New Music Roundup, Quarter 2
By Working under the assumption that people could use something to cling to as the world burns, and would maybe like some new music suggestions for the coming holiday, here’s the second quarter installment of my new music roundup. For those who missed the first installment, the gist here is that four times a year, I’ll offer up a rundown of my favorite records that came out in the previous three-month span. These are not ranked in order of favorites (I’ll do that at year’s end), but are just things I really liked that came out in recent months.
By popular request, I’ve also created a Spotify playlist so that you can follow along as you so choose. It’s at the end of this post.
Buffalo Gospel – On the First Bell
Milwaukee alt-country outfit Buffalo Gospel’s On the First Bell took time to get out into the world (their last full-length record was 2013’s superb We Can Be Horses), but it was worth the wait. Thematically sad and sonically (mostly) warm, On the First Bell is country music stripped of artifice – raw, vulnerable, and generous. Some of it is hard-driving, some of it is tender and spare. On all of it – every single song – front man Ryan Necci offers listeners windows to peer through and handles to cling to. A strong competitor for my favorite record of the year to this point.
Erin Rae – Putting on Airs
Nashville’s Erin Rae McKaskle has been adored within songwriter circles for years. Her 2015 album (with her band Erin Rae and The Meanwhiles) Soon Enough was superb, highlighted by the gorgeous ballad “Monticello.” This year’s Putting on Airs (released solely under the name Erin Rae) is, if anything, even better, and has garnered attention from the likes of NPR, Rolling Stone, and more. Rae draws upon many of Americana’s traditional themes in her writing, but also pushes further, including discussions of coming out and watching someone you care about battle mental illness. She is one of the finest singers Americana has to offer, and this is truly some of the best songwriting of the year.
Saba – Care for Me
Tahj Malik Chandler is a 23-year-old rapper from Chicago’s West Side who goes by the stage name Saba. Care for Me is his new record, and it is one of the best records of the year of any genre. It is also horribly sad. Its pivot point thematically is the death of his cousin Walter, who was stabbed to death on Chicago’s El train last year. Lyrically, the record is a testament to and grappling with grief. (The first words, literally, are “I’m so alone.”) Sonically, it is understated, in nearly perfect accord with the lyrical content. To the extent that there is a standout track (they’re all good, and the record should be digested whole), “Prom/King” breaks my heart more than any other, which starts with Saba narrating a moment in time in which Walter set him up with a prom date, and proceeds through time from there.
Phil Cook – People Are My Drug
Phil Cook is a delight. A founding member of the defunct but beloved alt-folk outfit Megafaun, a keys/guitar player in Hiss Golden Messenger, a member of blues-rock trio The Shouting Matches, Cook has been all over the map of indie folk-rock for the better part of a decade. Watching him live is to watch somebody who embodies joy. And his solo records are fantastic, drawing deep from the gospel, soul, folk, and blues traditions. Southland Mission was one of my favorite records of 2015, and People Are My Drug follows pretty faithfully in its steps. The songs here are joyful and empathetic and gracious. My favorite of the bunch is “Another Mother’s Son,” on which Phil forges solidarity with the mother and family of Philando Castile. (Read his own thoughts about the song here.)
Kamasi Washington – Heaven and Earth
Not much remains to be said about Washington that other people haven’t already said. One of the most ambitious and original musical creators working right now, the saxophonist and jazz composer took the world by storm with 2015’s sprawling, awe-inspiring, nearly three-hour masterpiece The Epic. He returns this year with Heaven and Earth, a comparatively lean (it’s only about 2.5 hours) record that pushes Washington’s jazz ensemble even further thematically and sonically than did The Epic. Heaven and Earth is a lot to take in and requires repeat listens, but it’s worth it.
McKinley Dixon – The Importance of Self-Belief
Richmond, Virginia rapper McKinley Dixon has self-released a couple of fantastic albums in the last two years. First came 2016’s Who Taught You to Hate Yourself, which was followed by this year’s The Importance of Self-Belief. Importance is constructed as a bit of jazz/hip-hop mashup, with horns featuring prominently throughout. Lyrically, Dixon is very of-this-moment, getting deep into everything from police violence to resistance to the problematic ways that black women and girls are frequently left out of conversations about racial violence in America. This is one of the year’s absolute best hip-hop records.
Ana Egge – White Tiger
White Tiger is the tenth record under singer-songwriter Ana Egge’s belt, and it’s a beauty. Other reviewers have noted that Egge’s voice sounds something like freedom or like throwing the windows open, and, well, yeah. She’s also an extraordinary crafter of folk and folk-adjacent songs and a top-notch lyricist. Some of the songs here drift in different sonic directions, but at the end of the day, Egge is a folk singer and a damn good one. The title track is my favorite, but the whole record is great, and the duet with Billy Strings “In Tall Buildings” is absolutely breaking.
John Prine – The Tree of Forgiveness
John Prine, who turns 72 later this year, is rightly one of America’s most treasured songwriters. He’s funny and gracious and his songs carry such strong touches of humanity that it’s very hard (for me at least) not to get lost in them. The Tree of Forgiveness is Prine’s first album of new music in thirteen years, and it’s a beauty. It features a lot of songs about aging, loss, love, and really what it means to be alive. I saw Prine on release day at Radio City Music Hall in Manhattan, and it was one of the truly memorable shows of my life. He’s out on the road for a significant portion of the rest of the year; see him while you can in case he hangs up the touring shoes soon.
Black Thought and 9th Wonder – Streams of Thought, vol. 1
Roots frontman Black Thought is one of the greatest emcees of all time, and yet he’s somehow never put out a solo record until now. A collaborative effort with producer 9th Wonder, Streams of Thought, vol. 1 is a five-song EP that disappoints only in its brevity. 9th Wonder’s production sets a soulful, gorgeous backdrop for Black Thought, who, in characteristic Black Thought fashion, offers a relentless stream of lyrical brilliance. This is just a flat-out fantastic rap record and I can’t wait for the next installment.
Janelle Monáe – Dirty Computer
Janelle Monáe is, of course, a genius. We’ve been waiting patiently for a new record ever since 2013’s The Electric Lady, and Dirty Computer is certainly a worthy follow-up. A superb pop record, Dirty Computer incorporates a sprawling mix of various sonic influences and draws from a variety of genres, from pure funk to heavy rap beats. She tackles race, sexuality, and all manner of other subject matter here, and does them all with a ferocity and honesty that is both refreshing and inspiring. “You fucked the world up now, we’ll fuck it all back down” might be the perfect lyric for our times.
The Dead Tongues – Unsung Passage
North Carolinian Ryan Gustafson will be a familiar face for fans of Hiss Golden Messenger (he plays guitar on a lot of Hiss’s tours), but his side project The Dead Tongues is extraordinarily compelling in its own right. Unsung Passage is the third Dead Tongues record, and it’s a true gem. Blending folk, blues, and country, the album hits basically every high point of Appalachian Americana. Gustafson has always been a great player, and Unsung Passage finds him pushing ever further forward as a lyricist and vocalist. Closing track “Clip Your Wings” is my favorite song of the year so far.
Courtney Barnett – Tell Me How You Really Feel
Courtney Barnett, Australian songwriter and rock guitarist, has established herself as one of pop music’s premier documenters of the mundane. (The title of her previous album, Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit, gives away the general approach.) She will sing about eating fruit, about doing everyday bullshit with her partner, or whatever other daily detail might inspire her to put pen to paper. Her songs are thematically micro and literal, rather than trying to make some big grandiose statement. And it really works, probably because it’s so refreshingly different from most of what you hear today. On Tell Me How You Really Feel, I miss some of the sonic bombast of previous records, but still take great joy in her songs.