Ruined – The Bookish Mutant

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!

Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 12/31/23

Posted on December 31, 2023 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

Whew, here we are on New Year’s Eve! What a year it’s been, huh? The fact that there’s 2/5ths depressing songs in this batch was entirely unintentional, but I’m of the firm opinion that the last one is a good way to close out 2023. Also—no, somehow the Phoebe Bridgers song this week isn’t one of the depressing ones, bizarrely. Who would’ve thunk.

Enjoy the last songs of 2023!

SUNDAY SONGS: 12/31/23

“Garden Song” – Phoebe Bridgers

This song, like a good song does, came back like an old, loyal dog when I needed it most. But before I get into it, I remembered that I reviewed Punisher when it came out. So let’s see what I thought about it back in 2020:

This was the first single to be released out of the whole album. When I first listened to it, something about it got under my skin, but as I’ve listened to it more, something about it has grown on me (no pun intended). A nostalgic, dreamlike opener to the album. (Rating: 7/10)

…huh. Well, I thought I’d have…more to work with there, but 2020 me wasn’t necessarily wrong. I’d certainly bump up the rating up to at least an 8 or an 8.5, though. It’s what this song deserves, upon a few more years of reflection. It’s a way-homer once you get past the age of 16.

Yes, there is some sad bastard music coming soon in this post (buckle up), but contrary to what…95% of Phoebe Bridgers’ discography would have you believe, this isn’t one of them. Pigeonholing an artist into being just a “sad girl” has a multitude of pitfalls, but one of them is that automatically assuming that slow = sad. In fact, I think this is one of her most hopeful songs. I remember taking a while to warm up to it at first—the startlingly low, Matt Berninger-esque backing vocals, probably several octaves below Bridgers, felt off at first. (In fact, the voice belongs to Jeroen Vrijhoef, her tour manager, who she described as sounding like “Dutch Matt Berninger.”) It’s a stark contrast—Vrijhoef’s rumbling bass almost becomes the unstable ground that Bridgers’ frayed-silk high notes treads over, but it grows on you after a while.

One thing that writing these posts this year has taught me is that I can see more clearly how I approach music; it’s always the music itself first, and unless something immediately jumps out at me (or if I come in expecting it), the lyrics follow on subsequent listens. That’s certainly what’s happened with this song. The dreamlike calmness has never failed to soothe me, but the lyrics have a soothing quality to them as well. The sleepily rambling second verse, where Phoebe Bridgers describes a meandering dream, has the murmur that you would only expect when she’s just woken up and is scrawling the non-sequitur fragments into her journal. (Not to project onto a complete stranger, but I feel like she’s the kind of person to keep a dream journal. I just get that vibe.) But even beyond that, “Garden Song” really is about growth. It’s the soft space where you can look back on your life, recognizing the good and bad, and see it as the soil for other things to grow. It’s the sad smile that you can see as you recall the painful times in your life, but also the comfort in realizing that your sprout has gone beyond that and bloomed, and the hope that there’s blooming yet to do. I find myself going back to 2020, a few months after Punisher came out, when it seemed like all of the lead-weight things pinning my shoulders down would never lift, and inevitably feeling heavy again, but remembering where I’m sitting now, and where my feet have taken me since then. The path was winding and full of twists, but it led us all here. As Bridgers herself said, “…if you’re someone who believes that good people are doing amazing things no matter how small, and that there’s beauty or whatever in the midst of all the darkness, you’re going to see that proof, too. And you’re going to ignore the dark shit, or see it and it doesn’t really affect your worldview. It’s about fighting back dark, evil murder thoughts and feeling like if I really want something, it happens, or it comes true in a totally weird, different way than I even expected.” There’s no denying the darkness, but it is never all there is.

“Garden Song” came back to me towards the end of finals, and of course, I had to sit a while in my spinny chair and sit with it. To me, it’s the perfect song to take with us to the new year—to reflect on how you’ve grown through everything, and that there is so much left to grow through. I’ll leave it with these lines:

“I don’t know how, but I’m taller
It must be something in the water
Everything’s growing in our garden
You don’t have to know that it’s haunted
The doctor put her hands over my liver
She told me my resentment’s getting smaller
No, I’m not afraid of hard work
I get everything I want
I have everything I wanted.”

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet – Becky Chambers – even if the gentle, muted instrumentals didn’t perfectly mesh with the homey atmosphere of this novel, the stargazingly hopeful attitude certainly would.

“Ruined” – Adrianne Lenker

Alright, here’s a blanket. This one’s from another sad girl, and it’s very much actually sad.

If there’s one thing that Adrianne Lenker can write well, it’s a heartbreak song. Unlike most of her solo work that I’ve listened to, there’s no acoustic guitar in sight. This time, Lenker has opted for something equally sparse and solemn: the classic solo piano ballad, aided by some faint, synthy notes in the background, apparently credited as “crystals.” It could’ve easily blended in with the acoustic-dominated landscape of most of her other music, but somehow, the slowly marching piano chords leave the song room to take every rattling breath. Thanks to the music video…I…yeah, I think I’ve now seen more of Adrianne Lenker than I ever needed to see, but this song provides more of that in the metaphorical sense, which I much prefer. She’s a soul-bearer. Something about the plaintive, ever-present waver in her voice seems to age her—it’s not like much time has passed between her solo work, but the shake in her voice seems to indicated that whatever inspired this song aged something inside of her, certainly. Poor thing. Whether or not this song will eventually be a part of an album or remain adrift in Lenker’s discography, it would make a wonderful, thematic addition to the end of an album—it wouldn’t even need to be the very last song, but it would fit in at least the final three or four. The opening lines lend themselves to an album fading into the ether, of both love and music slipping through your fingers—”I wish I’d waved when I saw you/I just watched you passing by.”

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Even Though I Knew the End – C.L. Polk – I don’t think Adrianne Lenker would mind the inclusion of vampires, but this is certainly the kind of love that ruins you.

“I’m Not Feeling Human” – The Olivia Tremor Control

My musical wish for 2024: BRING BACK SLIDE WHISTLES, DAMMIT!

I’ve been riding off my dad’s high of Elephant 6 musicians after he recently watched the Elephant 6 Recording Co. documentary (hence the recent spike in Apples in Stereo-related content). There’s something so pure about so much of the music that they put out in the early days. Well…okay, maybe not on Neutral Milk Hotel’s part, but Robert Schneider (of the Apples) and Will Cullen Hart and Bill Doss (of The Olivia Tremor Control) certainly knew how to juice playful simplicity out of synths and all manner of catchy melodies. The Apples in Stereo have a space-age, almost scientific quality to their pop songs, but to me, The Olivia Tremor Control has always come across as something just as whimsical, but in the way of flat colors and simple shapes that bounce around. I’ll die on the hill that this song deserves some kind of Chicka-Chicka Boom Boom-style music video to go along with it. The patchwork of goofy instruments scattered around (including the aforementioned, glorious slide whistle) gives it a delightful whimsy that calls to mind stacks of building blocks. Even the slight discomfort of the lyrics seem to be delivered with a wry smile—”Don’t I feel, don’t I feel like a mineral?/Don’t I feel, don’t I feel like a vegetable?” Maybe it’s the rhymes, or maybe just the fact that I’ve always found the phrase “animal, vegetable, or mineral” funny for no reason (I blame it on what little I remember from The Magician’s Nephew), but even vague alienation has a childlike whimsy to it in the hands of The Olivia Tremor Control. Probably the slide whistle, though.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The World of Edena – Mœbius – colored in with the same flat but vibrant colors that “I’m Not Feeling Human” is shaded in.

“Crash” – The Primitives

Okay, we’ve got one more peppy song before the depression hits…let’s ride the high while it lasts.

“Crash,” other than being a nostalgic, smiling thing popping up in my brain’s whack-a-mole system of remembering songs, feels like the better side of late ’80s pop. By then, the oversaturated synths and gated reverb had probably spread faster than the plague; I can’t speak from experience, given that…y’know, I wasn’t alive, but it had to have gotten obnoxious by that point. This song could have easily been that, but The Primitives seemed to know just the right balance to hit to make something instantly catchy, but that also managed to date itself in a way that wasn’t plasticky and corny. It’s distinctively ’80s without being distinctively ’80s, if you get what I mean. The guitars are bright, but not polished into oblivion, and yet there’s no denying the authentic, cartoon stars coming off of the opening riff. It’s practically begging to soundtrack a confident, reckless heroine with a slick jacket and and a pair of rollerblades, the kind with sparks that fly off with every turn she makes. Tracy Tracy, dolled up like some kind of new wave Marilyn Monroe in the music video, knows that she never needed to over-exaggerate her voice—the warmth of it, combined with the fiery embers self-contained in a tidy two and a half minutes, made for a song that’s unmistakable as a hit.

And they put this song in Dumb and Dumber? Huh?

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Little Thieves – Margaret Owen – Vanja Schmidt is certainly the kind of reckless firebrand that doesn’t know when to slow down—and it takes her to some unexpected places…

“Motion Picture Soundtrack” – Radiohead

Another thing I have my wonderful dad to thank for: we watched a few episodes of Joseph Campbell’s The Power of Myth (it’s all on Youtube, go watch it), and besides the plentiful, earth-shattering truth bombs, for lack of a better phrase, about the nature of life and myth (and how those two aren’t really separate things after all), a quote from the second episode stood out to me when I was reminded of this song. At about 42:48, after he and Bill Moyers are discussing the manifestation of god in everything, and by extension, machines, Campbell examines the inner framework of a computer and remarks, “have you ever looked inside one of those things? You can’t believe it! It’s a whole hierarchy of angels…and those little tubes, those are miracles.” For the sake of not derailing this post so I can actually publish it on Sunday, I’ll holding back from expanding on all of the aforementioned Campbell capital-T Truth bombs, which he seems to produce with the same frequency as the other Campbell’s soup cans, but I can’t help but think of this song when I think of computers and angels. There’s no other word besides “angelic” to describe the distorted chorus of electric voices that begins at 2:15. That sound couldn’t have come from any other place save for the miraculous angel tubes. There’s some kind of gospel to this song, I swear.

Unless something absolutely drastic and apocalyptic happens, I doubt I’ll ever stop singing the praises of Radiohead. I’m long past caring about how inevitably insufferable I am as a result, but all the language I have about them ends up being hyperbolic. Kid A is probably somewhere amongst my favorite albums—I haven’t formally organized them past top 10, but I’d say that this lands somewhere in the 20s or 30s, at least. OK Computer, even if their chronological placement has doomed them to comparisons as long as there are music critics to do so, will always be the favorite child in my mind, but the special quality of this album can’t be understated. Like Punisher, another red, blue, and black-colored album that I listened to during the summer of 2020, it’s a signpost for a hyper-specific time in my life, and one of the most cohesive showcases of the talents of Thom Yorke and company. But as much as “Everything In Its Right Place” and “Idioteque” hold uncontested places in my heart, “Motion Picture Soundtrack” will wield the ultimate trophy as far as Kid A goes, and for my standards of music in general. Right now, it’s my favorite album closer of all time. (Before anybody says anything, I know, ackshually ☝️🤓 “Untitled” is technically the closer, but at this point, it’s basically a cooling-down extension to this song). As I brought up before, there’s an undeniable air of gospel about it—the synths that press in at the beginning sound like pipe organs run through a dystopian starscape, and if that’s the case, then the choir is certainly the angels dwelling just out of view in the pews.

“Motion Picture Soundtrack” was marinating in Thom Yorke’s massive cauldron of glorious music since the mid-nineties, where it was an acoustic lament befitting of The Bends. After that, it became a deeply solemn piano ballad somewhere in the depths of the OK Computer sessions, but I, for one, am glad that this is the definitive version, even if we were robbed of what was originally the third verse: “Beautiful angel/pulled apart at birth/Limbless and helpless/I can’t even recognize you.” (OW.) “Motion Picture Soundtrack” was always meant for cosmic grandeur; even though the opening mentions of “red wine and sleeping pills” ground us in the dim hours of planet Earth, the sprawling emotion of it all is the definition of all-consuming. It feels like the final leap off the cliff from death to rebirth, watching your feet slip and the gravel crumble beneath them as the electric, harp-like notes fill your ears like an endless field of stars. Within the infinite sprawl of sorrow, you can’t help but see the staggering beauty of life itself blossom in front of you. I’ll go out again and say it: I doubt we’ll ever come close to the tearjerking final line of Kid A: “I will see you in the next life,” and the pleading waver of Yorke’s soul-caressing voice makes it resonate all the more.

Kid A is probably the pinnacle of hopeless sad bastard music, but I can’t help but feel some kind of embryonic hope resting in the egg yolk of this song. “I will see you in the next life” is a release from all the mindless, sorrowful things that the rest of the verses lay out, and the promise of a starry new beginning. The closing of a chapter, the setting of a book back on the shelf, knowing that if you ever go back and read it, nothing will ever fully be the same, but knowing that isn’t always a bad thing.

What a way to end the year, huh? Just like “Garden Song,” I’m glad this song returned to me when it did. Radiohead is the gift that keeps on giving (me too many feelings to handle).

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

The Darkness Outside Us – Eliot Schrefer – this book takes “I will see you in the next life” very seriously. One of my favorite love stories of all time, and one of my favorite sci-fi books of all time as well.

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

That’s it for the last Sunday Songs of the year! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves.

Book Review Tuesday (10/6/20)–All These Monsters

Posted on October 6, 2020October 6, 2020 by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Tuesday, bibliophiles!

Yeah, everybody has a different definition of happiness, but can we really deny the universal giddy joy of finding out that your preorder has reached the shipping department? SKYHUNTER WILL BE IN MY HANDS VERY, VERY SOON…[incoherent screaming]

Anyway, I put this on my TBR at the beginning of this year, but remembered it from Amie Kaufman’s recommendation of it in an episode of Amie Kaufman on Writing. Since it was available on the Kindle library, I decided to check it out, and I am SO glad I did! I didn’t think that anything would ever fill up the B.P.R.D.–shaped hole in my heart, but All These Monsters very nearly did it.

Enjoy this week’s review!

Amazon.com: All These Monsters (9780358012405): Tintera, Amy: Books

All These Monsters–Amy Tintera

For nearly a decade, the Earth that Clara knows has been decimated by the Scrabs, burrowing monsters that have popped up in cities all over the world and prey on any humans that stumble into their paths.

Clara feels confined in her home, considering dropping out of high school and trapped by her abusive father and absent mother. But when an opportunity to join an international scrab-fighting task force arises, she sees it as exactly the kind of escape she needs. Leaving her home behind, she joins the fight, but soon realizes that fighting monsters is more deadly–and lifechanging–than she ever imagined.

After B.P.R.D. came to a close last year, I thought that there wouldn’t be anything that could ever measure up to it. I didn’t even go into All These Monsters thinking that the two were all that similar, but somehow, this novel partially filled up the B.P.R.D.-shaped hole in my heart–and seeing how close those comics are to my heart, that’s seriously high praise coming from me.

First off, All These Monsters has some great representation–our protagonist Clara is half white, half Latinx [INTENSE HAPPY NOISES], and we have Black, Asian American, and Indian-American side characters. I loved Clara, and the team dynamic Tintera creates with her, Patrick, Edan, and all the rest is lovely! Those of you who have been following my reviews for a bit know that I’ll take found family any time of day, and All These Monsters portrayed it wonderfully.

And monsters. MONSTERS! I loved the scrabs–they gave me major Hell on Earth vibes, and I had so much fun going along for the ride with Clara and the rest of the gang. Not only does Tintera give us baseline physical descriptions of the scrabs, she goes in-depth to explore the international/political implications of them laying waste to the world. It’s certainly a lived-in kind of setting, so…come for the monsters, stay for the worldbuilding.

Beyond that, All These Monsters isn’t just about misfits fighting monsters–it’s a very raw exploration of abuse and toxic relationships. I’ll be clear–it’s not an easy read, but Tintera handles all of these tough topics with grace and aplomb, making you sympathize with some of the characters and hate some of the others with an appropriately fiery passion.

All in all, a dystopian sci-fi that delivers in both diversity and good old fashioned monster fighting. 4 stars!

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All These Monsters is the first in the Monsters duology, concluding with the forthcoming All These Warriors, which is scheduled to come out in July 2021. (I got an eARC of it and read it over the weekend, so expect that review soon!). Tintera is also the author of the Ruined trilogy (Ruined, Avenged, and Allied) and the Reboot series (Reboot and Rebel).

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