Tag: Spiritualized

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 6/16/24

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

First off: happy Father’s Day to my incredible dad! Not only are you such a wonderful role model for being a genuinely kind, accepting, and truly empathetic person, you’ve given me the gift of sharing music—what these posts are all about. To be able to share music with you back brings me all the joy in the world. I love you.

This week: 🚨SOCCER MOMMY HAS COME TO SAVE THE SECOND HALF OF 2024, THIS IS NOT A DRILL🚨

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 6/16/24

“Lost” – Soccer Mommy

SOCCER MOMMY RETURNS!!! Given the short tour (that’s nowhere near me……..no, I’m totally not mad, no way) that she’s currently embarking on to support some of this new material, there’s a fourth album (sixth, counting the self-released albums) on the horizon, and hopefully on a happier date. Poor thing. I still haven’t gotten over the fact that her last album, Sometimes, Forever, was unintentionally released on the day that Roe v. Wade was overturned. Jesus.

Something that I’ve admired over the years about Soccer Mommy is her willingness to experiment with her production. At their core, her songs have never changed their essence: honest, tender confessions of the trials of heartbreak, grief, and mental health. But the dressing is never the same twice, from color theory’s color-coded tonal shifts and synth-dusted melodies to the darker, more distorted soundscape of Sometimes, Forever. With the latter, Chelsea Wolfe wasn’t somebody that I’d readily compare to Soccer Mommy, but then she comes along with “Unholy Affliction,” and the comparison, at least on that track, is as clear as day. Just when you think she’s playing it safe, she comes out of nowhere with instrumentation that you’d never imagine attributed to her name—and almost every time, it still feels like nothing but Sophie Allison. There’s a boldness to her that’s rare in the genre; there is an expectation of sameness in the kind of indie circles she’s in, an expectation to box yourself into the image that the record label deems as “authentic” in order to stay in their good graces—and the good graces of fans who cling to their raw lyrics. Julien Baker, although her first two albums adhered to that, took a similar leap with Little Oblivions, and that, for me, was her best album to date.

But Soccer Mommy can’t help but be herself. “Lost” strays nearer to some of her sparer, more traditionally indie roots, but with production that feels spun from silk; inside of the glowing cocoon where Allison resides, threads of synth, birdsong, and yearning strings coalesce in what can only be described as the musical form of a grainy polaroid, a sunset tinged with ink, film, and bygone memories. Bygone memories, like much of her other material, is at the core of “Lost,” specifically bygone memories of those bygone. Given the trajectory of “yellow is the color of her eyes,” some have speculated that “Lost” is about her mother’s death, although Allison has chosen to not disclose the subject. whatever the case, I’m glad that Soccer Mommy doesn’t have the kind of rabid Swiftie fanbase that would relentlessly strip away at the press and at Allison herself to get to the bottom of who she’s mourning, because…that’s her own business, dammit. I’m glad us…whatever Soccer Mommy fans are called (does this fanbase have a name?) have the heart to give a human being space to breathe, because, judging from the lyrics (and all of color theory, frankly), Allison needs it. “Lost” distills grief in the truths of the cliche that every movie seems to repeat about grief: “I wish I’d had more time.” Most media leans on that universal kernel to hold the weight of such a complex, unmappable sensation, but Allison scratches at its heart; her grief rests not just in tangible objects, but in the reminders of the time never spent: “I’ve got a way/Of keeping her with me where I go/But how she feels, I’ll never know/It’s lost to me.” The pain of this track is in the insurmountable truth of never being able to fully know a person; of course you can never fully, truly know a person beyond yourself, but grief exacerbates that unsurmountable summit—even if you tell yourself that you could be a cartographer of a brain outside your own, that chance has all but slipped through your fingers. Grief has unrealistic expectations of you; in its throes, it tells you that you could have made up for all of the missed regrets in your lifetime, and that’s half of the knife in your gut. Half of the pain isn’t what didn’t happen, but what can’t happen, even in the alternate reality it presents. When she repeats “If I had another chance/I’d ask her then,” it doesn’t feel like a throwaway from a stale funeral in the MCU—it feels like the testimony of something still putting down the compass and fountain pen, knowing that this expedition was doomed from the start.

So, what, you ask, might us sad girls do while we wait for Soccer Mommy’s fourth LP, which will inevitably destroy us? Watch Allison and fellow storied sad girl Phoebe Bridgers unite to cover Elliott Smith:

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Only This Beautiful Moment – Abdi Nazemian – breaching generational lines to form an understanding of heritage, sexuality, and family.

“Drinking Song” – Haley Heynderickx

Contrary to the song title, Haley Heynderickx is (probably) not responsible for the kind of song that old men will sing in a pub while drunk for generations to come. I mean, that could be a possibility in some alternate universe. I’d like to see that. It’d make for an odd movie scene—nothing about this universe has changed, but instead of old Irish ballads, there’s a pub full of swaying people singing late-2010’s indie rock.

With a title like “Drinking Song,” I fully expected this song to be the prequel to “Oom Sha La La,” a telling of the period where “The milk [was] sour/I’ve barely been to college/And I’ve been doubtful/Of all that I have dreamed of.” Contrary to that, “Drinking Song” is a soft-spoken but resolute declaration of hope, delivered out a summer window while the crickets sing. Any darkness is the shroud of night, and all of the stars seem to bear witness to a constitution of better days to come: “And the edge of the world makes it seem/That everyone gone is still singing the same song/And I can believe in these things/That everyone’s singing along/The good and the bad and the gone.” There’s a kind of childlike optimism to the openness of Heynderickx’s declaration, but one with roots strong enough to hold it; with each repetition of “there’s a light at the end that I know,” that glow, like The Great Gatsby’s green light, pulses with more intensity with each incantation, until it becomes a portal to better times. It’s the opposite of negative overthinking; this song overflows with future vignettes of new cities to explore and new lovers to embrace, all held within the space of the back of your mind. “Drinking Song” is a snow globe containing every good future—all is too small to comprehend in the here and now, but with a little luck, you can hold them in your hands and watch them unfold before you.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Sea Change – Gina Chung – holding onto hope in a time of lovelessness and isolation.

“Bad Form” – Ganser

I like plenty of bands and artists whose catalogue consists of one or two songs tops (see: Wet Leg, Suki Waterhouse, etc.). What distinguishes said bands, for me, is that they’ve made a career out of making those two songs worth your time—they may only be two songs, but they play them well. Sure, “I Just Threw Out the Love of My Dreams” may be one of Weezer’s one, maybe two songs (and even that’s generous), but it’s such a bright and shining piece of machinery that you can’t help but gaze at said one song and know that, yeah, it may be the same song they’ve been peddling since 1994, but it’s one fantastic song.

The more I listen to Ganser, the more I realize that they fall into that camp. I hate to say that every time, but like I said, it’s not always an insult. Although they do have a good amount of deviation here and there, most of Just Look At That Sky, as much as I enjoyed it, is the same three off-kilter, drawled post-punk songs about being numb, exhausted, and angry, or some combination of the three. They’ve got a brand. Ganser, for me, stands out in that their three songs sound different enough from any given song that you can excuse them for relative lack of variety. None of their chords ever align pleasantly—it’s abrasive, grating, and honestly? Fun. As with “People Watching” (which I reviewed at the beginning of the month), Ganser makes the kind of punk that’s aware of how punk it sounds, and they lean into every inch of theatricality with their bleary-eyed drawls and itchy, buzz-saw guitar riffs, fuzzy and stinging like staring straight at the sun—just as like the climax of “Bad Form.” Ganser is a band that’s not afraid to make music that scratches your skin like un-filed, bitten nails, and if that’s their three songs, then three cheers for making three songs that are bold enough to sound unappealing.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Ten Low (The Facts Sequence, #1) – Stark Holborn – “I’m the other man/I’ll take the medicine/The room spins like a feather/Folding over and over…”

“Transatlanticism” – Death Cab for Cutie

I was first introduced to “Transatlanticism” when I was about 12 or 13. A few months after the first listen (and being irreparably entranced), I had an internship at a local flower shop, where the owner had Sirius XMU playing. This song came on at some point, and I’ll never forget the deeply concerned look she gave me when I told her, in the most 13-year-old way possible, how much I “loooooooooooved” this song. She was entirely justified.

Another thing that music criticism does that I’ve never understood: categorizing Death Cab for Cutie as emo. If I suspend my disbelief enough, I can see the basis being in the whine in Ben Gibbard’s voice, especially when he performs live, and the dramatic emotion is there, but…in what world does Death Cab for Cutie belong in the same breath as My Chemical Romance? Really? I could almost see them being the middle ground between emo and indie, with some of the lingering whine and drama, but the key with selling drama is what has always lost me with most emo music: it actually feels authentic. Never once does Gibbard sound like a suburban teenage boy who’s just discovered heartbreak and black eyeliner in one fell swoop. The whine, although it can fit into some of said teenage boy sensibilities (see: “We Looked Like Giants”), just seems more of a product of Gibbard’s natural range than it does a forced vehicle for airbrushed angst.

In theory, “Transatlanticism” fails my test of withstanding a long song; most of the time, in order for a long song to hold enough water past around the six minute mark, there has to be at least some sort of shift, whether that’s tonal, lyrical, or instrumental; it’s why “Cop Shoot Cop” by Spiritualized really feels like it’s over 17 minutes long, with its largely extended sleepwalk of monotony, whereas Nina Simone’s ten minute epic “Sinnerman” has the fervor and gusto, as well as an act structure similar to classical pieces, is a nail-biting journey that never lets go of your shirt collar. (To be fair to J. Spaceman, my guess is that the tedium is the intended effect, seeing as it’s about how his heroin addiction all but made him into a dead man walking. Knowing him, it’s fully intentional.) However, there’s songs like Blur’s “Tender”—nearly eight minutes long and without much change—that have the pure, undiluted heart to keep its sails billowing. You feel everything—it’s an IV drip straight through to the sparest, most instinctual emotions, heart-wrenching in its delicately-crafted simplicity. “Transatlanticism” takes a trick out of that same book; until the last third, all that accompanies Gibbard’s thinning, tender lament is about four piano chords, played over and over with a purposeful negative space between them. Come to think of it, negative space is exactly why “Transatlanticism” works so well. Transatlanticism as a whole is a concept album about long-distance relationships, and even without the lyrics, crushing as they are, you can sense the abyssal gulf cutting down the middle of this song. At the four-minute mark, after Gibbard has finished with the first repetition of “I need you so much closer,” a full minute passes of a single, instrumental strain: those same four chords, a spare guitar lick, and tiny tendrils of synth that faintly moan and rattle like dying machinery, as if trying to conceal their death rattles without bothering anyone. Transatlancism was aided with Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies cards, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they drew the same cards that produced Bowie’s “Sense of Doubt”—”emphasize difference” and “try to make everything as similar as possible.”

The difference, in this case, is a shift in lyrical style; It’s all but silent compared to the lyrics in the first half, but that silence conveys the feeling of separation, of having a strand of your soul stretched across an ocean and not being able to see who’s on the other shore, just as heartbreakingly as words do. After Gibbard’s lament (“The rhythm of my footsteps crossing flatlands to your door/Have been silenced forevermore/The distance is quite simply much too far for me to row/It seems farther than ever before”), the exhaustion of sorrow leaves you with no strength to do anything but stare into the canyon wrought by distance, too far to even touch fingertips over. Simplicity is what kills me about this song; after that instrumental break, Gibbard repeats the “I need you so much closer” refrain, only to transform it to “I need you so much closer…so come on.” When all of the poetry’s drained, sometimes the most sparing lyricism destroys me. The ocean has spread its impossible distance before you, and all you can do is stare as far as you can, towards the bottom, with only the most baseline instincts of longing to keep you company. It’s such an artful buildup and approach to portraying such deep yearning—you feel that negative space as a tangible barrier. See what I mean about Death Cab for Cutie making their angst authentic? “Transatlanticism” hits me like a goddamn steam train every time without fail. Ow, dude, who kidnapped me and abandoned me in the onion-cutting factory?

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

Aurora’s End (The Aurora Cycle, #3) – Amie Kaufman & Jay Kristoff – ow oof ow ouchie ow ow ow somebody hold me

“Country Sad Ballad Man” – Blur

And now, “Song 3.”

Blur’s self-titled album [slides Anthony Fantano glasses up bridge of nose] is an exercise in becoming the very thing you swore to destroy. After years of being right smack in the middle of the spotlight, participating in a manufactured battle of the bands, and pushing their mutual abuse of multiple substances to the edge, the band collectively decided that a change needed to be made. They packed their bags, temporarily relocated to Iceland, and hammered out a new album. The result was Blur, which had a much dingier, edgier, and altogether harder sound, with a lead single that famously parodied grunge, but then…circled around to being a smash success and an enduring stadium classic. That’s another story. (I’ll give you a hint: wooooooooohoo!) Yet, as much as they poked fun at American grunge, in all of its nihilistic, self-deprecating time in the sun, they slipped straight into the lifestyle, shedding their Britpop gloss for aggressive, alternative guitar, stubble, and, to the detriment of the whole band, excessive abuse of alcohol and heroin (see: “Beetlebum”).

Though the drug use is lamentable (to say the least), as all of the band members now agree, it was their mutual exhaustion and anger at being put through the British media meat grinder that allowed for such a hard—and delicious—left turn. On the verge of snapping, the band decided to put Parklife behind them and get grungy. It was bound to happen eventually, what with Graham Coxon’s adoration for the American alternative scene and the guitar sounds they were producing (should’ve listened to him earlier on that one…). Blur is all but absent of a bad track, crashing with the equivalent of a drum set tossed through a window one minute (“Chinese Bombs”) and slipping into acoustic melancholia in the next (“You’re So Great”). But “Country Sad Ballad Man,” for me, is a highlight I find myself sniffing out every six months or so. With one of the drier and more self-explanatory titles, this track feels like food left to rot out in a heatwave, festering and twangy. Every other lyric finds Damon Albarn stretching his voice into a creaky, scratching highs, as though mocking his own state of lying squarely at rock-bottom: “I haven’t felt my legs/Since the summer/And I don’t call my friends/Forgot their numbers.” The strings on Alex James’ upright bass come loose and unsteady, as though a few more takes of this song would’ve seen them snap off and collapse on the floor. Graham Coxon relishes in the alternative aggression that Britpop never fully allowed for, twisting riffs that seem to languish like drooping eyelids, dripping sweat and numbness. But the real freakout, one that must have been canned and compressed for ages, explodes in a vomit of wobbly distortion and screeching falsetto. It’s a vertigo-inducing outro that caves in like the mold-rotted roof of a wooden house, shattering in a hail of splinters and nails. In all of its spring-plucking chaos, there’s really no other lyric that fits it than Albarn’s self-aggrandizing, high-pitched screech of “I’ve done and fucked it!” yelled straight up from the well of rock bottom.

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

So Lucky – Nicola Griffith – “Yeah, I found nowhere/It got to know me…”

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

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

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 5/19/24

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

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

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

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 5/19/24

“Advert” – Blur

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

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

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

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

“Abbey” – Mitski

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

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

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

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

“Side By Side” – Crumb

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

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

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

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

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

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

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

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

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

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

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

“The Mainline Song” – Spiritualized

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

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

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

…AND A BOOK TO GO WITH IT:

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

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

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

Posted in Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 6/4/23

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

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

And more importantly, happy pride to each and every one of you! I’ll say a bit more about that in my annual pride recommendations post (working on it as we speak), but for now, here’s what I have to say: the past year has been incredibly difficult for the queer community, but it’s important to remember that amidst all of the anti-lgbtq+ legislation, that they can never take away our happiness—queer joy is an act of resistance. We’re still here, so get used to it. And please, buy your pride merch from somewhere other than…y’know, Walmart. Queer small businesses make better stuff, anyways.

On a lighter note, I really wish I’d found this clip earlier…I would’ve used it to come out to so many people, you have no idea…

Enjoy this week’s songs!

SUNDAY SONGS: 6/4/23

“Oom Sha La La” – Haley Heynderickx

There’s no whiplash quite like searching for this song on YouTube, and then seeing that one of the top results is “oom sha la la leafpool.” I kid you not. Glad to see that the Warrior Cats fandom is alive and kickin’ and making AMVs like it’s 2014. I did hear that the main series is still going (I stopped at the 5th series 🥴), and now there’s canonically…[checks notes] cats getting possessed? I’m not even gonna touch that. Call me an uptight old boomer, but everything was just fine back in the good old days, when it was just cats committing heinous war crimes against each other. Moving on…

I Need to Start a Garden has earned its place on my Sisyphean album bucket list ever since my brother turned me onto “The Bug Collector” by way of his girlfriend. I loved the latter, melancholy and full of creepy crawlies as it is, but this one immediately snagged me like a fish getting unceremoniously reeled up from the depths of a lake. There’s a comforting steadiness to this song; anchored by Heynderickx’s warm voice, it gently cups you into its hands like you’re a moth stuck in the house. Neat, glossy guitars buoy along a plethora of razor-sharp, wonderfully oddball lyrics—I doubt the words “arbitrary” and “sonogram” will ever be paired together again, unless Bon Iver or Ezra Koenig come along and steal it. (Obvious Bicycle 2?) But beyond that, “Oom Sha La La” is one of those songs that feels universally relatable. Judging from both my brother’s reaction and the YouTube comments, there’s a nugget of truth for everybody in this one—everybody’s had a moment in their life when they’ve come to the impetus that they need to get off of their butts, shake off the dust of the past, and get their lives together. For me, it reminds me of when I first started college—being so afraid to do anything and everything, but that saving voice telling me that “If you don’t go outside/well, nothing’s gonna happen.” And that impetus comes in the speeding catharsis train of Heynderickx’s cry of “I NEED TO START A GARDEN!”, which was apparently accompanied at one of her concerts with potting soil raining from the ceiling like confetti. There’s no use in waiting for the dirt to rain on you, in the end—you have the scream inside you, telling you that nobody but you can steer your life for the better. You have the power.

“Paprika” – Japanese Breakfast

I’m new-ish to Japanese Breakfast, but now that I’ve seen a video from a friend of mine who saw her a few weeks back, the best part of this song, by far, is that Michelle Zauner drags a whole gong onstage for this song. I really don’t think I need to justify that.

Every time I listen to “Paprika,” I get this voice in my head that slaps me upside the head, chiding me for not getting into more Japanese Breakfast right this second. Trust me, the only thing keeping me from it is my self-imposed need to get through a) some albums that are too hard to draw on a whiteboard (Here Come the Warm Jets) and b) get through all of the Blur and Peter Gabriel I have left to listen to before both of their new albums. This song, though, is absolutely enchanting—there’s no better word for it. Like so many of her other songs, it coats you in an intoxicating cloud of glitter, backed by faint steel drums and a bright horn ensemble. It really does feel like you’re “at the center of magic,” as Zauner chimes in at the chorus. It’s a shame that the famous gong is understated, but the sound mixing blends it perfectly with the rest of the instrumentals, paring it down to a clean crispness that seems to disappear into glittering sparks. I would’ve thought it was a cymbal, if it weren’t for said friend’s video footage. But that all works to uplift Zauner’s voice, bright and perfectly suited to the swirl of light surrounding her. Maybe she is the swirl of light.

“Breakadawn” – De La Soul

There’s something undeniably summery about this song. You can say that with certainty for the entirety of Three Feet High and Rising, with its carefree spirit and day-glo-colored album cover, but there’s a different kind of carefree slickness of “Breakadawn.” Smoothly collaged with samples from everybody from Michael Jackson (the backing track) to Smokey Robinson (the famous “breakadawn”), this song is proof of how seamlessly you can weave samples into a song—they all sound so natural together that they might as well have been borne together from the start. And what better soundtrack for watching Plug 1, Plug 2, Plug 3, and their many clones (?) walking along the beach and making camera moves that feel like proto-selfies? There’s no denying the shift in tone post-Three Feet High and Rising, but every song I’ve heard from Buhloone Mindstate is convincing me that this ethos never really left—in the end, this song is still filled with vibrant, summer colors that are impossible to deny. What better song to stick your head out a car window on a warm day to?

“Allison” – Soccer Mommy

We’ve got an Allison trifecta on this post, I guess? A song called “Allison,” made by my wife Sophie Allison, and an Al(l)ison Goldfrapp down below? Are we summoning Allisons here? (And can I summon the second one?)

Collection is Soccer Mommy’s first mini-album before her major label releases, and this was one of the few new songs amidst the other redone songs from when she self-released music on Bandcamp. Knowing this, it’s clear to see the sonic bridge between these periods of her career—the maturity of later albums like color theory comes through—this one reminds me of “night swimming”—but the young angst, painted with her tender, gentle touch, feels timeless. Allison’s guitar work has her signature, bedroom-pop touch of reverb and soul, and every bit of the song rings out like birdsong heard through the wind. It’s interesting that she likely named the song after herself—with that in mind, the song transforms from somebody else’s story to a mantra to her past self, a reminder of missed chances: “Allison, put down your sword/Give up what you’re fighting for.” There’s another layer of intimacy that manifests knowing that Allison crafted a lot of these earlier songs from pieces of her own diary entries—does it get more heart-laid-bare than that? It’s proof that from the beginning, Allison had no interest in being disingenuous—every song she writes is her, and nothing but—no airs put on, no glamorizing her life. I guess that almost comes with her bedroom pop, homemade roots, but I doubt that every single one of those musicians stay as true to themselves as she does.

“Monster Love” (Goldfrapp vs. Spiritualized) – Goldfrapp & Spiritualized

This is the only song that I’ve heard Spiritualized remix/reimagine, but it feels like he is to “Monster Love” what Denis Villeneuve was to Arrival: taking something that’s already beautiful, and artfully exceeding all of the qualities that made it so.

Goldfrapp and Spiritualized is a pairing that I never would’ve imagined, and yet, J. Spaceman has deconstructed her Seventh Tree album closer, already a beautifully introspective song, into…well, just pure J. Spaceman. All of the lyrics from the original have been stripped, save for this line: “Everything comes around/Bringing us back again/Here is where we start/And where we end.” Just from that, it already sounds like the words to a Spiritualized song, but it’s so fascinating to see the J. Spaceman Cosmic Touch™️ applied elsewhere. Alison Goldfrapp’s voice is cloaked in reverb, and the synths rise and fall like waves. Accompanying them is a series of chimes, harmonica, tambourine, which, if any other person was reimagining this song, would sound exceedingly out of place, but again—the J. Spaceman Cosmic Touch™️. His voice feels perfectly natural for the landscape he and Goldfrapp have created, his staticky harmonies melding smoothly into the music and drifting away just as quickly. It’s not surprising that Spiritualized would have such a Midas’ Touch on anything he lays a finger on, really.

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

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

Posted in Music, Sunday Songs

Sunday Songs: 1/8/23

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

I probably should’ve said something before tweaking my blogging schedule without warning, but I’ve decided to do a little something new instead of my weekly updates. I figured that I ended up saying most of the stuff I said in my weekly updates in my monthly wrap-ups, so this seemed like a more fun and creative use of my time.

Since last summer, I’ve been making graphics of songs that I’d been listening to during the week and shared them every Sunday, inspired by my brother. I’ve wanted to write about music more on this blog for a while, so I figured that I’d move my Sunday Songs to this blog as well to get the chance. As I said, these will probably replace my weekly updates, but you’ll be able to see everything that I’ve been reading in my wrap-ups at the end of each month. I know I’m going to enjoy writing about music more, and I hope you all enjoy the results!

the background format for this & all further Sunday Songs comes from a close up picture I took of the massive section of David Bowie CDs at Amoeba Records in San Francisco!

SUNDAY SONGS: 1/8/23

Gorillaz – “Left Hand Suzuki Method”

I can’t say anything about the whole album, but you know a band has endless talent when even the B-Sides (or G-Sides, in this case) sound just as good—if not better—than the original album material. I’ve been a huge fan of Gorillaz for years, but I didn’t hear about this one until it showed up in my YouTube recommendations out of the blue. And of all the things I expected to get from a Gorillaz song, Suzuki flashbacks was not one of them. I feel like I got whiplash the second I heard the sample of “Long Long Ago”, and suddenly, I was experiencing every piano lesson that I had from ages 5-7 (or something) as well as every recital that I ever attended at my old music school all at once. Whew.

But the way Damon Albarn utilizes this sample in “Left Hand Suzuki Method” is a testament to his creativity as a musician; building off a creaky sample that’s meant to teach kids how to play music, he creates a collage of funky keyboards and thick, punchy guitar intervals that transform a simple song into a collage of instantly catchy sound. Genius. Again, how was this a B-Side? (Sorry, G-Side…)

David Bowie – “All the Madmen”

I forgot up until a few days ago that this Sunday also happens to be what would have been David Bowie’s 76th birthday, so I’m glad I’m writing about him today. Happy birthday, sir. ⚡️

This one’s a bit lesser known than most of his (extensive) catalogue, but it’s crept up to become one of my favorite, underrated songs of his. Taken from The Man Who Sold the World, it’s loosely based on his schizophrenic half-brother, who was in and out of the institutions that the song fictionalizes. As you’d imagine, it’s appropriately chilling in that sense, but it has a lighter, almost nursery rhyme feel to certain parts of it—flutes and light drums that almost sound tinkling—before launching into epic, sweeping electric guitars that have come to define much of his early 70’s material. It all culminates into one of the most simultaneously creepy and catchy outros that I can think of in any song—as the guitars blend into synths as the song closes, Bowie begins a clapping chant of “Zane, zane, zane/ouvre le chien” (open the dog), a line which he later confirmed to be nonsense, seemingly the final nail in the protagonist’s loss of sanity. “All the Madmen” makes me appreciate Bowie so much more a songwriter—with his combination of sharp lyricism and musical craft, every song is a story.

Missy Elliott – “The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)”

At last…I finally know what my mom was referencing every time she said “Beep beep!/Who got the keys to the Jeep?”…

And my mom is also the reason why I found this song, after I told her about how I rediscovered “Get Ur Freak On”, and I’ve been listening to it nonstop ever since. Hip-hop isn’t usually my go-to, but even from the two songs I know her from, Missy Elliott is masterful at making a song so smooth and seamless that you miss the samples within—I just found out that the main structure of the song was sampled from Ann Peebles’ “I Can’t Stand the Rain.” Like “Left Hand Suzuki Method,” “The Rain” creates a collage of smooth, instantly catchy sound out of a single, looped sample, creating a wider soundscape that keeps my head nodding through all 4+ minutes of the song. This phrase is definitely going to come up constantly in these posts, but…yeah, I need to listen to more Missy Elliott. So good.

Fontaines D.C. – “I Love You”

I know shamefully little about this band—before hearing this one on a friend’s Instagram story, the extent of my knowledge of Fontaines D.C. came from their glowing Pitchfork reviews (I think this album that this song is from came out on the same day as Everything Was Beautiful and got best new music instead of it? Come on, Spiritualized deserved it…I digress…why am I so fixated on these things?) and some guy’s hoodie that I saw in passing at the Smile show (“oh, the album with the elk on it?” – my internal monologue). I’m liking this song enough to explore more, though; through my first and only exposure so far, I love how “I Love You” slowly builds tension and breaks it just as quickly. With the faint bass and twinkling guitar notes in the quite first few minutes, the drums build to a slow, tight crescendo as the vocals intensify and then return to the peaceful, strangely sinister place where the song came from just as quickly, fading to nothing but a few strained strums in the very end.

So thanks, anonymous friend, for the new song and possibly new band to listen to! Maybe another album to add to my hydra-like list of albums that I have yet to listen to?

Yeah Yeah Yeahs – “Despair (Acoustic Version)”

Going back to a mainstay favorite of mine for several years, here’s a beautifully uplifting song to take us into the rest of the new year. I know, look at the title, but stay with me: the song is more about overcoming despair than the despair itself, don’t worry. We’ll save my sadgirl songs for later. Although the original makes the uplifting message all the more prominent (because how else would Karen O. dancing on top of the Empire State Building in a rhinestone-studded jacket make you feel? Really?), there’s a certain intimacy that I glean from the acoustic version; whereas the original is a rallying cry for optimism and hope in spite of the darkness that life brings, this feels like a gentle comfort, a reassuring word whispered as you’re tucked into bed, promising that the monsters under your bed won’t hurt you after all. “Through the darkness and the light/Some sun has gotta rise.” Leave it to Karen O. and company to keep the light going in these uncertain times.

Oh, and I just realized that the original is almost 10 years old now, OW…

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

I hope you all enjoyed my first time doing Sunday Songs! I love writing about music almost as much as I like writing about books, so hopefully you can enjoy it too. I look forward to writing more about music in the future outside of just album reviews (although I’m VERY excited to review Cracker Island when the day comes). Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Monthly Wrap-Ups

December 2022 Wrap-Up 🧣

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Saturday, bibliophiles, and happy New Year’s Eve!

Whew. This strange, chaotic year is coming to a close, but what matters most is that despite everything, we’re still here. Whoever you are, I’m proud of you for making it through another year. You did it!

GENERAL THOUGHTS:

December was certainly a little stressful at the beginning, what with my first finals season in college. Most of my classes were fine, seeing as all of my English *finals* were mostly essays and portfolios, but stats and bio anth were a little tougher. But in the end, I got out with good grades, and I won’t have to take a math class again in my college career. You have no idea how happy I am about that.

The great thing about being in college (in my case, at least) is that we have a really long winter break! After the chaos of finals, I’ve had a lot of time to settle down, relax, and spend the holidays with family. I’ve been in a major reading slump since finals, but the combination of some finds from my dad’s comic shelf, some Christmas gifts, and the haul from my Barnes & Noble gift card, I’m back into my regular reading rhythm! I’m so excited to read the rest of my haul!!

Other than that, I’ve been drawing more, putting together a puzzle (of David Bowie, who else would it be), watching Andor (SO GOOD), Glass Onion (I cannot stress enough how wonderful this movie is), and Decision to Leave (I still don’t completely know how I feel about this one), seeing The Smile live (CRYING CRYING CRYING), and enjoying spending time at home with my family over the break.

And yes, I know it’s New Year’s Eve, but there is a MUCH more important holiday going on today, and that’s Ringo’s first birthday!! My boy turns 1 today!! Everybody say happy birthday to Ringo

Also, I figured it might be fun to share some highlights from my apple music wrapped, sorry, replay—I’ve always wished that apple music had a wrapped equivalent, so, uh, Christmas miracle, I guess?

unsurprising, given that I spent a 2-hour plane flight listening to “Metal Guru” on repeat and nothing else 🥴
I am nothing if not predictable (David Bowie was #6 and Radiohead was #7 lol)
PFFFFFFFF ROCKY HORROR MADE THE CUT
Do I get Welsh street cred for this one?

READING AND BLOGGING:

I read 15 books this month! It was my worst reading month as far as reading goes, but it was also finals week, so it’s all fine. I completed my reading challenge of 200 books and read 224 books in all this year!

2 – 2.75 stars:

Aces Wild: A Heist

3 – 3.75 stars:

Hellboy: On Earth as it is in Hell

4 – 4.75 stars:

House of Hollow

FAVORITE BOOK OF THE MONTH: Gleanings: Stories from the Arc of a Scythe – 4 stars

POSTS I’M PROUD OF:

POSTS FROM OTHER WONDERFUL PEOPLE THAT I ENJOYED:

SONGS/ALBUMS THAT I ENJOYED:

fantastic on its own, but it was incredible to hear live with The Smile!!
unpopular opinion—this is my least favorite Blur album that I’ve listened to so far, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it. this is certainly the best track
I never thought I’d say this in my lifetime, but new Sparklehorse just dropped?? and it’s not sad??????
again, this was so much fun live, but it’s great to finally hear the album version!!
I stumbled upon this one while trying to cite On a Sunbeam for my final comics paper—according to Tillie Walden, this is the song that inspired the title! fits the vibe of the comic for sure
SUCH a creative cover, wildly different from the original but in the best way possible
a great album to end the year on!

It’s been a scary and jarring year, but it’s been wonderful too. I graduated high school and started college, and I pushed myself out of my comfort zone more than I have in ages. I made new friends, I went to so many amazing concerts and read so many fantastic books. It’s been weird and uncertain (and I cried a lot), but in the end, what matters is that we got through it. No matter how good or bad of a year you had, I hope 2023 brings hope, love, and good things to each and every one of you. We got this.

Have a wonderful new year. Spread love, be kind to each other.

— madeline

Today’s song:

came for the Gorillaz, stayed for the Suzuki flashbacks

That’s it for this month in blogging! Have a wonderful rest of your day, take care of yourselves, and have a happy new year!

Posted in Music

A (Possibly Mutable) List of my Top 10 Favorite Albums

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Thursday, bibliophiles!

I’ve been meaning to semi-solidify this list (for now) for quite a while, but I think it was looking back through Hundreds & Thousands of Books’ post about her top 10 albums that sparked the idea in me to make a post about it, so thank you!

Even though this blog is primarily about books, I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that music has had an equally profound effect on my life. Raised by two music nerds, I grew up listening to tons of Beatles and Bowie, and as I grew older, I began to mark periods of my life by the music I listened to. But there are always certain albums that leave an unmistakable mark on our lives. Some of mine have been steadfast favorites, and others I’ve only discovered in the past few months. All of them, however, have had a profound effect on me, whether it’s just been the experiencing something that’s just so, so good or marking a specific period in my life. So here are, right now, my 10 favorite albums.

Let’s begin, shall we?

🎵THE BOOKISH MUTANT’S TOP 10 FAVORITE ALBUMS🎵

10. Snail Mail – Lush (2018)

The summer of 2018 was a strange one for me—the summer before high school, and the summer I started seriously questioning my sexuality. I have Lush to thank for getting me through a lot of it, with Lindsey Jordan’s soaring guitar riffs and searingly vulnerable lyrics shining through in a debut like no other. Snail Mail is partially what inspired me to pick up the guitar—and I definitely think meeting her at a show that summer when I was a wee bisexual did something to my pubescent brain that I wouldn’t recover from…💀

Favorite Track: “Heat Wave”

9. Super Furry Animals – Rings Around the World (2001)

I remember hearing tracks like “Sidewalk Serfer Girl” and “(Drawing) Rings Around the World” from when I was about 5, but it wasn’t until this March that I appreciated this masterpiece of an album in its entirety. Something that makes me love a piece of media—be it a book, a movie, an album, or anything else—that much more is that if there’s clear evidence of how much love and care was put into it. And it’s blatantly evident here—Rings Around the World is brimming with creativity, and through all of the genres of music they explore, there isn’t a single miss. There’s something so fully-formed about it, like it just came into the world like Athena bursting forth from the skull of Zeus.

Favorite track: “No Sympathy”

8. Wilco – Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2001)

This album’s one that’s been a constant in my life; Wilco is one of my dad’s favorite bands, and I’ve been hearing them for so long that they’ve become inextricably linked to my personal history. (Wilco was my first concert, at the age of 8!) But this album in particular is the most special of theirs to me; like Rings Around the World, I’ve been listening to isolated songs from it for years, but the whole album is a true work of art, sonically and lyrically immersive and always emotionally moving and potent.

Favorite track(s): oh, man, this is hard…

I’ve settled on a three-way tie between “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart,” “Ashes of American Flags,” and “Reservations.”

7. Car Seat Headrest – Teens of Denial (2016)

Another gem from the summer of 2018, this one always brings to mind dozens of fond memories—seeing Car Seat Headrest live (and subsequently tainting all of my concert videos from my off-key scream-singing), repainting my room, going on vacation in Chicago. Car Seat Headrest have been a favorite of mine since around 8th grade, but the more I think about it, the more Teens of Denial in particular stands out as my favorite album—clever, vulnerable, raw, and perfect for 14-year-old me to scream along to.

Favorite track: “Cosmic Hero”

6. The Beatles – The White Album (1968)

I guess I’ve got a theme going with the red and white album covers? I don’t think it holds up later in the list…

As I said earlier, I was undoubtably raised on the Beatles; some of my earliest memories are of hearing songs like “Good Day Sunshine” and “Yellow Submarine” in the car, and I’ve adored them ever since. I’ve flip-flopped between albums for a favorite Beatles album for years, and it feels like it changes with my mood; some days, it was Revolver, other times it was Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. But between having some of my favorite Beatles songs of all time and the solace it gave me in the early days of quarantine, The White Album takes the top spot for me—I think “I’m So Tired” is my most played song on my whole iTunes library. (somehow I’ve played it over 2,500 times?? didn’t even know I was capable of such a thing 💀)

Favorite track(s): tie between “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” and “I’m So Tired”

5. Spiritualized – Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space (1997)

I fell in love with Spiritualized, as a lot of people seemed to do, after hearing the title track, “Ladies And Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space.” Ever since then, they’ve held a truly special place in my heart; I rediscovered them in quarantine, and this album in particular has held a top spot for me ever since. Despite all the abject heartbreak, addiction, and general melancholy present through this album (and all of J. Spaceman’s music), there’s a cosmic, immersive quality to his music that swallows me like a wave with every song. Listening to Spiritualized is more than just music—it’s an experience in and of itself.

Favorite track: “Ladies And Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space”

4. Blur – 13 (1999)

another heartbreak album comin’ atcha…

Like Super Furry Animals, I’ve been hearing scattered Blur songs throughout my childhood, “Song 2,” “Coffee & TV,” and “Charmless Man” being standouts. But it wasn’t until last summer that I got back into Blur—really into Blur. (You all witnessed the Blurification of this blog last year…) There’s something instantly hooking about their songs—the clever lyrics, the punchy guitars that seem to burst out of your headphones. But 13 is uniquely special to me; it was my musical companion in a strange, transitionary period of my life (the beginning of senior year and being a legal adult…somehow?). Beyond that, it’s so clear that so much time and love went into this record—through every high and low, there’s a consistent resonance that you can feel in your chest. It’s a masterpiece. It’s an album that I’ve come back to ever since when I’ve felt low—there’s a healing quality to it.

Favorite track: “Tender”—also my favorite song of all time, at the moment

3. St. Vincent – St. Vincent (2014)

adding another white album cover to the mix, I guess?

St. Vincent, without a doubt, is responsible for shaping some of my most formative years. Middle school was a weird time for me—I was struggling with friendships, forming my identity, and getting teased for the things I loved so passionately. And here was St. Vincent, this confident, ridiculously talented musician who wielded her guitar like a sword into battle. So you can imagine how I got attached to her. Even if MASSEDUCTION made me lose a little faith in her for a few years, she’ll always remain as a hero of mine, and St. Vincent in particular will always be a daring, fierce masterpiece that sweeps me off my feet every time—and the album that got me through 6th grade.

Favorite track: “Bad Believer” (on the deluxe edition), “Severed Crossed Fingers” (on the original edition)

2. Radiohead – OK Computer (1997)

and another white album cover? sort of?

Yeah, okay. I fully admit that my toxic trait is genuinely enjoying certain kinds of male manipulator music. But Radiohead will always be an immensely special band to me. “The Daily Mail” was my first exposure to them (thanks, Legion!), but OK Computer opened my eyes to something I’d never experienced before—or, something that I’d overlooked before, but now fully appreciate. Like Spiritualized, every Radiohead song is a fleshed-out landscape, an experience that lifts you off your feet, even when the lyrics are unbearably heartbreaking. OK Computer is an album that I wish I could listen to for the first time again—it’s an unforgettable, dystopian masterpiece, and it’s proved itself to stand the test of time.

Favorite track: “Paranoid Android”

  1. David Bowie – Hunky Dory (1971)
I guess there’s a slight pattern on here with tan album covers too?

And here it is: my favorite album of all time.

David Bowie has been a constant companion in my life; one of my earliest memories that I can think of is hearing “Kooks” in the car. He’s been another hero of mine for years—again, he came to me in middle school, at a time when I was an outsider and unsure of myself, and stood as a glaring reminder to be myself—no matter what. This album in particular is, in my opinion, a perfect album; there isn’t a single bad song, and each one is a world of its own, spinning lyrical tales that span from the cosmic to the tender and everything in between. It’s an album I always come back to, and one that I’ll always hold close. Some of the other albums lower on the list may change or switch orders over the course of my life, but I doubt I’ll ever come across something quite as stellar as this.

Favorite track(s): Tie between “Quicksand” and “Life On Mars?”

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Have you listened to any of these albums, and if so, did you like them? What are some of your favorite albums? Let me know in the comments!

Today’s song:

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

Posted in Monthly Wrap-Ups

April 2022 Wrap-Up 🎫

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Saturday, bibliophiles!

I keep saying things along the lines of “this week has been low-key…” in my updates and in my journal, fully knowing that it’s the calm before the storm (read: AP tests), but it’s been good to enjoy the calm nonetheless. And if I could get through three AP tests last year, then I can do it this year too. At least they’re all in one week again this time.

GENERAL THOUGHTS:

Looking back, April was somewhat busy, but it never quite felt that way. Going to three concerts in a month was certainly a plus, however tired I got the day after the second two. I have less than a month left of high school (!!!!) and it certainly feels like things are slowing down…it’s all coming into perspective…

April’s been a great reading month as well! Aside from one DNF at the beginning of the month, I haven’t read anything below two stars. I found some great books in the bunch too, both from new-to-me authors and from tried-and-true authors! A good batch, I think.

Things have been slowing down as far as writing goes; since I shared my WIP, I’ve been in a sort of limbo where I’m not sure what to write next. For now, I’m outlining for said WIP’s sequel, but it’s been…rocky. I forgot how frustrating the beginning stages of outlining can be sometimes. Figuring out the playlist has been fun, though…Other than that, I’ve just been drawing, learning a few new songs on guitar, finishing Raised by Wolves (w h a t) and Severance (season 2 can’t come soon enough), watching Spirited Away, listening to an excess of Wet Leg, Spiritualized, and Jack White, and seeing Spiritualized, Snail Mail, and Ben Folds live. (All three were lots of fun, but Spiritualized was hands down my favorite!!)

READING AND BLOGGING:

I read 18 books this month! I can chalk that one up to several lengthy books that took me longer than usual to read, but that’s okay. Still on track for my goodreads goal of 200—78 books as of now!

1 – 1.75 stars:

Witches Steeped in Gold

2 – 2.75 stars:

The Conductors

3 – 3.75 stars:

One for All

4 – 4.75 stars:

The Weight of Our Sky

FAVORITE BOOK OF THE MONTH: Extasia – 4.5 stars

SOME POSTS I’M PROUD OF:

POSTS FROM OTHER WONDERFUL PEOPLE THAT I ENJOYED:

SONGS/ALBUMS THAT I ENJOYED:

now THAT is an impressive high note
this was so beautiful live 😭
in which my dad and I try to catalogue all of the songs that they played at the Spiritualized soundcheck
such a fun album!
also a very fun album!!
every day I get more and more excited about the new Soccer Mommy album
such a haunting ending to a beautiful album
this was so much fun live!! the whole concert was so fun and interactive

DID I FOLLOW THROUGH ON MY APRIL GOALS?

  • Read at least 20 books: 18, but it’s all good.
  • Try not to spontaneously combust at the Spiritualized concert if/when they play “Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space”: …well, no “Ladies And Gentlemen,” but nonetheless, I spontaneously combusted. Hands down, one of my favorite concerts I’ve ever been to. Thanks again, J Spaceman!

GOALS FOR MAY:

  • Get through the AP tests
  • Finish high school strong! (aAAA STILL CAN’T BELIEVE I’M GRADUATING—)

Today’s song:

That’s it for this month in blogging! Have a wonderful rest of your day, and take care of yourselves!

Posted in Weekly Updates

Weekly Update: April 18-24, 2022

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Sunday, bibliophiles!

It’s been another fairly low-key week on my end; we had the day off on Friday, so I’m getting way too used to shorter school weeks. After last week, I’ve been on a streak of great books! So many unique books in particular—I can’t decide which one I’ll review next week! I’m nearly finished with the whole Heartstopper series too—I’ve got vol. 4 ready on my Kindle, along with my other library books!

Writing-wise, I’ve been attempting to outline for book 2 of my sci-fi WIP, and…it’s been…it’s going? It’s going. I have a clear picture of the beginning and the ending, but the middle is still hazy, so I’m trying to figure out what goes in between. Making playlists always helps get my sense of direction going, and it’s certainly helping now, at least.

Other than that, I’ve been listening to the new Spiritualized (AAAAAH), drawing a little, and playing some guitar. I also saw Snail Mail for a third time on Sunday night (great!) and Ben Folds with the Colorado Symphony last night (amazing!!), so there’s been a lot of concerts this month!! I’m tired now, but it was worth it.

WHAT I READ THIS WEEK:

Mexican Gothic – Silvia Moreno-Garcia (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Heartstopper, vol. 3 – Alice Oseman (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

The Library at Mount Char – Scott Hawkins (⭐️⭐️⭐️.75, rounded up to ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Extasia – Claire Legrand (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)

The Chandler Legacies – Abdi Nazemian (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

POSTS AND SUCH:

SONGS:

CURRENTLY READING/TO READ NEXT WEEK:

Heartstopper, vol. 4 – Alice Oseman

One for All – Lillie Lainoff

Warrior of the Wild – Tricia Levenseller

The Weight of Our Sky – Hanna Alkaf

Today’s song:

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

Posted in Music

Everything Was Beautiful – Spiritualized album review

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

Happy Saturday, bibliophiles, and happy world book day as well!! You’d think I’d have a book-related post today, but…nope. No thoughts, only Spiritualized for the next 3-5 business weeks.

Normally, I wait for a few days to a week after an album’s release to review it, but…well, between my listening to it yesterday and my dad playing it the whole way through in the car yesterday evening, I’ve probably listened to it three or four times in its entirety already, so…

Spiritualized has been one of my favorite bands for around two years—even longer, if you count when I first heard “Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space” for the first time and listened to it on repeat to fall asleep on vacation. Their music, if I had to describe it in one word, is all-consuming; J Spaceman has built a stunning career out of making a song into a vast cosmos of sound, making themes of heartbreak, addiction, and new love into the dictionary definition of larger-than-life. That’s what I’ve always loved about his music—his songs never feel like just songs, but experiences.

By the time I’d really gotten into Spiritualized, I’d accepted that I wouldn’t be able to see him live or experience a new album of his; he’d said in several interviews that And Nothing Hurt would likely be his last album. But in late 2021, we were gifted with the best kind of surprise: we would be getting more Spiritualized after all!! Now that it’s here, I can say with certainty that there isn’t a single bad song on this album. It’s probably impossible to re-achieve the genius of Ladies And Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space or Sweet Heart Sweet Light, but Everything Was Beautiful comes very close, even at just seven songs.

Enjoy this album review!

EVERYTHING WAS BEAUTIFUL – SPIRITUALIZED ALBUM REVIEW

TRACK 1: “Always Together With You” – 10/10

This was the first single to come out of this album, and it singlehandedly provided all of the serotonin that I needed to get through the rest of 2021, so there’s that.

It’s not hard for me to say that this is easily one of Spiritualized’s best songs. Expansive and cosmic, I feel as though I’ve been lifted into the air and through the clouds every time I listen to it. I was texting my family about it when it first came out, and I jokingly called it “‘Ladies And Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space’ but happy,” and as much of a joke it was, it feels true; “Always Together With You” feels like a more matured, more hopeful version of its predecessor, down to the morse code sounds and J Spaceman’s daughter (😭) saying the album’s title at the very beginning. Absolute masterpiece.

TRACK 2: “Best Thing You Never Had (The D Song)” – 8.5/10

Smoothly transitioning from “Always Together With You,” “Best Thing You Never Had” keeps up the momentum set up by the first track with classic Spiritualized elements—catchy guitars, a backing choir, and what sounds like a good-sized brass section. Just as spacey as ever, it’s the perfect song for rolling the windows down in your car, and it’s sure to cement this album as one of Spiritualized’s best.

TRACK 3: “Let It Bleed (For Iggy)” – 9.5/10

When I saw Spiritualized back at the beginning of the month, this was one of my favorites of the new songs they played. Now that I’m hearing it through my headphones, it’s one of my favorites off the album! Here’s where the momentum sustained by “Best Thing You Never Had” picks up once more, with another sweeping, all-consuming thing of pure beauty.

TRACK 4: “Crazy” (cover of Nikki Lane’s “Out of My Mind”) – 8.5/10

(so apparently this is a cover?? took me a while to find out…I guess because the original has a different title)

“Crazy” is one of my least favorites on the album, but it’s beautiful nonetheless. Even as a cover (I’ve only listened to the original once, so…), it’s indicative of the quiet, genuine tenderness that J Spaceman is capable of amidst all of the heartbreak and darkness that’s prevalent in so many of his other songs. Lovely.

TRACK 5: “The Mainline Song” – 9.5/10

This is another Spiritualized piece that seems more like a journey than a song—all of the train sounds layered in only adds to that effect. With J Spaceman’s airy vocals and rushing instrumentals, it’s another song that seems to physically carry you somewhere else, watching the clouds rushing by. It doesn’t even matter that it’s chiefly instrumental—it’s an unmistakable highlight of the album.

TRACK 6: “The A Song (Laid In Your Arms)” – 9.5/10

Like “Best Thing You Never Had,” “The A Song” is a persistent, powerful march reminiscent of Spiritualized’s harder side. For Spiritualized, longer songs are a common sight, but at over seven minutes long, this song never loses its impact or momentum, delivering guitars and brass that crash against you like waves on the shore. Nothing short of a masterpiece—and another song that was phenomenal live!

TRACK 7: “I’m Coming Home Again” – 10/10

For a lot of Spiritualized albums, the final song is either a sweeping ballad or a mournful, soft ending. “I’m Coming Home Again” is neither of those—and it’s almost more powerful than some examples of both. It’s the longest song on the album at almost 10 minutes long, and like “The A Song,” never loses its momentum all that time. But unlike the former, it achieves its affect more in its consistent feeling of foreboding. It’s a haunting song—I have an oddly specific feeling that it would mesh perfectly in the second-to-last episode of a TV show, in a scene where the main character gets their revenge, walking away from lighting something on fire. From the first notes to the final strains of the choir, “I’m Coming Home Again” is a looming masterpiece, and an unexpected but perfect ending to a near-flawless album.

I averaged out all my ratings for each track, and it came to about a 9.4! Absolutely accurate to how I feel about Everything Was Beautiful—it’s hard to touch some of Spiritualized’s other albums, but this album establishes itself as one of J Spaceman’s masterpieces. It’s the perfect melding of the sound of 90’s Spiritualized with the hope of 10’s Spiritualized, and it makes for an album with a lasting, haunting, and eternally memorable effect. Thank you, J Spaceman, for another religious experience. 💗

“Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.” – Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

Since this is an album review, consider the entire album today’s song.

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

Posted in Weekly Updates

Weekly Update: April 4-10, 2022

Posted on by madeline @ The Bookish Mutant

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

Monday was the highlight of my week by far, but it’s been a good week overall. So Monday…I got a haircut in the afternoon, and that night, I got to see Spiritualized!! Without question, one of my favorite concerts that I’ve ever been to. At this point, I’m not even mad that they didn’t play “Ladies And Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space”—they played so well, and I feel so lucky to have seen one of my favorite bands live. Thanks, J Spaceman and company. 💗

I’ve had a decent reading week; I wouldn’t go so far to call it a slump, but it’s dangerously close. My first read of the week ended up being a DNF, but most of the others ended up being in the 3-star range. I’m moving onto my Barnes & Noble books and some others next week though, and those ones are VERY promising.

Other than that, I’ve been listening to way too much Spiritualized and rewatching videos from the concert, listening to the new Wet Leg and Jack White albums, drawing, finishing up Severance (AAAAAAAAA) and Raised by Wolves (I’m sorry what happened there), and hanging out with Ringo (still bent on biting my feet whenever possible, unfortunately).

WHAT I READ THIS WEEK:

Witches Steeped in Gold – Ciannon Smart (DNF – ⭐️)

She Who Rides the Storm – Caitlyn Sangster (⭐️⭐️⭐️.5)

Our Stories Carried Us Here – Tea Rozman Clark et. al. (anthology) (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️)

Measure for Measure – William Shakespeare (read for school) (⭐️⭐️⭐️)

The Conductors (Murder and Magic, #1) – Nicole Glover (⭐️⭐️.75, rounded up to ⭐️⭐️⭐️)

POSTS AND SUCH:

SONGS:

CURRENTLY READING/TO READ NEXT WEEK:

All Systems Red (The Murderbot Diaries, #1) – Martha Wells

Any Way the Wind Blows (Simon Snow, #3) – Rainbow Rowell

Seven Devils – Laura Lam and Elizabeth May

Mexican Gothic – Silvia Moreno Garcia

Today’s song:

I forget what dredged this song from the depths from my memory but god I love it

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