Michael's Cut

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It felt like a return to college: endless benders leftover from December, reposado dissolving my liver system. One of my best friends from university stayed over, and my cousins had yet to fly home. We did the only thing we mastered, and we made our last weekend together a party until sunrise. I returned to work that night hungover and pulverized, the pang nagged me until I cashed out my last table. Another friend tried to get me outside once again, but I sped home before I could even reply.

Life’s ills quickly met with me thereafter, and I loathed the stench in my room as I laid without a clue about my next plan. Music was tucked in the computer screen I haven’t touched in a month, and my playlists eroded. I opened a jar of peanut butter to ants suffocating in the goo. That image of tiny insects buried in my supposed-to-be breakfast felt like an awakening for rebuilding; I needed to readjust.

What a paradox, how you can both restart and continue what already exists. New beginnings don’t mean the end for other facets, which is the case for music journalism. As I still wrap up my 2023 album list, I brainstorm ways to become a better music consumer and blogger, and prepare to proceed into my year-end lists. I won’t admit I’m usually late, though I could be more punctual. I want to develop new goals for this blog besides just publish twice a month. The digital age allows us to be so accessible, so in tuned with our crafts, and I’ve no excuse other than being late on my wifi bill to write promptly. 

We’ll discuss these goals in next month’s recap. For now, below are some songs to which I want to direct you: they got me through this month, and maybe they’ll for you in February.

“Aching Like It’s” – Snow Strippers

A dance party’s happening in someone’s basement, but it’s in the bathroom with the broken doorknob and a shit gutter system because your drunk friend clogged the toilet. This is the song tasked to power over all the commotion and brawls spiraling, or at least over the Catacomb raves. I was unfamiliar with Detroit duo before their recent collaborations with Lil Uzi Vert (see “Fire Alarm” from Vert’s Pink Tape). So, upon starting Night Killaz Vol. 1, I was nicely greeted with a throbbing bass, an arcade-like beat, and spooky vocal tracks. What a treat! A club banger for those who enjoy the claustrophobia, and a touch of fear factor to keep your sensibilities somewhat intact. 

“Closure – Flexulant + BAMBII Remix” – Kelela

The single that reminded me about the kingdom of Kelela, a reign capable of constructing and deconstructing top-shelf artistry with ease. The original “Closure” led us to the fire and smoldered; Flexlulant and BAMBII guide us to the lounge on this redux, where we can see bartenders strain liquor into highballs, where our heels start to melt skin like radiation. A bad bitch walks in the room? Step aside, the essence that the posse solidifies as tonight’s one and only non-negotiable. Get your drink, it’s time to get down.

“Down Wit It” – Danny Brown

When I was writing the Quaranta review, “Down Wit It” magnetized me. Brown rarely uses synthesizers in such low-key fashion, piercing yet subdued by the remorse he displays in tone and songwriting. Simplicity guides the track, and it’s everything between the lines that allows it to excel. Even the forced pronunciation in “shit” on the chorus adds subtle contrast to this dreamscape, enough to balance the verses’ themes of regrets, all of this visceral as we listen to Brown essentially break down in his craft. I played this song for the first time, and thought about how almost all the most impactful songs are effortless, light in sound, and most importantly, gut-wrenching. They don’t need to hide behind a wall of language; pain travels through the sonic, regardless.

“Emily G” – Courting

“I can’t believe that you’re better now,” Sean Murphy-O’Neil hints at the strings cut between two potential lovers. The kind of experience you watch happen to a past fling’s random encounter. But you can’t call it a memory because it’s ongoing, it’s the present . This bittersweet transition of knowing to un-knowing feels all too familiar in this sunshine-dwelling suburb: a kid dropped an ice cream cone on a hot day in July. “Emily G” is sweetness personified, with its gentle voice slabbed over squeaky guitar thrills, though it’s all just sadness in disguise. Why was our “what if” rejected? And what am I to do moving forward should I experience the same thing, make a song about looking at them in a magazine?

“Fried Ice Cream” – Wiki & Tony Seltzer

Earnest in trial, malicious in execution, “Fried Ice Cream” patiently develops Wiki and ZeLooperz into underground hip-hop heavyweights. Suspicious pianos partner with dramatic bass drums, and then Seltzer reinterprets a popular 50 Cent track just because. A crack of nostalgia opens like a can of Sprite. How refreshing that the towel ain’t thrown just yet? You constantly wonder how much more intense the mood can be, how many more batons the three can pass to each other, and the answer’s always in flux.

“I want to be closer to you” – YUKIKA

So many feelings run rampant as I write about “I want to be closer to you,” one of the final songs from our Japanese K-Pop starlet (or so she “thinks.” Let’s stay optimistic!). There’s this sense of excitement as you move into new territory, the urge to explore every perimeter of your new apartment, and the Thai restaurant down the street, and to debunk every trendy TikTok place within reach. YUKIKA encapsulates what any new migrant could and will experience: these newborn feelings may dissolve, but the memories of having them never, an irony given this is her goodbye to us, to try new things and stay curious about the world. All this built over a set of wet guitars and euphonious keyboards that relieve every knot for nostalgia. Cheers to a great career, YUKIKA! I will be happy (and sad) crying to this song.

“Love in the Darkness” – a.s.o.

There’ll never be another Portishead or Massive Attack, and I feel unconfident about a trip-hop resurgence anytime soon. But on “Love in the Darkness,” Alia Seror-O’Neill and Lewie Day perfect pop’s simplicity and trip hop’s environment. I see myself strolling around nighttime Honolulu, or maybe I could sit on a bench watching the wind fade into concrete. A black backdrop, and a column of apartment lights competing with the stars. They too flicker, ready to burn before the supernova explosion. Our eyes can’t see the damage, but it’s nice to wonder about the universe, all beyond comprehension, and way beyond our existence.

“Misty Town” – Lamp

Quiet sightseeing comes to mind, if that’s even a thing (stargazing?), as I listen to Lamp’s “Misty Town,” a song you play as the morning sun ushers the hunt for a spot on the beach. I drove around my neighborhood and left this song on replay. The amount of tranquility injected in that AC-ridden air was evident. I glanced over Toyota Tacomas and kids riding bicycles on the side of the road, not mad at all that they all crowded me in this already narrow street. One of them flew out of the one of the cars, and I had to stop once again. Am I ever gonna enjoy this car ride, or is the whole point of a cruise is to simply cruise? Nevertheless, peace can’t coexist without chaos – or is it stress – and the annoyance remains subverted for another three minutes.

“VROOM VROOM” – BÉBE YANA

Not much to cover about BEBE YANA’s “VROOM VROOM,” at least what I haven’t already stated from my past track review. Take me through the late-night drag races, and find a potential lover that could keep me addicted to the city nightlife. The drum-and-bass switch adds a rough touch to this cool girl’s delicate fantasy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cxCUNSg6Ri8

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