The singer and producer best known as one half of Rhye — whose debut album Woman was among last year’s absolute best — has begun work on an EP under his own name. This project, much like his previous one, is a simmering composition, built as much from silence as sound. At once heady and sober, grounded and airy, Milosh’s gentle croon contains multitudes in its shifting stillness.
Yesterday, my friend synecdochewrote an article on the FX show, You’re the Worst, which is equals parts romance, comedy and darkness, featuring two protagonists you’re not really supposed to like.
There are only 10 episodes so far (about 27 minutes long) so, naturally, I watched every single episode one night. In the moments between watching episodes, I found the theme song stuck in my head.
It took about three seconds of googling and two clicks to find the artist, Slothrust. What I love about this song is how the lyrics puts us in bed, at 7:30am, looking at your partner who is still sleeping and yeah, you love them but god you also fucking hate them. And you realize you hate them more than you love them, that you’re more tired of their shit than enamored by it. And in the quietness of morning that feels like a promise, you have the courage to really think you are going to be the one to leave them anyway.
It’s lo-fi done right, emotionally raw and honest, grungy but not so rough around the edges.
Drawing on the tension between Amealia Meath’s plaintive, yearning vocals and Nick Sanborn’s ear worm beats, Sylvan Esso have crafted a self-titled first album full of melodic depths and shimmering highs.
In ten terse tracks, it marks a promising debut by an artist already touring internationally, one that shows the polish, growth, and surprising synthesis of their disparate backgrounds.
Linkin Park, Brand New, Taking Back Sunday: pop punk alt rock that was your go-to in 2004, when you listened to your walkman in the car instead of talking to your mom. The bands on this playlist are bands you might not have listened to in a while, maybe because you forgot about them (Something Corporate, anyone?) or maybe because you grew out of them (hello, Linkin Park). But these tracks are your grown-up revisitations of these bands, lyrically and emotionally. When you were a teenager, the electric songs in this genre mattered to you because they were loud and aggressive and your mom frowned when you turned them on in your over-the-ear-headphones. But now, these unplugged songs should matter to you because of the raw, unhindered emotions that come through lyrically and vocally. The whole playlist will definitely take you on a visceral ride. The vocal talent showcased here is totally unparalleled (Shinedown, Anberlin, and yes, Linkin Park), acting as a beautiful medium to convey intensely profound feelings about love, loss, hope, confusion, and despair. Go ahead and put your headphones on and let it all take you back in a whole new context.
Even when it comes to music videos that are mostly ass-shaking, nuance is important; “Booty” has made this clearer than ever. In our defense of Nicki Minaj’s “Anaconda,” we said that “it would be easy to see this video as the ultimate realization of music’s harmful objectification of women” before listing all the reasons why it wasn’t. They were subtle reasons, relying on the framing she uses to present sexual self-empowerment while teasing Drake, and rejecting the patriarchy through phallic banana symbolism. But it’s also worth noting that Nicki’s tone throughout is light and self-aware — she twerks with a wink and a nod. I’m not sure we needed a counterpoint for our defense, but here JLo and Iggy have provided one unasked for.
In all the ways “Anaconda” is fun and knowingly referential, “Booty” is clumsily on the nose. It’s painfully direct, maximizing every harmful music video trope without challenging or dismantling them. Though it might just be ill-fated timing, it’s also hard not to see this as a wan and desperate attempt to latch onto the momentum Nicki’s created, and to monetize the rap beef between her and Iggy — a beef that Nicki has used to highlight important issues of appropriation and authorship, and that Iggy has used as an excuse to don a bodysuit and rub up on Jennifer Lopez.
Not that she doesn’t have that right. Feminism makes room for self-sexualizing, as demonstrated with raucous and careful abandon in “Anaconda.” But with great ass comes great responsibility, and with “Booty,” two of music’s least-consistent songstresses have shown themselves to be clueless, clumsy, and careless, without empowering anyone or having any fun doing it.