These pop-forward moments are frontloaded on No Shape, extravagant and baroque. The soaring production value is not accompanied by conceptual upending or reinvention, but rather extends into a grand sort of sequel vision of Perfume Genius.
All of Bell Witch’s music is about death in one way or another, but Mirror Reaper represents a different kind of immersion with it.
Contact is aggregated purge and celebration past the self, flesh seared back and stomp soldered to somnambulism.
A mix that is less concept-driven and less unified under a singular identity than previous releases. Made of chrome, it shimmers, reflects, and amplifies. But at times, it distorts its figure refracting the light, sabotaging its own form.
Its sounds are sparsely chosen, sometimes complementing each other, sometimes contradicting themselves, and always leaving us in a middle area between form and void.
Peasant is Dawson’s most direct, nuanced, and haunting creation yet, a frayed tapestry of a community in peril, where each is left to their own struggles, their own prejudices, their own inflictions of cruelty from a universe that seems designed to rot us from within.
Beautiful Thugger Girls is a rap album, and a very good one at that. If genre descriptors are to have any meaning (their uselessness beyond broad, mutually-understood categorization notwithstanding), this is non-negotiable
An album that sounds both expectantly familiar and not exactly like any of their previous releases. The songwriting on Slowdive is strong, as if the best ideas they’ve had over the last 22 years were held back for this release ... condensing some of the most compelling aspects of their catalog into a cohesive whole.
Utopia is not elsewhere / It’s here
While Keef’s projects resist comparison to one another (to say nothing of speculation about where he might go next), Thot Breaker is by far the latter-day effort that most neatly fits our expectation of what constitutes an album release in 2017. Through that framework, it’s exceptional, a cohesive and thrilling work that is the year’s most complete rap project.
It’s refreshing in an era that loves to mythologize and package our legends to experience something as resistant to shape as GAS. Without making any grand, lofty statements, Narkopop lets its presence become felt nonetheless, mining the same fascinating textures that made the project seemingly eternal (and internal) to begin with.
This is the crux of the album’s difficulty: it feels personal and scans as though it should be, but time and time again, it leaves me not quite sure whether I know a single thing about milo, the person.
Overall, mono no aware reveals a careful celebration of ambient form while remaining insistently open and forward-looking.
Melodrama overwhelms me. It reaches me at that weird and fragile center. The part of me I consider irreconcilable.
Three months in, DAMN. feels like our first Trump-era classic. It’s as bold and as hard and as hopeful as it is bursting with vitriol. It’s as distracting as it is inciting. It’s as cohesive as it is dense.
It’s tempting, too easy, to slide Number 1 Angel in as an inevitable Charli release, impossible accessible, unable to hear too much of — the pop for us, the pop wanting itself.
Arca presents its artist as an icon and publicly visible figure, no longer obscured or represented by Jesse Kanda’s avatars.
Whereas the wraith-like Serpent Music was a portraiture of disparate moods, Experiencing the Deposit of Faith clarifies amid the blurring of sound and noise the place from which they resound: the liminal subject of baptism, the one who cries in the wilderness, between life and death.