The Predatory Wasp
Yves Tumor continues their evolution from experimental electronic noodler to stadium rock icon with their new album, the insanely (and brilliantly) titled Praise A Lord Who Chews But Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds). I haven’t had a proper chance to delve into its metallic depths yet, but on the first listen Parody stood out as particularly fun.
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.
I’m sure we can all agree Nilüfer Yanya’s Midnight Sun is probably the best song of 2022 (even though Pitchfork only ranked it 17 – idiots!), so it was a nice surprise to get a deluxe version of her album PAINLESS last month that included this acoustic version, which further gently eases us into the relentless bleakness of January, however much we resist.
This summer I saw Nilüfer Yanya play to a more than half empty tent at Glastonbury, which is a shame because she was great. The previous day they had to close to entire field this tent was in as half a billion people turned up to hear Mel C play bangers from her eight (eight!) solo albums, and maybe Wannabe. And that’s how music works people! Yanya’s album PAINLESS is one of the best of the year, and this is her second single since, covering PJ Harvey’s Rid Of Me to enjoyably nihilistic effect.
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.
I thought it wasn’t going to happen. Then right at the bitter end, halfway through the final track of the new album, a single, perfect little tear dripped down my ample cheek and finally, everything was right with the world. On first listen I’m a little underwhelmed by I Don’t Live Here Anymore, although given its two predecessors are among my favourite albums of the last decade, it had pretty high expectations to live up to. It’s a little too shiny, somewhat devoid of the turmoil and introspection that, paired with those glistening, timeless melodies made the last two albums so essential. Occasional Rain however takes me right back to those glorious, heartbreaking times: vulnerable, yet hopeful, a personal narrative that transcends its earthy roots and reaches for the sublime.
Willy Mason is younger than me, but sounds like he’s had about a billion more years worth of life experience. His voice, worn and occasionally cracked but also soft and occasionally sumptuous, suggests he’s seen a lot, suffered a fair amount and is bang up for telling you all about it. Taken from his new album Already Dead, Gilded Lie is great for the first few minutes, before becoming overwhelmingly, staggeringly brilliant for the final 30 seconds or so when ghostly synths and a gently strummed guitar combine perfectly to make you (or me, at least) burst into tears.
I personally find Yves Tumor be to at their most compelling when they’re balancing visceral electronic experimentation with big, rocky hooks, either in a single track or across an entire albums worth of material; see: Safe In The Hands Of Love, in which you never quite know what’s lurking around the next corner. Their latest EP Asymptomatic World leans way further into the rockier of these two worlds, forgoing the crushed, fizzing synths in favour of prominent guitars and stadium-friendly vocals, so while it’s by no means my favourite release of theirs, it’s still comfortably better than pretty much everything else that came out last week.
Mali’s Songhoy Blues are reliably relentless in both the quality and positivity of their music, and Barre is no exception, even though it deals with some fairly serious subject matter. Taken from their forthcoming album due out in October, ‘barre’ roughly translates to ‘change’, and the song was written to inspire the youth of their Mali homeland to get involved and help change their corrupt and oppressive political system.
Flower was released back in February, but I’ve only just heard it on my first listen of her new album TO LOVE IS TO LIVE which came out today. It starts life as a brooding electronic pulse with her closely mic’d vocal barely raising above a whisper. And then the chorus, which takes us from Portishead-like restrained anguish to full blown OTT drama in a single swoop.
The Predatory Wasp 