Julianna Barwick and Mary Lattimore – Tragic Magic: I woke up at 3:30am, decided to listen to Tragic Magic, and it immediately put me to sleep. In this case, that’s an enormous compliment. The album is complex and beautiful and emotionally challenging when you focus on it, but in the background, it is hypnotically soothing. The songs can sound repetitive on the surface, but Barwick and Lattimore make subtle changes every few bars so the music evolves like waves rolling in on a winter morning or wind blowing through leaves. It makes me feel the way Hollie Kenniff’s We All Have Places That We Miss makes me feel.
Kendrick Lamar – GNX: Last time I listened, GNX did nothing for me, so I’m glad I finally came back to it. Few artists embrace ambiguity and contradiction this thoughtfully, and tracks like “wacced out murals” and “reincarnated” are everything I love about Lamar’s music and lyrics.
IDK – e.t.d.s.: IDK embraces contradiction on this record, but listening to it after GNX simply demonstrates that Kendrick is a peerless storyteller. This record is good, though. As I said last week, I don’t love everything about it, but it has a compelling narrative arc and some exciting performances.
Don Toliver – Octane: When I read that Octane touched on Don Toliver’s love for rally racing, I thought maybe I’d get the musical equivalent of my old Fiesta ST. Instead, I got a brokedown Chevette. The record is filled with generic rhymes, flaccid metaphors, stale beats, and overused autotune. The opening line is “On the highway and I’m thinkin’ that I love her / On the highway and I’m thinkin’ there ain’t no rubber,” and it just gets worse from there. This is awful.
Jon Hopkins & King Creosote – Diamond Mine: Diamond Mine deserves a level of focus I never gave it until this week. The production is beautiful, the arrangements move the music in the perfect way, and Lisa Lindley-Jones’ backing vocals are the chocolate to King Creosote’s peanut butter. I don’t quite understand the lyrics, but an old review in The Guardian says King Creosote is “raging—diffidently—about woes such as sibling rivalry and the imprecations of middle age.” It’s not a great record but it is unquestionably a beautiful record.
Jana Horn – Jana Horn: Bob compared Jana Horn’s newest record to Diamond Mine, which I don’t entirely hear even though I understand the reference. I listened to Jana Horn at nighttime, walking in the snow. At times the songs walked next to me and commanded my attention, while other songs floated behind me. The record is an outstanding companion on cold winter nights, maybe in the same way Diamond Mine is likely an outstanding companion on the Scottish waterfront.
Old friends who made it into rotation this week: Prince: Sign O’ the Times; HAAi: HUMANiSE; Beth Gibbons: Lives Outgrown