Pop music and I have a tenuous relationship. I have tried for years to be a better poptimist, letting myself get lost in the catchy singalongs and feel-good beats. But I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that most pop music is just vapid and corny.
But every once in a while, a pop singer will rise from the din of mass-produced hacks and sugar-coated copycats to create something truly special.
Michael Jackson was one of them. Lady Gaga is another. And now, we have Lorde.
In college, I frequently visited a French music site called La Blogotheque. The site had a segment called Takeaway Shows, which were videos of independent artists performing stripped down arrangements of their songs.
This project led me to discover a number of my favorite artists, such as Bon Iver, Fleet Foxes, Lykke Li, and Swedish chamber pop maestro Loney Dear.
In the mid 2000s, I’m not sure there was anyone who was safe from Gnarls Barkley and the earworm that was “Crazy.” It was a maniacal track driven by a dark bassline and Cee-Lo Green’s impossibly huge voice—not to mention a pretty great thesis on St. Paul’s writings in 2 Corinthians 2.
And, it was as infectious as all get out.
After Hummingbird, Local Natives got busy. In 2013, they played a total of 188 shows, a figure that earned them the title of the hardest working band in the world from NME.
While the instrument-hopping arrangements on Hummingbird were born out of necessity (having lost their bassist an album earlier), after nearly 200 shows they became quite familiar in their skin.
So when they went to record its follow up, they weren’t afraid to push boundaries and adopt new sonic palettes. They knew what their voice sounded like.
Which is good news, because Sunlit Youth is a massive departure.
For a new band, a successful debut can be more a curse than a blessing. How can you escape the record’s shadow without making something so different that you alienate existing fans? It’s such a conundrum that there’s a term for it: the Sophomore Slump.
Bands rise or fall on the strength of their second record. Hundreds of acts fade into obscurity after failing to deliver on the promise of their debut.
But some bands make an indisputable masterpiece.
Hype is a strange beast. The whims of the masses (and record label marketing departments) are fickle and unreliable. Bands come out of the ether draped in hype and mass acclaim, only to disappear shortly after without much of an impact.
And when Gorilla Manor first dropped, I completely expected Local Natives to be another one of these flash-in-the-pan, Apple-commercial-soundtrack bands.
Rarely have I been more wrong.
Glassjaw has always been a bit of an outlier.
While the early 2000s Long Island punk scene was split between witty, weepy emo kids and muscle-bound hardcore tuff-guys, Glassjaw was a different beast entirely. Their ferocity and pop sensibility were never at odds with one another.
If you didn’t know, I play in a ska punk band called Dad Jokes. I don’t listen to a ton of ska, but I’ve always enjoyed it. Until we played a show with The Holophonics out of Denton, Texas, then I felt like a complete fraud.
Say what you will about the Bond series, but there is some absolutely incredible music across those films.
And if you ask fans for their pick for the best themes, this one will usually be somewhere near the top.
I’m a big Gorillaz fan. And while their unique brand of sadistic pop stands on its own, part of Damon Albarn’s talent is assembling the best collaborators possible. When I first heard Plastic Beach, I was immediately drawn to “Empire Ants,” and I set off to learn more about Sweden’s Little Dragon.
A week later, this record was on my turntable. Continue reading