Shake Appeal is a column that highlights new garage and garage-adjacent releases. This time, Evan Minsker looks at new stuff from Michigan rippers Chit Chat, former MMOSS frontman Doug Tuttle, some archival material from Providence power trio the Traps, and a new LP from the Texas psych outfit Holy Wave.

Chit Chat: Never Know 7" [PRTYNGG]

With their debut 7", Chit Chat quickly positioned themselves as one of Michigan's most exciting bands. (Their live shows kill, too.) Now they're back with a new 7", which doesn't exactly have the high-flying Raw Power assault of "Attitude" but instead opts for a slower burn. There's a simmering, sludgy low end provided by Joel Parkkila in "Down", and Kevin McKay's slow-but-crashing pace leaves the band plenty of space to rip. They might be going for a more sprawling sound, but Nick Melody's guitar solos are still incredible and Izzy Johnson's raspy vocals roar with assertive badassery. There are just three songs here, but this 7" is an entirely cohesive statement. It's tempting to wonder what this band will be like in album mode.

Doug Tuttle: Doug Tuttle [Trouble in Mind]

It's a big week for Trouble in Mind, who put out two impressive psychedelic opuses on the same day. One's by Morgan Delt, the L.A. studio phantom who created an ornate soundscape on his debut LP. The other is perhaps a less sexy album on its surface, one by the frontman of the now-defunct band MMOSS. It may not have bright colors on the cover, and sure, "Doug Tuttle" isn't as froofy of a name as "Jacco Gardner", but this album is an impressive exercise in psychedelic world building. These songs are catchy and consistently captivating, full of studio tics and layers upon layers of well-placed instrumentals. There are guitar solos and tambourines, faraway wind instruments and sped-up tape effects. It's a bit heady and a lot of fun—and probably best heard on headphones. 

The Traps: Boom Pow Awesome Wow [Castle Face]

John Dwyer has a special treat out on Castle Face: a record by the Traps, who hail from his old stomping ground of Providence, Rhode Island. Boom Pow Awesome Wow was recorded around 2003 and features 10 crunchy, blown-out tracks—all catchy as hell. It's proof that even when a song's recorded in a fairly rudimentary way (a lot of the percussion is largely delivered with a simple, persistent tapping sound), it can still have an undeniable power. Sure, the Traps thrive in shorter format—between two and three minutes—but they also soar in the frantic, thoroughly entertaining six-and-a-half-minute track "Get Up".

The Traps: "Boom Pow Awesome Wow" on SoundCloud.

Holy Wave: Relax [Reverb Appreciation Society]

The Austin Psych Fest's Reverb Appreciation Society imprint is presenting a propulsive new banger from the Texas outfit Holy Wave. They've got the far-off, dreamy vocal wash of the shoegazers, but their guitars and hooks are anything but subtle, invoking the tone of early Kinks or Nuggets acts on "Psychological Thriller". The tone is somewhat reminiscent of their labelmates Night Beats' last album—an LP that owes quite a bit to a bygone era of psychedelic music, but with well-written songs performed by an impressively tight group of musicians.

It’s been an interesting couple of days since the Grammy Awards. Critics and cultural observers have tried to make sense of the crossover-heavy spectacle: assessing why white artists supported by black artists keep winding up on top; dissecting Macklemore’s heartfelt but self-serving apology to Kendrick Lamar; and calling the spectacle everything from sublime to a slog.

Sure, this is enriching for all of us viewers, but now comes the part the music industry really cares about: what their annual fête will do to enrich the bottom line.

As I’ve noted before, the one thing the Grammys have over any other awards show is a direct, near-instantaneous impact on the industry it rewards. And now that digital sales are so important to a record's success, the whole show is fueled by how much the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences (NARAS) wants you to click "buy," even before the credits roll and interrupt poor Lindsey Buckingham. (What up with that?)

Since the Grammys are a Sunday night show, and Nielsen SoundScan collects weekly sales from Monday to Sunday, this week’s new Billboard charts include some insta-reaction digital sales and streams. Of course, it’s a little soon to draw any major conclusions—next week’s charts will factor in a full week of post-Grammy sales and give a better sense of who the biggest post-awards sales winners are. Still, we already have some idea of the impact. Billboard is already reporting that several acts are leaping up the charts fueled by Sunday night digital sales.

One long-held Grammy truism is that performances impact careers more than prizes do. To be sure, the two biggest career-making Grammy appearances of the last 15 years—Ricky Martin in 1999 and Mumford & Sons in 2011—arguably had nothing to do with the awards themselves (Martin won a single Latin Pop statue during the telecast, and the Mumfords won nothing at all that year).

However, I would refine that a bit: What excites Grammy viewers most is a sense of discovery. As long as viewers feel like they’re being clued into something novel—stuff that’s old news to us hardcore music fans but relatively new to the masses— both the performances and the awards can have an impact.

Consider the two acts paired for the night’s most head-scratching mashup: Imagine Dragons and Kendrick Lamar. In terms of awards, the Dragons’ only win (Best Rock Performance for “Radioactive”) wasn't televised, and Lamar was infamously shut out from his seven nominations. That low prize profile didn’t appear to hurt either act—the fact that the potentially horrible pairing kind of worked meant sales boosts for both of them.

To be specific, the Dragons’ Night Visions saw a 16% rise on this week’s chart, and Lamar’s good kid, m.A.A.d. city rose 63% (each is up about 3,000 copies). Note that percentage discrepancy. ID’s album is already nearly double-platinum and includes “Radioactive”, the third-biggest Billboard hit of 2013, which sold about six million copies; they don’t have many more fans to convert. Kendrick, on the other hand, has yet to score a Top 10 pop hit; the roughly 1.1 million copies of m.A.A.d. city he’s sold to date are largely to hip-hop aficionados, not necessarily Grammy-watchers. Couple that with his crushing performance (and the fact that he handled his losses with Zen-like equanimity)—and see how he's set for potentially big post-Grammy bounce.

That’s awesome for Kendrick. But what’s even better than a good performance is a good performance plus winning. Best of all is winning in an upset, over a field of heavy-hitters. That’s exactly what Kacey Musgraves pulled off—her neon-tinted performance of “Follow Your Arrow” was followed a half-hour later by a Best Country Album win. Her Same Trailer Different Park triumphed over a field that included Taylor Swift, Blake Shelton, Tim McGraw and Jason Aldean.

The performance mattered, but the win sealed the deal. Musgraves’s label and management couldn’t have ordered up a better advertisement if they’d tried—a double-whammy of “Who is that?” guaranteed to catch viewers’ attention. The result: Same Trailer leapfrogs from No. 81 to No. 28 on the Billboard 200, rising 147% and scoring the largest unit gain on the chart. And again, this is just the chart that factors in Sunday sales; Billboardreports that they are “watch[ing] for the set to take an even bigger leap up the chart next week.” To date, Musgraves’s album has sold just over 300,000 copies and isn’t even gold; if anyone winds up being this year’s Mumford & Sons, it might be her.

This year’s big victor, though, was Daft Punk’s Random Access Memories, which is up 91% on the preliminary post-Grammy chart. That’s a strong rise based on Sunday-night sales, but next week is the one to watch. Every year, the week after the Grammys, the winner of Album of the Year experiences the most closely watched, and often largest, sales bump. Depending on how old the winning disc is, it might experience a one-week increase ranging from 50% to 700% (or, if you’re Herbie Hancock, 967%). This Album of the Year bump sometimes sends albums back to No. 1 (last year’s winner, Mumford & Son’s Babel, achieved this), but not necessarily—especially if that multiplying of sales happens to a disc that was only selling a few thousand a week before the show.

Daft Punk both performed—in a triumphant multi-artist showcase—and won on Sunday’s telecast. The question is how many previously unaware Americans learned about Daft Punk that night.

Random Access Memories was a fairly improbable smash when it dropped last May and debuted at No. 1. How perceptions have changed in nine months! Many critics are already arguing that the Punksters’ win at the Grammys this week might be less of an upset than it first appears—a typically conservative pick that trades on NARAS’s nostalgia for the pre-digital era and rewards the robots’ vintage–Michael Jackson recording technique.

All that might be true, but the statue did go to an album that was largely spent as a commercial force and, until last week, was the lowest-charting of the five Album of the Year nominees. Going into Grammy night, RAM had sold a not-quite-platinum total of 888,000 copies, the best album sales of DP’s career. But after the charmed chart run last summer of “Get Lucky”—critics’ consensus pick for single of the year and future Grammy Record of the Year—the album generated no followup hits, and by January it was selling less than 5,000 copies a week.

Two weeks ago, RAM ranked at No. 67 on the Billboard 200 album chart, below all four of its competitors. (Even surprise AotY nominee Sara Bareilles’s The Blessed Unrest ranked higher than that.) Heading into the day of the show, RAM was at No. 84—still lower than three of the nominees and just one notch higher than prime competitor Taylor Swift’s blockbuster Red, a disc that’s nearly twice as old as Daft Punk’s and has sold more than four times as many copies. Amusingly, as of last week RAM even ranked lower on the Billboard chart than the two Album of the Year winners that preceded it: 2012 winner 21 by Adele (No. 64 last week) and 2013 winner Babel by Mumford & Sons (No. 71).

Given how huge a hit “Get Lucky” was, there wasn’t any “Who is Daft Punk?” meme to match the “Who is Arcade Fire?” 2011 meme after that band’s upset victory. Then again, an album that generates that big a single but sold less than a million copies still has room to grow. To your average CBS viewer, Daft Punk may be as big a discovery as Kendrick Lamar. Those attending the ceremony are also reporting that Daft Punk’s final win was the only one that caused stunned gasps in the press room. And as Billboard points out, DP’s double win of Album and Record of the Year for RAM and “Lucky” is quite rare; the last act to do it, Robert Plant and Allison Krauss in 2009 (Raising Sand and “Please Read the Letter,” respectively), saw their album climb back up to No. 2 on the Billboard 200.

I wouldn’t bet on that big a leap for the victorious robots, but stranger things have happened. However old-hat the EDM forefathers might be to you, remember—right now, somewhere in America, a few thousand someones are buying their first Daft Punk album.

For Duke Ellington, a D note looked like dark blue burlap while a G was light blue satin. When Pharrell Williams listened to Earth, Wind & Fire as a kid, he saw burgundy or baby blue. For Kanye West, pianos are blue, snares are white, and basslines are dark brown and purple. Orange is a big one for Frank Ocean.

All of these artists—along with Stevie Wonder, Billy Joel, Mary J. Blige, Blood Orange's Dev Hynes, and more—have synesthesia, a condition in which a person's senses are joined. They hear a certain timbre or musical note and see a color, or smell a perfume and hear a sound, or see a word and taste a flavor. According to Carol Steen, the co-founder of the American Synesthesia Association, there are more than 60 permutations of synesthesia, and recent studies have suggested around 4% of us have it in some form. But while it may seem like tons of musicians are trying to associate themselves with synesthesia nowadays—Steen says she's heard rumors about Beyoncé having it, though "she hasn't been vetted yet so I don't know for sure"—the condition wasn't always seen as an express route to creative genius. (Philosopher John Locke was writing about combined senses as early as the 17th century, though the term "synesthesia" wasn't coined until the mid-1800s.) Until about 20 years ago, many synesthetes were uncomfortable sharing their curious gifts with the rest of the world. 

Steen, who is also visual artist and teaches at Touro College in New York, remembers feeling ostracized by other kids when she realized she had synesthesia at age seven, and though her father also had it, he never told anyone. The way she talks about it reminds me of the plight of every comic book superhero—for every person who marvels at Professor X, there are many more who are frightened by his otherworldly abilities. And for a while, there was no concrete way to scientifically study synesthesia because scientists couldn't prove it was real. 

There were other reasons why artists would want to hide it, too. "People were very afraid to admit they had it because they didn't want people to think that this special gift was the sole basis for their talent," says Steen. "They'd think, 'If I tell people that I have this gift, maybe they’ll think that all the practicing I’ve done doesn't mean anything.'"

But with the advent of advanced MRI machines in the 90s, it was clear that, for some, listening to headphones would not only trigger blood flow in the part of our brains that deals with sound, but the part that involves sight as well. Suddenly, Steen—and many others—were vindicated. Further studies show that we're all actually born with synesthesia, though most of us lose it by the time we're eight months old. Hallucinogenic drugs have been known to induce synesthetic sensations as well.  

So what do sound-color synesthetes actually, you know, see when they hear music? Well, it depends; each synesthete has a unique color palette with unique triggers, and the colors and types of sense associations are always in flux. For Steen, the empty rumble of an 18 wheeler hitting potholes outside of her apartment sends up a black and white and orange static pattern in front of her eyes. "We see it in our mind's eye," she says, "and the colors are not the colors of pigment, but rather the colors you see on your computer screen, the colors of light. They're bright."

When it comes to music, certain artists produce songs that are quite literally more colorful than others. Talking about recently listening to Daft Punk's Random Access Memories track "Fragments of Time", Steen describes "charcoal dust drums" and "tangy orange to sweet magenta keyboards" and "green-to-orange vocals." "This song is a celestial sherbet," she concludes. 

And when I ask Steen why so many synesthetes seem to be finding their way to careers in the arts nowadays instead of becoming physicists or lawyers, her answer is simple: "If you were surrounded by color all of your life, and it really thrilled you, wouldn't you want more of it?"

Welcome to Mixdown, an ongoing series where Pitchfork contributors talk about mixtapes and mixes that may not be covered in our reviews section but are worth discussing. Today, we're talking about new releases from J. Cole, Tree and a special remix. We welcome Ian Cohen, who's filling in this week for Carrie Battan.

J. Cole: Revenge of the Dreamers

Corban Goble: So this is a free mixtape Cole put out, which includes a lot of his buddies from the Dreamville stable.

Ian Cohen: J. Cole really thought he deserved to do the Pro Bowl halftime show; thinks Fall Out Boy really fell the fuck off after Folie a Deux.

CG: Jordan do you have anything to say about that?

Jordan Sargent: Well, Fall Out Boy did fall the fuck off after Folie a Deux as much as anyone would after writing one of the best rock albums of the last 10 years. Can I make a J. Cole confession here? Remember towards the end of the year when everyone on Twitter was posting their Spotify end-of-year round ups? Well, I did mine and my most streamed song was “Power Trip”, so I decided not to reveal that publicly. UNTIL NOW, of course.

IC: That alone should be enough to get you honorary Dreamville membership. I imagine you’d be able to come up with better names than some of these clowns. “Sarge’ is kinda awesome, though I wonder if the Champaign twee-pop band of the same name would make you lawyer up.

Can we talk for a moment about how “Dreamville” is the softest name for a rap collective ever? J. Cole: mayor of Pleasantville.

CG: There’s definitely a corner of KanyeToThe that has a jpeg of my head on a pike for not loving Born Sinner, but I thought this was fine, or whatever. I feel like he’s the 874th person to flip “Ambitionz of a Ridah” this year, I can’t really explain why that song is having such a moment. He also flips Miguel’s “Do You” and it sounds basically like you imagined it would sound. I feel like J. Cole raps every line like it’s a Twitter bio, “Steve Jobs of the hood” etc.

IC: I skipped straight to “Let the Bitter Man Win,” because I’m always most interested in mixtape tracks that potentially have messed up metadata, a la Das Racist’s “Fake Patios.”

JS: I think the mp3s I have of T.I.’s King still have “Undertaker” as featuring Young Buck and “Young Droop.” This is different conversation entirely, though. This mixtape is decent. I like J. Cole most in R&B/pop mode… which is why I think he’s a consistently enjoyable singles artist but kinda dreary as a capital-R Rapper. That said, “Golden Goals” is a legitimately awesome flow—maybe the best I’ve heard from him. The production on the title track is cool. But I don’t really care what he has to say in a larger sense.

One thing I can’t figure out about his music is why it’s so charmless. At the Born Sinner listening session he told the elongated story behind “Let Nas Down” and it was great! Everyone was laughing… he was a really good storyteller. But that song—and his music in general—is just too… steely, and he can’t pull it off. Certainly not like when Drake does something like “Started From the Bottom.”

IC: This makes me think back to every single B-level indie rock record I’ve reviewed and basically spent 600 words trying to come up with synonyms for words like “listenable” and “tasteful.” J. Cole: rap game Warpaint.

Tree: The McTreeG EP

IC: Tree always struck me as a version of David Banner that would probably never, ever, ever make a “Like A Pimp”, but “Probably Nu It” at least gets him close to Banner’s “intimate crunk” phase. I think between him and J. Cole, this is sort of like... I dunno, nu-conscious rap, like conscious rap with imperceptible Collision Course influence.

Tree: "Probably Nu It" on SoundCloud.

CG: I think this is interesting in the sense that, they kind of switch up the production on this and I think that creates an interesting tension. I don’t know if the Tree's “grizzled bark” works for me,  but I think maybe this works on a like, Alpoko Don level. But yeah, I don’t know if The McTreeG EP does much for me outside of shading another corner of the diverse Chicago rap scene (a good illustration of that would be the new bop tape DJ Moondawg just put out).

IC: Yo, keep in mind you’re throwing around terms like “Alpoko Don level” and “new bop tape” and “DJ Moondawg” to a guy who’s not only a first-timer on Mixdown, but who listened to a new Elbow song this morning and thought, “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

JS: It must be sobering to look at the Soundcloud plays for your mixtape and see 20,000 streams on the first two tracks then an immediate drop to 5,000 plays for song 3. This is pretty good, though—“Probably Nu It,” the first track, is a great song. I wouldn’t say that Tree has a one-in-a-million rap voice considering how similar he can sound to David Banner but his rap voice really is something. On other hand it probably limits how far he can push out his sound, but he’s good at what he does.

IC: I don’t think we’ve given enough thought to the name MCTreeG.  He should funnel some of that Scion money to hiring McG for a “Probably Nu It” video, get all the original girls from Sugar Ray’s “Fly” or some shit, maybe even Supercat.

Disappointed that “Stay Away” isn’t a Charli XCX sample, what indie-type artist is getting that kind of love on hip-hop beats today? Was listening to Beach House’s Bloom yesterday and realized it’s their only one that hadn’t been sampled by a known R&B or hip-hop act. Does that make it the best Beach House album or the worst?

I think of that Nas line from “Family,” “You should idolize Tree in the flesh, don’t wait til I’m dead to say ‘he’s good at what he does.””

 Spekulation: "Bout That Action" (Beast Mode Remix)

CG: The best song of the week is, going away, the remix of Seattle Seahawks running back Marshawn Lynch’s interview with Deion Sanders. I have played this 100x since this morning. What can I say—I was raised like that.

Spekulation: "Bout That Action" (Beast Mode Remix) on SoundCloud.

JS: Yeah this Marshawn track is incredible. Way, way better than any meme-turned-song song should ever be. It sounds like the best possible Jibbs comeback single. It (unintentionally?) quotes Lil Reese. It sounds like an upside-down world’s version of “Partition.” Seriously. Marshawn’s entire attitude at Super Bowl Media Day was, “Driver, roll up the partition, please / I don’t need to be talking to Bob Ley” and now we have an appropriately perfect swagged out rap song that drops its synth line like a hammer. No joke, this is probably the best song I’ve heard in 2014.

IC: This is even better than "Abracadabralifornia". The obvious thing that needs to happen is getting Richard Sherman and Lynch on the same track, it’d be a real Rae and Ghost, Gunplay and Rozay, Bob Nanna and Chris Broach kind of dynamic.

CG: Here’s a good Sherman one, not better than Marshawn, but I can rock with it. This one’s for the clubs.

IC: J. Cole feels very disrespected over the fact that we like this Marshawn Lynch song more than this entire career.

Who’s the most meme-able guy on Denver? I guess it’s fitting that Peyton Manning’s most meme-able phrase shares its name with a Counting Crows song.

Let’s talk about the production on this Lynch track, I can imagine some poor assistant being yelled at by an A&R at Roc Nation, trying to find this guy on Twitter, vetting imitators and such and such.

Seattle needed this after Macklemore.

CG: Jordan, you kind of shy?

JS: I’m just ‘bout that action, boss. I feel like Marshawn Lynch’s entire existence running parallel to Macklemore’s rise really absolves the city of Seattle for any and all sins. Now I have to go plan my impromptu Super Bowl party where I mute the TV and put “Bout That Action” on repeat and see who stays at my apartment the longest.

IC: CAN YOU LICK THE SKITTLES?

Photo by Gabriel Shepard

It’s almost impossible to keep track of Mark Kozelek’s many releases. For twenty years, he’s been putting out numerous LPs, EPs, covers comps, one-off collaborations, holiday thingamabobs, and live albums under various names: Red House Painters, Sun Kil Moon, and, of course, Mark Kozelek. Most are readily available, but many remain rarities that even the hardcore fans have trouble tracking down. Limited edition live performances are included free with order through his Caldo Verde Recordsweb site, while bonus EPs are bundled with CD copies of major releases.

The result is a formidably sprawling catalog that can intimate listeners unfamiliar with the Kozelek cult. Perhaps they’ve heard Benji—one of the best albums of the new year and arguably the apex of the Ohio-born/California-based songwriter’s discography—and want to explore some of his previous releases but are confused about where to start. Below, I've picked six essential releases dating back two decades, representing some of the best work Kozelek has done.

The Red House Painters album: Red House Painters (Rollercoaster)

The Red House Painters released not one, but two eponymous albums in 1993: their full-length debut, known (because of its cover art) as Rollercoaster, and a follow-up, known as Bridge. The former remains one of their best—a creased and worn postcard from San Francisco. The band wanders up steep hills, down winding alleyways, around the wharf, down to the water, from "Grace Cathedral Park" to "Strawberry Hill" in Golden Gate Park. Kozelek maps out the city as emotional terrain, less interested in civic histories than in all the romantic scenes that have played out against this backdrop. As a songwriter, he’s learning here how to explode the verse-chorus-verse format; as a vocalist, he has a bit more range than he does now, often singing in a higher register; and as a guitar player, he is already patient and careful enough (some might say self-indulgent) to let "Funhouse" and the incredible "Katy Song" meander melancholically.

The (formerly) long lost album: Old Ramon

The Red House Painters spent the 90s churning out downtempo guitar jams that would get them lumped in with other so-called sadcore bands like Galaxie 500 and American Music Club. But that genre was never a perfect fit, as the band’ swan song makes clear. Old Ramon is one of Kozelek’s most storied albums: The band recorded these songs in 1998, but the obliteration of Supreme Records, an imprint of Island, doomed the album to gather dust on the shelf for years. By the time Sub Pop released it in 2001, the Painters had dried up. 

It’s a shame, as Old Ramon is arguably their best and certainly their most diverse album. These songs point out all the different musical directions the band might have pursued in the next decade, toggling between the crunchy ("Between Days") and the ethereal ("Cruiser"). Opener "Wop-A-Din-Din" boasts a quasi-Hawaiian hook, a modest backing choir, and a relatively upbeat pace, all of which make it one of the band’s spryest numbers. Lyrically, it’s a gently erotic love song… about his cat. Few songwriters could imbue such a cuddly subject with such gravity. Fewer still would even try.

The covers collection: What’s Next to the Moon

Kozelek is an inveterate interpreter of others’ songs, with a repertoire that ranges from "Send in the Clowns" to "I Killed Mommy". Red House Painters’ surprise take on the Kiss song "Shock Me" introduced his signature trick of turning hard-rock songs into mopey folk numbers, but it wasn’t until 2001’s What’s Next to the Moon that Kozelek devoted a full full-length to other writers’ songs—in this case, AC/DC. Nothing about the originals sounds like they’d work in this forlorn, acoustic setting, but it’s an intriguing experiment that’s both respectful to the source material yet slyly irreverent: He knows he’s not locating new meaning, but amplifying the loneliness and yearning in the Aussie band’s hedonistic rock. It’s a technique he would revisit on subsequent covers albums, including 2008’s Finally and last year’s Like Rats, but the less said about his doomed Modest Mouse collection, the better.

The Sun Kil Moon album: Ghosts of the Great Highway

Kozelek quickly assembled a new group called Sun Kil Moon, named for the Korean boxer Sung-Kil Moon. The group’s debut, released in 2001 on Jetset Records, places the slowcore landscapes of the Painters in the framework of Americana: rich country-rock guitar tones and a steady rhythm section evoking flat landscape and a far-off horizon. It’s a perfect roadtrip record, and more crucially it reveals a new sharpness in Kozelek’s songwriting, a newly honed intuition for the right details and the right words. He toys with the expectations of confessional lyrics: Opener "Glenn Tipton" is a character sketch about a dude who sounds a lot like Kozelek himself: He loves old boxers, old movies, old musicians, his dad, and... killing people. Kozelek is no serial killer. Presumably.

As with Old Ramon, Ghosts suffered under label woes. Shortly after its 2003 release, the album slipped out of print and was unavailable until 2007, when Kozelek released a 2xCD reissue on his own Caldo Verde label.  

The live album: Live at Phoenix Public House Melbourne

Via Caldo Verde, Kozelek has loosed innumerable releases upon the world: odds-and-ends collections, free-with-purchase EPs, live albums. Especially considering how he has settled into a solo acoustic set-up—seemingly for financial rather than aesthetic reasons—some of these performances blur together, rendering a few largely inessential to all but the most devoted fanboy. But last year’s Live at Phoenix Public House Melbourne stands out for several reasons. First, there’s the venue itself, which closed shortly after Kozelek’s concert. His voice and guitar resonate beautifully around that room, adding an ambient hum similar to vinyl crackle. There’s also the setlist, which culls primarily from Among the Leaves: That 2012 album marks the point when Kozelek stopped giving quite so many fucks and starting writing with disarming honesty about groupies, fanboys, VD, his bad back, and lame opening acts. And finally there is the stage banter—which isn’t banter so much as bitching. Long-in-the-tooth artists griping about their lots in life can be tedious and alienating, but here Kozelek’s cynicism is weirdly compelling and even caustically funny: "I don't even know the name of the hotel I'm at,” he confesses. “I just walked around the park, went to the 7-11, ate some nuts or something. I don't fucking know. I was bored out of my fucking mind."

The not-a-reunion-but-close-enough album: Mark Kozelek & Desertshore

Quick on the heels of a one-off album with the Album Leaf, Kozelek released this full-length collaboration with Caldo Verde signees Desertshore, which includes one Red House Painter (guitarist Phil Carney) and one Sun Kil Mooner (pianist Chris Connolly). Evincing their long history with their label boss, the band proves sensitive to Kozelek’s distinctive phrasing and song structures. He writes these songs like he’s reading his journals, favoring near-stream-of-conscious lyrics about anonymous hotel rooms, ESPN Classic, the loneliness of touring life, Papillon, Kung Fu, Johnny Carson, and Anton LaVey. There’s a sneaky humor to these musings, especially the hotel ramble "Livingston Bramble", which sizes up Kozelek’s fellow indie-rock guitar players.  "I hate Nels Cline," he sings, then launches into a scribbly solo that’s also a wicked parody of scribbly solos. 

I have a confession: Until about a month ago, I’d never owned a set of headphones sold separately from a certain ubiquitous line of Apple media players. Admitting to a life spent digesting sound spat from those little white earbuds feels shameful, especially as someone who writes about music professionally. It’s as if there’s a clause in the informal contract between a publication’s readers and writers stating that the Music must be delivered to the Writer using a device of sufficient quality, such that the Writer may accurately receive all lyrics and other sonic details that may tangibly affect the Writer’s perception of the Music. So, at the risk of tearing that contract to shreds, I’d like to discuss the factors that shaped my first two decades of listening, and the way my relationship with music has changed since upgrading to a better set of headphones.

Apple released the first iPod on October 23, 2001, and—while sales have been cannibalized in recent years by the growth of the iPhone and iPad—the company has sold over 350 million to date. The iPod’s impact on listening habits via increased mobility and accessibility is obvious, but it had a similarly huge effect on the sound being delivered to a new generation of listeners: Packaged sets of Apple earbuds became windows into world of sound for countless young people—and fashion statements to boot. I received my first iPod for my 14th birthday in 2006, and from that point on I found no reason to spend any of the little money I had on headphones when perfectly good sets were included for free with the devices I wanted. (In fact, wearing non-Apple earbuds could turn an unsuspecting teen into a pariah: Off-brand headphones meant a substandard MP3 player and a corresponding lack of cool, or so the conventional wisdom went.)

For every happy iPod owner, though, it seemed like there was a disgruntled audiophile or industry affiliate complaining about those tinny, shoddy earbuds. The idea of truer, more "real" musical experiences became an important part of every headphone manufacturer’s marketing toolbox. When Jimmy Iovine and Dr. Dre launched Beats by Dre in 2006, their mission statement was "to introduce premium audio to a generation that had never experienced the emotion of music… because of substandard earbuds and PCs." (Nevermind the fact that plenty of critics bemoan Beats' poor balance and overwhelming focus on bass.) This line of thought generated its own reactionary stubbornness, as listeners who grew up and learned to love music with those "substandard earbuds" resented being told that they were missing out on the real thing.

I know this because I was one of those listeners. For a long time I remained cynical about high-end headphones, but, slowly, my resistance eroded. I got older, gradually acquired more disposable income, and watched more and more of my peers invest decent amounts of cash in sets that were meant to last. (At the same time, Beats became a major player in the premium headphone arena, capturing 27% of the entire headphone market—and 57% of the $99 and over market—by the end of 2013.)  My first "good" headphones—a pair of Bose AE2s—sat waiting for me under the tree this past Christmas, and as I flipped through my iPod looking for their Very First Song, I felt like I was being made to play some version of the famousDesert Island game: What song would take me into a brand new musical world?

I decided to go with Lady Gaga’s "Sexxx Dreams", and I heard a song I knew and loved transformed: Beats that simply burped before rumbled with menace and gobbled up space, synths sizzled like high-voltage power lines, new notes burst into frame like fireworks. I’ve had my new headphones for about a month now, and I have experiences like that every day. Music I’ve been hearing for years is reborn, and I start to appreciate it in new ways. It reminds me that the songs and albums weaving through my life aren’t static; they evolve with me, changing with context and medium and something as simple as the headphones I use to hear them.

Shake Appeal is a column that highlights new garage and garage-adjacent releases. This week, Evan Minsker discusses the latest releases from Dana Point's VAGUESS, Toronto's Ketamines, Michigan's Bad Indians, Providence's Atlantic Thrills, and Charlottesville's Big Air.

VAGUESS: Simpler Times [Refry] 

Every now and then, a band will build a song around a two-word phrase and deliver it with satisfying fury. Last year, Protomartyr did it with "Free Supper".  VAGUESS (pronounced "Vegas"), have "Sinkpisser" (which is technically one word, I guess). Most of their songs open with guitar lines that gather momentum but never obliterate everything else in the mix. They keep their vocals audible, which is good, because they're really good at writing entire songs, not just riffs. "Sinkpisser", for example, has vocal harmonies and keys that come in right at the chorus—a subtle build that hits at the very moment of the brief song's climax. Simpler Times 14 tracks of well-written rock'n'roll (available for free); sometimes it's delivered with Dictators dirtbaggery, sometimes the vocals are washed in that same sort of early Oh Sees echo. Regardless, everything here rules.

Ketamines: Eleven Eleven EP [Leaning Trees]

Toronto space cadets Ketamines have been on a tear lately, and this week, they've released two new singles: one on Mint and this one on Leaning Tree. Though it's only six tracks long and nothing lasts longer than two minutes, Eleven Eleven is a diverse record. There's propulsive power pop ("Take Me to Your Leader"), quiet acoustic numbers ("Right About Now"), and skillfully paced tunes that springboard into more accessibly catchy material. For a brief release, Eleven Eleven is well-sequenced and thoughtfully put together. 

Bad Indians: "Annunaki" [self-released]

Michigan psych-rock lifers Bad Indians have seen several lineup shifts, and it's tempting to call the current roster their most powerful yet. With drummer Tim Thomas (of Secret Twins) providing a periodically intense backbone, Jules Nehring and co. have a new tape featuring a series of excellent songs. (You can pick it up at one of their shows.) "Annunaki" is the nine-minute track that kicks of the second side, and it rips. With tons of momentum, some blistering performances from the entire band, and just a hint of sci-fi sound effects, this one's an easy recommendation for fans of Human Eye and Charles Mootheart's rafter-reaching guitar work in Fuzz. Sure, it becomes slow and spacey in the middle, but see it through—the final stretch is well worth the patience.

Atlantic Thrills: Atlantic Thrills [Almost Ready]

Hailing from Providence, Rhode Island, Atlantic Thrills are helping to offset the recent North American arctic blasts with some jams ideal for barbecues and a "Day at the Beach". It's a fun record that's ready for the summer. They veer into bubblegum territory on "Boozin' All Night" and tap into "swooning rockabilly" mode with "Lie to Me". So much of what they do has familiar air to it, like the opening guitar roll of "Acid Rain", which recalls the Doors' "Roadhouse Blues" intro. They shriek during "Holy Mountain". This is a band poised to party, taking cues from the wild men of rock'n'roll's past. Play it loud; it's a fun listen.

Atlantic Thrills: "Day at the Beach" on SoundCloud.

Atlantic Thrills: "Acid Rain" on SoundCloud.

Big Air: Buds [self-released]

Their vocals smack of Mac McCaughan, their guitars recall J Mascis or Milk Music. They're called Big Air, they're from Charlottesville, Virginia, and their self-released tape Buds is an infectious pop punk record by a pair of dudes with some serious chops. This may be the first record to be featured on this column that falls under the banner of "pop punk", but don't let that deter you. Both Rob Dobson and Greg Sloan show off their chops throughout the record, whether it be in the power balladry of "Out of This World" or in their Dick Dale-ian drum opening of "Barking Dog". 

Down Is Up discusses music that falls slightly under the radar of our usual coverage: demos and self-releases, as well as output from small or overlooked labels and communities. This week, Jenn Pelly highlights a documentary about the 1980s Icelandic underground, and new videos from Spanish post-punk band Belgrado and Massachusetts punks Potty Mouth.

01 Rokk í Reykjavík - If ever you needed convincing that music thrives in isolation, this documentary film from 1982 drives the point home. Rokk í Reykjavík documents the Icelandic alternative music scene in the 1980s—a sort of Decline of Western Civilization for the land that later bred Björk and Sigur Rós. Filmed by Icelandic director Friðrik Thór Friðriksson during the winter of 1981-1982, this intriguing and often hilarious snapshot of Nordic rock was captured following the lift of a "national 'no live music' ban," according to the website of Brooklyn's Spectacle Theater (where I saw it last week, presented in association with the Icelandic Film Centre). It was a weird world in the city's small rock clubs: gothy art-rock, new wave, anarcho-punk, neo-Nazis, noise artists who behead chickens under a strobe light, and an amazing trio of crusty teenage punks who huff glue and smash guitars. But the best reason to watch this comes right at the 44:50 mark: a 16-year-old Björk fronting the peculiar, dub-tinged post-punk band Tappi Tíkarrass, dressed like a doll, banging a drum with a tennis racket while singing her huge heart out.

02 Belgrado "Jeszcze Raz" video - It's pretty indisputable that Spain has the best punk/hardcore scene in Europe right now, with the kind of bands you're only going to hear if you know how to locate the city's squats and youth houses (or certain discreet corners of the internet). But Belgrado are a bit more visible; they have a Facebook page, at least. The anarchist spirit of their razor-sharp post-punk is complemented by a charred goth streak, drawing influence from 1980s coldwave. They began in 2010 and have since released two of the better current Spanish LPs I've heard: 2011's Belgrado and 2013's Siglo XXI. The singer, Patricia, is a Warsaw native, and on Siglo she often sings in her native tongue (she also drums in another amazing post-punk band called SECT, more directly inspired by UK anarcho-punk). Belgrado's spring U.S. tour was just cancelled, but at least we've got this video, which they shared last week.

03 Potty Mouth "Black and Studs" video - A girl's bedroom is a sacred space of self-creation; it's where you shape your mind with books and records that help form your identity. In many instances, it is where you manifest a personal will to create. And maybe it is also where you put together sick outfits to wear. Potty Mouth's new video for "Black and Studs", directed and animated by Faye Orlove, celebrates all of this—it shows the band's Abby Weems, Ally Einbinder, Phoebe Harris, and Victoria Mandanas trying on outfits while spotlighting the cool stacks of feminist/punk artifacts in their rooms (copies of Please Kill Me, Girls to the Front, I Am Malala, and tapes like Nevermind, Green, Aye Nako, Patsy Cline). The song itself is about how it can be limiting to seek autonomy through punk, and the video highlights these ideas: "Misconception/ You thought you were first," Weems sings, "There's repetition/ Because our minds are cursed."

Photos via Amnesty International

At the press conference that preceded Amnesty International's Bring Human Rights Home Concert at Brooklyn's Barclays Center last night, a reporter asked a question that visibly rankled the two guests of honor, Nadia Tolokonnikova and Masha Alyokhina of the Russian punk feminist collective Pussy Riot. (This was not the first time since they'd been freed from Russian penal colonies in late December that a journalist's questions have rubbed them the wrong way.)

Crowded onto a small stage, Nadia and Masha were flanked by mop-topped Live Aid organizer Bob Geldof, Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips (hair sculpted into zany disarray, sparkly heart stickers dotting his temples), and baby-faced neo-soft-rockers the Fray; a few hours later on the Barclays stage, Madonna (one of Pussy Riot’s most famous supporters) would introduce them to a crowd of thousands. In prepared statements and with the aid of a translator, Nadia and Masha spoke of their plans to tour prisons internationally and then shift their focus to advocating for penal reform back at home. They also urged Americans to “boycott” the Sochi Olympics (either actively, through protests; or passively, by refusing to watch). When the floor opened to questions, though, one reporter took the conversation in a different direction: Since Pussy Riot has said many times that it was influenced by countercultural movements and underground music—riot grrrl and oi! punk in particular—why did its members suddenly want to align themselves with a "pop cultural" performance like the Amnesty Concert? There was a tense pause. Then, with a knowing smirk that is becoming as iconic to this generation of young feminists as Kathleen Hanna's ponytail was to a previous one, Nadia said, "That question is insulting to all the musicians up here."

A few hours later, as I was wafting away the smell of overpriced nachos and struggling to stay awake through a somnolent, message-less set by human bronzer explosion Colbie Caillat, I checked my phone and saw an email titled "An Open Letter From Pussy Riot." I questioned the source at first, but it came from an address I recognized and trusted from when I had interviewed two anonymous members of the collective this past summer. "We are very pleased with Masha and Nadia's release," the letter said. "Unfortunately for us, they are being so carried away with the problems in Russian prisons that they completely forgot about the aspirations and ideals of our group—feminism, separatist resistance, fight against authoritarianism and personality cult." It went on to critique the very concert I was attending: "The poster of the event showed a man in a balaclava with electric guitar, under the name of Pussy Riot, while the organizers smartly called for people to buy expensive tickets. All this is an extreme contradiction to the very principles of [the] Pussy Riot collective: We are [an] all-female separatist collective—no man can represent us either on a poster or in reality... We charge no fees for viewing our art-work,... and we never sell tickets to our 'shows'." (Read more of the letter here.)

I looked back at the stage when I'd finished reading. Clad in an impressively spangly pantsuit, Susan Sarandon was giving a speech about Amnesty prisoners of conscience who had been incarcerated for their beliefs and, in prison, "denied their basic rights." "Water!" a vendor yelled from the next section over with perfect though unwitting comic timing, reminding us that a basic human right encased in a plastic bottle that will take 400 years to decompose could be ours for a cool $4.50.

After reading the letter, I felt an overwhelming sense of frustration—directed not necessarily at anyone in particular (OK, yes, maybe at Colbie Caillat) or at either "side" of this rift, but at the way I feared this information would be covered by the media. “Nadia and Masha Kicked Out of Pussy Riot for Appearing at a Star-Studded Pop Concert!” “Feminist Collective Torn Apart By Infighting, Just Like Riot Grrrl Before It!” Though the letter’s message was complicated and its tone was largely supportive of Nadia and Masha as they embarked on their new chapter as prison reform activists, I knew the pull quotes and headlines would come from the lines that revealed tension and scanned as “conflict.” It felt particularly disheartening, with the recent, internet-fueled resurgence of the old feminist-on-feminist crime known as “trashing.” Ye Olde Catfight Narrative, Xeroxed into blurry infinity.

And yet, what to make of this? I was wondering that all night, as the lead singer of harmlessly affable Cali rockers Cake took the stage in a t-shirt that shrugged, “Killing People Is Rude,” up until the long night’s end, when the Flaming Lips closed with a visually dazzling but apolitical set featuring their cover of “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”. Pussy Riot stayed on my mind. In the perceived conflict between the collective and Nadia & Masha, who is wrong? Who is "right"?

These are not necessarily the questions we should be asking.

As their story has unfolded, Pussy Riot have struggled (and, largely, succeeded) to keep the ideals of the group from getting lost in translation—whether that means shooting down tone-deaf questions about the net worth of their “brand” to taking a stand against a Pussy Riot-inspired Ikea ad. All throughout, Pussy Riot have grasped for a language that communicates their identity and values to a Western audience largely unfamiliar (as last night’s politically tepid bill reminded us) with the language of radicalism, feminism and dissent. “All hearts were beating for you as long as you were perceived as just another version of the liberal-democratic protest against the authoritarian state,” the political philosopher Slavoj Žižek wrote in a letter to Nadia while she was in prison, later circulated online. “The moment it became clear that you rejected global capitalism, reporting on Pussy Riot became much more ambiguous.” 

Therein lies much of the confusion. Pussy Riot are not a “band” but a leaderless, radical art collective that has used punk music to spread its message. Which means that the reporting on Nadia and Masha’s apparent separation from the group should be more nuanced than “Pussy Riot break up!” or “Nadia and Masha depart, citing creative differences.” “Pussy Riot has [gone] from a group to an international movement,” Masha said last night. “Anyone can be Pussy Riot.”

The anonymous members of Pussy Riot who wrote the letter take issue with the fact that Nadia and Masha’s speech at Barclays was being billed as “an appearance by Pussy Riot,” since the pair are now acting under their own names. This is a valid point. Unlike the remaining members of the collective, though, Nadia and Masha do not believe that their advocacy for prison reform contradicts “the aspirations and ideals of the group”—especially given that they are advocating for reform in women’s prisons. This is valid too.

So is it crazy to suggest that both sides are right? That each one raises interesting points, and the “truth,” if it can be called that, might fall somewhere in the middle? That, yes, there is something inherently ridiculous about an event in a corporate-owned sports arena celebrating an anti-capitalist radical feminist art collective? But also that sometimes the only way to wake people up to political action and awareness is to get mainstream pop stars and glitter-encrusted celebrities to champion the cause? “We like what can’t be understood,” Nadia said in her trial’s closing statement. “What can’t be explained is our friend.” All Pussy Riot have ever demanded of us is to ask big, barbed questions about politics, feminism and freedom—most of which will not have clear answers. And contrary to the narrative that might emerge, this latest news changes none of that.

Madonna introduced Nadia and Masha last night—yes, against the wishes of the collective—as “Pussy Riot.”  “I’d like to thank Pussy Riot for making ‘pussy’ a sayable word in my household,” Madge said, though for some the moment may have been blunted by recent news that another word is also sayable in the Ciccone home. Still, even with all of its contradictions, the moment that Nadia and Masha took the stage had an undeniable power. As too many of the sets at the Amnesty Concert reminded us last night, it can often feel maddeningly vague when musicians champion “human rights," but for young people numbed to that phrase, Nadia and Masha give faces and voices to the struggle for freedom. And yet, even unmasked, it would have been hard to make any charges of reveling in a “cult of personality” stick to them. They deflected the spotlight to their fellow political prisoners, spending most of their time on stage reading statements from the group known as the May 6 prisoners, who are currently on trial for protesting against the Putin regime. As they left the stage, Nadia and Masha lead us in a chant for them: “Russia will be free!” As it resounded to the cheap seats, that message—at least for the moment—rang loud and clear.

Need a good way to pass your listening hours this weekend? You're in luck! The entire set of Pitchfork Podcasts is now available on our SoundCloud. Previously available only through the Pitchfork Weekly app, the Pitchfork Podcast will also be uploaded to SoundCloud every Friday. You can still, of course, listen to the Pitchfork Podcast on our free app, which is available here.

This week's episode (below) finds our editor-in-chief Mark Richardson talking to associate editor Larry Fitzmaurice about Burial's surprise selfie and the cult of anonymity in electronic music. 

Welcome to Mixdown, an ongoing series where Pitchfork contributors talk about mixtapes and mixes that may not be covered in our reviews section but are worth discussing. Today, we're talking about new releases TDE's Isaiah Rashad, a compilation from Migos' new "label" and our favorite podcast.

Carrie Battan: Jordan, I want to start off with you listing the various reasons why you wanted to throw your computer out of the window after you heard Pharrell’s verse on the new Future song/Twitter bomb, “Move That Dope”.

Future: "Move That Dope" [ft. Pharrell, Pusha T, and Casino] on SoundCloud.

Corban Goble: Jordan, why are you always throwing computers out of windows? Do you have AppleCare?

Jordan Sargent: I buy used Dell laptops on eBay specifically for throwing out of the window when I flip out with joy. I had to completely restock after Chris Davis returned the field goal against Alabama. So with “Move that Dope,” I had to hit pause after “Gandalf hat.” GANDALF HAT. I’m predicting that “Gandalf hat” is going to be the next “surfbort,” and if not, I will try my hardest to make it happen. So that was the first reason I wanted to throw my computer out of the window. But then he keeps on rapping and his verse is completely incredible and dizzying, so that also made me want to throw my computer out of the window.

For the record, this is our first post-Gandalf hat Mixdown. Mixdown A.G.H.

CB: Oh good. For a second I was worried you wanted to throw your computer out the window because you were being contrarian and didn’t like the song or Pharrell's verse. (I wish Juicy J always sounded like Pharrell's Juicy J impersonation.) 

Isaiah Rashad: Cilvia Demo

CB: It was really hard for me to stop listening to “Move That Dope” and return to Isaiah Rashad’s Cilvia Demo, which is... less good! But also fine. Rashad is one of Kendrick/Black Hippy's TDE signees, and this project shows how much they’re really trying to maintain a cohesive aesthetic throughout the entire collective. Here you go, TDE loyalists: more of the loping, jazz-influenced sound of conscious rap without its overbearing political messages. It's expected, but not in a bad way.

CG: It seems less grating than the usual stuff that’s like, “No this is real rap, don’t you get it?" Where does Isaiah Rashad fall in the 2014 TDE power ranking?

JS: At this point, Isaiah Rashad might be ahead of Ab-Soul. What’s Ab-Soul up to? This mixtape is very good. It might just be the proximity, but sonically and mood-wise this reminds me a bit of Section.80. It would have definite appeal to stoner teens who listen to A$AP Rocky, but it’s a bit more soulful. Rashad is to TDE what Travi$ Scott is to G.O.O.D. Music, but less reverent of his boss. And that's a good thing.

Isaiah Rashad: "Brad Jordan" [ft. Michael Da Vinci] on SoundCloud.

CB: There have to be at least four guys in dorms in the U.C. system listening to this at any given time. The cover art for this project has a bunch of words crossed off— “Khaki EP”, “pieces of a kid”, “fake trill”, “preacher son”, “strictly 4”, all of which are so patently Black Hippy, and he settled on… Cilvia. WTF is Cilvia?

CG: Is it an allergy medication?

JS: Yeah the cover has a real Joey Bada$$ vibe to me, so maybe this is like if Joey Bada$$ wasn’t totally up his own ass. As for Cilvia, is it an alternate spelling of “Sylvia?” I’m a regular forensic investigator over here. I bet it’s a reference to an ex-girlfriend.

CB: Words “Cilvia” reminds me of: Salvia, Sylvia, indica, sativa, labia, chlamydia.

JS: It wasn’t until like three months ago that someone pointed out to me that Kid Cudi’s Indicud was a horrible play on “indica.” It did not make me like that album any more.

CB: While I was listening to this tape I also had to really hold myself back from listening to the new Desus vs. Mero podcast, which had just been posted. It took a lot of willpower. I’m saving it for a bus ride I’m taking tomorrow. What do I have in store?

CG: It gets off the hook fast. So fast. I feel like I have to look around during it, like I’m sipping a cocktail during the middle of prohibition. It doesn’t feel legal.

JS: For my own mental health and general safety, I have to immediately forget everything about a Desus vs. Mero episode after hearing it. Except the bit about how cheese are Jordans for white people. That I will never forget.

CG: On this episode they call Kevin Durant “Johnny No Swag”, which really proves that Durant should have just stuck with the nickname Slim Reaper and been thankful that it wasn’t worse. I think that’s the only thing I can print here.

JS: I loved Slim Reaper. What is wrong with Durant.

CB: And this concludes the sports segment of this conversation.*

Quality Control: Solid Foundation

JS: Wait! I had a transition! “Speaking of sports...” Migos dropped a mixtape at halftime of the Super Bowl! It was clear by that point in the game that the Seahawks were going to steamroll the Broncos, and as I tweeted at the time (that phrase will be my epigraph, by the way) I was really hoping that Migos would audible (football!) and call the mixtape Black Seattle. Then Percy Harvin returned the halftime kick off and I threw my computer out of the window.

CB: You could say Percy Harvin has a Solid Foundation of skills that he deployed on Sunday... oh look, I’m throwing myself out of the window along with the eBay Dells.

CG: My computer is out the window too. I’m using that Samsung they sent us to listen to Magna Carta Holy Grail on.

Everything about this Migos compilation tape—which features a bunch of other young Atlanta rappers—points to a more measured, toned-down version of the Migos we're used to. Did the consistent energy and infectiousness of YRN invite unfair expectations? There are a few good ones in here—like "Dramatic" and the Gucci Mane-featuring "Get Down"—but they’re definitely pulling back.

CB: I don’t know, I don't mind a dialed-back Migos so much. There’s a joyless, almost resentful air about this one, especially on the handful of new Migos songs. It seems like a necessary little packpedal. This is the sound of of some rappers who’ve crossed the initial hurdle of success and are now in a small ebb of their trajectory where they sound as though they're frustrated with everyone: The plebes who they’ve advanced past but are still forced to deal with, and the industry that hasn’t made them into complete superstars just yet. (“Please stop calling my phone, I DON’T SELL DRUGS!”) There's also some talk of animals that reminds me of Gucci Mane: “The streets is a jungle/ Gotta watch out for koalas.”

JS: Every Migos leak is great, but I’m basically waiting for YRN 2. My brain can only categorize so much on its own. This did remind me, though, that DJ Drama’s last two albums are called Quality Street Music and Quality Street Music 2. “Quality street music” is the perfect way to describe most of what DJ Drama does. Truth in advertising!

CG: I’m still into this. New Atlanta forever.

*MIXDOWN: THE AFTER-SHOW

JS: Carrie, do you like sports more or less now that you're assaulted by me and Corban talking about them all the time here?

CB: More. I always like it when you guys talk about sports because it gives us a corny recurring plot point. You guys talk about sports, I brush you off and pretend to be annoyed and make a joke about how you guys are always talking about sports. It's like a bad network sitcom.

CG: Carrie's like, "Hey, did you guys get the opera tickets I asked you to pick up?" Double collar-tug. "Shit, we were busy watching sports again. What do we do?" Whole episode turns into a scheme to cover our asses and make Carrie like us again so we can write about Chinx Drugz. 

CB: And then I accidentally smoke crack in Bushwick.

JS: "Two Guys, a Girl, and a Mixtape Column"

Shake Appeal is a column that highlights new garage and garage-adjacent releases. This week, Evan Minsker discusses the latest releases from Michigan garage stompers the People's Temple, Montreal's PyPy, Australian groups Ruined Fortune and Ausmuteants, and Oakland post-punks Wet Drag.

The People's Temple: Musical Garden [Hozac]

Those Lansing boys in the People's Temple have become a reliable staple in the garage-pop landscape. On their third album, they're still ripping and stomping as well they were on Sons of Stone and More for the Masses. Sure, their stuff leans vintage Nuggets (see the tambourine on "Handsome Nick"), and once again, they wear that sound well. But perhaps their finest work comes on "I Don't Mind", where they let their vocals echo and ring with minimal backing—just the ethereal, distant sound of what might be a tape machine. Of course, they're also ready to turn up the power, which they do exceedingly well on the appropriately titled "Fast Thrills". Thus far, they're three for three and show no signs of letting up.

The People's Temple: "Handsome Nick" on SoundCloud.

PyPy: Pagan Day [Slovenly]

It's a persistent, fuzzy chug that opens PyPy's Pagan Day, but the subsequent guitar solos make it immediately apparent that this LP is an absolute ripper. This Montreal band are over-the-top, balls-out ferocious. On "New York", Annie-Claude Deschênes screeches, seethes, and roars, her voice evoking the awesomely unpredictable and at-times demonic barkings of Nina Hagen. PyPy sometimes manage to quiet down a bit: On "Molly", there's a sort of call-and-response narrative and an acoustic guitar in the background—but again, they eventually bust out a huge guitar solo. Erratic and consistently thrilling, Pagan Day is an all-around impressive debut.

Ruined Fortune: Ruined Fortune [Hozac]

Late last year, Sydney's Angela Garrick released a solo LP as Angie. Now she's got a new album out with a new band: Ruined Fortune is Garrick and Nic Warnock, head of R.I.P. Society and member of the Bed Wettin' Bad Boys. Their debut LP simmers and seethes in darkness, leaning closer in hue to Sonic Youth or Chrome or Swans than the power pop of the BWBBs. Songs like "All Seeing Eye" and "Transparent Faces" have catchy central hooks, but the atmosphere is dense and thoughtfully paced. Ruined Fortune thrive in the low end—their guitars go deep, both of their voices tend to stay in their lower registers, and it's tempting to call the bass the key ingredient of their bottom-heavy sound. 

Ruined Fortune: "Black and Red" on SoundCloud.

Ausmuteants: "Felix Tried to Kill Himself" [Goodbye Boozy]

Goodbye Boozy's got a big pile of killer new 7"s out (from Wet Blankets, Trio Banana, Hierophants, and the Frowning Clouds), but none is more eye-catching than the latest from Melbourne's Ausmuteants. Yes, that's partially because of the insane artwork (which brings to mind Raymond Pettibon), but also: This is a totally awesome song. "TAKE AWAY THE RAZOR BLADES," they shout-sing—a dark instruction backed by a perfectly vicious chug. It all ends with a completely incredible, too-short guitar solo. This band's debut album Amusements is out now via Aarght and getting a U.S. release from Goner on April 1. Look for it.

Ausmuteants: "Felix Tried to Kill Himself" on SoundCloud.

Wet Drag: Silhouette Yeah [Smart Brains]

For me, the word "cassingle" will always bring to mind going to Kmart in 1996 and seeing an entire display shelf of the Spice Girls' "Wannabe". The format traditionally called for the "big hit," maybe a B-side, and usually some alternate version of the "big hit." So calling Silhouette Yeah a "cassingle" feels off for some reason; it's only nine minutes long, but it's a fully realized, fully cohesive release from Oakland's Wet Drag. It's got a frenetic sense of melody—the only sturdy sonic element on "The Cream and the Clear" is a rollicking bassline. They rip out instruments altogether in "Work Drag", which is an a cappella track featuring a series of blunted "do do do" vocals and some spat-out percussive sounds ("whap"). It might not make it to the Kmart display shelf, but still: Silhouette Yeah is awesome.

Also worth hearing: The latest single from Chicago's Radar Eyes (via Hozac); the Empty Set LP from Charlotte's Brain F≠ (via Grave Mistake); a reissue of Venezuelan punks Deskarriados (via Cabeza de Vaca Records).

Radar Eyes: "Positive Feedback" on SoundCloud.

Deskarriados: "En la madrugada" on SoundCloud.

Though the musical components of Sun Kil Moon’s Benji rarely amount to more than Mark Kozelek’s voice and acoustic guitar, its lyrical universe is incomparably vast, spanning countries and decades, populated by dead relatives, high school friends, indie-rock peers, serial killers, and corporate-franchised eateries alike. Like the catalog of samples heard on the Beastie Boys’ Paul’s Boutique, the production credits on Yeezus, or the movie-credits-length list of people who’ve played in the Fall, a supplementary directory of references is required to fully appreciate its magnitude. So here’s a track-by-track breakdown of just about everything that Mark Kozelek talks about on Benji. It's like Wikipedia, but with all the happy topics deleted.

01. "Carissa"

Carissa: Mark Kozelek’s second cousin, who died last year at the age of 35 in a freak accident involving flammable waste. And as we soon learn, it’s not the first time a member of the Kozelek clan has perished in such a fashion—Carissa’s grandfather (Kozelek’s uncle) was also killed by an exploding aerosol can. The last time Kozelek saw Carissa alive was at his funeral.

Brewster: A village in Ohio (population: 2,112 according to the 2010 census) located about an hour south of Cleveland. This is where Carissa lived, and died. She was discovered in her yard by her daughter, one of two children she raised as a teen mom.

330: Area code of the Canton, Ohio area from which Kozelek hails.

Wadsworth: Small Ohio city (population: 21,567 in the 2010 census) located about a half hour north of Brewster. This is where Carissa worked as an RN. Other notable Wadsworth natives include astronaut Michael Foreman and Warrant drummer Steven Sweet.

02. "I Can’t Live Without My Mother’s Love"

Mark Kozelek’s mom: She’s 75, and the closest friend Kozelek has.

Scrabble: A classic board game that Mark Kozelek likes to play with his mom. 

03. "Truck Driver"

Mark Kozelek’s uncle: The same one referenced in “Carissa”, he died in a fire on his birthday, “redneck that he was, burning trash in the yardway.”

Domino’s: The preferred pizza provider for Kozelek and his cousins when staying over at his aunt and uncle’s.

Happy Days: Comedy series created by Garry Marshall that aired on ABC from 1974-84. A favorite among the Kozelek clan.

Mark Kozelek’s aunt: The widow of the aforementioned uncle, who once nursed a hornet sting on Kozelek’s foot using baking powder.

Navarre: Village in Ohio (population: 1,957 in the 2010 census) where Kozelek’s aunt still lives. Family gatherings at her home involving acoustic-guitar singalongs would inspire Kozelek to become a musician.

KFC: a.k.a. Kentucky Fried Chicken—the fast food of choice served at the funeral for Kozelek’s uncle (“and that’s how he would’ve wanted it”).

04. "Dogs"

Katie Carlin: The first girl Mark Kozelek ever got to first base with, at the age of five. She reacted by hitting him. From that day forward, Mark Kozelek was petrified of blondes.

Patricia: The first girl Mark Kozelek ever got to second base with, in grade six.

"Dogs”: Seventeen-minute opus (for which this song is named) that takes up most of the first side of Pink Floyd’s 1977 albumAnimals. Also, the song that was playing when Mark Kozelek hooked up with Patricia, making it possibly the only time anybody’s gotten horny while listening to Roger Waters sing.

Shelley and Amber: The first girls Mark Kozelek ever got to third base with, at the same time. For his generous efforts, they rewarded him with a bath.

Mary-Ann: The first girl Mark Kozelek ever went all the way with.

Mary-Ann’s friend:  The first girl Mark Kozelek tried to go all the way with.

"A guy with sweat bands and a pick-up truck": The dude for whom Mary-Ann dumped Kozelek. After she hit him with the news, dude drove Kozelek home.

Deborah: A woman Mark Kozelek dated who lived by a canal and made him eggs for breakfast.

Red Lobster: Seafood chain restaurant where Mark Kozelek went on at least one date with Deborah.

Tangier:“The premier wedding, banquet, and entertainment center in Northeast, Ohio”—for those dates when Red Lobster seems déclassé.

05. "Pray for Newtown"

James Huberty: Gunman who, on July 18, 1984, killed 21 people and injured 19 in a shooting rampage at a McDonald’s in San Ydidro, California. (A police sniper took him out.) He hailed from Kozelek’s hometown of Canton, Ohio.

Safeway: Supermarket that Mark Kozelek was leaving on July 22, 2011 when he  heard about....

The Norway massacre: Coordinated attacks on a summer camp and a government building carried out by right-wing extremist Anders Behring Breivik that claimed 77 lives. 

Seoul: South Korean capital city that Kozelek travelled to (by way of Beijing) in the summer of 2012. At his hotel, he turned on CNN and heard about…

"The Batman Killer": a.k.a. James Holmes, who, on July 20, 2012, opened fire inside a movie theatre in Aurora, Colorado during a screening of The Dark Knight Rises, killing 12.

Monteleone: Historic hotel in New Orleans’ French Quarter that Kozelek stayed at in December 2012. While watching TV in his room, he heard about…

Shootings at a Portland mall: This refers to the events of December 11, 2012, wherein 22-year-old gunman Jacob Taylor Roberts killed two people and wounded a third at the Clackamas Town Center before killing himself.

Newtown: Connecticut town where, on December 12, 2012, 20 children and six adults were murdered by Adam Lanza, who then shot himself. A letter from a fan in the town purportedly prompted Kozelek to write this song.

06. "Jim Wise"

Jim Wise (real name John): A friend of Kozelek’s father who is under house arrest, awaiting trial, for mercy-killing his wife. He attempted to take his own life afterward, but the gun jammed, and he "failed at suicide."

Panera Bread: National bakery-café chain from which Mark Kozelek and his father order some take-out before visiting Jim Wise. However, as we learn later on in "Ben’s My Friend", the elder Kozelek’s reasons for frequenting Panera go beyond their fine roast-beef/asiago sandwich.

’90 Corvette: Jim Wise’s car, which he is forbidden from driving.

Mansfield Prison: Ohio correctional facility where Jim Wise will likely serve time. (Not to be confused with Mansfield Reformatory, the notorious and now-shuttered prison where The Shawshank Redemption was filmed.)

The Doors: L.A. classic-rock icons who can be found in Jim Wise’s record collection.

Stevie Nicks: Ditto.

07. "I Love My Dad"

Mark Kozelek’s dad: Kozelek loves him, despite his dad’s occasional tendency to teach lessons using his fists.

O’Douls: Non-alcoholic beer that Kozelek will nurse while his friend has a Guinness.

The Berkeley School: Private Montessori school in California that, according to Kozelek, has “only one black kid.”

They Only Come Out at Night by Edgar Winter: Hit 1972 album from albino blues-rocker that spawned the FM-radio staples "Frankenstein" and "Free Ride". Also, the album that Mark Kozelek’s dad uses to teach his son not to judge people by the color of their skin (or lack thereof).

Billy Breslin: Mark Kozelek’s dad’s friend (and a fellow wrestling fanatic) whose handicap taught the young Mark Kozelek the importance of caring for those in need.

Steubenville: Small Ohio city (population: 18,659 in 2010 census) where Billy Breslin lived (though, sadly, the city is best known for this). 

Sears: Department store where Mark Kozelek’s dad bought him his first guitar.

Nels Cline: Renowned avant-rock guitarist who’s played with the likes of Wilco, Thurston Moore, and Mike Watt. This is the second time Kozelek has mentioned Cline's name in song, though this instance is slightly more flattering than the last one. 

Mike Tyson vs. Ricky Spain: Title fight in June 20, 1985 that ended with Tyson knocking out Spain in the first round. When it came to father-son fights in the Kozelek household, Mark often played the role of Ricky Spain. 

 08. "I Watched the Film 'The Song Remains the Same'"

The Song Remains the Same: 1976 Led Zeppelin film that intercuts footage from a 1973 Madison Square Garden concert with fantasy sequences starring each individual band member. It was a fixture of the repertory midnight-movies circuit in the days before VCRs; Kozelek first saw the film at such a screening in Canton.

Jimmy Page: Led Zeppelin guitarist whose mahogany double SG transfixed the young Kozelek. 

Peter Grant: Led Zeppelin’s notoriously surly manager, who makes several memorable appearances in the film. He passed away in 1995.

John Paul Jones: Led Zeppelin’s bassist and keyboardist. Kozelek was especially fond of his dream-sequence scene.

John Bonham: Led Zeppelin’s drummer, who passed away in 1980.

"Rain Song": The shimmering second track on Led Zeppelin’s 1973 album House of the Holy. Despite his love of “the roaring Les Paul” and “the thunder of John Bonham’s drums,” Kozelek admits he was drawn to more atypically quiet songs like this one, and…

"Bron-Yr-Aur": A brief, folk-inspired acoustic instrumental that appears on the band’s 1975 double-album album Physical Grafitti (not to be confused with “Bron Yr-Aur Stomp” from Led Zeppelin III). 

"No Quarter": Another brooding Kozelek favorite that first appeared on Houses of the Holy.

Friend who was thrown from his moped: A classmate of Kozelek’s who was killed when a truck rear-ended him.

The girl who sat in front of Kozelek in remedial: Another classmate who perished in a vehicular accident.

Mark Kozelek’s grandmother: And another death Kozelek had to cope with at a young age. (We learn more about her story later on in "Micheline".)

"Some undeserving boy": A kid that Kozelek sucker-punched on his elementary-school playground just to look cool. He still feels really bad about it.

"My band": That would be Red House Painters, the celebrated folk-gaze group Kozelek fronted from 1989 to 2001.

"A friend who lives in the desert outside of Santa Fe": That would be Ivo Watts-Russell, co-founder of the U.K.-based label 4AD that released the Red House Painters’ breakthrough albums. After selling his share of his label to the Beggars Banquet label in 1999, Watts-Russell relocated to New Mexico to completely distance himself from the music industry. Kozelek recently paid him a visit in to say thank you “for discovering my talent so early.” (Another reference to this trip appears later on in "Ben’s My Friend".)

09. "Richard Ramirez Died of Natural Causes"

Richard Ramirez: a.k.a. The Night Stalker, the serial killer/rapist who embarked on a violent home-invasion spree from Los Angeles to San Francisco over the course of 1984-85, killing 13 and torturing many more. He was sentenced to death in 1989, but appeals delayed his execution indefinitely. In 2013, he died of lymphoma-related complications at the age of 53.

Peter Pan: Actual name of Ramirez’s final victim, a 66-year-old resident of the San Francisco suburb of San Mateo.

Tenderloin: The San Francisco district where Ramirez claimed his first victim, nine-year-old Mei Leung.

Bristol Hotel: San Francisco hotel where Ramirez camped out during his killing spree.

"A flight from Boston to Cleveland": A reference to Kozelek’s trip back home to attend his cousin Carissa’s funeral.

Jim Jones: Cult leader who incited a mass suicide of 909 of his followers, and the murders of several others, in Guyana in 1978.

Elvis Presley: The King’s death also makes an appearance on Kozelek’s running list of terrible events that made the news when he was a kid.

Ayatollah Khomeni: Iranian leader at the center of the 1979 Iran hostage crisis.

Ronald Reagan: Kozelek’s references the former president’s near-death in 1981 at the hands of assassin John Hinckley Jr., who, as legend has it, was reportedly just trying to impress Jodie Foster.

Mark Denton: An old friend of Kozelek’s who died of a heart attack.

Ben: Another old friend of Kozelek’s currently employed as an electrician.

Mary: Ben’s sister, who married…

Jim Evans: A pool shark by trade.

"Those Sexton kids": Former neighbours of the Kozeleks who were subjected to unspoken indignities in a house "that was the scariest of them all."

SFO: Airport code for San Francisco International Airport.

Mark Kozelek’s girlfriend: The person Mark Kozelek is most looking forward to spending a three-month break with, between making a record, fixing his kitchen, and hiring a plumber.

James Gandolfini: "Sopranos" star who died last year at the age 51, which is the same age as…

"The guy who’s coming to play drums": Steve Shelley of Sonic Youth.

"Some airline crashed and two people died": That would be Asiana Flight 214, which crashed on approach from Seoul into San Francisco on July 7, 2013.

10. "Micheline"

Micheline: A girl Kozelek knew from childhood whose "brain worked a little slower than the others."

Paul McCartney: This is a rare instance on Benji where Kozelek drops a name simply as a simile, describing Micheline as smiling "like she just got Paul McCartney’s autograph." (Such an acquisition would make Kozelek happy, too—he covered McCartney’s "Silly Love Songs" on Red House Painters’ 1996 album, Songs For a Blue Guitar.)

"A neighborhood thug": The deadbeat asshole boyfriend who made off with Micheline’s welfare checks and lifesavings. He’s currently serving life in “a Florida penitentiary with his father, both of them for murder.”

Brett: An old high-school friend of Kozelek’s. Of all the sad stories we’ve heard so far on Benji, none fully prepares you for what happens to poor Brett.

"A part in a movie": Kozelek appeared as the mostly silent bassist for Stillwater, the fictional southern-rock band at the center of Cameron Crowe’s autobiographical 2000 movie Almost Famous. 

Malmo: Swedish city to which Kozelek was travelling by train when he receives the news from his mom about Brett.

Huntington Park: The Los Angeles area where Kozelek’s grandmother resided (he thinks).

Marcel and Cyrus Hunt: Friends the young Kozelek made when visiting his grandmother. "We’d go downtown and get ice cream and feed French fries to the pigeons and talk to the handicapped vets from Vietnam."

"Young Americans": Soulful 1975 David Bowie single that reminds Kozelek of that summer in Huntington Park.

Benji: Hit G-rated 1974 film—seen by Kozelek on the aforementioned California visit—about a dog that helps solve a kidnapping case, and which gives this album its name.

62: The age at which Kozelek’s grandmother was diagnosed with the fatal disease that would claim her.

11. "Ben’s My Friend"

"I needed another track to finish up the record": That would be this song.

Union Street: Popular shopping strip in San Francisco where Kozelek and his girlfriend managed to spend $350 on lampshades.

Perry’s: Union Street restaurant that’s been a neighbourhood institution for over 40 years. Mark Kozelek highly recommends the blue crab cakes, if not the décor.

Mark Kozelek’s sister’s new boyfriend: He’s a deer hunter, and she’s getting used to venison.

Mark Kozelek’s father’s girlfriend: Wishes her boyfriend would spend a little less time at Panera Bread.

The Postal Service: Electro-pop collaboration between Death Cab for Cutie frontman Ben Gibbard—the "Friend" referred to in this song’s title—and producer Jimmy Tamborello. Last year, this tape-swapping venture embarked on its first ever tour to mark the 10th anniversary of their lone album to date, Give Up.

Greek Theater: Outdoor amphitheatre located in Berkeley, Calif., where Kozelek went to go see the Postal Service play, and suffered a midlife crisis in the process. (For one, "getting there was the worst—trying to park and getting up the hill and finding a spot amongst the drunk kids starting at their cells.")

Spain: Site of a festival where Mark Kozelek first met Ben Gibbard back in 2000. (“He was on the small stage then.”) 

Two cute Asian girls: Recipients of Mark Kozelek’s all-access backstage passes to the Postal Service show, after he decided to bail on the backstage meet-and-greet.

Tahoe: Where Mark Kozelek likes to unwind in a hot tub after midlife-crisis-inducing Postal Service concerts.

"Ba ba ba": The final words Kozelek sings on Benji, a blissful fadeout that signifies both the sense of relief he felt upon completing this record, and yours after trudging through this list.  

Being someone who plays videogames means sitting through a lot of fizzled hype. You'll hear how the newest Call of Duty provides the most realistic combat experience ever, and play it only to realize it’s still a game about shooting people in the face. Some of this has to do with the aggro-bro demographic of gamers begging for more face-shooting experiences; some of it has to do with the ineluctable tech dogma that more complex and more realistic makes for a better game. It's a back-and-forth between guiding aesthetics, and it's not always clear which side is pulling ahead.

This is what makes it a little joyous when something as weird as Flappy Bird becomes a phenomena, because it validates the idea that gamers don’t mind going against the grain—that there are many roads and paths to take when figuring out how to deliver a user experience. For example, Radiohead didn’t invest millions of dollars in creating a shooter where you play the “King of Limbs,” a grim-faced monarch bent on taking back his homeland one body at a time. Instead, they released a free app called PolyFauna based off the song “Bloom” from The King of Limbs, an app which attempts to do for your eyes what the song does for your ears. "It comes from an interest in early computer-life experiments and the imagined creatures of our subconscious," Yorke said. That’s a way of saying that the game has purposefully dinky visuals and no set purpose—it’s for you to figure out, not anyone else.

The obvious antecedent is Bjork’s Biophilia app—which she released in conjunction with the album of the same name— but that was more elaborate an experience: You had to pay more for it, and you had to learn how to use it. PolyFauna, on the other hand, is free and relatively simple to pick up. You begin as a distended presence hanging in the middle of the air of some randomly generated environment, with parts of “Bloom” playing in the background. You can write on the screen, and whatever lines you trace will be instantly chopped up and mutated into something resembling a polygonal centipede. Pretty soon, you figure out that you move in the game by turning your phone (and with it your body), and a box prompts you to follow a flashing red dot whenever it appears on screen. Move toward the dot, and you’ll hear the music pick up speed before some low-bit "Doom" sound effect shatters the screen into another environment with a different color palette and geographical layout.

As you move between worlds, different elements of “Bloom” filter in. Ghostly moaning will score your exploration of some snow-topped mountains; militaristic percussion will take you over a blood-red desert. You’ll be taken through Lynchian forests filled with dead trees and rain, all-white fields where a solar eclipse hangs in the distance, mountain ranges that seem pulled from hell (Alternate app title: Fake Digital Trees). Sometimes, a wireframe moon can be seen in the sky; sometimes, it’s hidden behind fog, only revealing itself as you move closer. It’s hard to tell how much of this is random, but some of it is by design—in some stages, the specks of volcanic ash or some kind of detritus floating around move in synchronicity with the drums. In others, you’re just zooming around. The suggested effect is ambiguous, but an easy interpretation is the visual replication of Yorke’s lyrics even as his voice is missing from the instrumentals. In the absence of a lyric like “so I lose and start over,” you’re constantly breaking through to a new world; in the absence of “turning in somersaults” is the physical sensation of constantly turning so that you don’t lose track of the dot.

It’s a pleasant experience, if not a little anticlimactic. After about thirty minutes of spinning around in my bedroom with the lights turned off to maximize the effect—it should be noted that playing this in public will get you some weird looks—I decided to tap out and reflect on what I’d seen. I don’t know if it ends—if Yorke’s voice floats in at some point, or if the changing landscapes begin to focus into some thematic conclusion. The average time a fan spends bothering with it may depend on whether they’re able to get stoned without ruining their day. There’s the possibility, though, that a conclusion isn’t really relevant—that the experience, however long you choose to have it, is the point. After all, here’s another lyric on “Bloom”: “Don’t blow your mind with why.”

When Cibo Mattoannounced this past December that they'd be releasing their first album in 15 years, Hotel Valentine, their web presence had to stage a bit of a comeback too. The duo of Tokyo-born, New York-based Yuka Honda and Miho Hatori went on hiatus in 1999—right as the internet started to explode. So along with the lead-up to Hotel Valentine came the requisite Instagram profile (which features purikara-style cameos by Honda's "Flying Space Kitty Army"), Youtube channel, and Facebook page (bio line: "It takes two to chopstick").

If you want more information about the band's history, though, you're better off looking in a slightly older corner of the internet: Cibo Matto Web, the fan site that William Wolff started in 1997—and kept up throughout the entirety of the band's hiatus. "It had sentimental value," Wolff told me over the phone last week from his home in San Francisco. "I thought that maybe they'd come back."

Jeff Birgbauer had a similar motivation when he took over ToHereKnowsWhen.org, the then-stagnant My Bloody Valentine fan site, in 2004—13 years after the band released the critically acclaimed Loveless. "People could learn about this mysterious band, so it's no longer mysterious," Birgbauer, a former real estate agent in Detriot, said of the site's purpose. Prior to last year, the news section that he faithfully manned was just an ongoing list of updates about a long-rumored box set ("No Box set now?," "Boxsets still to happen?") that was finally released in 2012. Needless to say, when the band's third album mbv dropped out of nowhere on February 2, 2013, Birgbauer's updates livened up. 

If the rumors about a new TLC album prove true, Chris Wilson will be more than ready. The Rochester, Minn., optical company manager launched CyberTLC World on GeoCities in 1997. "Growing up as a gay man in small-town Iowa, which happens to be the same place where T-Boz is from, you just latch onto those people that stand up for minority groups," he said by way of explaining his devoted fandom. When Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes died in 2002, his site provided solace to fans; he compiled quotes from ex-boyfriend Andre Rison, then-label mate Pink and now-defunct outlets like Mad Rhythms for a tribute page. Left Eye's brother, Ronald Lopes, even used CyberTLC to relay messages to grieving fans.

screenshot of the recently updated Cibo Matto Web

Maintaining a fan site through a hiatus can feel like a pointless task (after distributor BMG started hosting his site in 2000, then stopped due to the band's prolonged hiatus in 2005, Wilson downsized CyberTLC to a forum.) But websites like these are important in their own ways—as digital chronicles of how a band's hiatus is felt over time. When Cibo Matto released their last album, 1999's Stereo Type A, it was common practice for labels to either issue cease-and-desists to fan sites—or buy them out and take them over. Now, labels instruct artists to use hashtags and conduct "follow sprees" on social media. Wolff's site and others like it remind us that fandom wasn't always expressed in the tweets and Facebook likes we're now accustomed to. There's something poetic about Cibo Matto Web—providing present-tense updates, yet frozen faithfully and expectantly in 1999.

"It's sort of my overall internet philosophy that I'm supposed to make content and leave it out there for people to find," Wolff says. "You don't take the page down after you put it up."

Welcome to the first installment of Invisible Hits, a new column in which Tyler Wilcox scours the internet for the best (and strangest) bootlegs. Tyler also blogs at Doom & Gloom From the Tomb. This time, in honor of the 20th anniversary of Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, he's dug up some killer archival footage of Pavement.

"They're terrible live."

If you mentioned Pavement back in the 90s, that statement was usually not far behind. But all these years later—and a day shy of Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain's 20th birthday, at that—can we finally put that argument to rest? Stephen Malkmus has always had too mercurial a temperament to simply cruise through note-perfect versions of his tunes; he likes to fuck around with his creations. He’s still known to change lyrics at will, play radically different guitar solos, try out new tempos. Which is why for some fans, Pavement gigs could be frustrating. But for people entertained and compelled by the now-ness of a live performance, Pavement was an oddly bewitching onstage presence.

1994 marked a particularly strange moment for the band. Riding high on four years of critical hosannas and armed with an album that showed no signs of the dreaded sophomore slump, this was supposed to be the year Pavement broke through to the mainstream. Things didn’t quite work out that way, and with hindsight, it’s easy to see why. While Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain was the band’s most accessible set of tunes thus far, it was also packed to the brim with ambivalence about the prospect of rock stardom. And if there’s one thing that kills buzz, it’s ambivalence.

You can see Pavement’s uneasiness all too clearly in two clips from that year. At an unnamed festival that summer, we see the band whipping the crowd into a frenzy with a demonic "Unfair", Nastanovich howling righteously, Malkmus barely able to contain his glee. But then, without missing a beat, Pavement shuts the mosh pit down, seguing into a goofy instrumental rendition of the then-unreleased "Brinx Job".

Then, famously, Malkmus greeted Jay Leno’s late night audience on "The Tonight Show" with a bout of atonal screeching, before leading the band through that almost-smash-hit, "Cut Your Hair." What did Branford Marsalis think?

But this amazing, semi-professional video of a gig in Frankfurt in March of that year tells a different story. Great songs were pouring out of Malkmus with frightening regularity during this period (Neil Young’s unstoppable output circa 1973-4 comes to mind), and Pavement kicks off the set with an unreleased song, the wind-swept desert dirge "Pueblo." The band then swaggers through the bulk of the just-a-month-old Crooked Rain (skipping only "Range Life"). There are false starts and hiccups galore—new drummer Steve West briefly forgets how to play "Elevate Me Later" and Spiral Stairs disappears at one point, to the bewilderment of his bandmates. "The other guitarist just quit the group," Bob Nastanovich quips. 

Pavement play with an undeniable confidence and spirit, exploring the explosive cadences of "Silence Kit", drifting majestically on "Heaven Is A Truck", and ba-ba-ba-ing through old favorites like "Debris Slide" and "Forklift". They even excel on the stranger, more challenging material, like the falsetto-laden "Newark Wilder" and a "Stop Breathing" that builds to a thrilling finale. There’s very little in the way of ambivalence here—Pavement just sounds like a great rock band. Malkmus’ guitar work is less proggy than it would later become, but he still shreds with abandon, at times skronking up a storm à la Sonic Youth, at others slipping into a sparklingly psychedelic mode. He manages to fit it all in on the closing "Fillmore Jive", surely the only song to bring to mind both the Frogs and "Free Bird". "I need to sleep," goes the chorus, and the band responds with a cacophony that would wake the dead. 

Down Is Up discusses music that falls slightly under the radar of our usual coverage: demos and self-releases, as well as output from small or overlooked labels and communities. This week, Jenn Pelly highlights her favorite moments from last weekend's Don Giovanni Records showcase in Brooklyn.

I have associated February with the Don Giovanni Records showcase for the last few years, but only recently have I come to appreciate how quaint and cool it is to have a label showing detached from the headache of the annual corporate marathons. To experience the New Brunswick, N.J.-focused label for a weekend is to be immersed in a chapter of the future sequel to Our Band Could Be Your Life—a deeply inspiring, self-built punk community focused primarily on one geographic area, which understands that its records can be gifts to outsiders and weapons against assembly-line music industry monotony. There are wake-up calls coded into all of these songs that say, "You can do this, too."

At these shows, I've seen masses of Garden-State-dwellers freak out to a reunion set from local hardcore heroes Stormshadow; Amy Klein rip with her overlooked noise-rock duo Hilly Eye; Jawbreaker's Blake Schwarzenbach play with his new band, forgetters; Waxahatchee's Katie Crutchfield strum her blues to a buzzing crowd like a young Chan Marshall; Jersey punk-pop power trio Black Wine deliver sugary mini-anthems; and label fixtures Shellshag, the grunge-pop lifer duo active since the 90s, and one of my favorite bands in Brooklyn, who I first heard at a DG showcase years ago.

Screaming Females: "Bell" on SoundCloud.

Each year brings a set from the label's most celebrated export, Screaming Females, a trio that has given this generation a legitimate guitar hero in Marissa Paternoster. Fresh off recording their first live album in Chicago with Steve Albini, this set exploded with cuts from across their five records. (Their nonstop schedule seemed easy to take for granted until Paternoster got sick in 2012 and the band hit pause for a bit; see her comic about it here.) It ended with Paternoster curled up in a ball on the ground, her guitar floating away in a sea of outstretched hands, while bassist King Mike strapped his instrument onto a blue-haired fan who'd invaded the stage and then hopped down into the crowd to rage. One day people will lie about being at Screaming Females shows.

Priests: "Personal Planes" on Bandcamp

Last weekend's showcase also featured Washington, D.C. post-punk band Priests, who seem to time-warp any setting into an 80s punk show; frontwoman Katie Alice Greer's unhinged personality consumed the room. Priests share a political streak with Worriers, the excellent, lyrical new punk band from Lauren Denitzio, who opened the night. Later came the East Coast debut of Upset, the Hatfield-reminiscent guitar pop group fronted by Ali Koehler (ex-Vivian Girls/Best Coast) with Hole's Patty Schemel on drums and Swearin's Kyle Gilbride on bass. Near the front of the crowd, contributing his own harmonies, was a wide-eyed Peter Stampfel, the 75-year-old string-player active in the downtown New York scene since the 60s and 70s, a vet of the Fugs and Holy Modal Rounders who is now working with Don Giovanni. And at the back of the venue, Lookout Records founder Larry Livermore was signing copies of his memoir, the first book published by the label.

Vacation: "Pyro Hippies" on SoundCloud.

Tenement: "Stupid Werld" on Bandcamp

Until last weekend, I was not fully convinced by two Don Giovanni newcomers: Tenement, the gruff, melodic punk fixtures from the small Wisconsin town of Appleton, and Vacation, a thrashing punk-pop band from Cincinnati (members of which have recently gained some attention for their other project, Tweens). I liked their recent records—2011's Napalm Dream and 2013's Candy Waves, respectively—but knew I had to see them play. They were two of the weekend's best sets: Both made Brooklyn venue Death by Audio feel like a lawless, off-the-grid basement. During an intensely peculiar interlude, Tenement frontman Amos Pitsch rang church bells until they began to fall apart; later, the crowd demanded an encore ("Stupid Werld").

Shellshag: "1984" on SoundCloud.

Vacation covered Shellshag's "Crashing Rockets" with Shellshag on stage, shouting along before the songwriters dove into the pit of kids. It was a great teaser for the following night's rapturous set from Shellshag—whose best songs (of which there are many) crunch, soar, and smile with an ethos of resilience and emotional sincerity, oriented towards where things are going rather than where they've been. "Those kids will go the distance/ Teach you about resistance," Jen Shag sings on "1984", from 2010's Rumors in Disguise, in a nod to the younger people in the scene who began to inspire her in her 30s. It is my favorite track Don Giovanni has released. "This song is a tribute to all of these young people we've met, who inspire us, who I believe are going to save the world," Shag said in 2010. "It's just this giant song of hope for the future."

Watch the first episode of Shellshag's new internet T.V. show, "Shellshonic Shag-o-Vision", featuring Marissa Paternoster covering Sinéad O'Connor and Liz Phair:

Listen to Shellshag:

"Kiss Me Harder":

"Crashing Rockets":

"Driving Song":

"Means That Much":

"Medley":

"Gary's Note":

"Don't Change" (INXS Cover):

Shake Appeal is a column that highlights new garage and garage-adjacent releases. This week, Evan Minsker discusses the latest from San Francisco's Generation Loss, Chicago's White Mystery, Davila 666 frontman AJ Davila, Grand Rapids psych outfit Heaters, and New Orleans' Trampoline Team.

Generation Loss: Generation Loss [Cut-Rate]

Last year, Cut-Rate Records released the debut full-length from one of the Bay Area's most exciting new bands, Scraper. Now, with San Francisco three-piece Generation Loss' self-titled cassette, Cut-Rate has cemented its position as a label to watch. Generation Loss is a sharply written album recorded by Segall Band/Fuzz guitar hero Charles Mootheart. It has the sort of fuzzy shredding that recalls recent releases from California X and Milk Music. On "Turnaround", Generation Loss sweeten things with a pop melody, though they throw in some erratic guitar sounds for good measure. They get motorik on "Hostage" and open "Paralysis" with a killer guitar solo. An impressive debut that stays diverse and captivating.

White Mystery: "Unteddy" [self-released]

It's like clockwork: Every April 20, Chicago brother-and-sister duo White Mystery put out a new record. This year, it's the double LP Dubble Dragon—one half is a new studio album, the other has songs recorded live at Chicago's Double Door. "Unteddy" is further proof of just how powerful these two can be. While Francis White's drum sound seems to land harder than ever, Miss Alex White's guitar thrives in its dense, opaque low end. The song is raw power, and when it finally begins to slow down, it's with Alex's entirely badass tapping solo. This band gets better and better.

Heaters: EP [self-released]

Don't take your eyes off Grand Rapids, Michigan, because that city seems to keep churning out bands like Heaters. Formerly called Plantains, Heaters are a psych outfit whose home-recorded EP leans more garage/surf than heady stoner rock. (In Michigan psych band terms: Slightly closer to Bad Indians or the People's Temple than Haunted Leather or Sisters of Your Sunshine Vapor.) "Steve's Boots" is catchy and kinetic, while "Chili Cheese" aims for airy spookiness. Everything's a bit muffled, especially during the swirling vortex of noise that comes near the end of "Draggin' Feet", but their energy and hook writing are clearly on point.

AJ Davila: Terror Amor [Nacional]

Aside from a couple singles back in 2012, Davila 666's last release was 2011's Tan Bajo. Now, AJ Davila brings us Terror Amor, his debut solo effort. It's a good reminder that while his band's name and live reputation usually peg them as a raucous garage rock outfit, they also have a soft side (like on their masterful track "Tu"). "Ohhh" is scrappy, but also features sunny, twee instrumentation. The album certainly gets heavier on several occasions, but that balance between sweetness and distortion is a clear mirror of the album title: Terror on one hand, "amor" on the other.

AJ Davila: "2333" on SoundCloud.

Trampoline Team: Velveteen Dream EP [Pelican Pow Pow]

Shelby, Sam, and Michael are New Orleans' Trampoline Team, and their Velveteen Dream 7" is hyperactive, gleefully nihilistic garage punk. "Leave me alone," they sing on "Feels Like Nothing". "Fuck your stupid job," they declare during "Hands Off". Everything on this EP is really fast—their drum attack, the rapid-fire guitar solo that closes out "Rabbit Foot", etc. Everything on this record bites and soars. Like any good 7" in this wheelhouse, it's like a bag of potato chips—you run through it pretty quickly and want to go back for more as soon as you're done. I've lost count of how many times I've flipped this record.

Trampoline Team: "Feels Like Nothing" on SoundCloud.

Trampoline Team: "I'm So Popular" on SoundCloud.

Also Worth Hearing: A video from Tough Age (via Mint); the new single from Johnny Ill Band (via Dusty Medical).

When it comes to winter and popular music, you might as well call it Event Season—the Billboard charts are shaken and stirred almost weekly by a series of major televised happenings. Just as we’re coming down from the momentary high of the Grammys, the Super Bowl comes along and sends a pair of albums by halftime star Bruno Mars flying back toward the Top 10. Even the Beatles are moving up on the album chart thanks to their own hyped Sunday night special.

What’s next on TV’s snowbound blockbuster parade? The Oscars—the second-highest-rated live television event of the year, after the Super Bowl—are just a couple of weeks away. And why endure those interminable Best Original Song performances if we’re not going to be inspired to consume some new music?

The problem with that last question is the word new. Generally, by the time a song is nominated by the Motion Picture Academy, it’s been out for months, and any chart impact it had is long past. That’s if the song was a hit in the first place—in recent years the connection between the Hot 100 and Oscar-winning songs has grown tenuous (“Falling Slowly” from Once) or nonexistent (“Man or Muppet” from The Muppets).

That’s what makes this year’s Best Original Song contest unusually interesting: Two of this year’s nominees are bucking both of those trends. Not only are these two songs currently on the Hot 100—the Top 20, in fact—but both could see a material chart benefit from the Oscar telecast itself. That’s especially rare.

On this week’s chart, the two songs in contention are up six slots apiece. The first is the infectious “Happy” by Pharrell Williams, which first appeared last summer on the Despicable Me 2 soundtrack and this week vaults from No. 8 to No. 2.

The other is the blockbuster Frozen soundtrack's impassioned “Let It Go” by Idina Menzel, which rises from No. 24 to No. 18.

Each song is already a Hot 100 milestone in the respective artist’s career. By rising to No. 2 this week, “Happy” is Williams’s biggest hit ever as a lead act. Over the past decade he’s been credited as a featured act on No. 1 hits by Snoop Dogg, Ludacris and, of course, Robin Thicke, but prior to “Happy” Pharrell’s highest-charting lead credit was the Jay-Z-backed “Frontin’,” which reached No. 5 in 2003. As for the Tony-winning Menzel—already a tween show-tune legend for singing Wicked’s deathless “Defying Gravity”—the closest she’s come to the Top 20, before this Frozen tune, is on a string of Glee singles that credited that TV show’s cast, not her; none got higher on the Hot 100 than her No. 20-ranked cover of Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” with Lea Michele.

Neither song is guaranteed to win, which is part of what makes this year’s matchup interesting—not only are they both strong contenders, but they’re up against U2’s “Ordinary Love” from the biographical film Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom, a song that already won the Golden Globe. (Gaming it out: U2 has lost the Oscar before—“The Hands That Built America” from Gangs of New York lost in 2003 to an Eminem song we’ll discuss in a minute—so despite being U-effing-2 they’re not a lock. This year’s fourth nominee, Karen O, with “The Moon Song” from Spike Jonze’s Her, is probably just grateful to be a contender.)

Anyway, no matter what, all of these songs will be showcased on the Oscar telecast. So what about the chart impact?

Over at Billboard, chart-watchers are making much of the fact that Pharrell’s “Happy” is the highest-charting Best Original Song contender since Eminem’s “Lose Yourself”, winner of the 2003 Oscar and a No. 1 smash. But that Oscar win did little for Slim Shady’s song. By the time of the February 11, 2003, Oscar broadcast, “Lose” had completed its epic 12-week run at No. 1 and was slipping down the charts; its final week in the Hot 100 penthouse was in mid-January. So while Em’s win was an upset over the favored U2 (check out Barbra Streisand gasping as she opens the envelope! Shady didn’t bother to show up), by then the Oscar was essentially a ratification of the 8 Mile song’s blockbuster status; it didn’t do anything to make “Lose” a hit.

“Lose Yourself” is a good example of the overall trend: Historically, the little gold man has had a very limited effect on music sales. Most years, the Oscar producers do set aside a solid chunk of time for Original Song performances—although, given all the other song-and-dancefolderol on the broadcast, those performances aren’t necessarily standouts. Mostly, though, the lack of chart impact is because most Oscar-nominated songs are too old and have already peaked.

Looking at more than a half-century of chart history—since Billboard launched the Hot 100 in 1958—very few songs (less than 10%) can be said to have received a major boost from a Best Original Song Oscar win.

As shown by this helpful Billboard rundown of 50 years of Oscar-winners on the Hot 100, a total of 16 No. 1 songs took home the Best Original Song statue. If you’re curious, the periods where the Oscars and the Billboard charts were most in sync were the ’70s and especially the ’80s—from 1970 to 1989, there were 13 Original Song Oscar winners that topped the Hot 100. Six were in the ’70s (including B.J. Thomas’s 1969 “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, which won its statue in 1970). In the ’80s, the Oscars lined up a stunning seven-year consecutive streak of No. 1 winners, from 1981’s “Arthur’s Theme (Best That You Can Do)” by Christopher Cross, through 1987’s “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life” by Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes from Dirty Dancing. The most amazing show for Billboard junkies was the 1985 Oscars—all five Original Song contenders were 1984 No. 1 hits: “Against All Odds (Take a Look at Me Now)” by Phil Collins; “Footloose” by Kenny Loggins; “Let's Hear It for the Boy” by Deniece Williams, also from Footloose; Ray Parker Jr.’s “Ghostbusters”; and the ultimate winner (and weakest song of the bunch), Stevie Wonder’s “I Just Called to Say I Love You” from The Woman in Red.

None of the 16 Oscar-winning songs that reached No. 1 were sitting in the penthouse the week of the Oscars, though a few cut it very close. Two Barbra Streisand winners, 1974’s “The Way We Were” and 1977’s “Evergreen (Love Theme from A Star Is Born),” won their respective Oscars just weeks after each song fell from No. 1. In 1993, Peabo Bryson and Regina Belle’s “A Whole New World” from Aladdin spent its sole week at No. 1 less than a month before it, too, took home the statue. And in 1998 Celine Dion’s unkillable “My Heart Will Go On” (sorry if that tin whistle is now instantly stuck in your head) departed the chart summit just weeks before Titanic’s Oscar sweep.

There’s just one No. 1 Oscar winner that reached the summit after the show: Maureen McGovern’s disastrous love song“The Morning After” from 1972’s The Poseidon Adventure crawled to the top slot in the summer of 1973, a full four months after its win on that year’s Oscar telecast. Indeed, Fred Bronson’s Billboard Book of Number One Hits specifically notes, “…only after the extra attention the song garnered from winning an Academy Award [did] it become a hit.”

Among non-chart-toppers, I only count four other songs that got a solid boost and became serious hits (Top 40 or better) thanks to exposure from winning the Oscar. In 1976, Keith Carradine’s “I’m Easy” from Nashville finally debuted on the Hot 100 about two months after the show, ultimately peaking at No. 17. In 1992, Celine Dion and Peabo Bryson’s “Beauty & the Beast” had already reached the Top 10 before the Oscars, but after winning the statue it climbed back into the Top 10 and reached a new peak of No. 9. In 1994, Bruce Springsteen’s “Streets of Philadelphia” was on the rise, already bulleted within the Top 20 on Oscar night; after he took home the gold, the song rose to No. 10, its peak. Finally and perhaps most spectacularly, A.R. Rahman’s “Jai Ho” from Slumdog Millionaire had never reached the Top 40 before the Oscars, but the week after the show it catapulted from No. 100 to No. 15 and even became a brief radio hit thanks to a tacky remix featuring the Pussycat Dolls’ Nicole Scherzinger.

So, including the McGovern chart-topper, that’s five Hot 100 hits out of 54 that the Best Song Oscar materially boosted. Two other songs whose composers won the Best Original Score Oscar wound up with bigger hits after the show: Marvin Hamlisch’s arrangement of Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer” from The Sting, a No. 3 hit in 1974; and Vangelis’s “Chariots of Fire,” which hit No. 1 in 1982. Still, even throwing in those two, that’s not a great hit ratio over more than half a century. 

Should Pharrell Williams or the Frozen songwriters even concern themselves with scoring an Oscar bump? The truth is, on the list of catalysts spurring each song up the chart, the Oscar nod is icing on the cake.

In addition to its Oscar nominations, Frozen is also an improbably long-lived blockbuster. Until last week it was in the box-office top five for a full three months after it premiered—an almost Titanic-like run—and its soundtrack just spent its fourth week at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 album chart last week. The movie and soundtrack are so popular that a second version of “Let It Go,” by Top 40 starlet Demi Lovato, also made the Top 40, reaching No. 38 a couple of weeks ago. (Ironically, this version, recorded by Disney to garner radio airplay and not in the movie itself, has done less well than Menzel’s movie-based original.)

As for Pharrell, Billboard has reported that “Happy” is enjoying the glow of not one, but two TV ad campaigns: a Beats by Dre speaker ad, and a new Fiat car campaign with Diddy. At this writing, “Happy” is already iTunes’ best-selling single, topping Katy Perry’s three-week Hot 100 chart-topper “Dark Horse” for the first time—a clear sign that the song is bound for the top of the Billboard chart, too.

If you’re a Pharrell fan, here’s one last thing to root for: If “Happy” is sitting at No. 1 on the Hot 100 two weeks from now, and it takes the Academy Award, that will make it the first Best Original Song winner to be America’s top song the very week it won. Oscar might not be able to claim credit for this hit—but as they say in risk-averse Hollywood, hey, it can’t hurt.

How’s your 2014 going? Do you feel like you’ve accomplished anything in the first 50 days of the year? Is time passing you by? Does it make you feel worse that every musician on Earth has covered Beyoncé’s “Drunk in Love” already? Does it make you feel better that there’s no way anyone has listened to every single one? Except for me, for the express purpose of telling you which ones are worth your time (smooth jazz!) and which ones should be forgotten immediately (go on vacation, Diplo, and not to Jamaica).

It’s a long road ahead. The saxophone will be our savior.

01. Rashad Maybell

Rashad Maybell is a saxophone player and prolific cover artist who updates his YouTube page multiple times a week with smooth jazz versions of major pop smashes (“Wrecking Ball”) and oldies R&B. His twist of “Drunk in Love” is a total revelation, though: as the instrumental plays, Maybell mimics Beyoncé’s vocals with his sax, riding the waves of the beat like the brass is a—well, you know. The greatest part of the original “Drunk in Love” is how improvisational Beyoncé’s verses sound, which make them perfect for someone who loves to do nothing more than to shoot rainbows out of his saxophone.

02. Katy B

When Katy B does covers, they always feel truly curated. She has spotlighted forgotten classics by artists like Kele Le Roc and Inner City, and most recently mashed up Arctic Monkeys and Ben Pearson. So, of course, her cover of “Drunk in Love” isn’t solely that; instead it grows out of her version of Tinashe’s “Vulnerable.” The pairing is intentional: “Vulnerable” is about intense lust, too, but an agitated sort where the aggression comes from frustration and not radiant marital bliss. It’s a juxtaposition, but a harmonic one, and it holds together because Katy B is the only person on this list whose voice can play on the same field as Beyoncé’s.

03. Future

Future and Ciara are the Beyoncé and Jay Z for a certain type of nerd, so something about this version just feels cosmically right. But Future is also the only major artist here who maintains the original’s spirit while still bringing a singularity that isn’t weird or gross or jarring (we’ll get to all three soon). Where Beyoncé’s vocals soar up, Future’s ripple out, but they’re both drunk in love just the same.

04. Kanye West

It’s a lot easier to stomach Kanye’s weird sex lyrics when they at least mean new Kanye music, especially if we’re talking something as mind-bending as Yeezus. But there is a version of “Drunk in Love” that exists without Kanye rapping about reverse cowgirl, so I’m probably just gonna choose that one at the end of the day. Still, there’s something to be said about the pure goofiness of Kanye’s verse: even Beyoncé’s sloppiest sex seems a bit too perfect. 

05. Angel Haze

This version is exceedingly competent but, like a lot of what Angel Haze does, is also a bit labored. It does imagine “Drunk in Love” as a Glastonbury set closer, though, which is a bit of an interesting twist, and I think her backing vocalist might actually be drunk, so shoutout to her.

06. Rico Love and Plies

Rico Love is a sneakily good R&B artist whose part on this remix is straight garbage. Plies is… Plies: two bars into his verse and he’s already talking about where he wants to ejaculate. Also, he’s never been in love, so this is really “Drunk In Plies’ Neverending Porno.” I like this one though because it allows me to daydream about Beyoncé dropping her album out of nowhere, exactly the same as it is now and in the exact same way, but with Plies on “Drunk in Love” instead of Jay Z.

07. Detail

It’s easy to see what Detail, who produced the original song, was going for here. The idea of “Drunk in Love” as a blown-out movie score is sort of dastardly brilliant considering how titanic the first version already is. But the loop of Beyoncé’s wailing sounds like a pre-fitted Soundcloud prank and the final six minutes never actually accomplish what the concept threatens.

08. James Blake

This is throwback James Blake: your sultry R&B singer is now a moaning ghost. But he doesn’t seem quite invested in the idea, and so this one is jokey and forgettable.

09. The Weeknd

This is really good—as sultry and dark as the best Weeknd songs—for exactly 90 seconds, but then the beat drops (why does a beat drop?), Abel Tesfaye starts rapping and I remember that I stopped listening to the Weeknd two years ago.

10. T.I.

This isn’t last because of the sole strength of T.I.’s mere existence on a song, but GOOD GOD THE GUY WHO LITERALLY RECORDED TRAP MUZIK IS NOW DOING “TRAP MUSIC” NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. “Now don’t take this as misogyny/ When I say take this mahogany” is a hilariously stupid line, though.

11. IceJJFish

IceJJFish is some sort of meme or comedian or something? I don’t know, I’ve got 30 million other things to figure out before I die so call me when Yung Humma floats over “Drunk in Love.”

12. Diplo

I’m not convinced that the real Diplo actually did this remix. Are we sure there isn’t a beta version of the Mad Decent app that allows any bored 17-year-old to throw a whoopee cushion beat-drop into his or her favorite pop song? NOTE: If this is Diplo doing self-parody, move to number one.

∞. Karmin

“No results found for ‘karmin beyonce drunk in love cover’.” Well at least we have this.