Bookmarks is an ongoing* series of recommendations, recent addictions and subjects for further study. No theme as such, except that it will be largely new music (or at least new to me) — but I’ll invariably cheat occasionally and throw in an older favorite that’s come back into my mind for one reason or another.
Maybe it’s the weather — or something like that — but the aesthetic that has me most at the moment is breezy, female-led neo-soul; see the soft glow of KIRBY’s Kool Aid, AWA Fuckin Love Songs (feat. Ebenezer) and Hamzaa’s Sunday Morning. Wise and sweet and true, all.
To observe of an artist that they sound as though the majored in music (which David Longstreth of Dirty Projectors did) sounds like a backhanded compliment at best, conjuring bloated showiness at one extreme and sterile inaccessible experiments at the other — What is the time is nothing of the sort, the group using striking rhythms, and weird instruments in aid of making something beautiful, soulful and above all, catchy. See also.
Miriam Makeba will get a post all to herself one of these days, but if you’re not acquainted with her, enjoy this 60s Jo’burg dance craze cash in as a joyous intro, with the extra joy of being sung in the Xhosa language spoken by the majority of Eastern Cape inhabitants, Xs, Cs and Qs pronounced as a percussive clicks, the tongue tapping at the back of the palate and the teeth.
I liked BROCKHAMPTON’s playful, colourful Hip Hop just fine till now, though not as much as I wanted to. I’m not sure what it is about IF YOU PRAY RIGHT but the hue has skewed cooler, and proceedings are tighter, more arresting, and I love it.
Alex the Astronaut’s I Like To Dance, a history of an initially thrilling relationship’s descent into abuse is shattering in its simple detail its deeply felt love and most of all, that a 24-year-old sings so convincingly on on this subject in the first place
I know nothing of the show Euphoria, from which the song emerges, But All For Us by Labrinth and Zendaya, is shimmering, thrilling, pure pop as good as I’ve heard all year.
To say Hot Girl Summer isn’t quite as funny and bawdy as Megan Thee Stallion‘s fabulous debut Fever, nor is it quite as thrilling as hearing Nicki Minaj put Jay Z or Eminem in their place is just to observe that almost nothing would be: it’s a fucking delight.
Unashamedly, I want this blog to become a favourite for crate diggers — the rare break beat stomp of The Soul Riders Soul Food is for them. More to come soon.
Elsewhere, some old blues gospel with Blind Connie Williams Take my hand Precious Lord, Kendrick Lamar teams up with bummed out stoner SiR to prove there’s no conditions he can’t adapt to and improve and enjoy the tension of the world’s greatest ever funk band The Meters resisting the urge to tear one of the most beautiful songs of all time (Wichita Lineman) to shreds.
Finally, shout to my dear friend Limpin’ Dave, who introduced me to the rock solid riffs and humanism of The Hold Steady and is now filling me with jealousy by traveling to see them on their home turf. They’re likely to play Denver Haircut, as believable and lived in as ever.
*the regularity really depends on demand — but I’m thinking twice a month at this stage.
Dancing to Architecture 