TRANSVERSO

- A culture magazine reaching terminal verbosity -

Sean McHugh

The Staves Discuss the Transience of 'Sleeping In A Car' and Loving Eaux Claires

Music InterviewSean McHughComment

The life of a touring musician is one such existence that has been prophesied and romanticized in every which way, but the one prevailing commonality amongst touring musicians remains the mode in which a transient life can impact one's purview on music and life as a whole. Touring can perturb and intimidate, but for others like English sister trio, The Staves, a life of transience marked by fleeting moments while in constant motion can be irresistible. Having spent the better part of two years on support of their 2015 full-length If I Was and their most recent EP release, Sleeping In A Car, it would be fair to assume that the road has come to mold The Staves' approach to their acoustic folk music immeasurably, along with producing lifelong creative partnerships with the likes of Justin Vernon.

Transverso spoke with the eldest of the three, Emily Staveley-Taylor, to find out more about their view of life on the road and its impact on their career to date. 

'Sleeping In A Car' EP Available Now iTunes http://smarturl.it/SleepingInACar.iT Spotify http://hyperurl.co/SIACSpot Subscribe to The Staves: http://goo.gl/Mn5ER9 Directed and Edited by The Staves ------------ Follow The Staves http://thestaves.com http://facebook.com/thestaves http://twitter.com/thestaves http://soundcloud.com/the-staves


TRANSVERSO: You’re pretty close to the end of your tour. How have things been playing out thus far?

Its been so much fun. It's been like really, really great. We’ve just been so amazed by the people that have come to see us, and it's just been a riot – I’d forgotten how much fun it is touring in the States. So fun.

You've been touring in support of If I Was for the better part of a year and a half now, is that correct?

Yes, I guess so. A year and half, I believe.

And it looks like the touring has been pretty extensive – has the reception for the record been what you anticipated, or did you have any expectation at all?

No, I don’t think we had any expectations. I mean, you never know, really. For us, it's always about just kind of playing new music, and we just love it. And we love traveling around, and we’ve just been really lucky that people have been into it. That’s really a great bonus.

How has the transient lifestyle lent itself to an EP like Sleeping In A Car?

I think the more you do it, the more you realize what sort of a strange life choice it is. Yeah, I guess our songs have sort of started to reflect our lives when you are kind of displaced, I suppose; when you’re far away from your friends and your family and your grounding, your home where you’re kind of familiar. So yeah, things kind of become stranger and slightly more surreal, and slightly harder to retain a sense of normality. So I guess that’s what we’ve been exploring in certainly this last EP and probably parts of the last album as well. So it feels kind of quite fitting to play those songs on the road.

So did you spend a lot of time writing Sleeping In A Car on the road as well?

No, we don’t really write on the road; generally there’s never really any time. So we try and write when we have breaks from touring.

How long of a break did you have to write the EP? Was it all in one moment, or was it split up?

The title track was actually demoed almost a year before. It's really kind of a different process for each of the songs – some of the songs have been kicking around for a long time, and sometimes a song comes to fruition in the space of a few days. And this EP was a little bit of all of those things, so yeah. The recording and coming together of all three tracks was really done in a week.

I read that you recorded the EP in both London and Eau Claire – at Urchin Studios and April Base respectively – how does that happen? Does that effect the recording process at all?

Well, we recorded 90% of the EP at April Base Studios and then it was time for us to come home – our flight was booked – but we hadn’t quite finished it yet and Matt [Ingram] has a great studio in London [Urchin], and we were able to book in a couple of days there, so we went in and just finished it. It was stuff like all we needed to do was change the drums on the second verse of this that and the other, add a harmony line to this thing. So it was really kind of the finishing touches, but we had all the basic from April Base; it was kind of just finishing the decorating.

Sleeping In A Car's transient lifestyle “tone” – being an “outlaw,” stolen phone in the night, etc. – almost feels like you’re creating a “runaway” mentality. Is that a fair way to interpret it?

Yeah, I guess so. I think it feels like that sometimes – you’re living outside of any rules of normality that [it] seems like most other people live by. Its kind of disorienting, but also really liberating, and even kind of exciting. Yeah, it's kind of all of those things at the same time, and its kind of a bit dangerous if you don’t try really hard, you can lose your head. It also makes you feel really alive. Its great. Sometimes you do certainly feel like you are kind of an outlaw, just operating on the periphery.

So in a way, does the EP act as a coping mechanism for extended periods of time spent on the road?

I think that music is a coping mechanism for life, really, genuinely. I think it’s a place where you get to explore what you’re thinking and feeling about what’s been going on in your life. It’s a place where you get to try and make sense of it, or try to understand it better. Its almost like a form of therapy – putting it into a piece of art, to study it in a way – to kind of take yourself away from it for a bit, and you can see it more clearly. I think that we’ve been finding that more and more, as we’ve been writing more and more. We really, really felt it with the last album, and I think it continued with the EP with that vibe. Sometimes its only when you finish making the music that you actually realize what has been going on for you, like "Oh yeah, its there. I finally see it.” Its like this mirror that I finally see clearly through – that’s how we feel about it anyway.

Has your time spent on the road had any sort of impact on your approach to performing the songs live as well?

I guess so. I think really – in all honesty – money has a large impact on all of that stuff. If you’re playing some kind of show and they have a big budget then you can do something really kind of outrageous and have extra players with you, and you can try all the stage, and all sorts of lights and everything. It can be a wonderful thing to do. We actually did that recently in London - it was great – we had three brass players, two string players, and there were loads of us, and it was great fun, but when you don’t have much money, you kind of have to do more yourself. At first that’s frustrating, but actually, it's been really, really fun. We’ve been playing instruments that we’ve never played before – Camilla’s playing bass, I’m playing a lot with synths, Jess has got a keyboard – it's just a different set up now for us, and I think its really breathed some new life into a lot of older songs, certainly. We’re just really enjoying feeling more like a band than we ever had done, rather than us just singing together. Its really exciting, its really fun being on the road with this set-up.

Now that things are winding down on the tour do your live sets feel more nebulous or are things becoming more and more familiar?

Well, not really; the tour is coming to an end, but we have festivals in the States right through to the end of August – some of them we’re writing special pieces for, so there’s lots of writing, rehearsing, and traveling around for that. And then we’re kind of staying out in the States until Christmas time – we don’t know where we’re going to living, or what we’re going to be doing - we just kind of decided to hang out on this side of the pond for a while. So we feel kind of ungrounded and unsure of what the future holds. [Laughs]

I would imagine that’s the beauty of the situation that you’re in.

Yeah, it is. And its also one of the great things about being in this situation with my sisters – that there’s always a large piece of home with me wherever I go – so that really helps.

Does that help out in maintaining your proverbial “sanity” while touring so extensively? You all seem to be pretty clever, and I would imagine that humor plays a nice role in easing the strain of touring.

I think that’s true. I think that humor plays a great role in everything, for everyone, and we’d go mad without it.

Most people are pretty familiar with The Staves’ association to Justin Vernon, but I saw that you guys played Sydney Opera House in a sort of “in-the-round” set-up. What was that like?

Oh, it was really exciting. I mean Justin and everyone in that band and crew just have a very, very exciting way of thinking about music and about art and about performance and its really an inspiration to just be around it. And to tailor a show to a building like Sydney Opera house, where it really plays to the room was wonderful to watch that kind of evolve. Its just great fun to be a part of – we love the music – its really interesting for us to sing in that band, because we get to use our voices kind of more as instruments – we’ve kind of been singing the horn parts or the string section – it's kind of a way that we’re not used to. I kind of think that’s informing some of the stuff that we’re writing right now, it gives a lot to think about in terms what we do vocally. It's great. [Laughs] I mean, who gets to go and perform at Sydney Opera House? It's wild.

It seemed like it would be phenomenal. On that same note, I saw you at Eaux Claires last summer, so I wanted to get your take on what it was like for you, to be an artist performing at such a unique festival.

Oh no way! Well I think that one of the amazing things about that festival was that the artists really had a similar experience to the viewers and everyone just got really excited, and felt really lucky to be there. All the artists were watching the other artists, everyone was just hanging out, and everyone was just excited to be a part of it, and everyone really was a part of it. It was successful because the vibe that all the people brought to it. We’re really excited to be playing it [again] this year. We’re actually doing a special piece with yMusic. Do you know them? It’s a sextet of chamber music.

Right! Rob Moose is a part of yMusic, right?

That’s right, yeah. All of those guys! So we’re going to be writing something together just especially for the festival. Its just a joy. The people that were there, the people that went to the festival were there to really enjoy the music. A lot of other festivals have become corporate, or commercial, or become more about getting wasted in a field, and taking Instagram photos, where Eaux Claires was just about the music. It was so refreshing, and so magical, and its kind of why I love the Midwest so much. [Laughs]

Margaret Glaspy Gets Straight to the Point on 'Emotions and Math'

Music ReviewSean McHughComment

Whatever your opinion of Bonnaroo 2016’s headlining lineup may be, you would be hard-pressed to find another festival that managed to book a stronger mid-level and breaking artists tier (the last breath of Superfly before Live Nation twisted its heel into Superfly’s throat), at least when considering other festivals of similar ilk. Without getting caught up in the divisive Live Nation booking practices, seeing bands like Whitney, Sunflower Bean, Luke Bell, Sun Club, Hinds, Bully, and Vulfpeck command (and steal) their respective Bonnaroo stages made for many a watershed moment in each band’s career.

While the aforementioned bands were formidable (and even exceptional) in their sets, there was one such set that had a particularly monumental moment, and that was Margaret Glaspy’s Saturday showing on the Who Stage.

For whatever (unfair) reason people want to place Margaret Glaspy’s music into the “folk-rocker” chick channel - as if such an unintelligible blanket statement equates for due diligence – because she’s seemingly unassuming when not on stage or whatever other closed minded pigeon-holed logic might arise. But that’s simply not the case, as exhibited on her debut LP, Emotions and Math, Glaspy’s cerebral songwriting and meditative-yet-managed stage presence place her in a channel that’s wonderfully indeterminate and unfettered, apart from the increasingly tired roots-revival tropism ascribed to any young woman that happens to play guitar.

Emotions and Math is an excellent debut for any artist, but through the lens of Glaspy, it exemplifies her intercourse between personal discourse and a wellspring of feeling and intuition; there are no wax poetic musings to be found on Emotions and Math. The eponymous album opener recalls associative assurance from a former lover of some sort. In a sense, it explores the periodic moments of borderline co-dependency within a relationship. It features feminist idealism while highlighting incongruous feelings of relational dependence.

One of the early points of contention featured in the record is misunderstanding, a common talking point in most indie-music, sure, but Glaspy manages to provide an aggressive and dismissive demeanor on tracks like “Situation” stating “Call me a rebel / Call me a renegade / Whatever fits the mould you’ve made,” while her guitar work bares tonal depth in creating an air confused tension. Admittedly, it's tough to immediately compare Glaspy’s “sound” and spirit to any other established artist – which is something to aspire toward as an artist, in my opinion – though songs like “Somebody to Anybody” and “Memory Street” recall occasional cadences of Cat Power and bellowing labelmates Alabama Shakes' guitar tones. She’s in good company, but it isn’t a total reverential imitation of influences, a practice that seems to be more and more common amongst the “indie” star(let) crowd.

There are tracks like “Pins and Needles” that manage to meld both Glaspy’s blues and rock opining sensibilities with the existential and relational crises of indie-music – “I don’t want to be on pins and needles around you of all people” – simultaneously developing a unique sense of Glaspy-ness. Then you have songs like “Anthony” that feel like a hardened Regina Spektor track (I realize this could be argued as a contradiction in the previous paragraph, but allow me to explain further) – it narrates an absent reciprocation from the aforementioned “Anthony” as Glaspy prays for the admiration and love of Anthony, only to come up short. It’s a theme all too common amongst many a finicky couple – continuing to stay together when feelings and compassion have so obviously run their respective courses. It's almost like Glaspy’s version of Kanye’s Amber Rose call-out on The Life of Pablo – “She said I took the best years of her life.”

Emotions and Math closes with a decidedly brooding tonality that acts as a slight divergence from the light(ish) feel of the rest of the record. “Love Like This” is arguably the strongest track on the record, examining a former romance that was unceremoniously tossed to the wayside, leaving Glaspy left to her own devices, while her guitar work is at its strongest, with a dark tango feel that flirts with positivity, but almost always maintaining a perpetual sense of “Saudade.” Emotions and Math’s closer is the record’s bluesiest track on the record – which seems fitting for a song titled “Black and Blue” – that highlights a slight sense of narrative neuroticism brought about lifelong misconceptions (aka “black is blue”), thus cementing a full-circle moment in Glaspy’s early career – the thought that a seemingly quiet artist could bring about such unabashed and insightful commentary on typical narrative tomes. With a strong full-length debut like Glaspy’s, it will be likely that her presence will quickly shift from the close-mindedness of those expecting a soft-cooing songstress into the proper ascription worthy of Glaspy’s ability.

 

Robert Ellis Gets Surreal on Self-Titled Third LP, 'Robert Ellis'

Music ReviewSean McHughComment

June 3, 2016 is one of the year’s most saturated release dates so far; a conflicting conundrum for those who look to listen to any of the exceptional (and not so - sorry Train) releases: Paul Simon, The Strokes, Whitney, Michael Kiwanuka, Tegan and Sara, The Kills, William Tyler all on the same day. One such artist whose newest release deserves the attention and praise his excellent album would garner on any less release-heavy date is none other than Brooklyn-by-Nashville-by-Austin songwriter Robert Ellis.

Much like his revolving door of homesteads, Ellis is not confined by a singular genre – though it could be argued all roads lead back to country music in one way or another – as he mixes strains of jazz, pop, and western music into dulcet guitar sounds layered over his wavering country timbre that resembles a surrealist Willie Nelson. Despite the country tonalities in his music, Ellis’ third full-length record, Robert Ellis, explores musical avenues that past efforts Photographs (2011) and The Light From the Chemical Plant (2014) chose not to venture upon.

His newest, eponymous effort opens with “Perfect Strangers,” a song exploring the inter-relational dynamics (or lack there of) of busy New York City sidewalks and subways, inevitably influence by Ellis’ fairly recent move to Gotham. The song features playful pop piano (a far cry from the saloon style player pianos of The Light From the Chemical Plant), which coincides wonderfully with Ellis’ cheeky lyrical observations – “On a crowded city sidewalk buying hotdogs / Standing awkwardly together” and “Because everything looks better in low lighting” – with the occasional country slide guitar creeping into the song.   

Not to undermine the emotional depth of Ellis’ previous two full length releases, but there’s an intelligible sense of remorse and yearning on Robert Ellis that feels considerably more connective than on The Lights from the Chemical Plant (let’s take a moment to appreciate just how excellent that album title is). “How I Love You” and “California” explore two opposite ends of the relational spectrum – “How I Love You” acting as the vibrant ode to a lover, and “California” chronicling an underappreciated lover tempted to trek to the west coast. The composition on “California” is an interesting combination of Ellis’ excellent jazz guitar work melded with sentimental lounge keyboards with intermittent hyper-produced tones and 808s – a new territory for Ellis that ultimately makes “California” one of his largest and most evocative tracks to date.

There’s a dichotomy between “California” and it succeeding track, “Amanda Jane,” a story of commitment built over a country-tango, and all of a sudden, we’re in “classic” Robert Ellis territory. The narrative of multiple men trying to “fix” the mysterious Amanda Jane combined with the nylon string meandering and lush slide guitar licks make “Amanda Jane” an early favorite on Robert Ellis. The next few tracks on the album return to Ellis’ Nashville-by-Austin roots with the classic country honky-tonk beat of the apathetic anthem “Drivin,’” into the western ballad that is “The High Road” – a falsetto laden lament of indifference and morality (and my personal favorite), featuring heavy orchestral composition that packs a fun wallop of self-loathing - before jumping into “Elephant,” an allegorical parallel to isolationism that revolves around the popular (and tired) Pachyderm turn of phrase. Despite the initially cliché lyrical basis, Ellis manages to present the idea in a tone that is wholly more intelligent than most. Then there’s the fact that Ellis’ finger picking is second to none on all three tracks – Ellis is often left out of most modern guitarist debates, which is more than a crying shame – which is Ellis’ strongest security blanket while exploring different lyrical approaches and unfamiliar tonalities.

In Ellis’ quest to find different sounds on Robert Ellis, “You’re Not the One” serves as his rock orchestra, with abounding strings integrated with the country-fantasm keys and guitar. In certain portions, the emotional emphasis gets a little muddled – is Ellis letting go of a current lover or opining on a former lover whose memory persists – either way, the robust composition makes “You’re Not the One” Ellis’ most inspired effort on his eponymous record. All that to be said, “You’re Not the One’s” intrepid approach is almost subverted by the totally departure from anything expected from Ellis’ catalog, as “Screw” sees Ellis go sans-vocals in order to create a Sufjan-meets-Reznor soundscape of pensive and conflicting guitar tones that warp and entangle an emotionally vibrant record.

Following the equally confusing and exciting “Screw,” Ellis returns to the same playful nature that he began to establish in the early third of the album on “Couples Skate” – a silly setting for an endearing narrative of love and relational engagement – it’s a little cheesy, but clever enough to be the perfect “first date” montage song for any rom-com or three camera sitcom you can think of.

Robert Ellis closes with “It’s Not Ok,” the album’s longest and most speculative and demure track, as Ellis reiterates and extends the ideals presented in “The High Road” and “You’re Not the One” but are entirely more visceral when you realize Ellis is putting none other than himself on blast – “It's not ok that I hide in the words of a song.” It’s the final stoic anthem of a mysterious and alluring personality in music, as Robert Ellis manages to take an artist many had pegged as a “new school of old school country” a la Sturgill Simpson, Margo Price, or Nikki Lane and fully turn such a notion upon its head. While Ellis doesn’t necessarily establish a fully realized narrative or sonic heading on Robert Ellis, he does manage to extend his staying power as a musically mercurial artist with a definitive approach and sensibility. Where many would likely prefer for Ellis to try and solidify his standing as a stalwart of “new” country, you can’t help but admire the strong work Ellis puts forward on Robert Ellis to maintain his own surreal path, away from whatever is considered “en vogue.” 

Whitney Shuns Buzz Band Banality on 'Light Upon the Lake'

Music ReviewSean McHughComment

No band in the history of everything has managed to avoid “death” in the sense that all bands – from The Beatles to your favorite local proto-punk-neo-folk-soul group – break up for one reason or another, with varying degrees of adversity and dramaticism. Obviously, The Beatles disbanded in 1970, but weren’t “definitively” broken up until Mark David Chapman read Catcher in the Rye in December of 1980, and as far your favorite local proto-punk-neo-folk-soul group is concerned, their drummer Keith was promoted to the late shift manager at Starbucks, so he won’t be able to practice most evenings, and proto-punk-neo-folk-soul drummers are at a premium in Des Moines. But silly comparisons aside, band breakups are rarely ever a joyous occurrence – tensions run high, bridges are burned, and once-hopeful fans are left with a finite discography.

So, when a particularly “buzzy” band such as Smith Westerns calls it a quits, the resulting career uncertainty for the former members can become increasingly unsettling to the devout follower. Fortunately, the legacy that follows Smith Westerns’ end looks to be far more promising than whatever outlook the original group may have had. Former front-man Cullen Omori made his way over to Sub Pop and released his solid solo debut with New Misery in March, and now, former Smith Westerns drummer Julien Ehrlich (who also had a stint in Unknown Mortal Orchestra) and guitarist Max Kackacek have banded together to form Whitney, and release a wonderfully jangly 70s-revival debut record, Light Upon the Lake.

Light Upon the Lake begins with a stellar album opener in “No Woman,” a seemingly mawkish entrance that meanders aimlessly as Ehrlich’s soft-cooing vocals opine about waking up in Los Angeles and experiencing an indefinite and tiresome change. Kackacek’s deceptively smooth '70s Martin-esque riffs eventually lead the track in a decidedly more confident direction, with a cacophony of horns closing out the introductory track. The succeeding tracks on Light Upon the Lake see an uptick in tone and vibrancy as “The Falls” feels like a mix of Vulfpeck percussive piano playful nudging Ehrlich’s lyrical musings on losing control, leading into “Golden Days,” the wax poetic (and indie rock right of passage) chronicling of some relationship passed (can’t help but think there might be some Smith Westerns undertones) – “It’s a shame we can’t get it together now.”

Where many might try and incorporate aspects of past projects into their current one, Whitney does a fantastic of presenting a definite tone and substantive grip of who Whitney is, namely in the band’s consistent use of horns, bouncing piano, and clean Martin riffs deftly maneuvered by Kackacek – especially on the album’s eponymous standout, “Light Upon the Lake.” The overall feel of Light Upon the Lake could be likened to The Band meets UMO with flecks of Vulfpeck and Blake Mills – in short, its wholly unique. The album features a number of punk sensibilities when it comes to lyrical verisimilitude and general brevity – the three song stretch of “No Matter Where I Go,” “On My Own,” and “Red Moon” runs a whopping 5:38 – with “On My Own” into “Red Moon” being the most impressive track pairing of the bunch, primarily for the excellent showcasing of horns mixed with Kackacek’s ever-tasteful licks. All in all, the two strongest aspects of Light Upon the Lake are Kackacek’s guitar expertise and the incorporation of harmonious brass work – making the record distinctly modern but also managing to hearken back to a softer time in rock music.

Light On the Lake closes out as sweetly and satisfyingly as it opened, with the uber-funk fuzz of “Polly” marking it as best track on the album, a soft cooing-ballad that has features undertones of disenchanted realism under the guise of happy rhythms and horns. The album closes with “Follow” - the sonic sibling of “Polly” – setting Light On the Lake’s with as positive an outlook as any debut featuring lyrics like “I know I’ll hear the call any time…” that lend credence to the visionary nature of Light On the Lake as a whole. “Follow” allows the record to help establish Whitney as more than just another buzz band, but rather a supremely melancholic (but not miserable) introduction steeped with perspective that maintains an ultimately warm purview of the band’s future. Expect to see Light Upon the Lake on many a "year end" list, including Transverso's, as the record exemplifies the ideal dulcet tones of an indie band debut.  

Cullen Omori Talks 'New Misery,' Tour Cancellation, and Life After Smith Westerns

Music InterviewSean McHughComment

If you’re an indie buzz band aficionado of the early twenty-teens, you likely touted Smith Westerns as one of the preeminent “buzz bands” in their class. As it seems is the natural course of most relationships, endeavors, and bands started in high school, the members of Smith Westerns began to develop divergent views when it came to their future direction, and subsequently disbanded.

Since the dismemberment of the band, former frontman and Chicago native, Cullen Omori, set out to grasp the realities of embarking on a solo journey, making demos initially intended as post-band-breakup coping mechanisms, that after some extended basement sessions, materialized into Omori’s sublime Sub Pop debut, New Misery.

In the midst of a cross-country move, Transverso spoke with Cullen over the Bluetooth speaker system of his Fiat rental as he combed the Hollywood Hills in search of his future Los Angeles homestead.

"Cinnamon" off the March 18, 2016 Cullen Omori album New Misery Order New Misery: http://u.subpop.com/1T4Nwo9 Cullen Omori Twitter https://twitter.com/CullenOmorii Facebook https://www.facebook.com/CullenOmoriMusic/ Instagram https://www.instagram.com/cullenomori Sub Pop https://www.subpop.com/artists/cullen_omori Sub Pop Records http://www.subpop.com Twitter https://twitter.com/subpop Facebook https://www.facebook.com/subpoprecords SoundCloud http://soundcloud.com/subpop MegaMart https://megamart.subpop.com/ VIDEO CREDITS   Director:  Abigail Briley Bean www.abigailbrileybean.com  Video Production House: Mitra


CULLEN OMORI: Let me just jump in my car real quick, it's air conditioned in there. So anyway… Alright. I’ve got like this crazy rental car… and it's like a Fiat. The little tiny Fiat thing, so it’s a super… it's got like a computer thing in it that I can use as a Bluetooth so I can talk to you over the car.

TRANSVERSO: Cool.

So what’s up? Lets talk. Fire away.

Alright. I guess I’ll start out with something general: How do you feel having New Misery out for a while now? How do you think people have interpreted it? Are you pleased, or are you kind of bummed out?

You know, it’s a mixed bag. I spent so much time making the record and, I mean, the record was done and mastered last August, but it took six months to come out and that was kind of annoying, and to have my “maiden” tour blow up the way it did with my van breaking down and the rental van that we got just to go back to the airport got broken into and my clothes got stolen.

That must have been rough.

I mean, it’s a story for sure, and it’s a crazy story, but it's like those things were all kind of real big bummers. I don’t know, I think right now, I’ve always been… with Smith Westerns, I’ve always had really good reviews and this time around its been mixed. I think a lot of people in the US haven’t been getting it in the same that all my European or UK reviews have all been like super super good. You know? Its kind of like people have been missing the point and, I don’t know, that’s kind of annoying. But I’m not trying to write for like critics. Usually, it just so happens that critical people tend to like my music a lot more than like a general audience. This time around it’s a little different, but at the same time… I don’t know. I guess I do. I’m a little annoyed because I feel like I made a record that sonically is really different, but still has a lot of complex, deeper things that people kind of take at face value. Kind of like, “Oh these are songs that some Millennial would write about,” like “Losing the indie spotlight” or “Falling out of some popular band,” when it wasn’t that. It was that was part of it, but there were so many other kind of themes of coming out a self-destructive thing and being so fucked up all the time on drugs, and just not knowing kind of what I was going to do next. And kind of just working through that and while working through that I wrote this album, and that was more what it was about, more so than like “Oh, I’m bummed that I’m not in Smith Westerns any more.” I could give two shits about being in Smith Westerns right now, and I also really hate that I’m getting pegged where people are kind of like “Oh yeah, this is like Smith Westerns,” and it's comparing it to it, and people will send me messages that are like “Can you make a song that’s like this Smith Westerns’ song?” and it's like “Shut the fuck up.”

Absolutely. That has to be irritating.

Yeah. So I guess it's mixed about how its been received.

Sure. I figured that’s probably the downside of once being involved in the “indie darling” or “buzzband” cycle. It seems like it might create this sort of undue expectation of anything that might come after whatever the initial entity was, and that sounds like something that you’re dealing with right now.

Yeah. Well the thing is Smith Westerns wasn’t Coldplay – we weren’t this huge thing – and I like to think of it as I can go on and have a life after Smith Westerns and it doesn’t have to be held up to it. You know? I feel like as the frontman of the band, I’m kind of unfairly labeled as whatever I make, when really it was this whole process of me and Max writing the songs. It wasn’t just me doing everything. So yeah. Also, coming out of a bad situation, Smith Westerns kind of just gelled together and all of us sort of were doing well, and the path was obvious that we would keep making music with it. But after I left, there was no path. It wasn’t like “Oh, I should go and write another record,” and one of the cool things in writing this record was that it was an exercise in letting myself know that for me personally that I can sit down and write an album start to finish all by myself. I could do all the parts that otherwise, Smith Westerns were too afraid to try, or they thought were going to be bad, or whatever.

So it's like an exercise in songwriting for me, and so I still like the record. It's not like anything has turned me off to how I feel about it. I still feel strong about it, I support it, I think they’re good songs that are smart. I think that unfortunately, it's not a record that people… well, you know, I feel like right now with indie music, if you play guitar, you go two ways with it – you can go shoegaze-y or you can go with this '70s light rock shit. Its like jingle rock, and I really wanted to make something different, so I thought at the time a year and a half ago “I wasn’t going to be playing jingle rock doing the '70s stuff,” you know? Everyone has been doing rip-off Todd Rundgren or rip-off Canned Heat or whatever, so I was like “Well, I’ll try something different.” I wanted to make a song with synth. I wanted to try something that has soundscapes that were these songs that could technically be, you know from the '70s or '80s. And I also really wanted to move away from the revivalist idea – I didn’t want to make something where you could be like “Oh, these guys are trying to hearken back to like some era of guitar rock” or whatever. You know? I wanted to make something that was more kind of “my sound,” and I felt like it was appropriate being twenty-something, well when I wrote this album I was 24-25 and I thought it was appropriate. Also, it was my fourth record, so I could really start trying to move away from my influences and starting to really do it kind of “off the cuff.” I thought there was something that – I’m not going to say its my “sound” now – but it was more kind of less leaning on a certain genre, or a certain sound, or a certain band to make it sound right. It was a different experience too, not working with a band; that’s always weird. You know, with Smith Westerns, you could split work together – me and Max would work a lot – having a sounding board to bounce ideas off and change things, which was great, but at the same time, it would become limiting when Max and I had different ideas of where the music should go, and what we should be sounding like and stuff like that.

Right. You mentioned there was a “weird” trend in “revivalist” sensibilities in indie rock and what not – at this point, would still consider it to be “revivalist” or would you just consider it to be “en vogue” or something to that effect?

I mean… I think its very much a trend right now. I think that there are always bands, for as long as I’ve played music, and for as long as I’ve been recording music and can remember – there’s band that will go off of a certain vibe, or a certain genre or whatever. I think that now, however, the attention those bands are getting is huge, and its just part of how things go. It's circular, you know?

Sure, most things are.

And for now, its going to work for people, but I feel like I made a record that kind of was three years too early or three years too late or something, you know? It was probably two year too early, because its not any of those things. And that’s the other thing, too – even if I fail at something I don’t want it to be something where people can be like “Oh, he’s ripping off that band.” I think I did a pretty good jobbing of taking all my influences and melding them into this record. You can’t be like “That’s the Elton John song,” or “That’s the Flaming Lips song” or shit, I don’t know. Its all kind of spread out.

Well what comparisons have you seen people try to ascribe?

The only comparison I’ve ever read about is when people say something like Tame Impala, but I don’t even listen to Tame Impala to be honest. I was singing in a John Lennon-y kind of voice in 2010, so it's not like any of my music is a reaction to current music. That’s not how it works for me.

Its stylized in a manner of which is unique only to you, but do you feel like people take the stylization too seriously? Like with the US audience, you said it doesn’t quite “mesh.” Do you feel that people are taking you having been in a band like Smith Westerns too seriously to be willing to open up to Cullen Omori?

That could be a possibility. I feel that when I was with Smith Westerns, I didn’t feel like I was this huge public figure or anything like that. So, I didn’t feel like if I was, it ever benefitted me. I don’t think I get a huge benefit from being the front man of Smith Westerns. If there are any connotations connected to me being in the Smith Westerns, they’re negative – things that I did when I was twenty years old. They think that I’m like bratty or I’m pretentious, but people forget that there were two other dudes in the band – my brother and Max – who were equally as bratty and pretentious as I was. I didn’t use my name because I wanted to go solo. People weren’t like “Oh yeah, Cullen Omori, check it out.” I used my name because we were mastering the record and they needed to have a name and I couldn’t come up with one that I didn’t hate, you know? So I just used my name. Its one of those things where there might be some bloated takedown when they can’t accept something like when someone [else] has a “clean slate” would - like a musician that they wouldn’t know anything about other than the music. I feel like people also form their own narrative about who I am, and what my music is about, and that’s literally formed people’s ideas – word of mouth – that’s formed people’s ideas of me on some things. It's still all over the place, but I feel like people are building their own narratives for me, and it's not a good one. Unfortunately, that’s how it goes, but I think in Europe or the UK, they don’t have that the same way here. I guess I just pissed off the wrong people when I was in Smith Westerns.

Why do you think that is?

Because at the same time, when you look back at music history or whatever, you these “coffee” guys or like the type of guy that only writes music because they couldn’t find the music they liked to listen to, because “everything sucked” and so they made their music or whatever, and people celebrate that. But I think now, with the internet, Twitter, and the press in general, there’ll never be a next level rock star, because they’re constantly tearing them down. The persona has to be this guy that’s always humble and they can be like “Oh, I want to get a beer with that guy.” There’s no longer the idea of being this presence on stage that’s larger than life. Its like this “cool” real vicious energy and people don’t want that – it makes them uncomfortable and they want to tear it down. And I don’t think that that’s how I am, but I think being a front man and having it all kind of be about me, I think that feeds into the concept that people have this idea of me being a pretentious asshole guy, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m making music that I want to hear, I love performing, I love the aesthetic. My favorite part of this album that you make, you have to create this interview around it, you know? You have your album artwork, you have your videos, and that’s something that I take a lot of pride in doing; I’m a part of that from beginning to the end. I don’t want to say I’m not getting a fair shake or try and complain about it or anything, but I feel like my past isn’t there to help me, it's only there to hurt me. For whatever reason its stuck to me more than anyone else, you know? Like I read about the dudes in Whitney, or whatever.

It sounds like you’re almost just experience this curse of being the frontman despite your main intent to just make music you want to make, as opposed to appealing to a larger mass that may have listened to something you made in the past.

Well, I mean the idea… the narrative that I had was “I want to make pop music,” I think that people go and see that I went away from a band to being a solo artist that wants to make pop music, they think that I’m trying to capitalize on something, or it’s a money grab. That’s not true at all. When I say “pop music,” I mean that I still make music that isn’t dead to a lot of music history, and people that know music know good bands, everyone from the '60s to now; it's all in there, its all in my music. Its not like I’m trying to become Selena Gomez, or anything like that. Its just that I can appreciate something that’s melodic and immediate and trying to work something that is so over the top – like when you think of pop at the top, you think that it's grasping to be as marketable as possible – and try and take that and warp it, like I do with all music that I’m interested in. Its kind of real representation for myself, and its something that isn’t selling out; it’s a cool thing. I think there’s something to be said about making music that a fucking six year-old girl can get into, as well as a seventy year old man, you know?

But [I'm] staying true to my principles, and not selling out in a musical sense, and I think that often goes with not trying to play into that retro-revivalist seventies shit that’s kind of being accepted into the “indie spirit.” I’m just going to do my own thing and play around with what works. Right now, I’ve just been listening to nothing but Ministry, and I want to go really heavy for the next record. I just want to play around do whatever the fuck I want to do. Luckily, I’m in a position with Sub Pop that I can do whatever I want – they are so behind me in every way – even when my van broke down, I went to their office and just hung out for two days, Jonathan Poeman drove me to the airport and made sure I had everything – that I had a hotel and everything after my shit got stolen – that’s something I’ve never had before with a record label. I’ve never had that kind of acceptance and kind of support. It's cool and it makes me want to create, and I kind of feel like this maiden tour that I did that ended up blowing up is just part of my story now. Nothing I’m going to do now is easy – its not like coming out of the Smith Westerns, make this record and coming out at a different place. That’s that. I think part of it not being easy, and part of it being bad luck hanging over me… when I’m backed into corner I think is when I’m at my best, its when I’m my most creative. I have the kind of ability to draw upon whatever kind of emotion or anxiety to really crush whatever comes next, so that’s kind of how I approach it. I kind of let it rip me apart, and that’s where I got New Misery, I was slowly in self destructive mode, and I did not care what was going to happen to me. For a while I realized that the only thing I’m even halfway decent at is making music; everything else, I suck at. Everything else, I am less that amateur at. The only thing I know how to do is put together some chords and write lyrics that people can relate to, and that’s a cool talent to have. Its something I didn’t really appreciate until now, until I made New Misery.

It sounds like you’re trying to maintain a positive yet stubborn rationale even despite your string of bad luck, did that reenergize you at all when it came to working on your demos?

Yeah, it took me a second. During New Misery I felt bad for myself for a lot of the time, I did for a second when all that stuff fell apart on that tour, and I had to clean house a little bit with different people that were working with me and try to really figure out how to do it again. I mean, I’ve being doing it now for seven years – being in the music industry – and I know that I fuck up. You know you’re going to mess up. Its like, what am I supposed to do.

[Cullen calls out “What are you doing?” to a passerby while driving.]

Hey, sorry there’s a guy in a wheelchair being a dickhead. Anyway… It does make me create but it also kind of… what’s the word? I don’t know, I’m a very pragmatic person – like while on tour, that’s why I bought a van rather than rent - but the one thing that doesn’t makes sense is that for me, is that its all stress. Not with the writing part, but everything else that goes into making an album happen. And touring, there’s so much stress, and there’s no guarantee that I’ll ever not be kind of looking at anything other than the next year, you know? I don’t really think any further than that, I still want to do it, but there’s a part of me that kind of just defies the logic of “should I take it easy?” but I say no, I’m just going to keep on doing it. That may sound kind of emotional, like… what’s the word? Like a fucking… motivational speaker, or something like that.

I think that’s conceivably the best attitude you can have facing the stuff that you’ve experienced. In a way, you’re maintaining an indomitable spirit about the whole thing – you’re not feeling sorry for yourself, but at the same time you’re not saying you’re going to go conquer the world in a day. There’s a realist approach to it.

That’s how I do it, and that’s how I’ve been doing it. Its stressful or whatever, but at the same time, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ve grown into this role; I’ve grown up doing music my entire life. There’s no formula to follow – everything’s different. There’s no right way to get somewhere, but there’s a lot of ways to have missteps doing it. But I don’t know, I guess right now its like, that toured got fucked in the US, I’m going to Europe to play some shows, and then I’m going to come back to do some more tours. I also really want to start supporting some bigger bands – I think that I’ve been out of the music scene for so long, but back in the day, I had really good relationships with different bands. But now its kind of a different scene – Chicago only has a handful of different bands: Orwells, Whitney, me, and a couple of smaller bands. There’s not much of a scene. What I want to do with music is – I’m not sure what I’m going to do for the next record – but what I want to attempt is really go outside something totally different, you know? Like not have it be '70s guitar riffs and love song lyrics. I mean my mind is constantly going. I’m like manically going and so hopefully something will click and work. I think this record is good, I think New Misery is really good. Its like, I don’t know if the singles were the best representation of what the album was, but I think that for me, everyone that I showed it to at Sub Pop, everyone has a different favorite song on the record. There was no go-to “This is the single of the record,” everyone was willing to give an idea on what they think about it, and that’s awesome, because that means that the record is chalk full of real songs, and that’s something that doesn’t necessarily happen with other bands. But at the same time, I don’t exactly know what people like, there’s no formula. If there was, I would experiment and try to fuck it up.

You mentioned you’ve been listening to a lot of Ministry as of late – have you been leaning toward a certain album more than others?

I like kind of like With Sympathy. I like the stuff where they’re kind of new wave-y. I’ve been reading the Al Joregeson autobiography and its amazing – its so good. Its like he’s this out of control junkie, he’s crazy. I don’t know, that was a part of music I just kind of stopped listening to - something really heavy, like super heavy, trashy. But I’m starting to get back into Ministry, especially the stuff where it was kind of still super poppy, like the new wave stuff was really interesting. Its kind of like the category of music that I’ve been making. I’m a pretty anxious and angry person, and I don’t really present it in my music – my music is more cathartic than it is straight up in your face progressive, and I think that the next thing I want to get away from is how dreamy everything is and how smooth most of the songs are, to get [to a point] that makes it a little bit harder. I grew up around punk bands, and Smith Westerns was very much like a shitty punk garage band, and I feel like that would be a really cool thing to do.

Have you ever leaned over into any RevCo stuff yet?

I’ve listened to a few things, but I haven’t really gotten into. The autobiography is so good - if you haven’t read it, you’ve got to read it – all his stories are so fucking funny.

I’ll have to check it out.

I’ve always been like “Oh, I should read it,” but I wasn’t going out of my way to get it, and then one day I just walked into a place and it was there. One of the stories that he tells is every single time they played a show on tour as Ministry, I think there was a limit to anything over 90 decibels, and they would never do it, they would always play above it. They would get fined every night, and it was like a  $20,000 fine every night. And the label said they won’t pay, they wouldn’t do the tour support, so I guess Al jerked off into a Ziploc bag and sent it to the A&R guy and then the guy calls him and says “Did you send me drugs, what is that? That stuff smells like shit!” and he was like “No! That’s my fucking cum, if you don’t pay us, everyone on the crew will start sending you our cum,” and they got the tour support.

That’s insane.

I know! It was so good, it was so funny. 

Michael Cera and Willow Smith Team Up for 2016's Most Baffling Collaboration Thus Far

Music News, New MusicSean McHughComment

Take heed! The collaboration we’ve all been chomping at the bit for has finally willed its way into existence – the ever-illusory 15 year-old, Willow Smith, and everyone’s favorite perpetual teenager, Michael Cera, have teamed up to create the most unforeseen collaboration of 2016 to date.

“Twentyfortyeight 2.0” marks yet another surprise musical release from Cera, who once moonlighted as Mister Heavenly's bassist, while marking the Superbad actor’s first “celebrity” collaboration. The track features the youngest Smith expending that familiar Smith progeny egotism, as the 15 year-old opens the track speaking aimlessly about “a yellowish hue” which she goes on to describe as "kind of nebulous." In typical teenage fashion, Smith appears to over-exert herself when trying to imaginatively masque her lack of world experience with bushy tailed sentiments of “being all that is” and “it feels like it's trying to tell me something” mixed with 420 tropes of “is it true that we really are?” It appears as though Willow has been spending far too much time in the whimsical company of her older brother, Jaden.

All of Willow’s aimless opining aside, the song actually isn’t “bad.” There’s a wandering innocence to Willow’s empty lyrics that almost elicits a state of wonder – whether aided by psychotropic substances or not – that endears the listener to Willow’s rambling state. The best part of the track is Cera’s production, which feels like its been ripped directly from a Juno or Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist outtake. In more recent pop culture lore, “Twentyfortyeight 2.0” sounds like a spiritual companion to M83’s “Raconte Moi une histore” from the band’s 2011 Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming.

The wandering video-game synth arpeggios sweeten an already saccharine song that allows the listener to distract themselves when Smith reaches the end of the track talking about societal struggle – “We’ve manufactured the society the runs on the backs of those with truth for them to victimize” – but instead of rolling your eyes, feel free to lose yourself in a wonderful wandering menagerie of stream of consciousness musing, echoing harmony hums, and lullaby beat production. 

Dank Meme Alert! The Father, John Misty Wants That "Real Love Baby"

New MusicSean McHughComment

Many don't know this, but Father John Misty actually was CBS' first choice to host the Late Show. He graciously declined when they told him he was not allowed to live-tweet during the show.

Blessed be the Father up high above. The benevolent lover of you and me, sardonic saint of all far below, the Father John Misty has a bevy of songs to bestow. “Why not?” is his word, but we know that he must. He knows not why he does, but it shall be known as word. The Father, John Misty has songs that must be heard. Praise him on high, but especially online – take to your Twitter, and troll til the night – inform the masses of “rejected” Toyota Prius promos, a House of Cards theme song, and the immaculately conceived “Real Love Baby.”

Forgive me, I must have blacked out. All the preceding nonsense aside, if you’re not a Father John Misty devotee such as myself, then you may not realize that despite the I Love You, Honeybear victory lap slowly coming to a close, Farmer Jah Misery is still cranking out satirical songs and creating commentary that would liken a modern day Oscar Wilde (settle down bibliophiles, it's just for dramatic effect). Realistically, Father John is more like a modern day analogue to Henry Chinaski, but I digress.

A mere handful of hours ago, Father John Misty released a tantalizingly playful new track, “Real Love Baby,” on his soundcloud page after releasing indie-folk skewering “Prius Commercial” track. “Real Love Baby,” is kind of remarkable upon first listen - despite being on tour for the better part of a year and a half now, Father John Misty has released one of his most hook-y and pleasant psych-pop track to date. A stroke of classic Father John brilliance, its safe to say that this single is likely to be FJM’s soundcloud “subtweet” answer to his “Prius Commercial” released the day before.

Who is Father John subtweeting (or subclouding), you ask?

 I know its likely to make me look more of a total dunce than I already do in everyday life, I would surmise that FJM is placing “Real Love Baby” out into the ether as a subtle assertion to the indie world that while he enjoys tooling around with the tired tropes and proclivities of indie music, he can still make better music than most despite doing it in jest, and “Real Love Baby” is living proof of such a fact.

All that being said, I realize my inference of opinion is about as unbiased as Trump saying Trump Tower has the best tacos, but that’s beside the point. The real point of my writing this is to inform those of you that have yet to hear the good word of the Father, John Misty that the message of the day is here to stay, and it's “Real Love Baby.”

 

Julianna Barwick's 'Will' Wanders Into the Furthest Recesses of Sound

Music ReviewSean McHughComment

Ambient artists, post-rock bands, and noise performers have a rough go of carving out a name for themselves in music. On one hand, being that the music is almost wholly composition based, most listening masses ascribe an immediate “cerebral” rank to any and all releases (which, if you’re an egoist, can be both of great benefit and detriment). The inverse of the scenario is that being any sort non-lyrically driven artist can relegate one to the realm of conceptualism and/or performance art (not that either is necessarily an arena of “relegation,” perhaps just to the less exploratory masses) that would be viewed to many as a piteous endeavor. It is for that exact reason that I believe the noisemakers and ambient ascendants who are forced to push the bounds of sound conception without the assistance of lyrical direction are some of the most vital assets in the continued progression of sound as a whole.

There’s many a noise artist that has received considerable accolade for their efforts in sustaining the pioneering nature of their ambient, post, and cacophonous predecessors – Explosions in the Sky, Mogwai, Xylouris White, SUNN O))), Phantom Orchard, Faust – all of whom deserve their celebratory credit where such credit is due, but one artist who has quietly and quite consistently continued to challenge and progress the ambient arena on both large and small scale is one Ms. Julianna Barwick.

Perhaps one of the more ethereal ambient artists (such a description may be akin to calling a fuzzy rabbit soft, but I digress) having debuted in the past decade or so, Barwick has charted a course in music that is centered firmly upon her voice. I understand that this review was prefaced under the guise of ambient artists and post-rock albums are devoid of lyrics etc, but Barwick’s incantations are virtually indiscernible, like an atmospheric Wurlitzer manipulated and warped in a variety of manners to propel her music. A brief look at the Brooklyn transplant by way of Louisiana’s songbook, and its evident that despite having one or two repeated lines of lyrics in some of her songs, they are merely vessels for her to layer and loop the tracks in the name of ambient sounds.

Its been three years since Barwick released her astounding Nepenthe, an album which served as a secondary debut bringing larger appeal and admiration from the atypical music listening crowd. Barwick’s ability to juxtapose the confinement of being a soloist with the congregation of sounds of one voice is moving and more emotive than most lyrically based efforts. Where the soaring tones of Nepenthe helped elevate the listener to a higher plane, Barwick’s newest release, Will manages to do the same, but by eliciting heavier synth to most tracks, which in turn brings a darker, seemingly introspective gravity to the record. Will is more mature - both in the Gregorian sense of time, as well as sonically – as Barwick manages to effortlessly exude a tonality of crisp and clean, yet unpolished melodies that were at times overwrought on Nepenthe and previous efforts.

Rather than waste the reader (and listener)’s time giving the typical track-by-track review, rundown, etc. it may be of more benefit to the reader/listener to interpret Will as a whole, without dissection or individual critiques. Will is an exercise in rumination, stripped of any expressive production than might obfuscate Barwick’s innermost workings while crafting the album, in turn presenting a body of work that is wholly humble and fragile, at times even worrisome. Spirals of emotion and synthesizer help transport Barwick and the listener onto an almost lunar-like plane, which prohibits any mental impairment when it comes to digesting Will, as there are no clever production tricks or snippy lyrics to distract the listener from the album’s core principles – the sweet cafard that is being alone. Its spacious enough to peer into the furthest recesses of sound, in turn coaxing out the purest form of emotion and meditation for both Barwick and listener alike. Will is a heart-searching odyssey of observation and reflection navigated by Barwick’s deft ambient touch.  

'The Colour in Anything' Expands James Blake's Emotional Spectrum

Music ReviewSean McHughComment

2016 is on a fast track for the most GOAT-worthy 365(ish) days of music this decade, from immortal icons passing on to musical Valhalla, to an inordinate number of “surprise” releases. First there was Rihanna, then Yeezy’s TLOP shenanigans, Beyonce putting Jay-Z on blast in cinemascope, and Drizzy Drake releasing an un-essentially long collection of Toronto woe-odes last week. Needless to say, there is a glaring trend amongst the artists who elected to forgo the mundane predictability that typically coincides with name brand artists – with many of them even going as far as debuting on the god-forsaken lost cause that is TIDAL – and it appears the taste for purposeful inconsistency has grown more pervasive outside of hip-hop and pop now as well.

James Blake, one quarter of the 2010’s indie Mt. Rushmore – Justin Vernon, Ezra Koenig, and Win Butler being the other of the four stone heads – released The Colour in Anything this past Friday, unannounced, but not totally unexpected – two singles were released leading up to the album’s release, creating a sort of pseudo promotional calendar.

The Colour in Anything, has been long overdue in the minds of critics and Blake fans alike. Blake had canceled extensive tours in order to capitalize upon creative whims and fancies, which in turn developed a capricious grapevine of rumors and hearsay regarding whether Blake was merely taking extended measures to forge LP3. In 2014, Blake originally announced that this new release would be titled Radio Silence and was slated for release in early 2015, but as you're now reading this over a year past that date, it's quite apparent something got in the way, and whatever it was, Blake’s reticent nature certainly did not lend itself to buoyant reverie amongst fans (though it did, ironically, lead to literal radio silence).

Blake had entered the Frank Ocean (a collaborator on the album) territory (but without the over zealous opining – WHERE ARE YOU FRANK?) in terms of hotly anticipated releases, and there was nothing but confusion and perplexity for some time. Apparently, during the interim that was Blake’s Radio Silence announcement and the eventual release of Colour, Blake had managed to write two tracks on Beyonce’s Lemonade (full circle!) – “Forward” and “Pray You Catch Me” – along with heading out to Shangri La Studios to finish the record with much needed vigor from Duck Dynasty doppelganger Rick Rubin.

Colour came out of nowhere, but it wasn’t without excitement. It’s an offertory record that showcases a side of Blake that has long been underdeveloped – the Enfielder’s most expressive and innermost musings – subsequently breathing new life in Blake’s career (not that it was ever really without it). Colour opens with a “what might have been” in “Radio Silence,” and the once eponymous track turned solitary lead off exudes a singular glance into the now defunct direction that was Radio Silence, instead enacting a startlingly apologetic new Blake.

The production is as tight as ever, but somehow feels more fragile and wavering than quietly confident, a la Overgrown. In comparison to Blake’s previous releases, many are likely to accuse the Londoner of wearing his heart on his sleeve, when in reality, it’s a more mature comfort with his songwriting process, unabashed, but polite, like the production on a track like “Points,” in which Blake warps his "No longer" hook over trap and dubstep afrobeats that build and swell with momentum in alarmingly smooth fashion. “Points” along with “Love Me in Whatever Way” establish Blake’s most singer-songwriter intentions with little to no pretense over the forthcoming nature of Colour as a whole, with lines like "Where you lead me I will go," and "Tell me when I have to go / And then love me there." It's gut wrenchingly frail, as if Blake has only just begun to come to grips with his emotional capacities, but just like that, he shuts himself off on “Timeless,” featuring wild “sound the alarm” synth wandering, as if to indicate to Blake that the time has come to shut oneself off from this strange new world of open opining. Interesting side-note about “Timeless”: Kanye West was originally slated to appear as a feature on the track, however, according to Blake, the verse from Mr. West “didn’t materialize.”

The record bounces back with the fully transparent “F.O.R.E.V.E.R,” a ballad that features only Blake and keys, as his voice infectiously wavers over simple chord structures speaking on his time alone while “you” were away. An interesting line in “F.O.R.E.V.E.R” – "I notice I can still ghost the streets" – a seemingly innocuous phrase, but when juxtaposing Blake’s reclusive tendencies with his abnormal level of public interest, it highlights an intriguing dynamic with which Blake (and those closest to him) undoubtedly struggles with. “Put That Away and Talk to Me” is the mandatory millennial musing over the use of phones and technology and the schism they cause, but the name itself provides more enjoyment than the creepy lullaby that is the track itself. Colour feels increasingly morose as the album progresses, all the while maintaining some mode of hope in the interim on tracks like “I Hope My Life” with opening refrains of, "I hope I’m right / When speaking my mind / I hope my life is not a sign of the times," as he struggles to distinguish and relate at the same time. “My Willing Heart” embodies such struggles by narrating a sort of out of body experience for Blake, a narrative that resembles – get ready for a stretch – an Icarus fell type of story, except Blake’s sun is love, which makes him altogether too vulnerable for his liking. It should be noted that “My Willing Heart” has a co-write feature with one Mr. Frank Ocean, who didn’t necessarily lend any lyrics, but certainly lent a spiritual boost for Blake when it came to "Making a record on your laptop…”

Halfway through the record at this point, Colour really comes into its own once “Choose Me” comes along, a production whirlwind that has clever nods to Blake songs passed – “A Case You” – all the while asserting a new domineering side to the fully transparent Blake that’s become so prevalent on Colour – "You don’t owe me anything / What could I want back from you?". To this point, “Choose Me” is the best standalone track; a nice confluence of Overgrown and Enough Thunder. Colour finds its footing on “I Need a Forest Fire,” the album’s second single featuring fellow indie-demigod, Justin Vernon. His influence is felt immediately, as the airy organ noises lead in a Vernon yell and a muffled loop. Vernon leads off the first verse, and in all reality, the track itself feels like a Bon Iver song a la Eaux Claires 2015 more than anything else, but hearing both Blake and Vernon trading verses and harmonizing over pastoral Ralph Waldo Emerson sentiments is a truly beguiling experience. According to Vernon, the track came from “wonderful accidents and good friendship,” which echoes the same warm sentiments Blake expressed about working with Vernon, that the two seemed like they were “separated somewhere down the line.”

Colour’s final third issues the close of a hesitant love manifesto from Blake, with “Noise Above Our Heads” expressing Blake’s desire to connect with an unidentified suitor – “I’ll find no peace until I know” – as Connan Mockasin’s wandering bass leads the meandering thoughts of Blake along. The eponymous track features a soliloquy with Blake addressing a significant other as a last ditch effort to preserve an already fast fading love; it's “classic” James Blake, with elegant vocals over keys, and elevated pitches thanks to his preferred double tracking takes. “Two Men Down” takes a left turn elementally, as Justin Vernon’s production injects a livelier demeanor to the track that centers on Blake’s prospective outlook over competing with another man in order to gain a lover’s hand. “Modern Soul,” the premier single for Colour back in February 2016, Blake expresses his disdain for being overwrought with social interaction – “What I didn’t see was I was talking to so many people at once / I had no idea…” – and the interminable confusion of whether one’s interest in Blake is over his personal being or “because of a few songs.” The penultimate track of the album, “Always” features one of the most devastating ideas on Colours, in which Blake enters a dreamlike state where he can control and manipulate every aspect of his world to mold it into its most ideal form. “Meet You In the Maze” closes Colours in a sanguine yet indeterminate state – Vernon’s influence can be felt heavily on the acapella (except for a vocoder) track, a la Bon Iver’s “Woods” – as Blake assures the subject of his rendezvous request that “music can’t be everything.”

The Colour In Anything is most definitely Blake’s best record to date, despite the album’s first half struggling greatly with the themes of transparency and love within Blake’s purview. The trials and tribulations of James Blake in love make for an apparently personalized record that’s all too unfamiliar to Blake’s previous modus operandi, but has subsequently bolstered his songbook and production tactics. The album receives a giant assist from Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon, whose production on a handful of tracks really manages to stretch Blake past his former boundaries. While the album did not feature the fated 20-minute track that he had once hinted at in the past, The Colour In Anything distributes his muted sensibilities and elicits a more forthcoming Blake that will hopefully continue to open up in the future. 

'Views' Reveals Drake is Just as Cold as The 6 Itself (In More Ways Than One)

Music ReviewSean McHughComment

Hide your exes, hide your tears, cause Drake’s making everyone feel up in here. Views has finally arrived, in an equally morose and grandiose fashion that’s come to be expected of Mr. OVOXO. Views continues 2016’s string of high octane hip-hop paragons releasing long awaited records – Yeezy, RiRi, Queen Bey – by “surprising” means, though the disarmingly pensive Champagne Papi manages to distinguish his opus from his hip-hop compatriots.

Outside of the obvious tonal differences – sullen, brooding rap from Drizzy versus empowered gotcha hip-hop from Beyonce – Francisco Mandarin is the only super-surprise release of 2016 not to debut on that godforsaken streaming service of the stars, TIDAL. Instead, Views’ exclusive release on iTunes acts as an analogue for Aubrey Graham’s atypical, enigmatic hip-hop presence – a rap demigod (supposedly) relegated to chasing reminiscent thoughts, rather than indulging in the more expressive pleasures of an ascribed deity of hip-hop.

It’s a magnificent modus operandi that Aubrey Graham has managed to carve out in the opulence applauded era of hip-hop – muted, restrained, atmospheric – all the while managing to remind hip-hop heads every once in a while that Wheelchair Jimmy can still beat the shit out of Meek Mill and turn around to consult the Toronto Raptors on their newest jersey design. I know DJ Khaled owns the airspace surrounding “Mogul Talk,” but mogul talk is something Shopping Bag Drizzy does better than the next wave – those following Ye, Jay, and Bey - of hip-hop. So keeping with the theme of atypical presences in hip-hop, music etc (and because the album is 20 tracks deep), I intend to take a slightly different approach to this review than reviews past (apologies to any devoted readers, and congratulations to the haters – you won). So without further ado, lets draw the blinds as we silently sip Moet from our Grammy award while wearing our favorite Prada robe and contemplate texting our exes – existent or not.

“Keep the Family Close”

Toronto is cold in the winter; meteorologically, that is a fact, but Drake wants you to know that its even chillier when you go from playing up on Degrassi to “Mr. He Ain’t Coppin That is He?”. The track is totally atmospheric, bringing the listener into a trance of undue disconnect that Drake has suffered amongst lovers. It’s a “blood runs thicker than water” concept by orchestral means – quivering strings, brash timpani and brass hits – all subverted by Young Frankie Geechi Liberace on his unabashed opener. “Keep the Family Close” takes the 50-60-person guest list to your birthday party and slices and dices it down to one.

“9”

This is one of those beats that hints at Heartbreak Drake’s ability to morph into The LeBron James of the Rap Game – it goes hard, but we only get glints of mixtape Drake; a Views Easter-Egg of sorts. Drake opines his only true purpose in life – as a bastion to Toronto – and how things in Toronto are beginning to get so out of hand. A rap game Robert Frost, he’s left at a benefactor’s crossroad – stop the handouts or give his entire self to the city. Guess which path the 6god chose… “Turned the 6 upside down / It’s a 9 now / I made a decision last night that I would die for it.” [INSERT TEARDROP EMOJI HERE] He truly is October’s Very Own.

“U With Me?”

A seamless transition from “9” into “U With Me?” shifts the third tracks predecessor into a sort of Toronto call to arms, for the best of the city – Daniel Caesar, The Weekend, Tory Lanez, Kardinal Offishall, and Roy Wood$ - to assume their place at the right hand of the 6god. Ironically enough, “U With Me?” was co-produced by Kanye West, despite the 6 related pride, but then again, when you get a chance to have Yeezy cut a track, why would anyone ever say no? Yeezy and 40 Shebib’s decision to sample DMX’s “How’s It Goin Down” is incredible when considering the muted call to action of the entire track from Mr. CTV himself.

Feel No Ways”

Ah, well this is different, I suppose – a sensuous moody track that doesn’t go much of anywhere, wholly devoid of any and all rap bravado – in other words, a Drake track through and through. The production is spacey and saccharine, with the only startling standout being one of the most 80s-fi snares in recent Majid Jordan memory. Realistically, the song itself is as passive as the name implies - whether or not that works to Bottega Don’s benefit is less than likely. It feels like filler. Being as unassertive a track as it is, it might be within the listeners’ best interest to wait for the inevitable string of covers that will surely stem from such a distinctly un-6man track (I suggest listening to Vicktor Taiwo’s excellent rendition).

“Hype”

Hey! This might be a Meek Mill diss track – because the name says hype – oh man! This is what everyone was waiting for! Eh… not quite, just a general blanket statement diss, it appears. Throughout the track, the OVO Don Dada honors Rihanna, Michael Jackson, and (possibly) Goofy of Disney fame. The track hits the expected rap bravado as the Young Money Millionaire counts his money, assures his detractors that Views is already a classic, and that he’s done all he could possibly do as Hookah Papi, with effortless flow. The ominous beat sounds reminiscent of “Father Stretch My Hands, Pt.2,” and if you listen closely, you might hear Desiigner whisper "I’ve got broads in Atlanta…"

“Weston Road Flows”

Drizzy Drake Rogers is kind enough to inform the listener that “Weston Road Flows” is in fact "one of them ones," a true hip-hop throwback to the days of Biggie and Pac, looking back upon The Kid with the Motor Mouth’s body of work. The track is the first Easter Egg laden track when it comes to pop culture references, alluding to everyone’s favorite sneaker subversion meme, Eddie Murphy, TLC, Kevin Durant, Mo’Nique, and Vince Carter. The sample is straight '90s – literally – coming from Mary J. Blige’s “Mary’s Joint,” as we see Drakkardnoir at his most nostalgic while revisiting his 6-side hometown. Best line of the album thus far, "I’m happiest when I can buy what I want / Get high when I want" is so simple, and yet so indicative of Drake’s preferred economic standing.

“Redemption”

Judging from the song title, I would imagine this is going to be a slow burn. Luckily, it's more “Weston Road Flows” than it is “Feel No Ways,” with Frostbite Drizzy doing what he best when it comes to reassessing the past to win back some unnamed lover. He slips in and out of rapping and singing about the pettiness of ex-lovers moving on. Sometimes the track ventures into a creepily misogynistic possessor of women realm, and then proceeds to call out three women by name, geez, Drake, I know you’re super successful, but get over that shit dude. And before you know it, the track is poignant once more – "Who’s going to save me when I need saving? / Since Take Care, I’ve been caretaking." Okay, to this point, “Redemption” is by far and away the realest and most dynamic track of Views.

“With You (feat. PARTYNEXTDOOR)”

Oh no. Not PARTYNEXTDOOR. Everything about them is seemingly insufferable, ever since “Tuesday,” but as the track opens, things start out tastefully. Surprisingly tasteful, in fact. All of a sudden, OVO’s signing of PARTYNEXTDOOR doesn’t seem quite as ridiculous (outside of the homerism), though there are some truly cringeworthy lines – "Mixing vodka and emotions / Tapping into your emotions / Dry cause I’m hopeless." Ugh man, Young Papito, let’s steer clear of elementary metaphors about alcohol. Also, Jeremih sighting on the song’s hook.

“Faithful (feat. Pimp C & dvsn)”

Hold up, hold up, hold up – Pimp C!? This is something I can get behind. Talk about one of the more gloriously unexpected features on an OVO record. THE DIRTY SOUTH IS BACK BABY! Its really only a few bars from Pimp C, but he calls out to Bun B and thus I am content. The hook is a little, well, wimpy, as ’91 Dan Marino takes the cue from Pimp C and substantiates his love for whomever (RIHANNA, ITS RIHANNA) his muse is. The doting lyrics and sentiments further add to the Marvin’s Room vibes of the album. Except for "Let’s do the things that we say on texts" - I can’t decide if this is a great line or an awful one, but that’s The Chris Paul of this Fall for you.

“Still Here”

Alright, things are beginning to feel a little more musically malevolent, and when the bounce comes in, Aubz’s perverse intentions become apparent, but aren’t necessarily felt. He continues the (occasional) narrative braggadocio of the 6’s devotion to him and only him, as well as the astounding wealth of his compatriots. Oh to be friends with Drake, it must be lovely.

“Controlla”

If there’s one recurrent theme that I (or anyone) manages to gleam from Views, it's that when Drake is not good at expressing his admiration for women. In fact, I’m not really certain whether or not he even likes women. “Controlla” expresses not only in name but demeanor as well – Voodoo Child opens the track with "My eye just changed," only to revert his vindictive and menacing purview towards women, all under the guise of smooth bedroom talk ("I made plans with you / And I won’t let them fall through). Ack, Drake, let’s stop reminding women how much “control” your music affords you. Also, Popcaan is noticeably absent from the leaked version of the track that dropped a couple weeks ago – Caribbean musicians shed a tear.

“One Dance”

 Looks like Drake is really into this Afropop trend, and will likely pay off for him in some form, but the slow build to “One Dance” almost discounts other afropop tracks from earlier in the album. The hook samples Kyla’s “Do You Mind” pretty heavily, but nothing really seems to grab the listener’s attention other than the continued quiet cooing of Young Sweet Jones, altogether continuing the dilution and confusion that is Drake’s intention on Views.

“Grammys (feat. Future)”

With the half-assed bedroom afropop that Drake seems hell-bent on pulling off, it sure would be nice to hear a classic rap braggadocio track, and if ever there was an instance to inject some life into a snooze inducing string of petty bedroom romps, now would be the time. Well lookie here, will Future rescue the listener from the yawn causing bedroom yarns to this point? Sort of? Drake’s verse feels like a sleepwalking microcosm of his standing in the hierarchy of rap entities – "OVO we a goldmine," and "Top five, no debating" – but it all just feels… empty. Future’s verse is preceded by his scoffing at the track’s unnamed subject of collective ire, and then proceeds to repeat “They think we done won a Grammy,” or something to that effect – as we all know, the gentleman from Atlanta is virtually indecipherable.

“Child’s Play”

The track opens with an intriguing PSA for all men about their women – "If your girlfriend is watching any season opening basketball game, best believe she’s fucking [someone] on the team…" - is it paranoid and misogynistic? Of course it is! Is it absurdly comedic? Yes! Should one condone such chauvinistic conspiracies? Probably not! Outside of the sad paranoia of the intro, the Little Nicky (To the Devils of Rap) manages to call out three corporate brands – Disney, Camry, and most humorously, Cheesecake Factory – "Why you got to fight with me at Cheesecake? / You know I love the gold here…" and "This a place for families / That go to Disney / And drive Camrys.” Oh man, oh man, Drake unwittingly let us in on his secret to extreme wealth – corporate name drops! Fun New Orleans Bounce sample if you listen close enough.

“Pop Style”

Nice! This was one of the singles – the one with Yeezy and a sliver of a Jay Z verse! Oh wait… The Throne got nixed from Views just like Popcaan. All of a sudden, Pimp C’s feature is becoming more and more impressive – Drake is not only the God of the 6, but a H-Town connoisseur it seems. Its exactly like the single, with the exception of the sans-Throne feature, so as protest, that’s all I have to say about the track.

“Too Good (feat. Rihanna)”

Here we go, this is the track where everyone finally learns the nature of Drake and Rihanna’s personal relationship! Are they lovers or just an uber-rich hip-hop hookup? Speaking of hooks, don’t expect an infectious, ensnaring, or hot one here, because there isn’t one, period. The track does continue the trend of RiRi/Light Skin Keith Sweat collabos that center on a fictional (or not-so) warring couple as Drake reminds Trinidad’s prodigal daughter that he is, in fact "way too good for you." Despite Drake’s purported assertions, it is Rihanna who is in fact too good for him, as her lovely vocals relegate the Drizzmaster to the friend zone.

“Summers Over Interlude”

It's an interlude that tries to act like The Roots meets Andra Day meets “not only is Drake a fine rapper, but he has great taste in compositions, too.” Unfortunately, it misses its mark, and just sort of agitates the winter-to summer-back to winter again transitions The King of 1st Quarter suggested as a heavy handed thematic element of Views.

“Fire & Desire”  

The track title sounds like George R.R. Martin’s next novel – who are we kidding, it's never coming (Silicon Valley is better anyway; come at me) – but it turns out it’s a Brandy-sampling, triplet laden hi hat slow jam to the nth degree. This sounds like Aubrey Graham making a heartfelt apology to Nicki Minaj – their relationship has spoiled considerably, per Drake – "They throwing dirt on my old name / You don’t see the perks of this whole thing." He expresses his admiration for Nicki being a "real ass woman" as he openly questions her commitment to her current fellow. Are you trying to appeal to Nicki or further irritate her, Drake?

“Views”

Oh Lord, there’s a Winan sample, and it IS BEAUTIFUL. The former tour intro for many a VIETBRAH tour, “Question Is” makes “Views” one of the first hard hitting tracks on Views – seems ironic it’s the penultimate track. Drakestrodommus offers a thought provoking line in the first couple bars – "A lot of pent up aggression coming out of my section" – yeah, I don’t know about that, Drake. Pent up, sure. But, "aggression," not so much, more like pettiness. It's basically one final glory to the OVO track with allusions to days in The 6, and shouts out to Kobe; all in all, this should have been Views’ eponymous closer, but alas, the hubris of the Cash Money Running Back seems to have gotten the best of him.

“Hotline Bling”

Yeah, not reviewing this one. No need to. If you want my opinion on the track, just listen to Bill Burr’s take on the song:

Good gracious, Views is a long album, and at times, a monotonous one, to be perfectly honest. For all the uncertainties surrounding The Reason That We All Getting Faded’s future, and overall legacy, Views should have been the first cornerstone body of work in solidifying the 6God’s standing. Instead, it winds up revealing his truest insecurities, and own insufferable pettiness when it comes to any and everyone that crosses him. There are certainly some standout tracks on Views – “Keep the Family Close,” “Weston Road Flows,” “Faithful,” “Views” – but when the number of self-ascribed nicknames outnumbers the amount of solid tracks on your album, its certainly going to be difficult to secure one’s place amongst the gods of rap, no matter how many assertions of being the 6God incarnate one makes.