on the pulse - 2024 - #4 - schoolboy q, judas priest, mgmt, bleachers, allie x, erika de casier, hurray for the riff raff, mannequin pussy
Mannequin Pussy - I Got Heaven - The last time I covered this band in 2019, I liked their blend of hardcore punk and more methodical indie rock/power pop, but I was rarely “wowed” by it - Patience was solid with well-written standouts, but in so many critics found so special, I had heard both sides of the fusion pop effectively elsewhere. Now five years later, switching producers from Will Yip to John Congleton… it’s interesting, because Congleton’s mix is much burlier and blockier, amplifying its low-end grooves with smothering heaviness and feedback, which can work for the feral but swaggering feminine power fantasy here - that’s complimentary. Then there are the sweeter, albeit oddly sequenced love songs - secure in passion with a real appetite, while knowing how consuming it is; the transgression has weight, the bluntness is the point… I just wish there was a bit more unique dimension. Still really damn good…I wish I could be convinced it’s great.
Hurray For The Riff Raff - The Past Is Still Alive - It frustrates me to this day that Alynda Segarra’s 2022 album LIFE ON EARTH didn’t click for me, an album stylizing itself as ‘nature punk’ that careened across so many ideas in instrumentation and content that the experiments and emotional core never coalesced. But I was never satisfied with my thoughts - it always felt like it was built to work way better for a different audience that could connect to its unique ramshackle vibe - and The Navigator built so much good will for me that a return to more “conventional” Americana seemed set up to work, even if I was a bit leery with Brad Cook remaining on production. So I’m absolutely thrilled to say that this album works beyond just the approach to pick up so much more warm, textured Americana - it feels more comfortable for everyone, sure, but that’s not the main reason why this works, it’s a recentering of the emotional core and narrative to Segarra’s winding stories and character portraits. A lot has been made about the autobiography in these stories, from the early years where they were living rough and hopping trains in the very queer, ragged punk scene, but it’s been a while since I found an album that not just feels so lived in with its sense of tactile detail, but also the love and humanity it extends to everyone within it; the queer folks, the homeless, the mentally ill, the drug addicts, those that capitalist societies past, present and future at best ignore and at worst try to exterminate. And there is subtext extending from LIFE ON EARTH around the species that are made extinct by these crushing systems that only seem to get more rapacious and corrupt - ‘Buffalo’ is such a stirring example of this, where the Indigenous context isn’t just inescapable within Americana, it’s essential to underscore the environmentalist themes - but also those who survive beneath or just outside of them, and always have, and always will, and I truly love how much Segarra traces real love stories and a sense of community in these spaces; needed for survival, sure, but also a more complex humanity that comes with dealing with partners with substance abuse issues on ‘Snake Plant (The Past Is Still Alive)’, or who are on a depressive downward spiral like on ‘Alibi’. Another major factor is how time is perceived, as these windswept stories and memories often blur together, where even if apocalypse is on a horizon, there’s something that feels timeless in the rough edges and rhymes across years; where art and symbols echo and resonate. And it changes you, fundamentally - you are shaped by your environment and those that surround you, and while Segarra nimbly captures that thrill, they also capture the heartbreak and grief at the consequence of being shaped by it and beholding a dramatically unequal world - the second verse of ‘Hourglass’ is fucking devastating - or those who leave never to be seen again, or those who wind up dead but not forgotten; their father passed away a few weeks before recording this album, and processing the loss of a parent and stabilizing presence is powerful subtext even before they add voicemail fragments of his voice as a coda to the album, where grief and love intertwine so much that you realize they’re two sides of the same coin. So if I have so much praise for this, where do things go off the rails, pardon the pun? Well, I’m still very much on the fence about structure and production, the latter moreso: true to old Americana chord structures and traditions, this is a very ‘song-focused’ album, it has some of Segarra’s stickiest hooks, and Brad Cook strikes a good balance with his choice to keep this accessible in its warmer palette; almost conventional to a fault. And it’s odd because if this album had a more defined, unique stylism like The Navigator did, it might be able to accentuate its points more effectively, or maybe showcase more dramatic flourishes - it’s very midtempo and even-keeled, and if you’re not paying attention to details, some moments will run together, and even if that also helps its theme, it doesn’t help it pop as strongly. And given that it runs just under forty minutes, there was the space to do more… but this choice to underplay the stylism probably helps its deeply felt populism, and Segarra is such a gripping and engaged performing on the mic that it almost doesn’t matter. But in short, this is a songwriter’s album that refuses to carry itself with that pretension - and I sadly know that to many it’ll get dismissed especially if they don’t put in the work for the lyrics - but it’s absolutely excellent for it; I don’t know if it’ll be among the best of the year in ten months, but more weathered subtleties and textures reveal themselves with every listen, it only gets better for me. Give this the proper time, please check this out!
Erika de Casier - Still - So this R&B act has been on my radar for a few years now - her hushed sultry but delivery, balancing minimalist 2000s R&B with UK garage, and rock solid compositional fundamentals and wry lyricism that translated to two great albums I wish I had covered… at least more than this, where playing for more mainstream R&B accessibility, she’s delivered less refined vocal mastering and blockier, more immediate production and hooks. And she didn’t have to do this - her delicate melodies are strong enough without chasing PinkPantheress or Amaarae, especially when going downtempo rewards subtlety! It doesn’t help that the synth choices get increasingly tinny and lyrical cadences get weirdly sloppy on the back half, and when the atmosphere feels simultaneously brittle and compromised, the detached lovestruck musings and melodrama are a lot less compelling. Not bad, but nowhere near what it should be.
Allie X - Girl With No Face - Look, I don’t think I’ve ever “got” the hype for Allie X - middling vocals, desaturated, minimalist, and derivative indie pop production, and edgy lyrical gestures that never convinced me; there was a floor of quality with slick grooves and decent atmosphere, but beyond that? Now it’s been four years since Cape God and reportedly she was going 80s darkwave for this project - which fine, I’m an easy mark for that, pardon the pun - what did we get? Well… the funny thing is that while I’d probably call this Allie X’s ‘best’ album to date - and I’d be lying if going darkwave wasn’t a factor in that - dig beneath the pulsating synth gloss and the formula hasn’t really changed; for as much as the sound palette wants to evoke Depeche Mode and Kraftwerk and the darker, icy synthpop of the 80s, it’s hard to ignore where she’s trying to wedge her style into that lane and it’s not a clean fit, specifically in the percussion and vocals. In the former group… I think it can be overemphasized how huge 80s drum machines could sound, but alongside that synth bass and flashy keyboard lines the beats can feel really brittle, but the bigger problem comes in the vocals. Yes, Allie X has the chilly, sensual vamping down and the gothic choral passages on cuts like ‘Saddest Smile’ are impressive, but more than a few times she tries to belt like the pop rock divas of the era and it doesn’t really work - maybe she’s missing the right overdubs or mix placement, but her pitchy breathiness leads to some wince-inducing vocal runs as she can’t command production that huge and implacable, to say nothing of a song like ‘Hardware Software’ which tries to evoke early rap and sounds like a bad demo. And I’m still not wowed by the lyrics: to be charitable, the edgier sentiments fit the gothic darkness a little better, and if you’re just going for your dark queer dancefloor power fantasy, leaning on pure flash and glamour can work… to a point. I’ve often described Allie X as gesturing towards her darker ideas rather than living or owning them, and with the layers of self-admitted sarcasm and deflection around some of these subjects, it’s increasingly obvious she’s relying on borrowed theatricality to add a bit of edge rather than explore them with any tangible depth or danger - songs like ‘Off With Her Tits’ and ‘Black Eye’ have some challenging ideas and the stylism wants to imply gravitas… but it stops at the implication and it feels tentative and a little shallow. I dunno, maybe it’s knowing the darkwave era Allie X is drawing from that absolutely did go to those charged, visceral places - or hell, a lot of modern pop acts throwing back to the 80s that can back up the stylism - but for as good as these grooves and hooks can be, I wish there was more followthrough. That’s not saying this is bad - again, there’s a floor of quality, and in execution we still get some pretty solid pop songs like the heavier guitar-driven title track and ‘Staying Power’, the operatic ‘Saddest Smile’, and especially the restrained vamping of ‘John and Jonathan’ and while I am a sucker for this sound, it does feel like the most realized and distinct of her artistic vision. But the vision feels self-consciously limited, and it keeps what could have been great as something pretty good. It’s worth hearing… just temper your expectations.
Bleachers - Bleachers - It’s probably not a good thing that for a lot of recent new releases, my thought has been, ‘oh, I have a bad feeling about this’… but there was no way around it, when I had heard that Bleachers had signed to Dirty Hit - that’s The 1975’s label that has struggled to promote any act not named The 1975, likely all the worse because Dirty Hit is under the Universal umbrella so there goes any TikTok promo - and the singles had been getting a really dubious reception, as much as I had stuck up for Take The Sadness Out Of Saturday Night I was left with the impression that Jack Antonoff was falling into bad habits, or certainly not swinging for the fences the way he used to deliver. That’s… about half true with this album, because I can describe this as easily Bleachers’ most personal and revealing album to date, but it does so in a way that I think for many who are expecting the anthems to wind up disappointed - it’s softspoken, meditative, where the spare atmospheric frailty of his recent production is less bug than feature in its jittery subtleties, the sort of album that demands a patience I don’t think it’s going to get. And I’ll admit for a while I was in that camp - yes, I was onboard for more consistent production overall, even if there were a few obvious notes cribbed from Justin Vernon, Aaron Dessner, and maybe even Kevin Abstract, with an obvious interpolation of ‘MARCH’ on ‘Call Me After Midnight’; new influences to his finely tuned ramshackle Jersey Americana full of winsome glances, sax solos, callbacks and iconography that are doing a lot of heavy lifting. But if you don’t have stronger compositions to anchor these ideas, you wind up with airy free association that melts into the background - it’s not quite Antonoff’s fault his production has been overexposed the past decade, but Bleachers at their best had a riotous propulsive streak and huge hooks, and there’s nothing close to the best from Strange Desire or Take The Sadness Out of Saturday Night; it can feel like Antonoff is rummaging through the ghosts of what those songs might have been to deflect from actually making them, and the album can start blurring together fast, even if I can appreciate the fluttery blur of acoustics on ‘Me Before You’ or the driving momentum on ‘Self Respect’ that really should have used more of Florence Welch along with a rewrite of that tactless second verse. Hell, as much as ‘Modern Girl’ has gotten an odd reception as Jack Antonoff effectively playing an exaggerated version of his formula, at least it has bombast and a pulse. But then I realized that might be part of the point: if you remember the last album, so much of it was confused and angry, a desire to hold joy where it never clicked, a frustrated aimlessness that he tried to wrap in classic Americana but never seemed to hit the mark, whereas this album, in the wake of getting married he seems to finally realize the deflection from trauma - specifically his sister’s death - and inner growth that has lingered over him for years… because if he’s finally able to make a relationship work and accept love in his life where previous albums made it clear he didn’t believe he could, where else has he put up walls, what other elements of his life demand reexamination with a fresh set of eyes? Ergo this is the rare self-titled album that’s not the band’s first that actually feels earned - it’s ego death and resurrection, where there is self-effacing metatext on Antonoff’s hotly debated presence in modern music, but you can tell it stings a little deeper because in the process of reconsidering everything he thought he knew about himself in a city that feels increasingly unfamiliar as reference points slip through his fingers, other voices can cut through and overpower his… although he does have a weird habit of being weirdly cavalier about tragedy that doesn’t match his earnestness at all. But at his best, he can still spin together magic, like the gorgeously effective one-two punch of ‘Tiny Moves’ with its jagged strings opening up into a gleaming groove and one of the stronger hooks followed by the shimmering slow burn love song ‘Isimo’ - yeah, it’s cribbing notes from The National and the sports lines are clunky, as if I’d expect anything else from Antonoff and it helps the populism resonate, it’s on the list of his best ever ballads - and the fractured penultimate cut features a stunning and deeply touching sampled monologue from professional skateboarder Rodney Mullen that by some miracle the song makes work. So as a whole… look, I’m comfortable calling this album transitional in both sound and theme - it’s by no means his best, but I like it more than Gone Now and its best softer moments can go toe-to-toe with Antonoff’s best. I’d struggle to call it great, but more than ever I’m convinced that Bleachers needed this to recapture greatness going forward, and for slow sunny summer afternoons, I can imagine this album going down easy. It will demand more patience… but you know what, I think it’s worth it.
MGMT - Loss of Life - Let’s not mince words: even if on varying levels I mostly like every MGMT album, I find them a profoundly frustrating band to discuss. Some of it is for straightforward reasons - this band rarely seems to play to their own strengths in melodic construction when they can wind into structural detours way less compelling than they think they are, their stylism can feel beholden to their collaborators and influences - some of it is for idiosyncratic hang-ups I have, like the persistent, quasi-ironic juxtaposition of upbeat tones with pitch-black themes and subject matter where after the shock dissipates, the replay value soon follows. Hell, one of the reasons I liked Little Dark Age so much wasn’t just because they got out of their own way, wrote killer melodies, and showed more balanced thematic depth that I refuse to allow to be co-opted by edgy dipshits just because collaborator Ariel Pink was at the US Capitol on January 6. But it’s been six years since that album, and not only has there been a change in label to Mom + Pop and bringing in Oneohtrix Point Never on production to assist Patrick Wimberly and Dave Fridmann, reportedly there was a change in genre as well, going for more sweeping Britpop alongside their usual smeared-over, slightly nightmarish psychedelia. And I’m of a few minds with this, mostly because while I appreciated the thematic growth of this project, it’s the sort of growth that feels both designed to irk longtime fans and not always translate to more in execution: to put it bluntly, this is the MGMT album that disposes of the majority of its irony, along with a healthy dose of metatext in commenting on doing so. Maybe it’s a factor of the band getting older, but there’s a world-weary earnestness that underpins tracks that are still observing a deeply fucked up world, with more of a desire to engage for whatever it might be worth, openly questioning why they shied away from their populist impulses before on ‘People In The Streets’ and ‘Bubblegum Dog’. There’s still existential ennui in the face of deeper horrors that only seem to be getting worse - and the end of the album makes it clear we’re all dead in the end anyway, which feels like the natural progression from Little Dark Age - but there’s more of a desire to try, when the drugs don’t hit the same way they used to and you need to stop pretending, and a hope of finding some community along the way; it’s still decently clever, albeit not at the level of their last album, but it doesn’t feel nearly as detached, which is a lot more reminiscent of classic psychedelic rock. But I have to wonder if longtime MGMT fans want that earnestness with no detachment… especially because this also came with a change in sound that might make sense even within their genre but once again doesn’t fully play to their strengths. And it’s an odd shift for MGMT especially, leaning away from Fridmann’s blown out psychedelic proclivities for his uncanny skill in spacious, delicately pretty soundscapes, with crystal-clear acoustics, gleaming synths, swooning vocals, crisp drumwork, and probably their most accessibly clean arrangements in years, with the one notable exception being the snarled ‘Bubblegum Dog’ where I was almost reminded of a Sparks song! And sure, there are warped flourishes, but they never overpower the compositions that most call to mind vintage soft rock, crystallized in ‘Dances In Babylon’ in a duet with Christine and the Queens that seems ready to be a festival showstopper! What might be more common are the instrumental interludes that blow the song into a different scale, like the horns erupting on the outro of ‘People In The Streets’ or that gorgeous key change transition midway through ‘Nothing Changes’ as a subtle musical counterpoint to the lyrical arc… which might be enough for some to overlook how the album loses any sense of momentum on the back half as the songs get flabbier and meander, and no, that IDM breakdown on the closing title track isn’t enough to salvage it. But the sound palette feels older, a bit more contemplative, and while it’s still tuneful, I’m not sure it has the same magnetism. Overall, I did like this, but I also think I’m the wrong person to speak on MGMT’s approach to psychedelia, and I get why it’s been so divisive - it’s not in the same league as Oracular Spectacular or Little Dark Age, but it’s not their worst either; I think it’s good, it’s worth a shot.
Judas Priest - Invincible Shield - Look, I was thrilled to see Judas Priest prove they could still kick ass with Firepower in 2018, even if I wasn’t fully over the moon - it’s not like this band doesn’t have a formula this many decades in. So six more years later, with Andy Sneap taking primary production duties with Tom Allom only here for two songs… and I mean, it sure is a late-period Judas Priest album? There are a few experimental flourishes with slower tempos and song structure, but those are minor variations on the formula; the writing trends towards broad sloganeering, with the smarter jabs at religion balanced by the head-scratching social media callout, but Halford can still holler and the solo can kick ass, even if the production feels a bit overpolished for my taste in Judas Priest, especially compared to Firepower. Overall a little more uneven, far from my favourites from them, but still pretty kickass - if you’re a fan, it’s worth hearing.
ScHoolboy Q - Blue Lips - It’s been five years since the last ScHoolboy Q album, and even he has admitted that CrasH Talk didn’t really work the way he wanted it to, though I’d argue that while that album isn’t exactly good, there’s more going on beneath the surface than has been acknowledged or given credit. Granted, I think that’s been true with ScHoolboy Q his entire career - he’s most recognized for his sneering swagger across a lot of flows and bombastic hooks, the hype man who’ll ensure the crowd is up, but I often feel his lyrical depth can be underappreciated as a result, which is often true for rappers who are not on the a-list and write huge bangers with not-so-hidden depths. But it has been five years since a proper ScHoolboy Q album, and I was curious how much of the blurry cascade of CrasH Talk might translate forward alongside other proclivities… and that’s half true, but Blue Lips executes that sound collage a lot more effectively and I can easily describe this as a return to form, albeit one that can seem like it’s in tension with itself. But where that has always sat in subtext or lyrical themes on previous albums - although not that hard to notice, ScHoolboy Q’s entire career has focused on the intrinsic contradictions and metatext between the brutal reality of gangsta rap and its commodified forms - Blue Lips moves it not just into the text, but the whiplash transitions and structure of the album itself, which can make for a discombobulating experience on first listen; it’s less immediately “song” focused, tracks can spill into each other with dramatic tonal switch-ups, and necessarily it sacrifices some of the immediate hookiness. Now there are real consequences to this: the album as a whole can’t build a ton of momentum and that means it probably feels longer than it is, the overall groove can feel choppy, and you might find yourself wondering if the content has enough layers to sustain that sort of structural choice, of which I’m a bit divided. On the one hand, there’s real resonance in the juxtaposition of the grimy traumatic come-up with the successful and endlessly playful family man that he is, dimensionality and humanity that gets overlooked by an audience looking for only one thing out of his art, especially as there are complexities in trying to give back when wealth hasn’t fully made him happy, or noting the lies and contradictions peddled by the industry that can feel self-serving and don’t solve systemic issues that still impact him; he hates those who have come up in his wake as much as he might love them, especially amidst hollow praise alongside those saying he fell off without going deeper. On the other hand, there’s a twinge of bitterness that might feel emotionally true but can start feeling flimsy alongside the flexing - the album can feel very “slice of life”, where you get a snapshot of where ScHoolboy Q is and the mosaic of warring emotions, but maybe not as compelx as you’d like given this structure… and that sadly makes sense, because when he has been more open and introspective on other records, it’s not been acknowledged, so why not punch back with the success he’s earned. Yes, that is reflexively conservative in leaning into hierarchies of wealth and success, especially with the acknowledgement of the harsh reality of suffering to get there… but given his experiences and how systemic change doesn’t come easily or quickly, especially for as many times as he’s been spurned by folks who never hold their word, I get it, and can appreciate the irony that in playing against conventional structure he can showcase multitudes. And not for nothing, this album can split the difference between soulful swagger and bombastic menacing bangers effectively, especially with more competent mixing outside of the occasional oversold beat - ‘THank god 4 me’, ‘Love Birds’, and ‘oHio’ with Freddie Gibbs literally carry both vibes simultaneously - with the horn-and-strings-accented melancholy of ‘Blueslides’ and ‘Lost Times’ balanced with the killer stuttering bass of ‘Yeern 101’ and ‘Time killers’, the haunted minimalism with borderline garage percussion of ‘Foux’ where Ab-Soul goes off, and ‘Pig feet’ as one of the hardest trap bangers I’ve heard all year! So as a whole… again, this album’s internal tension is palpable, an amplification of what’s always lurked to the forefront, and it makes for probably ScHoolboy Q’s most ambitious project to date at least on a sonic level, and it probably works best as a whole piece rather than for individual songs - I think time will tell if what was given up in structure helps it pop off longer, ScHoolboy Q albums have tended to build their staying power in louder, wilder settings that better match the vibe, but the best moments have me thinking that it will. Not sure I’d call it his best, but it’s the sort of album that has me confident ScHoolboy Q can once again match or surpass it - damn solid album, check it out.