Infinite Playlist #8

1. Yeule – “Softscars” (2023)

After the previous two albums, I’m willing to admit that Yeule is an artist who is maybe “too much” for me. While I recognize the appeal of “Serotonin II” and “Glitch Princess,” there’s something within the framework that is heavily dysphoric and uncomfortable. I respect those who delve into their discomfort in order to cope with intense feelings. Yeule is maybe one of the most candid that I’ve ever heard. In order to understand the music, one must first understand that they’re essentially playing a robotic humanoid. They’re someone dissociating from reality in such a way that is bold and exciting lyrically. On the best of songs, I can connect with the painful emotion. However, there’s too much despair often woven into the fabric. I wouldn’t change it, but it explains why I’m hesitant to give them greater acclaim.

There’s not much of a turn in their third album “Softscars.” Fans will happily get another creatively fulfilling project from Yeule and experience one of the most unique indie acts of the modern age. However, I think that there’s some difference between how I perceived the past two releases and this one. Whereas they were experimental, there’s an accomplishment to this that focuses more on something optimistic. Yeule is still singing about suicidal ideation in songs like “Sulky Baby,” but they’re transplanted with this sense of hope that comes with finding someone who loves you and understands you. Elsewhere, there’s a discussion of being non-binary that is downright beautiful. Most of all, it’s arguably their most cohesive listening experience to date.

It has the familiar aggression but also some of the most tender vocals. Those willing to give into Yeule’s world will find their skin writhing but also a piece of light pouring through. It’s full of technical skill that surprises and the lo-fi production occasionally complements a greater tonal experience. We are inside their brain, trying to piece together thoughts that may not make total sense. I encourage everyone to listen with a lyric sheet, though only if you can handle difficult subject matter. Otherwise, there are points that are downright transcendent and provide hope. It’s not Yeule finally letting go of their urges, but learning to live with their past. It’s a concept album from a musician who’s all concept that delivers on every note. It may be one of the most melancholic releases of 2023, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

2. Redman – “Muddy Waters” (1996)

Lately, I’ve been on a run of discovering albums from the 1990s that I have missed out on. As a child during this period, there was a lot that I was exposed to in a veiled way. I wasn’t exactly able to enter the adult world or was able to appreciate many musical genres that would click more into place as a teenager. It’s been an exciting journey and one that has taken me to a lot of corners of rap as well. I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but what I can say is that I’ve slowly discovered how much more exciting the period is when you get a little off the beaten path. “The classics” are classics for a reason, but every now and then you find an artist who exists more as a name and that’s where the real goldmine lands.

To be fair, I knew of Redman through his Fox sitcom Method & Red (fun fact: Kenny Loggins was on an episode). However, it wasn’t until recently that I began to consume his records wholeheartedly. While I recognize his more problematic elements, I found myself vibing with “Whut? Thee Album” and was eager to hear more. “Muddy Waters” is even grittier and finds a seasoned vet having the time of his life as he mixes Eric Sermon beats with some inspired lyrical jabs. It’s a playfulness that keeps you engaged, wondering just where this lunatic is going. Especially now that almost 30 years have passed, this style of rap seems more endearing largely because there’s a cutthroat survival nature to his flow. He needs you to be surprised by every line and I’d argue he does it well.

Beyond that, it’s just a catchy album. There’s something so cathartic about hearing a production that moves from song to song with a mentality all its own. Then again, this is the same Redman who went on MTV’s Cribs and presented his messy house, X-rated videos and all. There’s a candid honestness to Redman that is undeniably charming. It’s still very much a product of the 90s where it was about getting the crowd moving with sometimes problematic jabs, but if taken as a sonic experience, it’s one of a kind. It’s there to entertain and I’d argue it’s one of the better 90s rap albums I’ve heard as of late.

3. Dorian Electra – “Fanfare” (2023)

Part of me is convinced that I have bought too much into the Dorian Electra hivemind. In the months leading up to this album, I have been following their Instagram updates with a regularity that made me think they were cool – or at very least fashionable in that provocative kind of way. While I didn’t love their more manic hyperpop albums, there’s something that feels essential about Electra in the public sphere right now. In a time where to be queer is a risky proposition, having them be a genderqueer person declaring how they make normies “super horny” gets to the heart of how complicated our times are. Electra doesn’t care to play nice. They are dominant, demanding your affection. I don’t know, but it feels strangely inspiring.

To be transparent, I’m a bit all over the place with this record. When I am forced to provide a more rational assessment, I’d argue that it’s tacky and full of ridiculous lyrics. The melodrama is at times too much. However, I’m left at the moment immersed in something that is shameless, so willing to embrace desires that go beyond civility. Maybe it’s misleading to have all of the lead singles focus around sex, but Electra designed the record as a deconstruction of what it means to be a cult leader. What power does that person have over willing participants? Maybe that was their plan all along. By becoming transfixed by their Instagram, I was signing up for loyalty.

It's a very catchy record and sometimes close to “guilty pleasure.” Even then, Electra has found ways to make their sound more accessible and connect to a larger market. Beyond the kinky numbers, there’s a real discussion about megalomaniacal behavior in such a way that earns its blend of pop and metal. I love the way that they manage to navigate the entire vocal range and create something that feels full-bodied. They are unashamed to present a vision that is every conservative’s worst nightmare. Then again, would they stop and recognize what the larger message is? It’s hard to say, but for the time being, I’m hooked on whatever Electra is selling and smiling the entire time. 

4. Armand Hammer – “We Buy Diabetic Test Strips” (2023)

For the most part, I have mostly been finding rap albums that I only kind of like this year. I’m thinking of records by Offset, Lil Uzi Vert, Travis Scott, Teezo Touchdown, and yes even Doja Cat. However, there’s one rapper who now is contending for two spots on my list. Earlier this year, Billy Woods released “Maps” which quickly became a favorite for how it explores a musician navigating the complicated and isolating world of touring. It’s full of lyrical brilliance that is only discovered after heavy listening, finding the connective tissue to a larger vision. I hadn’t heard of Woods prior to “Maps,” but it quickly made me a convert, and with Armand Hammer (a collaboration with Elucid) proves that there’s more to this alternative rap player than meets the eye.

Whereas “Maps” emphasizes the personal experience, “We Buy Diabetic Test Strips” takes on more of a social setting. Along with having some of the best song titles of 2023 (“Woke Up and Asked Siri How I’m Gonna Die”), it’s a record that immerses one in the day-to-day of a community that is defined by the familiar run of problems. There’s drug dealing and prostitution that line the lyric. Woods and Elucid take turns creating stories that try to find the humanity within these circumstances, even delving into the mental health that comes with feeling oppressed and having to fend for one’s life every time one steps out the door. It’s an album that’s fairly despairing but finds enough hope somewhere in the subtext, asking the listener to dream of a better world.

Again, I think that Armand Hammer is one of those acts that grows with each listen. On a sonic level, I’d argue that this release is immediately catchier than “Maps,” though it could just be because of how extroverted it all is. There’s a sense of anger lashing out from every bar, where the rappers are allowing themselves to be more self-critical and flawed. Everything about it is a brilliant yet tragic vision. I’m thinking after having had these two records on repeat since their respective releases that I’ll go back and explore the work of Billy Woods. Something tells me it’ll get even more interesting and esoteric the further along I go.

5. The Breeders – “Last Splash” (2023)

There is some irony in looking at Olivia Rodrigo’s line-up for The Guts Tour. While I remain skeptical of her music, I noticed how much more I’d prefer the openers to headline. In fact, I enjoy PinkPantheress and Chappell Roan twofold. However, the thing that amuses me the most is that somewhere in this Gen-Z celebration is The Breeders. I’m not mad that they’re getting work, but it seems odd to think of them on a Rodrigo bill for several reasons. Key among them is the age difference (maybe it’s for the parents?), but also that Kim Deal is considered asexual and Rodrigo’s “Bad Idea, Right?” is so allonormative that it makes me actively uncomfortable to listen to.

Along with the recent 30th-anniversary rerelease, I came to realize that I probably should give “Last Splash” a proper listen. Like most Millennials, I know “Cannonball” from memory. It’s a great single that gets you rocking pretty fast. I’m thankful to report that not only is “Last Slash” a great extension of that hit but it’s one of my favorite listens of the past few months. The way it shifts between grunge and more surf-oriented sounds reflects a band that has a strong control over their sound. They carry you into a world that is unique and fits very well with a Southern California mentality. It feels very 90s in the best ways possible, making you appreciate what it meant to be youthful and carefree.

I recognize that there are conflicting opinions on the record by purists who argued that this was them “selling out.” Their original sound was potentially less polished and grittier. Even then, I think what is here has sustained the test of time and remains one of the great underappreciated 90s records. It feels so adventurous and full of potential, making me eager to see where else The Breeders will go in their catalog. Not since Veruca Salt earlier this year have I found an older band that I really connect with and want to immerse myself in. I’m hoping for the best with this Guts Tour. If nothing else, I’m hoping it gets a new generation to listen and spend their formative years with this record.