#like it's a very solid debut precisely because it's not like i think it fucked up the plot or whatever

[thehardkandy]

finished a memory called empire and my closing feeling is mostly the same as my feelings at the 3/5 mark. no significant problems from the book, just doesn't click much. going to shelve continuing with the series

[lovejustforaday]

Sonic Youth Albums Ranked (Part 1)

There are few indie/alternative bands that I’d argue are as challenging and engaging, or as formative as Sonic Youth.

From their early days as a radical no wave project, to their mid-career as a hard-hitting noise rock band, to their later years as a mellow indie band with prickly guitar tones, Sonic Youth has reinvented the concept of both the guitar and rock music in general again and again. They’ve probably made at least fifty or so never-before-heard noises with their instruments. Combining these sounds with lyrics that regularly explore disillusionment, nihilism, social transgression, pop culture, feminism, abstract thought, underground scenes, and outsider art — it’s safe to say that Sonic Youth have always gone against the grain.

The members of Sonic Youth are obviously all musicians, but they have also been iconoclasts, satirists, and poets throughout their careers, creating music that demolishes both the conventions of rock as well as the social pretensions of the conservative American lifestyle.

Each member of the main lineup contributes something fundamental to the band:

-Guitarist/vocalist/de-facto leader Thurston Moore, the no-fucks-given anti-rock star icon and visionary (albeit he’s kind of a smug twerp these days)

-Bassist/guitarist/vocalist Kim Gordon, the reserved but sharp-witted feminist and multi-disciplinary artist

-Guitarist/sometimes vocalist Lee Ranaldo, the revolutionary master of bizarre guitar tunings

-Drummer Steve Shelley, whose soft and shy demeanor masks a deliverer of precise, high-speed rhythmic anarchy

I could go on and gush about this band forever, but I’ve decided to settle for writing a big nerdy list all about how I feel each Sonic Youth album holds up when ranked. With 15 proper records in total, there is a lot to digest. Likewise, I highly encourage you if you haven’t already to go listen to some of these LPs for yourself and formulate your own opinions about one of the most fascinating bands to have ever existed. This list is really just my two cents.

Note: we will be focusing on the 15 full-length studio albums recorded under the name “Sonic Youth”. This list does not include the s/t debut EP, nor does it include the “Whitey Album” or the SYR series since those are best understood as separate side projects. This list is going to be long enough as it is anyway.

15. Rather Ripped (2006)

Main Genres: Indie Rock, Alternative Rock

A decent sampling of: Noise Rock

From any other band, this is a perfectly decent album with a few nice, gratifying guitar tones here and there. But as a Sonic Youth album, Rather Ripped sounds like the band is on auto-pilot. This is the band’s only album that to my ears sounds like it could’ve been written by any number of other alternative rock bands at the time. It just lacks a certain essential edge that their music usually has.

It really doesn’t help the case for this record that Thurston Moore began having an affair at this point in the career, and it is disgustingly present in the lyrics in hindsight, with the offensively titled “Sleeping Around” and possibly even “Incinerate” both probably taking inspiration from his dirty little secret.

I usually separate art from the artist to a certain degree, but in this case it really does kill part of the experience, because I can’t help but feel that Thurston is having a stupid little giggle to himself by hiding his affair in plain sight and it’s really just kind of pathetic. Kim Gordon is my favourite member of the band, and to me she’s the epitome of an extremely cool person, which only makes the whole thing worse. Seriously, quit bragging old man.

Speaking of “Incinerate”, I can confidently say that I think this is the band’s most overrated song. Certainly not their worst, but I really can’t fathom how so many people consistently put this up there with “Schizophrenia” or “The Diamond Sea” as one of Sonic Youth’s top five songs when it’s honestly just so...by the numbers.

That being said, Rather Ripped is not ‘bad’ per se, it’s mostly just that it really lacks something the band usually has, which makes the project feel a little soulless. Still, the record has its better moments. “Pink Stream” is rather ethereal sounding, which is pretty rare in the band’s discography given their usual penchant for the bombastic and ear-shattering, or the ominous and unsettling. “Turquoise Boy” is also a nice mellow track that probably could’ve fit in quite well as one of many solid tracks on A Thousand Leaves, albeit most of those tracks would still trounce this one.

Rather Ripped is all-around competent; it’s a pretty consistent listen and a decent enough beginner-level Sonic Youth album in terms of accessibility. But there’s just nothing about this album that really grabs me like literally any of their other LPs. There’s almost none of the band’s personality on this record (save perhaps Thurston’s inflated ego). Perhaps it is best to call it their “least interesting” album instead of their “worst”. Honestly, you could just skip this one and you probably wouldn’t miss much.

6/10

highlights: “Pink Stream”, “Turquoise Boy”

14. The Eternal (2009)

Main Genres: Indie Rock, Alternative Rock

A decent sampling of: Noise Rock

The Eternal is the last LP Sonic Youth put out as a band. With context, the record has somewhat of a somber feeling. Even its name ‘The Eternal’ seems to suggest that the band might’ve known that it would be their last record, as if the album could be at least partially a reflection on the band’s legacy that will eventually go on to outlive each member.

The band really does sound a little burnt out at multiple points on this record, particularly in terms of Thurston’s vocals which can be best described as sounding ‘exhausted’. Again, like Rather Ripped, the music is certainly competent and enjoyable, but it’s also noticeably less adventurous than on earlier LPs. The album is also a bit more sluggish than most of the band’s past work, feeling just about as long as Daydream Nation or Washing Machine despite being well over 10 minutes shorter than either of those LPs.

I’ll be perfectly honest: if it weren’t for “Massage The History”, this record probably wouldn’t be all that much better than Rather Ripped. Kim Gordon gets to have the very last words on the record with this grim and cryptic requiem about hers and Thurston’s relationship, indicating that she was at least partially aware at the time that the two of them were growing apart.

This would be the last album Sonic Youth put out before Kim became fully aware of Thurston’s affair with a younger woman, leading to her divorce and the band’s inevitable breakup. The song is honestly kind of painful to listen to for that reason, but it is also tragically and morbidly beautiful. “Massage The History” is chronologically the last track in the entire Sonic Youth discography which stretches across 15 LPs over the course of three decades, and it’s a very worthy swan song for the band, if also a bitter reminder that most things cannot last.

“Malibu Gas Station” is another standout, a nocturnal alternative rock jam that sounds very much like a track from the Sister-Daydream Nation-Goo era, and yet another example of Kim Gordon’s capabilities as a member of the band. Really, Kim basically carries this entire LP on her shoulders in terms of the lyrics and vocals.

Nevertheless, I like this record for what it represents if nothing else, and I would still say that it is a level above Rather Ripped thanks to the album closer, and more on par with the next couple of albums on this list. However, I would never recommend that anyone start their Sonic Youth journey with this LP. You can listen to their discography in just about any order you want to, but I’d highly recommend that you save this one for last. The Eternal is a mostly bittersweet experience that is best appreciated after hearing the rest of the band’s output.

7/10

highlights: “Massage The History”, “Malibu Gas Station”

13. Experimental Jet Set, Trash, And No Star (1994)

Main Genres: Noise Rock, Alternative Rock

A decent sampling of: Experimental Rock, Post-Punk

Experimental Jet Set, Trash, And No Star came right after the modest commercial success of Goo and Dirty, and I think you can hear on this LP that the band is reacting to that success by trying to resharpen some of the edges that were smoothed out by Butch Vig’s production on Dirty. Basically, this sounds rather like Dirty but less put-together, less consistent, and a lot more raw.

I appreciate that they wanted to do their own thing and challenge expectations again, and you can really tell that the band is mostly playing around on this record, but in this case I gotta say that the songwriting seems to suffer a little because of that.

The album starts off promising enough with two major highlights. First, there’s a rare acoustic offering with the lo-fi opener “Winner’s Blues”, the first of many tracks that would appear on later Sonic Youth LPs proving that Thurston’s vocals can actually be quite soothing. Then there’s the winding, topsy-turvy patterns of “Bull In The Heather” where lyrically Kim mocks the infantilization of women in her usual snarky, sing-talking fashion. Later on the record, there’s also “Bone” which has a very sinister, bluesy swagger to it that I really enjoy.

But everything else from here on out is kind of a mixed bag. The main setback really seems to be the track lengths; it’s actually pretty weird for a Sonic Youth album at this point in the band’s career to be full of songs that are mostly only two or three minutes long like they are on Experimental Jet Set, Trash, and No Star. That’s not inherently bad of course, but a lot of these tracks really only sound like ‘parts’ of a Sonic Youth song; some really good ideas, but largely underdeveloped.

Take “Starfield Road” for example, which takes a whole minute to build up this really cool and bizarre turbulent sound storm, and then Thurston starts singing over it for a couple of bars until it all sorta just stops abruptly. This track could work in theory if it was structured differently. “Mildred Pierce” off of Goo does something similar, but with that track there’s pay off at the end with the sudden wicked, destructive breakdown which catches you off guard, but here there’s simply no pay off for the listener.

Combine the lack of complete songwriting with the fact that this is actually one of the longest tracklistings on any Sonic Youth album at 14 tracks, and you get an album that feels like it’s bloated with lots of filler. Mind you, there’s still a lot of great little moments on this LP, but very few of them come together to make great songs. It’s an excellent sampler of just how many different ways Sonic Youth can play with a riff or make weird new static noises, but with regards to songwriting, Experimental Jet Set, Trash, and No Star feels more like a collection of demo tapes than a proper album. Still, there’s some cool energy on this record and I’d say it’s a worthwhile listen for any diehard fan.

7/10

highlights: “Bull In The Heather”, “Bone”, “Winner’s Blues”

12. NYC Ghosts & Flowers (2000)

Main Genres: Experimental Rock, Noise Rock, Art Rock

A decent sampling of: Post-Rock, Art Punk, Beat Poetry, No Wave

This is a good example of why we can’t have nice things. Somewhere between A Thousand Leaves and this record, Sonic Youth had most of their gear stolen by some jackass, which effectively meant pressing a hard reset button on the band’s sound for at least one album.

Likewise, a lot of people say that this is their worst record, and yeah I get why those people feel that way, but I actually like NYC Ghosts & Flowers for the fact that it forced the band to undergo yet another major sonic transformation. It‘s certainly more consistently interesting than Rather Ripped or The Eternal, just a very strange album in general, and for that it gets some extra points. I should also mention that this is the first of a couple of albums where the band collaborated with the acclaimed avant-garde artist Jim O’Rourke.

With lyrics influenced by the legendary mid-20th century ‘beat poetry’ scene born out of the band’s own New York City, this is the most 'abstract' Sonic Youth ever sounded. You can hear hints of the band’s no wave origins on this record, but with all of the crude chaos of those early LPs replaced with cerebral tension.

It’s also more sparse than any of their other studio albums, even more so than the dark and intangible Bad Moon Rising. Unfortunately, in this case that also leads to some tracks like “Nevermind (What Was It Anyway)” feeling somewhat empty, or perhaps sometimes too monotonous or repetitive without enough sonically gratifying moments.

But there are exceptions, and the middle portion of this album is where the new formula mostly thrives. “Small Flowers Crack Concrete” is vivid post-rock art poetry, not unlike a more noisy, sporadic version of some of the songs off of Slint’s beloved post-rock classic Spiderland. “Side2Side” is very aurally pleasing, with plinkety guitar staccatos and Kim’s voice hopping from one ear to the other like some kind of noise rock ASMR.

“StreamXSonik Subway” is a freaky little track that sounds calmly menacing, and I really like the high-pitch computer-y bloops. But then right after that there’s the seven and a half minute title track “NYC Ghosts & Flowers” which could probably give me a headache if I didn’t distract myself with something else while I was listening to it; truly maybe the worst track of the band’s entire discography if I was asked to pick one.

Overall, I’d say that NYC Ghosts & Flowers is a very artistic and fascinating experience in the moment, but I don’t really end up remembering much of it an hour or two after listening to the record. It just doesn’t really stay with me like some of their other records, and I don’t often feel the need to revisit this LP. I think Sonic Youth does the whole ‘sparseness' thing better when they’re aiming to sound vast, haunting, or nihilistic, as opposed to this kind of small, cerebral, sit-down-in-an-empty-room-and-listen experience which I personally find a bit more suited to other bands.

That being said, I applaud them for taking a lot of risks on this one, and I genuinely like NYC Ghosts & Flowers for the moments where it really does seem to be on the cusp of something groundbreaking. It's also a pretty polarizing record for most listeners, so maybe you’ll love it.

7/10

highlights: “Small Flowers Crack Concrete”, “Side2Side“, “StreamXSonik Subway”

[dameronology]

the one with the intergalactic babysitter (mando x reader)

summary: you’re a little lost in life - you moved to coruscant to become a writer, but working two jobs to make ends meet has made you dismayed. one babysitting gig with a mandalorian and his weird green kid might change everything.

this is my first mando piece!! it might be the first part of a series or it might be a stand alone - if you want to see more, i’m definitely down to see what else my brain spews up 

enjoy, 

- val xx 

Coruscant was a very fucking expensive place to live. 

It was understandable, seeing as it was the political and cultural hub of the galaxy - the kind of place that Frank Sinatra might write songs about titled Coruscant, Coruscant - but maker, it felt like they were charging you simply to exist in the city. Perhaps if you’d had a career, or a solid job that didn’t require chasing around after rude patrons and yelling at middle-aged women for severely under tipping. Being a waitress simply wasn’t enough to make ends meet. You’d originally moved to the capital to make it as a writer - a statement you would come to learn would age like milk on a hot July day. 

So, you turned to babysitting too; you already spent your day dealing with sticky-handed children and tuning out their incessant screaming. The extra credits wouldn’t hurt and it was something to do that didn’t involve sitting within the four walls of your tiny, concrete apartment. 

The first few weeks were a bit sow, usually tending to the spoilt of children of rich, inner city politicians. They were easy jobs; the kids were easily entertained by a holomovie and their parents usually left enough money to order take away food for them. You simply had to sit and watch them; making sure they didn’t choke and that they were in bed on time. Simple. 

One slow Monday - the kind were the hours dragged and there was a sort of grey cloud of gloom hanging over the skyscrapers - you got a call. Initially, it was supposed to be your night off to work on your debut novel. The first thing on your to-do list was to come up with an idea for said novel but as it usually went with writers, you found it easier to find excuses than to get on with the thing you claimed was your livelihood. 

‘Hello?’ You were halfway through the door of your apartment, your commslink in one hand as you tossed your apron onto the kitchen counter. 

‘Is this...Y/N?’

‘Maybe.’ You thinned your eyes. ‘Who’s asking?’

‘A potential client.’ It sounded as though the caller was covering their mouth. ‘Are your services exclusive to human children?’

‘Not at all. I had a Twi’lek kid last week.’ You replied. ‘What kinda kid are we talking?’

‘I’m not entirely sure.’

‘You don’t know what species your own kid is?’

‘He’s adopted?’ The voice came back, a little unsure. ‘Look, it’s a long story but I’ve had an emergency at work and I need someone to keep an eye on him for a few hours. I’ll pay double.’

That was how you ended up rushing out again, plans for the night completely disregarded in lieu of money . Admittedly, you were a little unsure because a) the address he had given you was in an air hangar and b) you were half-expecting to turn up and find that the child was a demon. But the guy was paying double and you needed to make rent - and you were like eighty percent sure he probably wasn’t going to kill you. 

When you got to Air Hangar 64 - a jet parking spot right in the middle of downtown Coruscant - you almost turned around, thinking you’d got the wrong address. A man in Mandalorian armour (one hell of a man, it should be added) was standing outside of a jet, a bundle of robes in his arms. He was tapping his foot on the ground, the bright lights of the city around you illuminating against the beskar of his suit. 

‘Y/N?’ You hadn’t even noticed that he’d spotted you, given the whole face apparatus situation. The voice, however, matched the one from the phone. 

‘Right. Hi.’ You cautiously approached him. ‘I didn’t catch your name on the phone.’

‘Mando.’ He replied. 

‘Mando the Mandalorian?’ You quirked a brow at him. ‘Or is it short for Mandalorian?’

‘Up to you.’ His words were blunt.

 It was then that you noticed the bundle in his arms was actually moving, a tiny and clawed green hand reaching up. It wriggled slightly and you tried - you really tried - to hide the look of horror on your face. 

‘That's the thing I’m babysitting?’

‘He’s the thing you're babysitting.’ Mando replied. ‘His face is much better than his hands.’

He handed you the bundle - and you noted that the shiny guy had been right. The little face staring back at you, with its wide eyes, brown eyes and hilariously oversized ears, was certainly much cuter than a human baby. He wrapped his tiny hand around your finger, letting out a tiny giggle. 

‘Is that why you wear the helmet?’ You asked. ‘Cos you’re green and wrinkly too?’

You couldn’t see the Mandalorian’s face, but you could tell from the way that he tilted his head to the side that he wasn’t amused by your statement. Tough crowd. 

‘I’ll only be gone a few hours.’ He said. ‘I appreciate you doing this.’

‘And I appreciate you paying double.’ You shot back. 

‘There’s food for him on the ship - some freeze dried frogs and some bantha milk.’

‘I’m sorry, did you just say freeze dried frogs and-’

‘- I’d appreciate it if you stayed out the hull of the ship.’ Mando continued, ignoring your question. ‘Just stick to the cockpit.’

‘Right.’ You forced a smile, inwardly reminding yourself of the double payment. ‘And do you have a rough ETA?’

‘Sometime between now and tomorrow morning.’

‘No need to be precise, I suppose.’ You muttered under your breath. ‘Well, have fun doing whatever is that you do...Mando.’

He didn’t mean to come across as icy and rude. It was just that he rarely ever interacted with anybody else - the Child was hardly chatty and he usually knocked his cargo out before they could get a word in. Still, the Mandalorian smiled slightly to himself at the use of his name. He wouldn’t usually trust a single soul in the galaxy to be alone with his kid on his ship, but he didn’t have much choice. You didn’t seem like the sort of person who would steal it - in fact, he got the impression you probably couldn’t fly it at all. 

Just like that, you were alone with the weird, Kermit-looking child. The first hour was slow; painfully so, in fact. All you could do was sit in the pilot’s chair, spinning around aimlessly in circles as the kid napped. The pile of dead, freeze-dried frogs stacked atop the dashboard was a little unnerving, but not any less unnerving than the six-foot-tall, armour-clad man to whom they belonged. 

By the third hour, you were beginning to wish the kid was still asleep. You quickly learnt that he enjoyed waddling about and pressing random buttons; he was particularly drawn to the bright red one next to your seat. You were no expert, but you’d seen enough holocartoons growing up to know what an ejector seat was. 

‘Oh no, let’s leave the blaster alone.’ You jumped out your chair, quickly picking up the Child. You held him up in the air, eyes meeting for a moment - then he burst into tears. ‘Hey, it’s okay! It’s better to play with safe things, like this mildly disturbing freeze dried-’

- The kid ripped his food from your hand before you could finish the sentence, shoving the creature into his slobbery mouth with an ostentatiousness that was impressive and disturbing in equal measures. 

Watching him guzzle down the bantha milk was a similar experience; half of it ended up down his robes, the other half splattering to the floor. It could have been worse.  He could have spilled it all over the controls or down the seat. Heck, he could have poured it over your head. 

By the time the Mandalorian came back, both you and the Child were passed out. So much so, in fact, that you didn’t hear him enter the ship. You were snoring quietly in the pilot’s seat, leg stretched out to the other chair. The little green rat was snoozing on your chest, one of your hands resting over his back. There was blue milk all down your shirt and a frog’s leg stuck to the windscreen. 

He gently leant forward to pick his kid up, placing him back in his floating crib. You began to stir when you felt the warmth move from your chest, your brain mentally registering the sudden absence of the creature. 

‘Hey, Mando the Mandalorian.’ You sat up, rubbing your eyes. As you did, the frog that had been plastered to the windscreen fell, bouncing off of his helmet. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to stifle the laugh that was about to come out. ‘I am so sorry about the mess-’

‘- don’t be.’ He cut you off, sticking out his gloved hand to help you up. ‘He’s a messy kid.’

You weren’t sure how you could tell, but something about him seemed much more docile than your previous, brief encounter. His tone was a little warmer - or was it more tired? It was hard to tell with the helmet. 

Your best guess was that whatever work-related task he’d run out to had really taken it out of him. His shoulders were a little slumped, words tinged with exasperation. Coming home to find his ship covered in frogs and blue milk was probably only salt in the wound. 

‘I’ll clean it up.’ You offered. 

‘No, it’s fine.’ Mando shook his head, releasing his grip on your hand. 

‘You’re tired.’ You said. ‘I mean...I think you’re tired. It’s hard to tell with that metal thing covering your face but I’m getting some exhausted dad vibes from you and I did make the mess after all.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Certain.’ You rubbed your eyes. ‘We spent most of the time you were out napping so I’m well-rested anyways.’

After pointing you in the direction of a tiny closet towards the back of the cock-pit, you gathered what appeared to be an ages-old mop and a bottle of unidentified cleaning liquid. Cleaning up spilled and splattered food was simply part of your day job and it didn’t take you long to reassemble the place. You mopped the floor, prying the occasional frog leg or arm from the ship’s windscreen and controls. 

Mando watched as you did, eyes following you as you darted around. You couldn’t see him staring at you but you could certainly feel it. Glancing up from the floor, you paused your cleaning to hold his gaze, letting the mop fall against the wall. 

‘So, what do you do?’ You asked. 

Helmet tilt.

‘I mean, for like a job.’ You continued. ‘You live on a ship and you have a weird kid - he’s lovely, don’t get me wrong - but he’s fucking weird. Doesn’t he have a mum or something? Or another dad?’ 

‘I’m a bounty hunter.’ Mando replied. ‘And no.’

Did you always talk this much? Or was it just his wordless responses that made it feel like you were having a conversation with yourself? You could have sworn that most conversations didn’t take this much effort. 

‘Bounty hunter, huh?’ You raised your eyebrow. ‘I don’t suppose that finding an individual in these Coruscanti crowds is very easy - sorry. I also don’t suppose that you want my running commentary-’

‘- no, I like it.’ His words took you by surprise. ‘I don’t come across many chatty people.’

There was something about you that he liked - you were bright, sparky. The complete opposite of every antisocial criminal and cantina-dweller that he’d ever come across. He was tired beyond words but your voice was soothing. 

‘Yeah, the kid isn’t much of a conversationalist.’ You replied. ‘Where did you find him?’

‘He had a bounty on his head.’ Mando replied. ‘The people that wanted him were bad.’

‘So you ran away with him?’ You dropped the mop, taking a seat in the chair beside him. ‘And just called him your own?’

‘Not at first, but there are a lot of people after him.’

‘Oh yeah. I’m sure that tiny green thing is the galaxy’s most wanted criminal.’ You scoffed. 

‘What do you do?’ His helmet tilted again, this time out of curiosity. He got the vibe that you probably weren’t a full-time babysitter. You’d looked after his kid well enough but you didn’t seem like the sort of person who would voluntarily spend all their time with children. You swore too much for that. 

‘I’m trying to be a writer.’ You explained. 

That made sense, Mando thought, you certainly had plenty to say. 

‘Trying?’

‘Let’s just say that there isn’t a whole lot of writing happening.’ You replied. ‘You know, life gets in the way. I babysit and waitress to make ends meet but that leaves little time for getting shit done. I’m hopeful, though.’

Mando was almost bewildered by you at that point: you were the opposite of him in every way. You spoke about anything & everything, you’d anchored yourself to this city and you were trying to achieve a dream - an uncertain dream. He was the one that travelled the galaxy but somehow, you seemed to be more free. You had the sort of energy and optimism that felt like a stranger to him. Your presence alone against the cold, metal walls of his ship felt like a warm hug. 

‘Is it lack of inspiration?’ He asked. 

‘Maybe.’ You replied. ‘I thought Coruscant would help with that but it’s actually pretty fucking sad here. I can’t travel though, not when I’m working two jobs just so I can afford to live, let alone go on kriffing vacation.’

‘Right.’ He nodded. ‘I’m heading out tomorrow morning.’

You furrowed your brow. ‘Yeah. Where to?’

‘I have no idea.’ He replied. ‘But I need someone to watch the kid and you need to travel.’

‘Sure.’ You snorted. ‘I’ll just...I’ll just up and leave my whole life here behind to drop everything and travel the galaxy with a random man and his weird frog baby whilst I search for inspiration and - oh.’

‘What?’

‘That sounds like one hell of a story.’

[happymetalgirl]

May 2020

Umbra Vitae - Shadow of Life

Converge frontman Jacob Bannon is so impressively artistically prolific, sometimes to his own detriment, that I am hardly surprised by the arrival of and results of Shadow of Life, a more death metal-oriented project that still has Converge’s DNA all over it. Still teeming with wild hardcore energy, Shadow of Life is really not all too different in approach from any of Converge’s most direct work, Bannon pulling from a different elemental this time. The project’s brevity works in its favor, but despite being so short, it feels quickly exhausted of its creativity. Converge is made great largely by the dynamic of the band’s direct metalcore aggression and the variety of curveballs they throw in, but Umbra Vitae reduces that to the raw aggression that sure hits hard, but becomes easy to predict after not too long.

6/10

Havok - V

So it’s not as good as Conformicide, but Havok still deliver the goods on their unfortunately unimaginatively named fifth LP. The band’s Megadeth-esque brand of politicallly charged thrash shredding certainly comes at a particularly apt time and the riffs they deliver indeed sound inspired and the performances ripe with frustrating at the various systems that got us to this seminal moment in history. David Sanchez’ piercing, throat-grating screams are as fierce and fiery as ever and impressive in how quickly he’s able to rattle some of his lines off, and the rest of the band remain tight and cohesive across the album’s eleven experience-crafted thrash tunes. Compositionally I feel like there aren’t as many individual high points within songs that made so many tracks on Conformicide such ferocious bangers, but the band certainly still show themselves to be a good few leagues above average when it comes to writing potent thrash. Where I wish the album went harder was the lyrics. Granted this came out right at the beginning of May, before the killing of George Floyd, and was probably recorded and written before if not early on in the pandemic, but it still feels like it could have gone for more than just the usual targets. I appreciate the band’s tackling of the crisis of credibility of modern media on “Post-Truth Era”, their explicit condemnation of the United States’ unhinged military bullying overseas on “Merchants of Death”, and their acknowledgement of the bias/lies of retelling of history by the powerful and how the lies get bigger over time, but I wish the band were this precise and cutting most of the time on this album because so much of its lyricism is super vague, sometimes in a kind of non-comittal way. The song “Fear Campaign” points out the various ingredients in a fascistic rise to authoritarianism happening right now, but it never moves beyond the usual thrash tropes of distrust of government and corporate media. Meanwhile songs like “Don’t Do It” speak just a bit too generally of social despair to pack much of a lyrical punch, while the lyrics to the track “Phantom Force”, whole not particularly offensive, just repetitive paranoid gibberish. It’s not directly related to the music, but it doesn’t help that the band, who have built their identity so heavily on musical political commentary have been rather quiet in the wake of George Floyd’s death and the sharp heightening of the volatility of the political climate. You could argue it shouldn’t impact their music, but it does suggest that they’re intentionally trying to maintain a level of ambiguity in their railing against the system that will allow anyone to read their own ideology into certain crevices, an approach to artistic sociopolitical critique that isn’t really right for this time. Despite that criticism, I still quite enjoy this album for its continuation of the hypercharged thrash the band has been doing so well.

8/10

Green Carnation - Leaves of Yesteryear

Joining the ranks of recently reawakened bands, Green Carnation returns from their fourteen-year slumber with a five-track slab of their trusty slightly gothic/doomy prog and for the most part it goes pretty well. The band’s performances are solid and it sounds like they never even left. The album likes to sway between melancholic (but not entirely hopeless) forms of gothic sorrow and slower classic heavy metal forms of inspiring melody much like Khemmis, Spirit Adrift, or even Pallbearer. I’d say the opening title track is the example most rife with sweet guitar melody that hits this spot well, and while the rest of the album isn’t a drastic drop in quality, the band definitely hit with their best shot first, and overall make a pretty worthwhile comeback.

6/10

Vader - Solitude in Madness

The Polish death metal icons are on their twelfth album now and at this point for them it’s just a matter of proving to themselves that they’re worthy of their status as aforementioned icons of the genre. At this point their solid and consistent discography speaks for itself and justifies the band’s similarly consistent approach. While never being one for overly lengthy projects, Vader’s twelfth is one of their shortest projects to date, not even breaking the half-hour mark, but making great use of its brief runtime nonetheless with vibrant, pummeling performances and just enough compositional dynamic to bring out the quality in everyone’s performances. Sure it’s kind of predictably direct, but that has been Vader’s MO for decades and it continues to deliver ripe, juicy organic death metal, so I’m fine with them not changing their style up with how well they can consistently conjure a half hour or so of sufficiently exciting and potent death metal. What they decline in stylistic evolution they continue to make up for in raw, experienced, and expressive performances, and Solitude in Madness is just another example of it.

7/10

Chaos over Cosmos - II

Dazzling with proggy guitar technicality again on this quick response to last year’s EP, Chaos over Cosmos take another diversion on the vocal front, with the vocals on this album being both much less present and more predominantly unclean. The third track “One Hundred” is probably the standout cut of the four tracks here, layering on the synths and the whispered passages between space-traversing guitar leads. I still think the band could work on making the production a little more crisp and the compositions maybe a little more frequently injected with flair, but I definitely think they’re on the right foot going forward.

6/10

Witchcraft - Black Metal

Going the route of Thou on Inconsolable, Swedish doom occultists Witchcraft bust out an entirely acoustic album quite fit in its ultra depressing tone for these ultra depressing (or enraging) times. Taking such a minimalist approach does pose a bit of a gamble for any band used to a more bulky instrumental arsenal on the make-up-less appeal of the performances at the core of their ethos. Thou absolutely nailed it, and I’d say that Witchcraft are pretty successful here as well, for just how committed to potent acoustic depression Black Metal is. It’s a bit heavy handed at some moments, but for the most part it’s a well-measured half hour of candid sorrow at a rather fitting time for it.

7/10

Tortuga - Deities

I feel like at this point, I’ll give any band points for playing stoner doom and only half sounding like a Black Sabbath rip-off, and Tortuga definitely earn those points. This album actually released on the first day of the new year, but I didn’t hear about it until now, and I figure it’s worth propping up. Deities is the Polish outfit’s sophomore full-length after their eponymous debut in 2017 (which I also missed of course), and it is definitely a breath of fresh air for the genre it represents. Relying not on monotonous Iommi-imitation to carry otherwise thin compositions, Tortuga follow their own uniquely ambient approach to the genre that focuses more on building a dense atmosphere and mood with the thick, hazy guitars and rumbling bass lines than on numbed, bong-worshipping psychedelia. We get a few of the other staple elements of the genre: wild effects-pedal psychedelia, lyrics about mythical Lovecraftian monsters, and audio samples of old-timey Christian fundamentalist preachers fear-mingering about drugs; but none of it sounds contrived or unoriginal. Deities sounds like if Dopethrone-era Electric Wizard had a little more atmospheric dynamic and less on-the-nose Sabbath worship. Granted the vocals on Deities aren’t as fuzzed the fuck out and the bulk of the album is not dedicated to pissed-off, drugged-out, gargantuan heaviness, but it sure is a solid album in the path it walks for itself.

8/10

...and Oceans - Cosmic World Mother

Despite checking all the productional and stylistic boxes for a modern death metal record, Cosmic World Mother offers not very much in the way of anything compositionally or aesthetically unique or exciting. It feels almost like it’s just embodiment of the Emperor/Behemoth-inspired wing of the genre as a hive mind just on autopilot. The band crank out a few brief highlight motifs here and there, the occasional epic pairing of synthetic strings and tremolo-picked guitars, but most of the album is (while competent, no doubt) pretty one-note and predictable in a way that really only becons repeated listens to make sure you’re really sure you’re not missing anything from the homogeneous blend of songs together you remember from your last attempt to stay attentive through it.

6/10

ACxDC - Satan Is King

After a long road to their debut album back in 2014, grindcore stalwarts ACxDC finally follow up with a worthy sophomore effort this year, during which time Full of Hell have happily risen to the occasion on at least two stellar modern grindcore full-length (as loaded of a term as that is for grindcore) releases. But the L.A. quartet is back and quite fired up in the midst of the sociopolitical turmoil that we’ve all been submerged in. While more traditional in its instrumentation, not as laced with industrial noise elements as Full of Hell’s music tends to be, ACxDC captures a similarly powerviolence-adjacent thrashing intensity and the band do not take their foot off the gas at all throughout the 23-minute affair. The guitars blare with a shout all their own and chug with the kind of mechanically smashing crunch found in modern death metal, the drums and the bass lines are never over-the-top in terms of speed or technicality with the band opting more often for synchronized hardcore punches than grinding through blast beats, which probably puts this album deeper into powerviolence territory than I initially let on. And Sergio Amalfitano’s vocals shift from intense death howls and growls to fast-paced blackened hardcore shrieking with respectable fruidity, probably not as erratically as Dylan from Full of Hell, but certainly quite capably. I’ve been turning to a lot of intensely aggressive and violent metal in these infuriating times, particularly grindcore, and Satan Is King has been a solid addition to that alongside the new WVRM and Caustic Wound albums.

8/10

Old Man Gloom - Seminar VIII: Light of Meaning

The prequel to the band’s previously released full-length this year (Seminar IX: Darkness of Being) finds them in an even more esoteric vein than what they were in back in March. Oscillating between Sumac-esque sludge (which Aaron Turner’s vocals make those parts of the album featuring them all the more uncannily similar to) with subtle experimental flair and more modern-Mastodon/Isis-esque sludgy post-metal to full-on noise music experimentation, the band’s “eighth” “seminar” at the very least makes for a dynamic and interesting listen. Some of the band’s exhibitions in certain styles don’t really do much convincing for their branching off into those directions; some of the noise passages feel kind of like waiting at a traffic meter for a more invigorating portion of the album to kick in, as do some of the less-imaginative sludgy sections. But for what the collective do with their array of experiences, influences, and artistic instincts they come through with more hits than misses, I’d say. The longest track on the album, “Final Defeat” is impressively cohesive in its amalgamation of so many sonic elements. though the subsequent and similarly lengthy “Calling You Home” is an example of the other side of that coin, dragging and uneventful. It’s worth at least a cursory listen for its eccentricity alone, it may vibe with you even more than me, if not, at least it’s an interesting meeting of various creative minds in the post-metal sphere.

7/10

Xibalba - Años en Infierno

Offering an especially weighty slab of sludgy/doomy death metal with some tasteful streaks of hardcore and sludge metal mixed in to the dense swirl, Xibalba bring slow-churning, bulky death metal to the conversation of the various injustices and catastrophes of this year, and the band’s hardcore energy and knack for pummeling rhythms in that vein are exactly the kind of pissed off that such an album as Años en Infierno needs. And that hardcore compositional approach and/or mindset means that Años en Infierno is no homogeneously sluggish record; Xibalba pick up the tempo for rapid-fire hits of deathly hardcore punches and slow down to wind up for devastating finishing blows all with magnificent smoothness. Whether trudging through thick, filthy riff sludge like a massive beast stomping its way through a knee-deep muddy battlefield on slow burners like “La Injusticia” and the doom-laden “El Abismo, Pt. 1” or like that same muscular hulk sprinting on dry land on songs like “Santa Muerte” and “En la Oscuridad”, Xibalba are an organic, brutish force in all the ways I like my death metal and hardcore to be, at the same time.

8/10

Behemoth - A Forest

Named after the cover of The Cure’s “A Forest”, Behemoth’s EP-sized mark on 2020 is ultimately a mild one. Intended clearly to show a more eccentric side of the band with the theatrically tortured guest vocals from Niklas Kvarforth of Shining, the band’s cover of the titular track is really not all that wild for a band who came up from raw shitty black metal roots and traversed their way through blackened death metal to the biblical glory of The Satanist; the band have already shown their vast capacity for branching out from and expanding death metal and black metal, and this cover of The Cure happens to be just a more clumsy, rather than illuminating, display of that ambition. It’s not a terrible cover or a poor representation of Behemoth’s ambition, but I don’t think it’s quite the grand statement the band is making it out to be. The same can be said of the redundant inclusion of the live cut of the cover song. As for the other two tracks on here, “Shadows ov Ea Cast upon Golgotha” (which kind of drags and meanders with no real direction) and the more fast-paced “Evoe” (which is at least a lot more fastinstrumentally vibrant), both are solid enough cuts that sound very well like they could have come from the I Loved You at Your Darkest sessions, though not surprisingly notably below par for that course, much less the high bar of The Satanist, which ultimately makes this kind of a benign addiction to Behemoth’s catalogue.

6/10

Helfró - Helfró

This actually came out in April, but I’m late as it is so what the hell, hailing from the small, but mythic black metal scene of Iceland, Reykyavík’s Helfró make quite the standout statement with their self-titled debut record here. At a modest thirty-seven minutes, Helfró is a stinging and searing, but also impressively aggressively balanced display of black metal and blackened death venom. The guitar riffs are sharp and cutting when they need to be and also quite full-bodied while able to keep up with the high-flying tempo set by the double-bass-blast-beat drumming to capture the delirious hysteria of . The band takes their attack from the icy piercing of mountaintop blizzards of speed and distorted dissonance to fiery rumbles of hellishly low guitars and demonic bellows of damnation, and all with such control and gracefullness; I am all for it! This is a hell of a debut record and I will certainly be looking for more from Helfró to come.

8/10

Asking Alexandria - Like a House on Fire

After being completely put off by the band’s self-titled album a couple years ago, I have not returned to Asking Alexandria at all since then, until now with Like a House on Fire. Honestly, I was kind of expecting some sort of response from the band after such a light and messy album to prove to people like me that they can excel with heavy music still, and I mean the only way to go was up after the catastrophe that was the band’s self-titled album, right? Well I was wrong in the kind of response the band came through with; doubling down instead on their departure from metalcore, Asking Alexandria go all in on pop rock and arena rock in a way that I suppose constitutes a mild improvement, but not a justification for their doubling down. The band bit off way more than they could stylistically chew as they clumsily try to chameleon their way into several styles of pop rock. The class consciousness anthem “They Don’t Want What We Want (And They Don’t Care)” and the alternative metal power ballad “In My Blood” offer a brief glimmer of hope for some vital, conscious arena rock for the album, but the shitty motifs and writing decisions don’t take long to follow. With its gratingly annoying vocal riff, “Down to Hell” sounds like a rejected 2000’s Shinedown song (or a 2010’s Shinedown song). “I Don’t Need You” is a glam rock ballad brough to the 21st century with a knock-off-Halsey feature before “Take Some Time” comes through with more annoying vocal wooing. If not outright awful, Like a House on Fire is most often just aggravatingly wash-rinse-repeat boring and banking on current pop rock trends that Asking Alexandria don’t even have a great handle on. Danny Warsnop’s clean vocals and uncomfortable attempts at coming across sultry are especially hard to listen to, as are the completely out of place and unmeshed EDM elements that pop in and out of various tracks. I wasn’t the biggest fan of Bring Me the Horizon’s last album’s blatant pop campaigning, but holy shit at least they were competent and showed they could handle the variety of styles they implemented. Asking Alexandria are clearly trying a similar angle here but they’re not capable of mimicking Shinedown and Imagine Dragons better than either of those bands, and that’s saying something.

2/10

Revenge - Strike.Smother.Dehumanize

Coming up among all the great new grindcore I’ve been finding these past few months, Revenge bring a distinct blackened edge to the brutish force of grindcore and powerviolence. While a pretty effectively churning grind of manic drumming, chaotic bass lines, and jagged guitar galloping, Strike.Smother.Dehumanize is one of the more homogeneous grindcore records I’ve heard this year, spiced up mostly by the artificially low-rumbling toilet bowl growls (that do lose their novelty before the album’s finish) and the consistent individual flair brought by each members’ performances. But compositionally, the band doesn’t really abide by much more than the usual grindcore mantra of constant intensity, but at that it sure is successful.

7/10

Bleed from Within - Fracture

The fifth album from Glasgow’s Bleed from Within brings such a pedestrian and unambitious of a forty-two-minute offering of melodic metalcore as seemingly possible. It’s just like the definition of a baseline, C-grade performance with passable performances of predictable resortings to of metalcore’s most trodden out tropes; like I saw the opening track’s title, “The End of All We Know”, and I knew exactly how that chorus was gonna go before I even heard it. For its few sick breakdowns like those on “Pathfinder” and “Utopia”, there’s just so much more filler generic metalcore (and some completely unsatisfying breakdowns too) to get through. I’ll give Ali Richardson credit for coming through with some impressive double-bass syncopation that sometimes breaks from the metalcore mold to give the music som brief flashes of being more than ignorable metalcore, and I’ll acknowledge the considerable gusto of Scott Kennedy’s vocal performance across the album as its most consistent positive feature, but it’s not enough to make me eager to return to Fracture as a whole or even throw any tracks into my workout playlist.

5/10

Okkultokrati - La Ilden Lyse

In their prolific first decade or so of action, Okkultokrati have done a decent job injecting grimy hardcore crust punk and a head-turning variety of other styles into the kvlt black metal of their Oslo hometown. After nearly four years of crafting since their most aesthetically ambitious effort to date, Raspberry Dawn, La Ilden Lyse is a bit of a regressive and stylistically reductive letdown after its lush and fascinating predecessor. The production of the black metal elements is much cleaner now, but the trade-off isn’t worth it, especially given that the fuzzier production of the previous albums kind of partially contributed to the unique aesthetic the band cultivated. I don’t know what the point was of going more traditional/typical this time around, but the band certainly aren’t making a stronger case for themselves by blending in MORE with their contemporaries. I hope this is just a one-off and the band get back to making more interesting black metal again soon.

5/10

Alestorm - Curse of the Crystal Coconut

I said in my review of Alestorm’s previous album that I am continuously amazed at how the pirate metal masters are able to keep finding material in their super specific vein, especially with how fresh 2017’s No Grave But the Sea sounded while returning to the more “traditional” sound that characterized the band’s debut album. Somewhat unsurprisingly, Curse of the Crystal Coconut finds the band playing around with their sound a bit in a similar way to what they did on Sunset on the Golden Age, and I would say this year’s effort to grow their sound went a good bit better than it did on that aforementioned preceding album. The band are as irreverent in their wacky sea shanty storytelling as ever (and I wouldn’t have it any other way), though they bring a few “futuristic” (for pirates’ times) elements to the table here, which a folk metal purist could certainly argue are blasphemously out of place on a record about pirate life, but if you’re a purist like that I doubt you’re listening to a sixth Alestorm LP to begin with. I actually think the band did well to make these new elements a part constructive to the overall campy aesthetic of their sound. Opening the canon hatches is “Treasure Chest Party Quest” with a hedonistic schlock rock mission statement that sounds like if Kansas were a bunch of Viner douchebags, but moving into the melodic shanty “Fannybaws” right out of the gate reaffirms the band’s folk metal chops. But it’s the introduction of hip hop elements on “Tortuga” that shows Alestorm is here to sail pirate metal to the farthest corners of the seven seas as they can; the band’s foray into trap territory under the influence of this lighthearted and loveable ambition with Captain Yarrface on this track is honestly impressive. And the band’s experimentation doesn’t end there, with “Zombies Ate My Pirate Ship” also featuring the unexpectedly beautiful vocal feature from Patty Gurdy. All these modern music elements made me ponder the possibility of a modern, internet-pirate-themed Alestorm record; perhaps someday... Beyond just the introduction of electronic elements, the thrashy folk bangers like “Chomp Chomp” and “Pirate’s Scorn” are welcome shots of liquor to jolt the album into pirate eager mode while melodic folk metalcore bangers like he nonsensically gorgeous “Zombies Are My Pirate Ship” are surprisingly invigorating. The quick metaphoric jab at the band’s imitators (or detractors) on “Shit Boat (No Fans)” is a good bit of fighting pirate spirit breaking the fourth wall creatively. There’s also the ridiculously overly epic sequel to the fast-chanting nonsense track, “Wooden Leg”, from Sunset on the Golden Age, whose conclusion is so beautifully stupid *chef’s kiss*. Honestly, I needed this album so badly this year, and I’m glad Alestorm came through with such a fun expansion pack of pirate metal tunes.

8/10

Sorcerer - Lamenting of the Innocent

I don’t know what happened. I loved this album the first time I heard it, but my enjoyment with every subsequent listen since then has been significantly diminished. Perhaps I was just appreciative of the dose of classic heavy metal with tasteful modern production updates to liven up my repertoire of new albums to listen to. As grand, nostalgic, and even 2000’s-Maiden-esque as Sorcerer’s sixth album is, I can’t help but feel at least somewhat distracted by how heavily derivative it is of the NWOBHM, even as it takes some cues from Candlemass and Dream Theater to elevate its grandiosity through proggy, epic doom metal. Now all those influences do combine into a generally effective and exciting aesthetic, and I do think the core sound the band have tapped into is potent and worth chasing, as evidenced by songs like “Institoris” and “Dance with the Devil”, but that sound at its best doesn’t show up in full enough on this album. Lamenting of the Innocent is hampered so heavily by its length and the proportion of that length that is comprised of filler balladry like “Deliverance” or the just slightly too dragged out “Where Spirits Die” and unnecessary repetition that draws out even the better parts of the album like the title track. For all this nit-picking, I feel like I should at least emphasize that I do still quite like this album for its solid performances, especially Anders Engberg’s tactful operatic vocals and the distinctly NWOBHM-style duel-guitar soloing from Kristian Niemann and Peter Hallgren. I do hope that Sorcerer do continue to distill their sound down to its best elements because I could see them being a shining beacon for the continued reverence for the era of heavy metal they so heavily emulate.

7/10

[thesinglesjukebox]

DUA LIPA - DON'T START NOW

[7.89]

Rejected Daphne du Maurier titles/approved Dua Lipa singles...

Thomas Inskeep: A full-on disco fantasia done contemporarily: quite fitting for a song that gets its "I Will Survive" post-breakup bona fides easily and naturally. Dua Lipa was clearly paying attention when she worked with Silk City last year, and it serves her more than well here. [9]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: In theory, this should be a lay-up for Dua Lipa -- take the subject matter of your breakthrough hits (breakup kiss-offs) and the aesthetic of your cred-building follow-up collabs (dance music pastiche 1978-1992), collage them together with the help of trusted studio hands (Emily Warren and Ian Kirkpatrick), create hit. And "Don't Start Now" works, obviously -- it'd be a disaster if it didn't. But despite its charms, which are mostly crammed into a gorgeous chorus (that cowbell!! those strings!! the way she says "walk away"!!), the whole work feels hollow. It's maybe that the track has too little of its star -- Dua's charming when she can get a word in, but she's overpowered by a very 2017 vocal chop and an arrangement that's slightly too fussy. "Don't Start Now" falters at the edge of distinction, too well-constructed to be great. [7]

Kylo Nocom: Calvin Harris and Charlie Puth should not be aspirational models of funkiness. The former softens the verses; the latter kills the chorus. Dua's vocal anonymity is strenuous when placed over production so determined to have swagger. The last minute saves this, but barely. [5]

Jackie Powell: Dua Lipa's diction and pacing sells this single. There's a pause in between "did the heartbreak change me" and "maybe" that accurately depicts how painful it is to navigate any falling out. This track is the bitterness that is subsequent to betrayal. She's reassuring herself of her decision while reflecting and also imposing conditions -- or, rather, rules. Sounds familiar, right? While the team behind "New Rules" are back for a sequel, "Don't Start Now" is what Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight was to the initial Batman Begins. Like Christian Bale, Lipa has gotten comfortable and shines because of it. Her influences in this new era are namely a No Doubt-style bassline, and a Prince rhythm guitar loop in verse two. Like Lipa, they operate in isolation. In 2019, she doesn't need the protection of her posse in the "New Rules" visual. While the robotic sleepover choreography has become iconic, she tells her audience that this time she has more of a command of her narrative as well as her vocal. Dua Lipa was never innocent, but she wasn't always as natural in administering her panache as an individual. During her live debut of this at the EMAs, she wore an all-black bodysuit and swirled her hips and arms with majestic grace. She stood out in a sea of yellow backup dancers and didn't need a pink flamingo to get the job done. She calls her upcoming LP "more mature" and visually, I see it. Her call and response in the last chorus took me on a high. It's almost if we are screaming at the top of our lungs: "REJECTION SUCKS, REJECTION SUCKS," but with a disco ball nearby. We've both come to terms with a new reality. But will it stick? [10]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: If "Good as Hell" is the bottle of tequila you drink at your best friend's house right before dumping your man, "Don't Start Now" is the gin and tonic you sip in the club afterwards. Dressed so hot and having so much fun, it's all but certain you've won the break-up. "So moved on it's scary," indeed. [8]

Ian Mathers: "So moved on it's scary" is never convincing, and neither is this song, but I can't be too mad at anything with a bassline like that and disco strings flitting in the background. [6]

Alfred Soto: Solid neo-disco: the cowbell and bass slaps are stuck in the right places, and the vocal's sultry enough. But this act of necromancy will satisfy revanchists who recoil from modern dance. [6]

Kayla Beardslee: A lot of hyped-up "event" singles this year have been disappointments. "ME!," "Small Talk," "Don't Call Me Angel," etc -- pop music fans looked forward to these high-profile songs because of the promising names attached to them, but once the actual music was released, hype quickly fell apart. The reason is obvious -- embarrassingly so, for the artists and labels who decide to create and promote boring-ass songs -- celebrity is not a replacement for quality. In fact, more than anything else, over-hype consistently kills my appreciation for good-not-great or just average singles. Pop stars need to promote to live up to their status, but I don't love being told that I should worship a song before I've even heard it, and being pleasantly surprised is far better to me than being underwhelmed. Dua Lipa -- now in the thick of her second album cycle, which carries the threat of both the Best New Artist curse and a sophomore slump -- began counting down to this single on Instagram an entire week before its release. With all that said, I hope it's understandable that the first thing I felt upon listening to "Don't Start Now" was relief -- because it fucking slaps. Holy shit. I don't know Dua Lipa personally, and I'm not responsible for her career, but I'm still so happy for how perfectly this comeback suits her. The lyrics, as a kiss-off to a discarded ex, let Dua shine at what she does best, i.e. sounding confident, sassy, and effortlessly cool (shoutout to the "New Rules" team of Warren, Ailin, and Kirkpatrick reunited here). Disco works perfectly against the too-cool-for-this-shit impulse of her vocals: I did not anticipate that Dua would be the pop girl to commit to the genre, but I'm here for it, because high-energy dance-pop buoys the song and fills in potential low-key aspects of her performance so much more than a chill "One Kiss" instrumental would have. The production feels dizzyingly fast, yet despite its constant bouncing and pulsing, the track's adherence to classic pop song structure keeps the listener grounded. For the ending, producer Ian Kirkpatrick pulls out the exact same trick he used on Gomez's "Look At Her Now," but who cares about the similarity? That layered, amped-up final chorus is one of the most euphoric things I've heard all year. I truly cannot overstate how much joy those last 30 seconds bring me, and, judging by the laughter mixed into the ending, Dua feels it too. After all, you shouldn't let the glitzy production distract you too much from the woman at its heart. By immersing ourselves in the pop fantasy of "Don't Start Now," we're shown an all-too-short glimpse of its central truth: this is Dua Lipa's world, and we're all just living in it. [10]

William John: What's immediately striking about "Don't Start Now" is its structural precision. Each new idea is sutured to its antecedent with an expert proficiency. The hopscotching piano chords that arrive at the first pre-chorus trick the listener into thinking the song is going to completely succumb to a furore of disco strings and euphoria (that comes later, it turns out). But then, just in time, breathing room and rattling cowbell arrive to provide sweet relief. It's designed within an inch of its life to keep the dopamine at an optimum level: plenty, but only shooting its shot when the bullseye comes into focus. Critics of Dua Lipa have cited her blankness and lack of discernible personality as a reason for divestment. (That and her rigidity on stage -- recently rectified, to electrifying effect, in Seville.) But there's something quite enigmatic to me about her alleged vacancy. Her performance here is possessed of an air of majesty, as though she's acquired a will to take control of her own destiny. I, for one, am ready to genuflect. [10]

[Read and comment on The Singles Jukebox]