I’ve never paid any attention to Yo La Tengo releases before, but I really like this new single, so perhaps that has been a mistake. Something about the name maybe? Can it be that I think they make music to which you can tango, so dismissed them? Possibly. They’ve only released about 300 albums anyway, so sure it won’t take long to delve through their catalogue. Anyway, Aselestine reminds me of the recent Weyes Blood album, and it’s really nice and relaxing.
Recently longlisted for the BBC’s Sound of 2023 – which seems a bit late to the party, given she’s been putting out, often very well-received music for at least half a decade now – Biig Piig’s Bubblegum came out last week, and it’s great, although I’m not entirely sure why it’s a mixtape, rather than an EP. People cleverer than me will know, but like I said: it’s great, and Only One is a low-key vibe.
Sunshine vibes from the Swedish retro-pop group, taken from their new album Oas which is landing in February. I’m hungover and have nothing more to say about this. Happy Friday!
Released with zero fanfare (or at least none that I could find) is this beautiful two-track EP from TWP favourite Corrina Repp in collaboration with Rachel Blumberg as Arch Cape. Produced a while back “as a way to explore working together again after years of playing and conjuring”, they are available on streaming platforms for the first time today.
Alice Boman’s new album The Space Between is an extremely relaxing way to start your day. Stripped back and subdued and sitting somewhere between folk and very chilled electronic pop, Bowman has cited Brian Eno, Thom Yorke and Angel Olsen (amongst others) as artists who influenced the LP, which should give you a pretty decent idea of what to expect. Honey actually out a couple of months ago, but it’s the album opener and my favourite, so here it is.
I will continue posting John Moods records until his new album lands in November, so don’t even think about trying to stop me! Described as appealing to “fans of “So”-era Peter Gabriel” (tick), Everyone is a soft-focus pop/rock ballad inspired by the Amazon and packed full of shimmering melodies and existential yearning. Melt.
It seems to be taking me increasingly longer to decide whether I really like an album or not. Very rarely is that decision made after the first listen, and sometimes entire years can go by. For example: I recently went back to Caroline Polachek’s 2019 album Pang after giving it a good half a dozen listens when it originally came out and deciding it wasn’t for me. Now I think it’s absolutely brilliant, and really don’t know what my 2019 self thought they were doing.
This opens up a worrying precedent: should we all be reassessing every album we casually dismissed in case something has changed in the interim? Can we really trust our own opinions, even as they’re formed and become hardened and immovable in our tiny little brains?
Anyway, I’m not sure if I like Lykke Li’s new album EYEYE yet, but I do really like this song. I’ll be sure to drop you a message circa 2027 when I’ve made my final judgement.
The first new solo material since his sublime So Sweet So Nice album from last year, Same As You sees the Berlin based-musician commit himself fully to 80s soft-rock balladry, with intoxicating results. It’s possibly a coincidence that the gently plucked guitar melody (very) strongly resembles Every Breath You Take – arguably the very epitome of melodramatic musical yearning – but whether it’s a direct lift or knowing nod to his inspirations, Moods carries it off with aplomb.
Read our One Track Mind feature with John Moods here.
Dark, Joji-adjacent r&b vibes on the latest single from US artist bloodcat, with geloガザ on production duties blending a plaintive piano line with crisp, trappy beats and bloodcat’s warped vocal, with satisfyingly nihilistic results.
For 30 minutes – ie 90% of its running time – Charli XCX’s new album CRASH is a crushing disappointment. Yes, there are good tracks on it: New Shapes, alongside alt-pop royalty Christine and the Queens and Caroline Polachek, and Baby are towering, bullet-proof pop records, but both of these were singles, so their inclusion isn’t exactly a cause celebre. The UK garage bounce of (also previously released) Beg For You leaves me completely cold, as does Good Ones, which comes across – to me at least – as uninspiringly one-note.
So what are we left with? A few meticulously produced, immediately forgettable tracks, and one complete abomination in the shape of Used To Know Me, which serves only to remind us why most people stopped ripping off Robyn S over a decade ago. And then, when all hope seems to be lost, we have album closer Twice, which is vintage Charli: introspective, yet effervescent pop which bangs hard and makes you cry at the same time. The hype train has clearly addled the critical faculties of more than one reviewer, but Twice demonstrates than when she’s on form, no-one does this kind of stuff better.