Red Wine Supernova – The Bookish Mutant

Sunday Songs: 6/2/24

Posted on June 2, 2024June 1, 2024 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

Quick announcement before we begin: I’ll be going radio silent as far as posts go for the next week because I’ll be on vacation. See you next week!

This week: diversity win! The person who yelled “I WANNA HAVE YOUR BABIES!” at Joe Talbot during the IDLES show a few weeks back was a man! Happy pride, bibliophiles.

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 6/2/24

“Good Luck, Babe!” – Chappell Roan

I think I know what my process is with liking Chappell Roan songs now: inevitably, I hear a snippet on social media and think, “oh, that’s okay,” I hear it a few more times, and then I actually like it. Somehow, I wasn’t wowed by “Red Wine Supernova” until I’d listened to snippets of it three times over the course of several months, and then, boom. It’s my 10th most listened-to song of this year. Oops. “Good Luck, Babe!” hasn’t taken that title, but nonetheless, I’ve found another song to dramatically drape myself out of windows to, and to make matters better, it’s so gay. IT’S SO GAY! CAMPY QUEER POP STARS ARE SO BACK! I’m all for leaving the ’80s (mostly) in the dust, but we need some glittery, romantic ridiculousness to shake things up now and then, right? And if the last chorus of “Red Wine Supernova” wasn’t enough to convince you, then this one will convince you that Roan has, in my limited scope, some of the best pipes in pop music right now. And, whatever, the whole “graphic design is my passion” aesthetic was kind of tired for me even before this lyric video, but for a song as red-gowned and dramatic as “Good Luck, Babe!”…we need more. We need some more visual drama, something like The Kick Inside-era Kate Bush, minus the one-time fedora incident. The chances of Roan or any member of her team actually seeing this post are slim to none, but if they are: somebody needs to “Wuthering Heights” this shit up.

I’m choosing to believe that the combination of the glorious Grammys afterparty pig makeup for the single and the title had to be a reference to Babe, right? Some way or another? Maybe I’m reading too much into it. It’s fine. It’s cool, even…that’ll do, pig.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The First Bright Thing – J.R. Dawson – talk about stopping the world just to stop the feeling…

“I’m Scum” – IDLES

Something I learned a few Saturdays ago: I may be somewhat punk in spirit, but I am…not built for punk shows. Once IDLES actually came onstage, the music took me out of the grossness of the crowd, but we accidentally wandered too far into the Bro Zone™️, which was anxiety-inducing, to say the least. Love is the fing, but I’m not really feeling the love when I’m pressed up against excessively sweaty and inebriated people on almost all sides and getting conked on the shoulder with unknown objects. Ladies, gentlemen, and others: sensory issues. Also, alcohol.

But if you take anything away from that, it’s that the music took me out of the grossness. IDLES absolutely tore down the house with joyous screamers old and new alike. Even if Joe Talbot summoning the mosh vortex in the middle of the crowd made me want to go in the opposite direction (now I know how anchovies feel inside of those bait balls), he had such a command of the crowd, and not only that, but nothing but positivity to say: chants for Palestine, odes to love and connection between our fellow man, and just calls to get up on our feet and dance. And dance we did. Even just Talbot and Mark Bowen belting “All I Want For Christmas Is You” in mid-May got the crowd (myself included) going crazy. An IDLES show is, without a doubt, an experience of a lifetime. Not all of it was a good experience, per se, but none of the bad had anything to do with how loving and talented the band were all the way through.

That show made me come back to “I’m Scum,” a performance that had me jumping for joy the entire time. I’ve loved it since I discovered their 2019 Tiny Desk Concert, which is a sight to behold: here we are at said Tiny Desk, surrounded by small toys and trinkets and walled in by office decor, and Joe Talbot’s over here turning beet red and drenched with sweat while Mark Bowen, shirtless and wearing American flag leggings, is climbing onto the desk. It’s glorious. Barely contained chaos. “I’m Scum” is taken from Joy as an Act of Resistance., an album title which, before “Grace” and “love is the fing,” was the preeminent positivity slogan to sum up their aggressively kind ethos. As Talbot explained before the band launched into this song, “I’m Scum” was borne of the words of their critics—taking words like “scum” and “loser” and making them into badges of pride. More broadly, said words came from music critics who derided them, as Talbot recounted in Glastonbury in 2019, as “too fat, too old, too stupid, too ugly. Now we’ve been told we’re too good, too nice. Well this is for the critics: eat shit. This song is a celebration of just how ugly, stupid, old and ugly we are.” Never have I sung along to the lyrics “for a long, long while I’ve known I’m/dirty, rotten, filthy scum!” so loudly. Just like any given song of theirs, it’s undeniably joyous, a parade flag-waver as you skip through the streets, save for the fact that you’re yelling “SCUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM” so loud that your throat goes raw. “This snowflake’s an avalanche” is one of the most hilarious but unifying rallying cries I can think of. The more I reflect on it, the more I can say that this is one of the IDLES songs that I’ve resonated with the most. I’ve grappled with being weird in a broader sense for most of my life, but late high school and college were when I most owned it—I wasn’t concerned with how people thought of me. Now that the former stage is over, I’ve turned that confidence into getting weirder still, especially with my makeup; a friend told me that I wasn’t afraid to camouflage, and there’s nothing that I could say that sums it up better. God, I LOVE being unpalatable. I love being weird. I love being the kind of person that gets stares from the suited-up business majors across the street. I love looking like I don’t belong on this planet. And that’s when I feel most myself, when I outwardly enhance how weird I am and how weird I’ve felt. I’m lefty, I’m soft. And I LOVE being dirty, rotten, filthy SCUM if I do say so myself. Embrace the scum!

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Honor Among Thieves (The Honors, #1) – Rachel Caine and Ann Aguirre – “I’m laughing at the tyrants/I’m sleeping under sirens/Whilst wondering where the time went/I’m scum…”

“Oomingmak” – Cocteau Twins

My introduction to the Cocteau Twins came right before I started making these Sunday Songs graphics, so I suppose that’s the only reason that I’ve never covered them here before. In my mind, there’s no band quite like them in the sense that the moods that they glean from me are rare in any other band. When an anonymous person put the iconic “Cherry-Coloured Funk” on the class playlist in art in my senior year of high school, I felt energized in a way that I hadn’t before—energized, but caught in the spacelike fabric of something beyond the world, like wading through cloth and stars. “Energized” isn’t the word I’d use to describe everything else I’ve heard of their catalogue—I’d lean more towards dreamlike and peaceful. The label “dream pop” is more fitting of them than any other band, save for maybe Beach House, who were no doubt influenced a great deal by them; they didn’t just pioneer the sound: they fully embody it. Every song sounds like a dream—Elizabeth Fraser’s method of lilting, nonsensical lyrics contribute to that feeling in no small part. But it’s more the atmosphere of it; somehow, they manage to replicate the feeling of waking up in the early hours of morning after waking from an unusually vivid dream, but not being able to remember it, save for how vivid it felt in the moment.

“Oomingmak” is a mist of peace that falls over your shoulders like a veil—or snow, more fittingly, a shawl woven from the crystalline fragments of snowflakes that melt the moment they make contact with your skin. There’s a simultaneous warmth and coldness to it, a watery swirl that coalesces around a glowing, amorphous radiance; this contact of warmth and chill creates the dewdrop-laden feel of the song. The effects on Robin Guthrie’s delicate lattice of guitar playing are so thin and misty that I thought they were synths—I’ve heard hardly anyone else that can make the guitar quite this delicate. You can play it delicate, sure, but this is the closest I think a guitar has ever gotten to being transparent, shiny as beads and thinner than a strand of hair. Hearing “Oomingmak” for the first time was like having a draught poured over my head, some kind of ambrosia that trickled into my eyes and mouth and induced a trancelike peace, a sense of calm that no other band I know has been able to replicate. Like dewdrops, you feel all of your earthly tethers dissolve.

And it seems the snowy, misty feel was intentional in every sense; much of Victorialand, named after the region in Antarctica, and its imagery owes to the Arctic and Antarctic regions, in no small part thanks to The Living Planet: A Portrait of the Earth, David Attenborough’s companion novel to the ’80s nature documentary of the same name. DAVID ATTENBOROUGH!! MY GUY!! Having watched The Living Planet as a kid, I love seeing that connection—and man, imagine if the ridiculous ’80s soundtrack made its way into Victorialand in any way…again, “Oomingmak” is the only track I’ve heard from this album, but I’m fully preparing myself for some Living Planet flute action. Many of the titles in particular were handpicked from passages of A Portrait of the Earth relating to the Arctic and Antarctic—I assume “Oomingmak” was one of such titles, as it’s the Inuit word for musk ox, literally translated as “the bearded one.”

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Alone Out Here – Riley Redgate – slower Cocteau Twins songs feel like the ideal soundtrack for being anxious and wandering aimlessly inside of a spaceship.

“People Watching” – Ganser

Apologies to everybody who I told that this band’s name was Gaster. Who knows how I got that into my head in the space between the IDLES opener being announced and the show itself. I guess I was only one letter off?

Either way, Ganser was a fantastic opener for IDLES—they had just the right amount of energy to pump up the crowd (although I suspect that none of the crowd needed any convincing to get pumped up) and retained the punk attitude that IDLES later blew through the roof. I later ended up searching through their catalogue for the songs in their setlist, and just ended up listening to their 2020 album Just Look At That Sky in its entirety. And I’m a fan! Not my newest obsession, or anything, but I’m so glad that IDLES exposed me to them. Although “People Watching” isn’t off of Just Look At That Sky, to me, it’s the best—or most fun, at least—representation of their sound today. Although both bassist Alicia Gaines and keyboardist Nadia Garofalo trade off on vocal duties (it’s usually a 50-50 split for lead, from what I’ve listened to), both of them have their place in the sun on “People Watching,” and both of them deliver disaffected vocals that conjure the title of their previous album, an exasperated, exhausted glance at the clouds as they inch through the blue. Gaines takes the backseat, save for a chant-like bridge, but Garofalo tends more towards a theatrical, gothic drawl as the chorus drones into a monotone lament: “Oh yeah, the world is big/And you could do better/You shake when you’re nervous/But it doesn’t matter.” It feels like what would happen if Raven from Teen Titans sat down to record a song in her bedroom, vocals and all. And yeah, nihilism is boring and silly, but at least Ganser shake that snowglobe around enough to make it gargle and glitter for three and a half minutes.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The City in the Middle of the Night – Charlie Jane Anders – “Oh yeah, the world is big/And you could do better/You shake when you’re nervous/But it doesn’t matter…”

“Death by Chocolate” – Soccer Mommy

As Sophie Allison has been teasing new music (!!!!!!!!!!!) and doing a select number of intimate U.S. dates to potentially demo some of it (!!!!!!!!!!!! but nowhere near me ), I’ve been looking back at her old catalogue. “Death By Chocolate” appears on Collection, a re-recorded…collection of songs, many of which were originally self-released on Bandcamp; it originally appeared on the EP songs from my bedroom back in 2015. Like with the early Phoebe Bridgers track “Waiting Room” (which I reviewed last June), it’s a portrait of nascent talent, but still not quite out of the teenage woods just yet. Two years after initially recording “Death By Chocolate” at 18, the squirming larva of the original has been reformed into something with wings that can carry it, ready with star-shine guitar work and synths. Allison’s voice, which, at 20 and breaking free of the apparent shyness of recording demos in dorms, still has a few more hurdles to jump—this recording, even post-bedroom, feels like she’s either been mixed into submission or is just vocally holding back. But when her voice does break through, it’s as sweet and trickling as fudgy ice cream, the remnants dribbling down the corner of your lips as you dig through your sundae to find the stem of a maraschino cherry. But man…the lyrics? Thematically, it feels like the first iteration of “lucy,” with its bad boy love interest (that turns from human to, presumably, some manifestation of Lucifer or what he represents), but where “lucy” has more refinement, this has…[checks notes] “I wanna kill myself/I’m gonna go to hell/And he’s the way I’m gonna do it.” Hooooowhee… subtlety has left the building. Slow down, Juliet, just put the knife down…he can’t be all that. Lordy. Even so, it’s so teenage that it can’t not earn its place—all that angst is a part of growing up, and who am I to rag on a queen for letting it out? Gotta get it out of the system.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Juliet Takes a Breath – Gabby Rivera – a new town, and an all-consuming first queer love.

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

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

Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 5/12/24

Posted on May 12, 2024 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles, and more importantly, happy Mother’s Day to my wonderful mama, to whom I owe so much in this life. My gratitude for you will never waver—I don’t know where I’d be without you. Every day, I only grow prouder that I’m your daughter.

This week: there’s no doubt about it…this is pop.

But before that: since I was deep in the trenches of finals hell last Sunday, here’s my graphic from last week, complete with an appropriately dreary color palette:

SUNDAY SONGS: 5/5/24:

Now, back to our scheduled program…enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 5/12/24

“This is Pop?” – XTC

I thought I had a healthy relationship with XTC. I thought my days of playing “The Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead” on loop for an entire meal straight were behind me. But then this decides to slap me upside the head…damn you, Trash Theory.

Never has a song this indignant been so deliriously catchy…take away all the instruments, and it’s Andy Partridge yelling about how arbitrary categories are in music (reasonable thing to yell about, but please chill, dude, I can see a filling in your molar 😭). But it’s the most danceable indignant song I’ve ever heard—that aspect of it makes it uniquely pop, just as Partridge is content to shout in your face about. In a landscape where music critics threw terms at XTC to see if any of them would stick (punk, post-punk, etc.), they staunchly had their own brand of pop engineered with the genes of the likes of The Monkees, The Beatles, and The Beach Boys, and they had no other intention other than to make pop music, no matter which category the critics shoved them into. Even in the video, at about the 2:01 mark, Partridge has started to look like this recurring experience has pushed him to the verge of his own Joker arc. (“Ahahaha! Ahahaha, call us post-punk one more time, I dare you…”)

It’s a definition of pop that I’d like to think Jeff Tweedy would align with—when describing Wilco’s most recent (and very excellent) album Cousin, he called it pop (specifically art pop), but not in the way most would interpret the definition: “To me, pop music will always be the genre that people used to also refer to as “Bubblegum.” It’s sweet and seemingly meant for mindless consumption, but has a Trojan Horse-like power to transform minds and hearts.” Like them, XTC can crank out earwormy hooks for days, but there’s always something beneath it—Andy Partridge and Colin Moulding always had something poking out from the wooden slats of that Trojan horse, whether it’s skeleton liberation or [Jesus? JFK? Neither, actually]. And if pop was their mission, they had it down to a science—it’s got a stompy groove that’s virtually impossible to not at least try to sway around to. (Can confirm, as I had this playing on my laptop while sitting in bed the other day and the urge still overcame me.) Moulding’s bass constructs the slickest, shiniest jungle gym for the rest of the band to swing around in, and Barry Andrews’ lightning-fast keyboard work leads me to believe that he’d been possessed by the spirit of Rowlf from The Muppets. You can’t help shaking your hips—this is pop. This is also the perfect song for an impromptu, one-man dorm dance party. Methodically tested and proven by yours truly. Does wonders for your mood.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle – Stuart Turton – on the subject of Trojan horses of genre…man, do I have the book for you…

“Red Wine Supernova” – Chappell Roan

Apologies for missing Lesbian Visibility Week by [check notes] about two weeks, but this should suffice, right? Frankly, kinda lesbophobic that it coincided with finals week this year.

Remember what I said about mainstream pop not being my thing? I’m woman enough to admit when I love it. And have I listened to this an unhealthy amount of times? Absolutely. Another banger for dancing alone in your dorm to, only much gayer and raunchier. And honestly? I hope Chappell Roan gets huge. She deserves stardom—her songs are impeccably performed and produced (the amount of gleeful electronic hums and glistening tidbits woven in the background of this song should be proof of that), and she’s got a massive talent for commanding a crowd and coming up with the most deliciously camp outfits (and lyrics). But even if she doesn’t, I do have a testament to her fanbase: a friend of mine officially became an American citizen not long ago (!!!), but the day she went in to take the oath happened to be the same day that she’d gotten tickets to see Chappell Roan. When I jokingly asked her afterwards if it was worth missing Roan for, her answer was a vehement “NO,” and if that doesn’t sum up the loyalty of her fans, I don’t know what will.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Midnight Girls – Alicia Jasinska – somehow, I’ve never come across a book about lesbian magicians (somebody needs to write that), but lesbian monster-witches who eat human hearts are close enough, right?

“The Pretty Things Are Going to Hell” – David Bowie

’90s Bowie just could not stop cooking, huh?? On this track, at least. I’ve heard that hours… , which was cobbled from songs that were written for the video game Omikron: Nomad Soul, is less cohesive than some of his other ’90s output. hours… isn’t high on my Bowie priority, but dare I say that this song is pushing it higher? I might be setting myself up for disappointment here, but it can’t be any worse than…I don’t know, Tonight?

Or maybe Toy is a more apt comparison, the album that would have been released after hours… if not for it being shelved…then resurrected in 2021 as a largely mediocre cash grab. What struck me on a first listen of “The Pretty Things Are Going To Hell” is that it felt like a more chiseled, streamlined version of a Toy-era track. It has more focus—it’s got a target locked, and it speeds towards it with glammed-up efficiency and power. A collaboration with his longtime musical partner and Tin Machine bandmate Reeves Gabrels, it’s a clear callback to his glam days and some of his longtime collaborators during that era—the driving, Black Sabbath-like guitar notwithstanding, the title is a reference to both “Oh! You Pretty Things” and The Stooges’ “Your Pretty Face Is Going to Hell.” Bowie and Gabrels’ idea for the crunching guitar riff came from their desire to make “the simplest Neanderthal part possible,” which…well, to be fair, it is mostly one chord until the chorus hits, but I think it’s doing the power of said riff a disservice. It’s the bones and blood of the song, the meat anchoring down the swirl of percussion and electronics whirling around it like a blizzard.

“The Pretty Things Are Going to Hell” also had the potential for an iconic music video, but it was ultimately scrapped; directed by Dom and Nic, the team behind the iconic “I’m Afraid of Americans” music video, it would have seen Bowie performing live, but surrounded by giant puppets of four of his past personas: The Man Who Sold the World, Ziggy Stardust, The Thin White Duke, and the Pierrot from “Ashes to Ashes.” (The video linked above is the incomplete version of the video, containing only the footage of the real Bowie.) Said giant puppets were made by Jim Henson’s Creature Shop, but they were the reason that the video ended up being shelved: according to Bowie, “It was abandoned after we found that the puppets looked like puppets…it didn’t have the east European darkness that Dom and Nic had wanted to achieve.”

What’s that about a “lack of darkness?” I totally didn’t want to sleep tonight, thanks! But it’s a very poignant concept to go with for the music video. The fast-paced drive of “The Pretty Things Are Going to Hell” speaks to its lyrics, full of speed-of-light debauchery and living on the edge: “The pretty things are going to hell/They wore it out but they wore it well.” At first, I couldn’t help but almost be sad that that the pretty things of “Oh! You Pretty Things” all but ended up dead in a ditch, but I don’t think that was the end goal; the existence of these giant, hulking puppets of his past selves are proof. It almost seems like an indictment of his youth—not the optimism or boundless creativity, but the reckless, drug-addled, and often downright reprehensible (looking right at you, Thin White Duke) behaviors that he let slip. The choice of the personas for these puppets are key—you have The Man Who Sold the World at the very sprout of his fame, and by the end, you have the Pierrot, a visual symbol of him trying to break free of addiction through “Ashes to Ashes.” There’s no Jareth or Let’s Dance era Bowie in sight—as much as I rag on ’80s Bowie…at least he had a better outlook on life and a healthier lifestyle. At least he was feeling good. But the ’70s lingered with him for all of his life: “I am the blood at the corner of your eye/I found the secrets, I found gold/I find you out before you grow old.” I almost think that the puppets looking puppet-like would have worked if this haunting by his past recklessness was what he was going for—they’re all so gaunt that they look like specters, even if it wasn’t the “darkness” that he and Dom and Nic were going for. Cynical as it may be, “The Pretty Things Are Going to Hell” seems like Bowie reconciling with his past—it’s something he’s trapped in amber (or massive puppets), but they’re false memories now, a version of himself that undeniably left a mark on the world: larger than him in stature, but most certainly less alive than the person he was at the turn of the century.

This is a level of cursed I didn’t anticipate when I started writing this post

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Off With Their Heads – Zoe Hana Mikuta – if not for the fact that they’re already in hell, said pretty things would be on the fast-track…

“You’re still breathing but you don’t know why/Life’s a bit and sometimes you die…”

“My Fun” – Suki Waterhouse

It’s one thing to release a catchy, feel-good single, but it’s another to do that around a week after giving birth. Damn. A huge congratulations to Suki Waterhouse & Robert Pattinson on their new baby!

I almost wish this single was pushed back at least two months—partially to give Waterhouse a bit of rest, but also because “My Fun” is the perfect summer song. Or maybe it’s a gracious move: she’s given everyone enough time to add it to their summer playlists before the weather gets consistently warm. Either way, it’s one of the most carefree songs that she’s released in ages. Most of Waterhouse’s songs have been so meticulous and slick in their production, from the smooth glide of “Good Looking” to the sweeping, dress-twirling grandeur of “To Love.” By contrast, “My Fun” feels pasted from the same images as the music video—a collage of bright, silly imagery, cut-out pictures dancing in circles around each other. There’s bits of that “Authentic™️” raw audio here and there, with no sign of the sheen and polish of most of her catalogue. Instead, we’ve got an image of her that’s much more willing to let loose, unafraid to stumble around the place, even if it is curated. I never thought I’d see the day where we’d hear a recorder (and not just for a bit—it sticks around) in a Suki Waterhouse song, but I can’t think of many songs beside this one that make me think, “hmm, this would unironically be enhanced by a plastic recorder peeping in the background.” I guess shittyflute beat us all to that revelation, but that’s…much more front and center, shall we say. But it matches the carefree, poolside atmosphere of “My Fun”—sunbaked ease, with no worries plaguing you, save for when to set out on the next unplanned adventure.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Just Your Local Bisexual Disaster – Andrea Mosqueda – warm, carefree, and full of confusing love in unexpected places.

“someone to” – Adrianne Lenker

i won’t let go of your hand – EP is available exclusively on bandcamp—all proceeds go to the Palestinian Children’s Relief Fund! Chip in what you can—the EP is pay what you want, so long as it’s $10 USD and up. Free Palestine.

I’m woefully behind on my Adrianne Lenker content—I’ve been so swallowed up in this year’s multitude of fantastic albums that I haven’t gotten around to listening to Bright Future, though I’ve loved most of the singles that came out of it (see 12/31 for my review of “Ruined”). It’s high time that I should—after all, the self-effacingly titled songs was my top album of 2023, according to Apple Music, so even if the data is screwy and that was just because I played “forwards beckon rebound” so many times in September, that ought to mean something. In the meantime, I bought i won’t let go of your hand – EP, since a) it’s Adrianne Lenker, c’mon, and b) any money sent to help Palestine is money well spent, in my book. The title is an apt one—the lo-fi acoustics make the whole EP sound like it’s being played from somewhere in a secluded cabin, which, given that this was the exact process that birthed most of the songs from songs, seems like a process she’d repeat. It’s a fruitful sound—and one suited for her personal lyrics. On the EP closer “someone to,” she speaks the lyrics as though she’s hiding inside of a cupboard, pressed against pots and pans as she rolls out her confessions: “Could you come forgive me? We get angry and hide/All of this lonely living, someone to walk beside.” Even if the instrumentals aren’t as intricate as I’ve come to know her work, the vulnerability remains front and center; “someone to” is a plea for forgiveness, peering through the dark to realize that all of the turmoil created from whatever relationship this song stemmed from has left her lonely. At around 2:21, she makes some percussive noises that, from what I can tell, came from thumping her fist on a counter or a similar surface—with the faint metal clangs, you can almost see cutlery and hanging pots rattling on their hooks, echoing through a cramped, wooden space. All of this adds to the log-cabin atmosphere that Lenker has mastered so beautifully—even if she didn’t return to the same cabin in Massachusetts that songs marinated in, she’s an expert at making the most of scarcity.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Infinite Noise – Lauren Shippen – “Could you come forgive me? We get angry and hide/All of this lonely living, someone to walk beside…”

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!