The cats are on the balcony, the ice rink is a giant glistening puddle, I know we have a couple cold snaps left here, but it’s starting to turn to spring, so it’s time to wrap up my winter playlists. Here’s a few albums and artists I recently discovered and really enjoyed:
Marika Hackman: Any Human Friend (2019). Hackman’s latest album is infectiously catchy and viscerally sexual. The songs are little urges and the lyrics are invested in finding the depth in those urges — the emotional resonance, sometimes even holiness. It has me bopping along dirtily and “dig[ging] for light in the eye of my thighs.”
The Weather Station: The Weather Station (2017). This Torontoise chanteuse has been making some excellent folk music for a few years, but the rock-adjacent full band arrangements she plays with on her latest lend her Joni Mitchell sensibilities a little more dynamicism. She’s a lyricist first, second, and third, though. These are all stories about measuring what we owe to each other in our relationships, and they hit with insight and intimacy. “Thirty” is a highlight if you’re anywhere around that age.
Benjamin Booker: Witness (2017) and Benjamin Booker (2014). I couldn’t easily choose between Booker’s albums, they’re both so solid and mature. Booker’s got the ability, in each bluesy vocal hook, to find those minimal 6-10 words that sink in like mantra and define the world against you. His voice is silky and husky at once. His work is politically and culturally aware, visiting hate crimes by the police (Witness), the poverty pipeline into the army (Believe), the stubborn persistence of old oppressions (Slow Coming), while also being surprisingly vulnerable when it comes to reflecting on his personal relationships. The video for “Believe” is particularly worth seeing.
Weaves: Wide Open (2017). These Torontois rockers just have a good time. The early two-punch of “Law and Panda” to “Walk Away” is great dance stuff.
The Accidentals: Odyssey (2017). This orchestral indie trio have what I’d call a young sound — by which I mean, the songs are very inward-focused, very concerned with locating the self. But the sentiment is earnest and confident, the music is tight, and the lyrics are inventive and playful, and sometimes it’s nice to close your eyes and indulge that sense that everything in the universe is bright and tragic and your new heart is a privileged thing in it.
J.E. Sunde: Now I Feel Adored (2017). J.E. Sunde has a certain quality I can’t put my finger on. He’s earnest and mature. He’s melodic and rich. He’s wholesome, in an era when to sound wholesome means old-fashioned, and he leans into that hard on songs like “Color Your Nails.” His bio reads something about how he cleans houses between record tours and he’s happy with that life. He’s the Mr. Rogers of indie rock, which is to say, a little revolutionary.