Infinite Playlist #3

Lucy Dacus – “Home Video (2021)

There is a small contingent of people who are eagerly waiting for the new release by boygenius. Like clockwork, they’ve released something new every few weeks to give a tantalizing taste. Given how much of my average Spotify listening caters to bedroom pop aesthetics, it makes sense that they would be high on Spotify’s recommendation sheet. With all of that said, most of my anticipation derives from Phoebe Bridgers, whose “Punisher” album has been one of my favorite records over the past two years. Even as I write here about Lucy Dacus, I’m in need of finally breaking the seal on Julia Jacklin to get a full sense of what this super-group is capable of.

Dacus has quickly won me over with “Home Video.” In the realm of confessional acoustic pop, she’s doing plenty to stand out. Everyone has their silly little love songs, but like the title suggests, this is a journey through her youth. I’m not sure if she’s someone who has owned a VHS player, but the record has that distorted quality where you’re looking through static and warped audio at something beautiful and mysterious. You’re looking for answers within every song for who Dacus is while finding these small hints of self emerging in quiet, beautiful ways. It’s an album that deconstructs the awakenings, the revelations of love and the conflict of church. It’s like a stripped down version of Ethel Cain though just as emotionally rich.

Like Bridgers, she shares a gift for well-crafted lyrics that mix humor and melancholy often within the same couplet. There’s a vividness to her imagery that allows you to see these moments and become immersed. The storytelling is top-notch, managing to create this study of how everything can impact identity, especially during a youthful period where religion and sexuality are most at odds. Even if she’s critical, she manages to convey everything with sincerity and compassion in a way that shows how difficult it is to decide what matters most. The results are lovely and I’m eager to hear her other critically acclaimed record “Historian.” I’m sure it’ll be just as inspiring and a great way to pass time until that boygenius record comes out.

Dan Romer – “Station Eleven” (2022)

As I write this, I am approaching the end of my university days. This means that I’m doing a lot of reading and paper writing in the hopes of not missing any marks. What I’ve found is that it’s difficult to do this with vocals-based music. As a result, I have been getting back into movie scores. I think that I chose Dan Romer’s work on Station Eleven for a few reasons. For starters, the recent conclusion of The Last of Us has reminded me of HBO’s other post-apocalyptic adaptation as well as the fact that Romer is an accomplished composer in his own right (“Once There Was a Hushpuppy” will outlive us all). Given that I’ve seen others praise this score for its unique approach, I was eager to put on its two hour running time and just get lost in its atmosphere.

While I hadn’t considered the music in the context of the show, what I find amazing is how well it works at centering me. Romer has given several interviews about how he uses bimodality to create music that captures two opposing forces reaching a sense of peace. This may sound like a chaotic decision, but it takes a trained ear to make it something breathtaking. Through various forms, the opposing rhythms and instrumentation create unique harmonies that capture the discordant emotions one would find in a post-apocalyptic environment. It’s at times melodramatic and others hopeful. Even then, Romer has the ability to tap into interior emotions and find them pulsating to the surface, capturing a satisfying listening experience.

I’m not necessarily an expert on TV scores. To me, most albums are either overlong or have a disjointed compilation quality that makes them difficult to listen to. Anyone expecting Station Eleven’s two hour running time to be a slow build may be disappointed. With that said, there’s enough here to really immerse yourself. Each individual track is packed with an inspired understanding of tone, allowing for a calming listen. There is a sense of hope that emerges on every track, managing to capture light in darkness in such a way that resonates. Romer really did a great job here and I think inspires me to go back and relisten to his other work.

Nicole Dollanganger – “Heart Shaped Bed” (2018)

Ever since discovering her latest album in January, I have slowly become a Nicole Dollanganger fan. There is something to her atmosphere that really connects with me. It’s the type of music a broken heart would sing in a haunted house during a rainstorm. There is a loneliness to her that shines through her higher register, where the piercing quality occasionally sounds closer to folklore. This is a glimpse inside the aching past, where you ruminate on everything in such a way that it becomes cathartic. It’s the quiet side of gothic culture, where you’re pulled in by vivid imagery, but only if you have the patience to listen through the quivers and shaking instrumentation. 

Another thing that I love about Dollanganger is that her albums tend to be conceptual. Like her Welcome to the Dollhouse (1995) album, “Heart Shaped Bed” is theoretically about one of the most depressing honeymoons imaginable. Like the album cover suggests, it’s going to be a journey into the feeling of incompatibility, where the desperation to be connected to someone through love may not totally work. There are plenty of dark themes here, where Dollanganger sings about marriage like a wavering ghost overlooking a motel. She is trying to find the beauty inside and failing. All that’s there is emptiness, and it’s such a powerful listen.

Without giving into theatrics, “Heart Shaped Bed” manages to be a haunting album that could be considered psychological horror. There are moments that shock the listener, allowing the singer to slowly string us through her dark worldview. I love what she achieves here even if there’s some production changes midway through. With all of that said, it all helps to paint a unique mythology that I’ve found endearing. I’m sure if I ever listened to her entire discography I will see a bigger picture emerge, of someone who once had joy in their life but is mostly trying to recapture it by looking at photographs and resurrecting memories with these haunting melodies. I’ve really liked the three records I’ve heard from her and so far this may be my favorite. It’s very well produced and perfectly captures in expedient fashion her anguish and creativity scratching through the speaker, desiring to give you chills.

De La Soul – “De La Soul Is Dead” (1991)

When the news dropped that De La Soul’s discography would be available for streaming, I slowly began to realize why I hadn’t really gotten into them. Despite efforts to track down “3 Feet High and Rising” in high school, it wasn’t as accessible as their peers. It could be why I haven’t heard their music on the radio over the decades, or why outside of some select songs I remained largely ignorant of their catalog. Having read in Spin Magazine that “De La Soul Is Dead” was one of their best albums, I was most curious to hear it. The artwork struck me as something very dark and edgy, a perfect contrast to their debut. I wanted to know what this record would entail.

Quite simply, I was amazed from the opening by how perfectly executed the whole listening experience is. There’s a meta component where the skits create a commentary on the public backlash that they had received throughout their short career. They were considered too carefree, which caused them to reinvent themselves as someone more socially conscious. Even with more grit in their teeth, they were capable of delivering an album that was as smart as it was funny and clever, managing to never be nearly as threatening as artists like Ice Cube or Cypress Hill who were more about the dangerous side of hip-hop. Even in their morbid cloak, De La Soul was always about embracing some feel good vibes. Not bad for a record that dealt with economic inequality, mental health, and even the need for roller skating.

Give me enough time and I might say that “Buhloone Mindstate” is my favorite of their first three records. For now, I have consistently returned to this one as much for the catchy songs as it is a hip-hop record that feels more meticulous and formed than a lot of competition. I love the humor on display, where the transition into every song has a small moment of brilliance. For a record that was eager to impress those who doubted them, it came through like a sledgehammer. There are few revivals I hope happen as much this year as De La Soul, who has quickly become one of my most listened to acts of 2023 in just two weeks. They have more than enough to offer and it’s a shame that generations have gone this long without easy access to these timeless records. This isn’t to say that Millennials wouldn’t know who they are (they did a few songs with Gorillaz), but I think this streaming deal should serve as a much needed reminder. 

Spektral Quartet – “Behind the Wallpaper” (2023)

In an effort to expand my taste in music, I have been listening to NPR’s All Songs Considered more regularly. The results have been interesting as I’m less likely to tune into bands that are like everything else I listen to, but discover these abstract groups that appeal to a different part of me. Spektral Quartet is a perfect example of that. Their sampled songs on that episode reminded me of another favorite album of mine, St. Vincent’s “Actor,” which featured melodramatic singing and these lyrics about a strange, beautiful melancholy that hid a deeper, more disturbing psychosis underneath. I was in awe listening because even compared to “Actor,” Spektral Quartet was more in tune with the orchestral side of things, even breaking down lyrics in ways that are less formulated to be pop hits.

What is present is a zippy album full of these striking moments that force the listener to stop and wonder. The strings create an abstract atmosphere, where there’s discomfort in how a violin string is hit as the singer performs a poetry-ladened tale of shock. Sometimes it’s a horror story that never fully unveils the danger. Other times it’s more about the internal emotions that conflict with us all. While I think the album is at times a bit lacking in a satisfying wholeness, what is here is something that I’m more than happy to put on when I need something interpretive. It’s a very smart record, using every note to convey something important to the grander picture.

I’ll fully admit that I don’t have strong connections to classical music. Despite having been to a few concerts, I struggle to understand them in ways that are emotionally satisfying. I can get to music theory, but even that removes some immediacy. Spektral Quartet doesn’t fully connect with me because of how distant I am from that world. However, it’s such a unique listen that draws me in and makes me want to know more. I feel transformed when I press play and for a half hour, I am able to get closer to understanding the mystery behind this genre that has alluded me. If nothing else, the calming effect it has even in moments of lyrical distress is downright brilliant and that’s enough to keep me coming back.