It’s been a while since I last wrote about music on Undertone but with the year drawing to a close, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to look back on my music listening throughout 2019 in special edition of Undertone reviews. Whether I’ll continue posting in the new year is undecided, but for now I’m just desperate to put into words my love for the following few songs. They all mean a lot to me and have all played a role in lifting my spirits throughout the year through dance-y beats and cathartic lyrics. I’ve selected five of the very best songs I’ve enjoyed in 2019 (which includes songs that were released before 2019), but first here’s a handful of honourable mentions:
Honourable mentions
- Oliver Tree burst into my headphones in January with Hurt, an alternative rock belter worthy of becoming one of the biggest hits of his career so far. He caught my attention through his celebrity persona, which ingeniously embraces meme culture through his unchanging 80s-style baggy clothing, scooter obsession (and genuine talent) and of course his iconic bowlcut. Fascinatingly, it’s hard to tell where the arrogant, delusional Oliver Tree ends and the real Oliver Nickell begins, and it seems that Tree uses his music as a powerful, coded way to express the troubles of dealing with his identity. Paired with a booming synth bass, growling rock guitar and passionate delivery, Tree’s somewhat superficial lyrics of being a failure in the face of a challenging relationship admittedly connected with me, and as a result I found myself jumping up and down to this earworm of a chorus countless times in the first half of the year.
- Electronic rock band Enter Shikari have hit gold with Live Outside, which had me fumbling in the dark for the volume-up button when I first heard it on late night radio in August. Enter Shikari have found a glorious hook and they sure make the most of it, repeating the same two bars almost endlessly, although I’m certainly not complaining. Live Outside is a boring song (it uses those dreaded three pop chords, as heard in the chorus of ‘Wonderwall’; the lyrics are at times cliché with their self-empowerment message) but delivered in a thrilling way. Synths buzz around the ears whilst pounding drums barely take a second’s rest in driving the song to it’s epic, euphoric finale. Rou Reynold’s vocals are passionate and at times bark-like, and his clear excitement is infectious.
- Contemporary jazz multi-instrumentalist and all-round musical virtuoso Jacob Collier is no stranger to adventurous reharmonisations of classic songs, but his epic a capella take on Moon River saw his work at its most staggeringly ambitious. For starters, there’s twinkling choir of colourful harmonies sung by 137 musicians, including cameos from Michael League, Hans Zimmer, Charlie Puth, Chris Martin and Herbie Hancock. A minute or two of Collier humming in harmony follows and envelops the listener like a warm blanket on a cold night. Over three dreamy minutes of music has passed before Collier first proudly delivers the famous first lyrics, his voice as gorgeous as ever. Several Collier-esque moments of harmonic genius later and a giant build results in an enormous rendition of the familiar tune, complete with the staggering grasp of complex harmony that it to be expected with Collier (no less than eight different keys, and three different pitches of A in the last four chords alone). Collier’s performance of the tune is so huge and cinematic its hard to believe its real and created by one man in just one week. Whilst not always particularly accessible to non-jazz nerds, Collier never fails to impress.
- fredo disco’s jimbo may not have the same extravagance as Collier, but when it comes to a great indie rock track, this is one of my all time favourites. The Illinois band have mastered the art of great song structure in this track, establishing a fantastic hook, dropping down and building up for a joyous guitar jam to finish on. fredo disco effortlessly manage to blend both acoustic and electric guitars, resulting in a song that feels fully fleshed-out whilst not departing from the homemade sound shown most obviously in Fredo Fosco’s debut EP, School Spirit.
- Chicago duo ASL have created a beautiful monster in Voodoo. It’s a powerful, haunting track, doused in reverb and coloured by the wails of a distant choir. The arpeggiating guitars and later synth bass entrance the listener in what feels like a different, sickeningly dark world. Whilst the mixing may create a supernatural feel, lyrically the song describes a very real fear. Vocalist John Ryan sings with a sense of muted desperation about being trapped in an abusive relationship, and the music that surrounds him perfectly illustrates the depressing world the songwriter finds themselves in. This tune seemed to follow me wherever I went at the very start of the year, and it’s almost ‘Black Mirror’-esque appeal continued throughout the year; Voodoo is a song I can’t help but get lost in over and over again.
The top Five
5th: High and Dry
by stories and Rett Madison (vol. 2, 2019)
Late releases in the year are always the hardest to decide about for their inclusion in these lists, as it’s usually difficult to tell if my love for the song is just because I’m in the ‘honeymoon period’, or if it’s genuinely a song that will pass the test of time. Whilst stories’ cover of Radiohead’s hit High and Dry was released shortly after the project’s conception in November, I’ve decided I simply can’t leave this one out. Like Scary Pockets, stories includes a rotating cast of now familiar musicians (including legendary Half of the Way songwriter Ryan Lerman and Vulfpecker Mr. Theo Katzman himself), although instead of playing funk grooves, stories provides stripped-down, acoustic takes on popular songs. For me, the main pull of High and Dry in particular is Rett Madison’s vocals. She negotiates the leaping chorus melody with remarkable care and precision, whilst guitars support her with gorgeous flutterings. The real highlight moment comes in the heart-wrenching final chorus: the guitars temporarily switch to strumming and Madison sits back from the microphone and belts out the tune with overwhelming emotion, her voice distorting slightly but to incredible effect. It’s so impactful, so shocking, so beautiful. I’ve listened to it regularly for weeks and still the power hasn’t gone, and for that reason High and Dry is surely more than worthy of appearing on this list.
4th: 100 Times Over
by Cassia (Replica, 2018)
It’s easy to find joy in every one of Cassia’s songs, each of them with their own sun-drenched calypso-pop beat (ironic, coming from a band originating in Manchester). 100 Times Over is probably their most joyous tune to date, and the band make the most of a dependable chord sequence with tight guitar lines and a very danceable and varied drum groove. To make things even happier, Rob Ellis sings of freedom, dance and pride, reminding us simple but useful advice not to “bury the thoughts away” and not to “hide behind your crowd”. It falls just on the right side of cheesy, and lyrics are coded enough not to be seen as shoving positivity down the listeners throat. Instead, it feels like Ellis’ main message is to dance – or as he puts it, “get up sit down” – and that’s a suggestion I’ve gladly taken over and over again. In fact, 100 Times Over has been my go-to ‘music therapy’ song all year, reminding me there’s a reason to smile and a reason to dance, which is often far more valuable than just a good build and catchy tune.
3rd: Dream Boy
by Beach Bunny (Honeymoon, 2020)
When it comes to me and Beach Bunny’s recent single Dream Boy from upcoming album ‘Honeymoon’, it was love at first listen. Over the course of two minutes and 20 seconds, Lili Trifilio and co deal out an unwavering onslaught of hooks, with each carefully ordered section of the track wonderfully efficient in getting a relatively complex chorus melody stuck in your head, and keeping it there. Dream Boy is a song that’s been meticulously composed but performed with gay abandon: from Trifilio’s confident and consistent vocal delivery to Jon Alvarado’s constantly shifting drum grooves that fit effortlessly alongside the guitars, it’s all been arranged and polished to perfection. That’s not to say this song doesn’t have heart, in fact the lyrics are one of its most enjoyable aspects. Dream Boy is one of those brilliant songs that has lyrics that are ambiguous and wordy enough to deserve praise as a standalone poem, perhaps in this case as a reference to the titular boy who is “poetically inclined” and enjoyed “scrambled words”. A breakdown that bounces with almost Cassia-esque energy precedes a wonderful reinterpretation of the chorus melody before the band kicks back in just in time for a riotous coda. Dream Boy may be short, but always manages to leave me breathless and buzzing with energy. That’s exactly why I can’t get enough of it.
2nd: Wacky Misadventures of the Passenger
by Prince Daddy & the Hyena (Cosmic Thrill Seekers, 2019)
Not including a track from ‘Cosmic Thrill Seekers’ on this list would simply be a crime. Released in June, Prince Daddy’s sophomore record was easily my album of the year, and its appeal only grew and grew until I began to consider it as one of my favourite albums of all time. The credit frontman and songwriter Kory Gregory deserves is clear when you realise the ambition behind ‘Cosmic Thrill Seekers’ – it’s got three ‘acts’ (each with two names), follows a cyclical structure and attempts to subtly reference The Wizard of Oz throughout as a metaphor for Gregory’s drug-infused depression (however, the effectiveness of this idea is debatable). No track on ‘Cosmic Thrill Seekers’ is more ambitious than the album’s grand denouement, Wacky Misadventures of the Passenger, which includes eight electrifying verses and minimal repetition, making it perhaps the least accessible – but most rewarding – song the group has ever produced. The band operates with well-rehearsed precision with every stop, every fill and every dramatic textural U-turn, all of which flies by with such speed it gets hard to keep up. Gregory’s trademark growl feels at its most emotionally important as he reflects on the album’s themes of his own mental health and the seemingly futile struggle to get better. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again / I’m bored and need support,” he screams in the song’s moving finale. And what a finale. Via a series a crashing guitar power chords and cymbal-heavy drums, the band chaotically changes gear for a much slower, awe-inspiring final few minutes. A climactic silence is abruptly ended by a stupendously huge drum fill, unlike anything I’ve heard Prince Daddy play before and the following surge of guitars, drums, and even a blasting brass band make for an awe-inspiring sendoff. “You’re never really alone” is Gregory’s surprisingly optimistic final message before disappearing into a deafening sea of guitar feedback. For a man that’s produced an album with such intense psychological darkness, these are powerful words to end your magnum opus with. Make no mistake, ‘Cosmic Thrill Seekers’ isn’t an album about morals, but rather one detailing the darkest corners of Gregory’s mind as he deals with the aftermath of a disastrous acid trip. Gregory hasn’t reached a complete resolution by the end of the album: he still “needs support” and is “always lost”, but there’s a sense of acceptance that comes with the song’s final chorus. He crucially acknowledges his newfound and insufferable fear of drugs after his experiences in the album opener I Lost My Life, before finally turning to his girlfriend to provide her some comfort. For once in this album, Gregory isn’t looking introspectively and is instead beginning to see his effects on other people. It’s a final twist to an album that gets more impactful and inspiring with every listen. Even if your life is the physical equivalent to an album full of oppressively loud emo rock, Wacky Misadventures teaches us there’s always a reason to have hope.
1st: Bodys
by Car Seat Headrest (Twin Fantasy, 2018)
Bodys is a song that made me realise just how powerful music can be. I’ve used that word a lot in this post because I’ve come to notice that it’s power that all the best songs have in common. The very best songs have the power to turn a moment of sadness into three minutes of ecstasy as I bounce around in my room, periodically worrying about the stability of the floor. Great songs compel me to play them on repeat during my school commute, dance to them until exhaustion in my bedroom and bash them out on a keyboard whenever I get the chance. I’ve done all three of the above in the company of Bodys. In terms of the song’s subject matter, it’s clear to see why. Bodys is dense, but ultimately it’s about dancing and how it somehow transcends speech in a teenage relationship where normal conversation is just too unbearably awkward. Like 100 Times Over, it feels like songwriter and frontman Will Toledo understands how I feel when I’m launching myself around my room. “Don’t you realise our bodies could fall apart at any moment?” he belts, and that’s just how it feels – a thrilling, frightening, almost out-of-body experience. Bodys is more than just that, though. Toledo has always skillfully encapsulated the tremendous conflicts and struggles of teenager-dom and Bodys is no exception. It feels like Bodys knew me when I first heard it this summer – be it my feeling of collective love during a summer of post-GCSE partying and new freedom (“these are the people that I get drunk with / these are the people I fell in love with”) or the feelings and experiences of young love (“I’ll try my best not to touch your face”). If that’s not enough, Toledo throws in philosophical food for thought (“there’s not devil on one shoulder and angel on the other, they’re just two normal people”) and even breaks the fourth wall after the first verse, literally explaining the thinking behind the song’s structure (simultaneously subverting traditional song structure whilst equally undermining his new structure).
Musically, Bodys feels like coming home. As soon as drums and experimental noise explode into action and a chugging guitar gradually falls down a scale, it feels like Car Seat Headrest provide a sort of musical refuge – a song to escape into whole-heartedly for six minutes. Despite being so long (although this is barely an intro by CSR’s standards, see the epic album opener Beach Life-In-Death), a meticulously crafted structure makes this song maintain interest throughout. Hooks come and go and occasionally overlay one another over the course of the song, each one of them as infectious as they are singable. When all but one hook has been introduced and the verse-chorus structure has more or less run its course, a beautiful acoustic guitar serves as a palette cleanser and a chance to get your breath back. Toledo makes his conclusion – “as long as we move our bodies around a lot, we’ll forget that we forgot how to talk” – and the song reaches the ultimate resolution through a final chorus of dancing. Many of the now familiar hooks make an appearance like characters in a curtain call, all of them unifying to create an epic final celebration. As the last chord is strummed I invariably collapse onto my bed, speaker still in hand, feeling invigorated, alive and fulfilled.
In its essence, I like to think of Bodys as a lesson in dealing with chaos. It’s a highly chaotic song, not just in the thrashing rock guitars and drums but in the lyrics, which are at times stream-of-consciousness nothingness and sometimes don’t even make sense (Toledo memorably screams “those are you got some nice shoulders” several times). But as the song progresses, a sense of certainty emerges, and Toledo announces that dance is the answer at the track’s narrative apex. But, crucially, the chaotic clattering of symbols, power chords and overlapping melodies continue. Just ‘dancing’ isn’t the solution to the chaos, it’s only a way to “forget” and perhaps even enjoy more complex growing pains that can’t be neatly resolved in a final chorus. The transition into adulthood – the general subject matter of CSR’s music – is at first just as unrelenting and bewildering as that opening drum pattern. It’s confusing and lonely and frightening, and there isn’t an easy way to fix your anxieties. But if you can learn to let go and be brave enough to show your true self – a metaphorical ‘dance’ – you can find refuge from the chaos and, if only for a few minutes, convince yourself that everything will be okay. For me, that’s an invaluable lesson.
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