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The March Pulse
Mar. 21st, 2024 12:30 pmMy music taste orbits the same core subjects, but it has share of its seasons. Summer's sound is lighter than linen and is just as poppy as those candy-wrapped bang snaps you'd buy around July. Maybe my skin's too thin for the heat, but anything aggressive gets my blood boiling. I want songs that provide a layer of SPF 70, you know? I want the sort of angsty shit that people twenty years ago fell in love to, the kind of rooftop affairs that don't come so organically anymore. The songs that sing about porches, water.
Fall fades into the typical Pumpkins and PNW fanfare. Seattle, Sacramento, and dusty Arizona's anthems drift in and out of open windows ( and so does dusty Lawrence, KA--how could I forget "Fall Semester"?). It switches from the techno-hungry Gabe Saporta of Cobra Starship to the Gabe Saporta of Rutgers, lacing his philosophy and political science pursuits into Midtown.
This winter, like many others, plunged into bone-chilling, visceral screaming and percussive breakdowns whose death throes are stitched sans-anesthesia into your own cranium. It's not cerebral, but it is personal. The winter goes hardcore. Every skeleton I sought to shove into closets comes out with a vengeance; December should be synonymous with sleepless nights and reawakened, Munch-esque dread. When I think about music during this time, I'm thinking about how to resonate with potholes, black ice, car accidents, and a cruel and unusual lack of vitamin D. "Smile" by Bigwig comes to mind. I want to either suspend my animation or transfer it in its entirety into my car.
When all the ice thaws, but hasn't evaporated--that's the puddlesome melting pot of spring. The muddlesome pelting motley bunch of weeds. The sound of life in between the cracks of the pavement. I know of a crazed few who hail the season as their favorite. It's annual growing pains and all around awkward. I assume that people don't listen to music for pure enjoyment during spring, they're just using it as a device to gauge sinus congestion.
Especially me. No smell, no taste. The following list is of some songs and albums I've had on heavy rotation over the course of this quarter.
#1 MANNEQUIN PUSSY, I GOT HEAVEN (2024)
This album was (almost) everything I needed. I've eagerly sucked up every review that I've seen amongst my peers and online--my opinion had already formed from first listen. I officially got into Mannequin Pussy in 2021, around the time of their Control EP. As such, I had no real bearing on what they're capable of. When singles are too good, I grow wary. The two mind melting epiphanies I've had recently did revolve around ol' JC; the first was when I heard the line for the first time, and the second was when I found out we could play "snatch" on the radio. The title track--especially being the first and thus most prominent--delivers. It does so with success likened to open heart surgery, or cleaving a body in two and leaving no ligament left attached. If I could have nothing but that single, I could die happy.
Overall, it's a concept album of the anatomy and cycle of desire. This is no hero's journey, it's indie rock. Some lyrics have twisted themselves into beautiful arrangements of play-on words and seduction, or played-on feelings and submission. The arrangement of tracks, on the other hand, does leave something to be desired. It's all over the place, with Philly hardcore placed right next to bedroom pop. But I don't know if I could ask for perfect on this LP. There’s something about being seen searching for something, much less lacking something. Even as I attempt to parse my own anger and hopeless pursuits, language fails again and again. Or maybe I don't have the guts for it. Marissa's message is not diluted by how relatable it is. It's a good album to turn your brain off on and let your heart do its thing.
#2 IMPERIAL TEEN, SEASICK (1996)
This was the one beautiful gem of crate-digging the $1.99 section of PREX. I can't find this album on Spotify, which is the only streaming platform I use [more on that note in a different post]. In that way, there's a staggering dope rush from being one of the lucky few proprietors. At first, I hated the album. I usually buy 90s comps from record labels like Warner Bros, Reprise, Epitaph (if I'm lucky), Atlantic, and so on. If it's not marked explicitly HXC, I wind up having to sift through avant-garde hippie enlightenment that was obviously meant to be filtered through an opaque cloud of incense and transcendentalist ego. I thought Imperial Teen was like that on this record. They sounded too fake blonde and pansy garden for me, but only at first.
The track that stuck out to me the most was "Butch," with its tongue-in-cheekiness and catchy repetition. Maybe the kids were all right after all. It reminds me of reading Andre Perry's Some of Us Are Very Hungry Now which brought to light the San Francisco gay scene, when rent was only an arm (not a leg) and the sun cast a much longer shadow. Seasick is poppy but aloof. The guitars are honest and the vocals are very Yeah Yeah Yeahs. If you're able, I highly recommend listening to it in a car without AC.
#3 JAWBREAKER, DEAR YOU (1995)
Ah, the cult classic. Every year, I listen to the same songs in order. Winter spawns "Accident Prone," "Jet Black," and "Lurker II" repeats before it fades into a more mellow "Million," "Fireman," and so on. I would set my heart to stun to write lyrics like Blake Schwarzenbach--but who wouldn't? Dear You encapsulates my favorite breed of lyricism. "Sluttering" is one of those songs that I can only hope to have written about me some day, if hate and love are truly the same:
#4 SAVE FACE, MERCI (2018)
Wow. I can't believe this came out six years ago. Similar to MP, I was not a part of the original cohort (which I only care about because it's Save fucking Face). I missed their show at the Ghoul Lagoon--a show house basement in my hometown. I've seen them a number of times on tour with larger bands--which is a damn shame, condensing their sets into 25 minutes. Bursting out of New Jersey, Save Face has an energy that just can't be contained. I would suffocate on pure ecstasy if I was confined into such a small, underground space with them. An ambulance would have to be called. Merci expanded the melancholy of Folly's portrait of betrayal. Instead of focusing on the exploitative nature of a one-sided relationship, Tyler Povanda relished a simpler spite. These songs describe the gutting and purging of a breakup as well as relief akin to pulling out a knife from one's side.
I once listened to this album on a paramour's balcony late at night. I was getting out of a bad relationship and had "Yours" on repeat. It solidified the separation between "us" and "me"--which was critical to the healing process. The tidal wave of grief roared louder than the cicadas that crooned in the smothering humidity of a Texas June. I couldn't sleep, let alone breathe. Two years later and "Mercy" became my shower anthem as yet another relationship of mine buckles under pressure. I find the album as intricately crocheted as lace and just as mesmerizing. To pull one string would be to unravel it all. Yet it's satisfying somehow, and Merci continues to hold up to time.
#5 AUDIOSLAVE, "LIKE A STONE" (2003)
To end the list, I have a new favorite that's reemerged from long-term storage. It's different than my usual springtime listens, but as I've been curating my seasonal playlist I've grown attached to songs that use spatial metaphor to describe epochs, relationships, and so on. Chris Cornell manifested a bone-deep ache through the simplest of pictures. The guitar riff holds the last rays of sunlight. His voice reminds me of my grandmother's house near San Bernardino, CA. The mountains loomed over the valley village and I knew they must have been at least an hour's travel, but I would swear they were only a mile away. When the sun set and the desert cooled, I'd wander out onto the sandy streets and look for the strength to pray amongst the stars. I never felt infinitesimal--instead, my goosebumps became the grains of sand under my feet as I melted into the universe. There was a desolation I can't describe, but I see it clear as day while listening to this song.
Sometime soon, I'll go over any new album listens from the first quarter of 2024. Included will be my predictions for some AOTYs. There will also be 2-3 concert reviews coming. Thank you for reading this far.
xopt
Fall fades into the typical Pumpkins and PNW fanfare. Seattle, Sacramento, and dusty Arizona's anthems drift in and out of open windows ( and so does dusty Lawrence, KA--how could I forget "Fall Semester"?). It switches from the techno-hungry Gabe Saporta of Cobra Starship to the Gabe Saporta of Rutgers, lacing his philosophy and political science pursuits into Midtown.
This winter, like many others, plunged into bone-chilling, visceral screaming and percussive breakdowns whose death throes are stitched sans-anesthesia into your own cranium. It's not cerebral, but it is personal. The winter goes hardcore. Every skeleton I sought to shove into closets comes out with a vengeance; December should be synonymous with sleepless nights and reawakened, Munch-esque dread. When I think about music during this time, I'm thinking about how to resonate with potholes, black ice, car accidents, and a cruel and unusual lack of vitamin D. "Smile" by Bigwig comes to mind. I want to either suspend my animation or transfer it in its entirety into my car.
When all the ice thaws, but hasn't evaporated--that's the puddlesome melting pot of spring. The muddlesome pelting motley bunch of weeds. The sound of life in between the cracks of the pavement. I know of a crazed few who hail the season as their favorite. It's annual growing pains and all around awkward. I assume that people don't listen to music for pure enjoyment during spring, they're just using it as a device to gauge sinus congestion.
Especially me. No smell, no taste. The following list is of some songs and albums I've had on heavy rotation over the course of this quarter.
#1 MANNEQUIN PUSSY, I GOT HEAVEN (2024)
This album was (almost) everything I needed. I've eagerly sucked up every review that I've seen amongst my peers and online--my opinion had already formed from first listen. I officially got into Mannequin Pussy in 2021, around the time of their Control EP. As such, I had no real bearing on what they're capable of. When singles are too good, I grow wary. The two mind melting epiphanies I've had recently did revolve around ol' JC; the first was when I heard the line for the first time, and the second was when I found out we could play "snatch" on the radio. The title track--especially being the first and thus most prominent--delivers. It does so with success likened to open heart surgery, or cleaving a body in two and leaving no ligament left attached. If I could have nothing but that single, I could die happy.
Overall, it's a concept album of the anatomy and cycle of desire. This is no hero's journey, it's indie rock. Some lyrics have twisted themselves into beautiful arrangements of play-on words and seduction, or played-on feelings and submission. The arrangement of tracks, on the other hand, does leave something to be desired. It's all over the place, with Philly hardcore placed right next to bedroom pop. But I don't know if I could ask for perfect on this LP. There’s something about being seen searching for something, much less lacking something. Even as I attempt to parse my own anger and hopeless pursuits, language fails again and again. Or maybe I don't have the guts for it. Marissa's message is not diluted by how relatable it is. It's a good album to turn your brain off on and let your heart do its thing.
#2 IMPERIAL TEEN, SEASICK (1996)
This was the one beautiful gem of crate-digging the $1.99 section of PREX. I can't find this album on Spotify, which is the only streaming platform I use [more on that note in a different post]. In that way, there's a staggering dope rush from being one of the lucky few proprietors. At first, I hated the album. I usually buy 90s comps from record labels like Warner Bros, Reprise, Epitaph (if I'm lucky), Atlantic, and so on. If it's not marked explicitly HXC, I wind up having to sift through avant-garde hippie enlightenment that was obviously meant to be filtered through an opaque cloud of incense and transcendentalist ego. I thought Imperial Teen was like that on this record. They sounded too fake blonde and pansy garden for me, but only at first.
The track that stuck out to me the most was "Butch," with its tongue-in-cheekiness and catchy repetition. Maybe the kids were all right after all. It reminds me of reading Andre Perry's Some of Us Are Very Hungry Now which brought to light the San Francisco gay scene, when rent was only an arm (not a leg) and the sun cast a much longer shadow. Seasick is poppy but aloof. The guitars are honest and the vocals are very Yeah Yeah Yeahs. If you're able, I highly recommend listening to it in a car without AC.
#3 JAWBREAKER, DEAR YOU (1995)
Ah, the cult classic. Every year, I listen to the same songs in order. Winter spawns "Accident Prone," "Jet Black," and "Lurker II" repeats before it fades into a more mellow "Million," "Fireman," and so on. I would set my heart to stun to write lyrics like Blake Schwarzenbach--but who wouldn't? Dear You encapsulates my favorite breed of lyricism. "Sluttering" is one of those songs that I can only hope to have written about me some day, if hate and love are truly the same:
I made a word to give this state a name, this game a guess
I call it "sluttering"
It means as little as your little test
You are your worst revenge
Your very means they have no ends
This is the story you'll tell the kids we'll never have
I truly cannot describe this album as anything other than an experience one must listen to with studio-grade headphones in a darkly lit room. It is a record whose sleepless production and excommunication must be met with the same degree of meticulous reverence.I call it "sluttering"
It means as little as your little test
You are your worst revenge
Your very means they have no ends
This is the story you'll tell the kids we'll never have
#4 SAVE FACE, MERCI (2018)
Wow. I can't believe this came out six years ago. Similar to MP, I was not a part of the original cohort (which I only care about because it's Save fucking Face). I missed their show at the Ghoul Lagoon--a show house basement in my hometown. I've seen them a number of times on tour with larger bands--which is a damn shame, condensing their sets into 25 minutes. Bursting out of New Jersey, Save Face has an energy that just can't be contained. I would suffocate on pure ecstasy if I was confined into such a small, underground space with them. An ambulance would have to be called. Merci expanded the melancholy of Folly's portrait of betrayal. Instead of focusing on the exploitative nature of a one-sided relationship, Tyler Povanda relished a simpler spite. These songs describe the gutting and purging of a breakup as well as relief akin to pulling out a knife from one's side.
I once listened to this album on a paramour's balcony late at night. I was getting out of a bad relationship and had "Yours" on repeat. It solidified the separation between "us" and "me"--which was critical to the healing process. The tidal wave of grief roared louder than the cicadas that crooned in the smothering humidity of a Texas June. I couldn't sleep, let alone breathe. Two years later and "Mercy" became my shower anthem as yet another relationship of mine buckles under pressure. I find the album as intricately crocheted as lace and just as mesmerizing. To pull one string would be to unravel it all. Yet it's satisfying somehow, and Merci continues to hold up to time.
#5 AUDIOSLAVE, "LIKE A STONE" (2003)
To end the list, I have a new favorite that's reemerged from long-term storage. It's different than my usual springtime listens, but as I've been curating my seasonal playlist I've grown attached to songs that use spatial metaphor to describe epochs, relationships, and so on. Chris Cornell manifested a bone-deep ache through the simplest of pictures. The guitar riff holds the last rays of sunlight. His voice reminds me of my grandmother's house near San Bernardino, CA. The mountains loomed over the valley village and I knew they must have been at least an hour's travel, but I would swear they were only a mile away. When the sun set and the desert cooled, I'd wander out onto the sandy streets and look for the strength to pray amongst the stars. I never felt infinitesimal--instead, my goosebumps became the grains of sand under my feet as I melted into the universe. There was a desolation I can't describe, but I see it clear as day while listening to this song.
Sometime soon, I'll go over any new album listens from the first quarter of 2024. Included will be my predictions for some AOTYs. There will also be 2-3 concert reviews coming. Thank you for reading this far.
xopt