessness to it, a reluctant lament accented by pianos and synths. It adds to the feeling I’m getting from most of the album—a distinctly nighttime atmosphere, nighttime in a forest clearing with a lake.

TRACK 6: “The Only Heartbreaker” – 6/10

Out of the four pre-released singles for Laurel Hell, “The Only Heartbreaker” was my least favorite. It was still enjoyable and catchy, but the synths felt bland to me. The fact that it was only co-written by Mitski detracted from it as well; Mitski is her best when the lyrics are all hers, and for a Mitski song, these lyrics bordered on simplistic. Not that simplistic lyricism is all bad, but for an artist like Mitski, it’s uncharacteristic. Still a decent pop song, though.

TRACK 7: “Love Me More” – 8/10

Out of all of the more pop-oriented songs on Laurel Hell, “Love Me More” is my favorite. Unlike with songs like “Stay Soft” or “Should’ve Been Me,” Mitski throws off all restraints on her vocals, letting her beautiful voice soar along with the synth notes that seem to climb with the lyrics. It’s the happy medium between what Mitski once was and what she seems to be aiming to be—vulnerable, but infectiously catchy.

TRACK 8: “There’s Nothing Left For You” – 6.5/10

Like “Valentine, Texas” and “Everyone,” “There’s Nothing Left For You” shows the quieter, somber side of Laurel Hell with soft vocals and bare-bones instrumentals. Although I still like it, it doesn’t pack the same punch as the latter two songs I mentioned—it does have a “kicking in” moment, but it’s in the middle of the song, and fades away to the same as the first third once the song ends. It’s still good, make no mistake, but not quite as powerful.

TRACK 9: “Should’ve Been Me” – 5/10

“Should’ve Been Me” is where Mitski’s pop direion steers into mixed-feelings territory for me. Strangely, although songs like “Nobody” worked with upbeat music and not-so-upbeat lyricism, the musical pep of “Should’ve Been Me” seems far too peppy for the message it attempts to put out. Part of why it doesn’t succeed is where it sits in the album—right next to one of its quietest moments. The transition from “There’s Nothing Left For You” to this makes for a jarring listening experience—and not in a good way.

TRACK 10: “I Guess” – 7/10

“I Guess” should have been the album’s closer. A haunting refrain soundtracked by strains of muffled pianos, Mitski’s vocals reach their fullest potential in this second-to-last track. The production only adds to the “swimming in a lake at night” atmosphere—it’s a beautiful song.

TRACK 11: “That’s Our Lamp” – 5/10

It’s a shame that this is what closes off this album—the worst song, in my opinion. “That’s Our Lamp” is a strange attempt to create an 80’s-esque pop song, but although the music reaches some crescendos, it’s another instance where it feels as though Mitski is restraining herself vocally. The combination makes for a jarring song and a disappointing album closer.

Mitski's 'Laurel Hell' confronts the wild complexity of feeling : NPR

I averaged out all of the song ratings, and it came out to about a 6.7. That feels accurate for the album—I would still consider it an alright album, but there were songs that dragged it down too much. However, there were some hidden gems in the mix, and those are ones I’ll be sure to treasure. I don’t regret listening to the album, but it wasn’t Mitski’s best.