Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!
This week: Becky Chambers double-dipping, offloading my gripes about the train wreck that was season 4 of Hacks, and…oh, whoops, I think this post was supposed to be about music. My bad.
Enjoy this week’s review!
SUNDAY SONGS: 6/29/25
“Incomprehensible” – Big Thief
“They’re back!” I say, having not even listened to a full Big Thief album. This kind of thing sure does happen a lot, huh?
Regardless of whether or not I’ll listen to Double Infinity when it comes out this September or after I’ve finally gotten around to Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You, “Incomprehensible” is a treasure in the here and now. The production is an absolute treat. It’s a far cry from some of their older, more folkier material, but never once does it feel removed from their emotional core. It glistens like dew, icy and starry yet tender and inviting, encircling, even. Guitars glitter and bubble next to the papery percussion. Adrianne Lenker’s voice drifts gently in their fabricated ether, but never once does it distract from the true star of the show: the lyrics, man, these lyrics! Lenker has truly honed her talent for poetic lyricism, and her beautiful messaging and penchant for lush turns of phrase are on full display here. Here’s a snippet:
“In two days, it’s my birthday/And I’ll be 33/That doesn’t really matter next to eternity/But I like a double number, and I like an odd one too/And everything I see from now on will be something new.”
What’s the music equivalent of that “absolute cinema” meme of Martin Scorsese? This deserves it, I think, if not just for that verse. “Incomprehensible” is a heartfelt ode to being free—not just driving down an endless road, as North American highways are wont to make you feel, but being free from societal pressures. I might be ascribing my love to it because it came to me at a time like this, where I am putting all of my energy in being free of expectations and embracing being as weird as possible, but in any other time, “Incomprehensible” would be a pleasure. Intertwined with imagery of nature—rolling clouds, birds, lupine flowers, and the glittering scales of fish—this freedom to just be is fully realized as a natural state: flowers grow and clouds form without any pressure that we have man-made, save for natural ones necessarily for survival. They don’t have the expectations on women to make them dread aging or conform to a certain look, to mourn every hair as it turns gray. The further we are from nature, the closer we get to these false ideals that we’ve fabricated for ourselves. I could go on about the myriad ways about how we could learn from nature, but the lesson in “Incomprehensible” is one of many: if we pay attention more to nature, we realize that all of these societal pressures are just that, constructs; to be more natural is to live free of expectations of what should be and to simply be.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
Monk and Robot – Becky Chambers – “And as silver as the rainbow scales that shimmer purple blue/How can beauty that is living be anything but true?”
I’m not like other girls…I didn’t even know the main reason that most people know this song is because Phish frequently covers it. Oof. I did discover it, as I tend to discover random, obscure ’60s and ’70s songs, through Hacks.
Can we talk about Hacks, by the way? Specifically, how gloriously they fucked up what was one of the longest consistent runs of a good comedy show? They had such a wonderful thing going—the sharp humor, the chemistry between Hannah Einbender and Jean Smart, and the excellent bisexual representation. Season 4 really just threw every single one of those things out the window. I’m still so mad. They were so sensitive and respectful about depicting bisexuality and biphobia, then boom…they proceed to throw the laziest possible stereotype about bisexuality at Ava. She goes from having heartfelt conversations about her identity with Deborah to being thrown into a threesome for reasons that neither furthered the plot nor said anything new about her as a character. At least the resolution was that the other two in the threesome were a chill polyamorous couple who didn’t want to be used for sex, which I appreciated (what with there being hardly any respectful depictions of polyamory anywhere), BUT WHY THE HELL WAS THAT NECESSARY? WHY DID THEY HAVE TO THROW IN THE “I’m in a threesome…supa bi!” LINE??? WHAT POSSESSED THE SHOWRUNNERS TO DO A COMPLETE 1-80 FROM THOUGHTFUL, AUTHENTIC DEPICTIONS OF BISEXUALITY TO WHATEVER STEREOTYPES THEY COULD HIT FIRST ON A DARTBOARD????
Sorry. Had to get that off my chest. Moving on…
As much as I love Hacks, they tend to have an issue with their needle-drops. In most cases, it’s a 30 second snippet from the song in question, and it’s usually shown over an aerial shot of whatever city they’re driving into—usually Las Vegas or Los Angeles. A few times is fine, but…yeah, it’s a little old. Given the absolute gold that was both the scene and the needle drop of “I Won’t Tell” in season 3, I knew they were at least capable of something more. In the case of “Yamar,” it’s in between the two; played at the intro of season 4, episode 6, it’s a small snippet that plays over a shot of Ava wrangling a comically large bundle of birthday balloons.
Though the editing was smooth, “Yamar” was all but hacked (no pun intended) to pieces—they only have about three lines from the verse before they get to the chorus. Which is really a disservice, because this is such a relentlessly catchy gem from the ’70s! My music taste is…well, yeah, it’s very much on the Western side. So I’m always glad when I find a piece of non-Western music that absolutely grabs me. I think the common denominator is the ’70s, regardless of the region it’s from. Even though the lyrics belie a somber reminiscence of looking for the unspoken point of leaving childhood behind and getting older, “Yamar” has an unfailing gallop that signals nothing but joy. That grainy, ’70s production strangely does everything in this song a service, giving the pianos a warm sheen and softening the rapid percussion, like the sun-bleaching of an old photo. It’s hard for me to feel anything but joy from this song, and maybe that could somehow be the point: dancing in defiance of having to grow older.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
Ocean’s Godori – Elaine U. Cho – Reconciling with childhood and a skewed sense of identity, but all with a dose of hope and joy.
“Somebody New” – Tunde Adebimpe
It’s once again Tunde Time here on the Bookish Mutant.
I haven’t necessarily come back to a lot of Thee Black Boltz, even though I retain that it’s a great album. Somewhat regrettably, it’s the singles that I’ve mainly been returning to, but at least they were well-picked singles, I suppose? I’d say that “Ate the Moon” and “The Most” were great surprises, but singles like this, “Magnetic,” and “God Knows” are the reigning highlights. Yet “Somebody New” still surprises me in how much I actually like it—even for Tunde Adebimpe. Autotune and a more directly pop direction aren’t directions that typically work for indie rockers like him, but it works. The autotune doesn’t make his voice shinier or more polished—it just distorts it, adding another layer of synth to the synth-pop that this song is soaked in. There’s plenty of ’80s throwback in the sound, from the video production to the synths, but never does it feel like a song meant to vomit up nostalgia—it’s just another in the long line of foolproof methods that Adebimpe has employed that make a song instantly danceable. Along with the delightful music video, in which Adebimpe has a Lego Batman moment with a Yo Gabba Gabba creature, “Somebody New” is one of the best examples of when somebody outside of the pop sphere takes a stab at a pop song—and knocks it out of the park.
BONUS: Here’s his recent performance on the Tonight Show:
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
The Stars Too Fondly – Emily Hamilton – “I just wanna be somebody new/Is there nothing in the world that we can say about this/Heavenly vibration coming through?/How can we feed this love?”
It’s been about two and a half years since the Palehound Panic that shook the world this blog (alive and well) and my beat-up headphones (rest in peace). Although El Kempner isn’t dominating my Apple Music replay anymore, they’re always a delight to come back to, no matter the era. “Psycho Speak” returned unexpectedly, a cut from their debut EP, Bent Nail. Scrappy encapsulates so much of this barely three-minute-long song: the more indie production of their early days, the verging on out-of-breath delivery of the lyrics, and the cymbal-dominated percussion. Like the EP’s title and album cover, “Psycho Speak” evokes worn-down houses and dirty sidewalks, baseball bats dragged through the dirt. Kempner wasn’t quite at the level of precision that they have on their later songs, but “Psycho Speak” is a song that begs to be a little rough around the edges, fragmented like the end of the song: the final lyric of “I went downstairs and curled up with the cat” feels like a sentence fragment, leaving something unsaid. In fact, this track is built entirely off of things unsaid, in this tale of dating a rich man who leaves intermittently and for long periods, but who takes comfort in the company of his pets. Or maybe it’s that simple of a tale—the tiniest peephole into a story.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
The Resisters – Gish Jen – the atmosphere of this novel, though much bleaker, has a very similar scrappy attitude and feel to it, especially where the younger characters are concerned.
“You Are A Tourist” – Death Cab for Cutie
The buzz around “You Are A Tourist” probably eclipses the song itself; its music video, a Meow Wolf-esque spectacle of kaleidoscopic lights, dancers outfitted in feathers, and geometric backdrops, was the first scripted music video in history to be shot in a single take. Given the impeccably elaborate choreography of it all, it’s honestly astounding. But even before I knew anything about the video or the fact that this song was one of their more popular ones, “You Are A Tourist” captivated me. The melody and arrangement feel so cyclical for me—from the loop at the beginning to the way that the instruments seem to circle each other, as though they were layered in concentric train tracks. And though it’s adjacent to the “I’m in my ’20s and angsty and need to get out of this town” format, as always, Ben Gibbard’s lyricism are what separates it from the rest. Of course, the “And if you feel just like a tourist/In the city you were born” instantly grabs me, but it feels less like a statement of purpose and more of a guidebook for those looking to start over and strike out on their own, a soothing, steady hand on your shoulder in the face of turbulent emotions, a kind of prayer against stagnation.
…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:
Record of a Spaceborn Few (Wayfarers, #3) – Becky Chambers – “And if you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born/Then it’s time to go and define your destination/There’s so many different places to call home…”
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!
The Bookish Mutant 