"Almost Like the Blues"- Leonard Cohen

(From 1HeckofAGuy)

Until the release of "Almost Like the Blues" Canadian folk artist Leonard Cohen had never issued a song with "blues" in the title. Which is strange when you consider that the hyper literate characters he's created have felt them. They've stared at a knife blade and seen "salvation," hopelessly dwelled on one night of love, tried and failed "to be free." On "Hallelujah," arguably Cohen's most famous number, love is reduced to a "cold and broken hallelujah." Any one of those depressive songs (and countless others) deserved to have blues in the title, but for 47 years Cohen resisted the temptation.

That said, even this first taste of his 13th studio album Popular Problems positions the word against noncommittal words "almost" and "like." Not to mention, the music itself has a non-blues feel. A maraca twitches for the duration of the track. Wood drums clop between speakers. Piano keys quietly sound and horns blurt at random intervals. In musical terms "Almost Like the Blues" is closer to a Vegas lounge or a Greenwich Village cafe than the Mississippi River Delta.

Cohen's lyrics however need no qualifiers; the blues are in their soul. Though he turns 80 next month, the former poet's lost none of his talent for crushing insight. "I have to die a little between each murderous thought and when I'm finished thinking, I have to die a lot," he growls with stale whiskey on his breath. Despite his countless religious allusions, Cohen's never had much faith and "Almost Like the Blues" finds him wallowing in faithlessness. He admits to being a sinner and quotes a great professor on the myth of an afterlife, "there is no God in heaven, there is no hell below." From the way Cohen sounds you'd never believe the latter statement. Hell exists and its hounds are hot on Cohen's trail.

Popular Problems drops 9/21 through Columbia and you can find the tracklist below.

Popular Problems:
1. "Slow"
2. "Almost Like The Blues"
3. "Samson In New Orleans"
4. "A Street"
5. "Did I Ever Love You"
6. "My Oh My"
7. "Nevermind"
8. "Born In Chains"
9. "You Got Me Singing"

"OICU" ft. Le1f- Kelela

"My body's so impatient now," indie R&B artist Kelela paradoxically sighs on new track "OICU." While being unable to bear sexual tension any longer is a common R&B trope, nothing about the L.A. singer's collaboration with NYC electro-rap hybrid Le1f and Kansas City producer P Morris suggests impatience. 

Kelela's voice climbs up Morris' walls of rewinding whooshes and moaning synthesizer like ivy. In his eyeballing opener, Le1f drawls compliments "I think you're hella rare" through thick layers of AutoTune. He wants to head out the front door, though his unhurried tone suggests he's comfortable waiting. The outside world is all about change; in an insular club time comes to a standstill. There's plenty of time to "tell me where you wanna go," as Kelela calmly demands with handclaps backing her. Fiery passion and embracing the heat of the moment is enjoyable, but "OICU" prefers the slow burn.

"Tuesday (Remix)" ft. Drake- iLoveMakonnen

"Club Going Up On A Tuesday" was a contender for somber club anthem of the year even before Drake lent his sad croon. More seasick than celebratory, the breakout track by Atlanta rapper/singer iLoveMakonnen sounds like a scene from a debaucherous party being rewound. Each heave of Metro Boomin and Sonny Digital's nauseous synthesizers coughs up a new detail from the night before. A red plastic cup full of stale beer sitting on a wooden counter. A napkin with a smudged phone number in blue pen. The couple in the corner whispering through a fight. iLoveMakonnen's shuffling his feet across the makeshift linoleum dancefloor, tired from "Workin' Monday night, on the corner flippin' hard." When he recalls how much he's made over the stumbling drum machine hits, "at least 3000 on the boulevard," his thin pubescent voice cracks. He’s out celebrating on Tuesday because when Friday arrives his head will be hanging and his eyes will be bloodshot. It's partying out of necessity, not habit. 

Besides giving the song a higher profile, a trick he's pulled before with "Versace" and "Wildfire," Drake further dims the lights in an already dark room. "Upstairs I got Xan's in an Advil bottle," he growls through Auto-Tune in his "Worst Behavior" tone. "I don't take them s****, but you do, so I got 'em for you," the Toronto rapper finishes in a gentle falsetto. He's "in too deep" and doing three shows in three nights. Too busy to party, the only escape is in his mind. At the end, he’s looking back at the times he and his OVO crew had "the club going up." You're left feeling sorry for Drizzy Drake as iLoveMakonnen's infectious hook starts up again. We all dwell on the good times, when things were brighter. When a party was just a party. 

"Low" ft. Young Thug, Nicki Minaj, & Lil Bibby- Juicy J

I honestly don't know what the weirdest part of Juicy J's new single "Low" is. It could be Dr. Luke's darkly slinky beat, which has unnerving "wooden" synth rattles that could've been culled from a sci-fi horror flick. It might be the realization that in 2014, after more than 20 years in the game, Juicy J songs are more anticipated than ever. "Clique balling out like the '98 Lakers," he sprays in his halting tone. Considering how cruel hip hop is to old heads, it's a borderline miracle the Three 6 Mafia co-founder has maintained relevancy. Not to mention Juicy hasn't slowed down one bit from the hedonistic streak that made 2000s "Sippin on Some Syrup" so magnetic. 

Upping the ante on strange is warrior queen Nicki Minaj, fresh from her ravaging of the "Flawless (Remix)." Minaj is always good for off-kilter brags and on "Low" we get, "All this ice all around me like a penguin, I ain't talkin' bowlin' but I'm with the kingpin." It's just a table setting though for a devastating double-time flow she adapts as militaristic snares drown out muted bass. Burgeoning drill rapper Lil Bibby, who was 5 years old when "Sippin on Some Syrup" dropped, is tasked with maneuvering through the wreckage Harajuku Barbie Minaj leaves behind and marvelously succeeds. The Chicago native asks that you "Call me King Tut, all this gold on," and threatens "if they try to rob, got the things tucked, you ain't seen nothing," all in his hoarse murmur. Listeners here for J and Minaj will wonder "who is this kid?" and they have every right to. Mainstream fans have zero expectations seeing his name on the marquee, so a head-turning performance like this is oddly revelatory.

Of course when you're talking weird only one person (or alien) can win and per usual it's Atlanta's Young Thug. After one of the busiest months I can remember a rapper having, Thugga's performance here is limited to an Auto-Tune slathered hook. Not that it matters. His out of tune wail "I get a brick, you know I get it for the, low, Her ass so fat, I told her drop it down, low," is just the right mix of engaging and eccentric. While everyone else is trying (and succeeding) in tapping into their inner weirdo, Thug's Mr. Casual. He wears his odd on his sleeve.



Juicy J's new album Pure THC: The Hustle Continues drops some time this year.

"River"- Ibeyi

(From MaMA Paris)

 
Trying to differentiate yourself from your parents is no easy task. Odds are at some point in late childhood/early adulthood you're struck with a desire to do something they never did. If you grew up in a family of police officers, maybe you want to be a lawyer. Parents were doctors? Your job might be as far removed from the medical profession as possible. Seeking this kind of separation isn't necessarily a spiteful act, few people want to live their lives in the shadow of their parents and the best way to "escape" is to seek a distinctive profession. Even tougher than going your own way though is embracing the same occupation. Unless you figure out a way to differentiate yourself from your parents, you'll always be compared to them because of the job you've chosen.

That's the precarious position twin sisters Lisa-Kaindé and Naomi Díaz of Ibeyi (ee-bey-ee) find themselves in. As the children of deceased Cuban percussionist/Buena Vista Social Club member Anga Díaz, the music the 19-year-olds create is influenced by their legendary conga playing father. At least on the surface. New track "River" from their Oya EP is marked by impeccably timed blasts of bass-heavy drum from XL Recordings head/producer Richard Russell. In a tribute to Cuba's rich but troubled multicultural past the twins spend the final moments of "River" singing in Yoruban, a West African language that arrived on Cuba's shores in the late 1700s. They're not completely their father's children though; Lisa-Kaindé and Naomi's vocal styles are more in line with modern indie R&B/soul than any "traditional" island sound. "My ego and my blame let me baptize my soul with the help of your waters," they breathlessly croon as background vocals moan and mechanical fingers snap in approval. "River" is proof the Díaz sisters can mine their father’s past without taking everything.

Ibeyi's Oya EP is now available for download on iTunes. Physical copies will drop later this summer.

"Come Down Softly"- Lemonade

Occasionally with song titles I'm stuck in a loop wondering which came first, the title or the song itself? I know usually the title will come last, the Beatles' "Yesterday" was famously demoed as "Scrambled Eggs," but in some cases the music seems tailored to the title. I'm convinced Built to Spill's Doug Martsch figured out how to get the bands guitars to echo into infinity after scrawling the title "Randy Described Eternity" on a piece of paper. The most likely reason for "Anarchy in the U.K."'s sound is that the mangy Sex Pistols wanted to match the calamity suggested in the rebellious title.

Brooklyn electronic pop outfit Lemonade's new song "Come Down Softly" belongs in this category. "Come Down Softly" suggests a slow, feathery fall onto a mattress and that's the mood Callan Clendenin and company fashion here. Clendenin's voice hardly rises above a whisper. Alex Pasternak's drums alternate between thump and unobtrusive ticking. The group's tropical flavored synthesizers wash over everything like waves from a lagoon. At a critical juncture Clendenin soulfully murmurs "a place that I know, this time I'm not alone, the hair bangs on your shoulder breaks my fall." There's no gigantic drop-off, just a gentle ride into the sunset.



Lemonade's third LP Minus Tide is out on Cascine September 9.

In Revue- 'Wild Onion' (Twin Peaks)

Monday on the blog while discussing "Big Dusty," the noirish new single from Pro Era leader Joey Bada$$, I used the phrase "old soul" to describe how the 19-year-old sounds on wax. His rasp, combined with an affinity for sunny mid-90s boom bap, puts him out of sync with the current hip hop world. But no matter how misplaced he is in the musical landscape of 2014, I wish I had saved the phrase "old soul" for Chicago garage rock quartet Twin Peaks. Everything about the band and their euphoric sophomore LP Wild Onion makes me want to start checking IDs. I know musical appreciation can transcend age, my own birthday is nearly 30 years removed from the release of the Ronettes' "I Wonder," but Twin Peaks are a step beyond "appreciation." You don't land on an album cover like that unless you've spent hours staring at the record jackets for 60s acts like the Seeds or the Plastic Cloud. One spin of the Rolling Stone's Sticky Fingers doesn't birth "Brown Sugar"'s jangly fraternal twin "I Found a New Way." Hell even the title brings to mind Ognir and the Nite People's never-ran 1965 song "I Found a New Love." In a recent profile for Stereogum  lead singer/guitarist Cadien Lake James told the site, "People are still digging back and finding the good s*** on their computers." From the aesthetic of Wild Onion James is almost certainly one of those nostalgic obsessives; clicking through countless hyperlinks of Nuggets rejects until he finds the one that hits his ear just right.

That's the only way I can explain early album standout "Mirror of Time." I'd bet my meager inheritance that I've heard those same guitars lightly chiming over the same slop bucket drums at least once. James' lysergic whine, "when I look at the tears from your eyes don't regret a single word that I've told her," has wafted into my ears before. Granted I would likely remember such a beautifully simplistic confession, which is what keeps me from screaming "COPYCAT!" James said in the aforementioned profile "I'm always going for the Beach Boys sounds even though it probably doesn’t come across much," and he's 1000% right. I don't hear one of Brian Wilson's "teenage symphonies to God" when I play "Mirror of Time." James’ talk of distance is more closely aligned with the frigid world of Raspberries precursors the Choir. In fact "Sloop Jay D," the band's tip of the hat to Pet Sounds track "Sloop John B," doesn't even faintly recall the Beach Boys' effort. It's too reverberated, too tossed off and far too snotty, "don’t be a p**** that’s what she f***ing told me," goes one lyric. Whatever familiar notes are ringing in the band's heads come out sounding very different.

Twin Peaks claim reverence for past acts, but there's a youthful flippancy on Wild Onion that keeps them from being a straightforward bar band. The blistering "Fade Away" could "walk in a straight line" across the Ramones' "Rockaway Beach" if not for the brief mid-song solo sending it off course. "Strange World"'s dreamy crawl is perfect for a "songs to relax to" playlist though it's over before you can even lay your head down. Aided by Connor Brodner's pattering drums and Clay Frankel's dew drenched guitar "Ordinary People" could be slotted on the Clientele's lush 2000 record Suburban Light without raising alarm; at least until the indeterminably eerie chattering starts. One way to describe Wild Onion is a mixtape someone's given you that they've re-winded or fast-forwarded too many times. 

And like a 20-year-old cassette, Wild Onion has its defects. "Stranger World" is an unnecessary instrumental sequel bogged down by bleating horns and meandering guitar lines. Cadien Lake James vocal take on "Strawberry Smoothie" attempts the trick of sounding insecurely "powerful," a routine Big Star's "Feel" mastered in 1972. Jack Dolan's bass work at times is plagued by the same silent disease as many 60s garage rock songs. Several of James and Frankel's riffs feel like castoffs from the Exile on the Main Street, another big rock album the band rhapsodizes about. Oddly enough though, those slight failures to live up to the standards set by Twin Peaks’ heroes are what make Wild Onion so enjoyable. Not many kids are out there carving new work from the statues of legends.