Jem is an English artist hitting the British jazz pop scene with her EP, Love Me or Lose Me. Motifs about forbidden love come through Jem’s rich tones and smooth jazz rhythms in its four tracks. The EP starts with “Juliet,” which introduces the more self-conscious and exploratory parts of starting a new relationship. The red flags are waving throughout – the overthinking, the doubt, the blinders over the lover’s flaws, but that’s par for the course if you’re getting drawn in by a Romeo. “Falling 4U,” featuring Tomi Balogh, romanticizes the falling with some 00s-type R&B flavors.
A standout track for is “1.18,” where our Juliet is caught in her thoughts in the wee hours of the morning. Smooth rhythms with spoken-word vocals lament a deep insecurity from an unsure love. All those red flags from the first two tracks come to a head here. Sweet and strummy guitars illustrate that frustrating feeling of uncertainty. It’s hard to know if her lover is giving her the runaround, or if she’s giving it to herself through that endless process of thinking and rethinking into eternity. What strikes me is how often I’ve been down this road, and how many friends I have watched spiral, asking “what are we?” Maybe needing to ask is the biggest red flag of all.
Jem’s voice and keys fit with the shift to cold winter tones. Final track “Fingertips” tinkles this warm EP to a close. A solid effort from this London-based newcomer.
Nova Scotia’s soulful songstress Reeny Smith released smooth ballad “Amber Lights” in late September. “Amber Lights” are warning signs to slow down and heed some caution. Reeny’s gospel-trained pipes are warm to the ears. It’s a sweet track with a good message, especially if you’re the kind of person that sees an amber signal and hits the gas… a possible disaster in either a car or a relationship.
Reeny’s sound and vibe are pitch perfect for a holiday album, and as we welcome the winter season, also check out her EP of holiday tracks, Where You At Santa? It’s a low-key bunch of tinkling hot cocoa ballads and Hallmark movie R&B. I’m always down for a new version of “Little Drummer Boy” and Reeny’s is pretty nice.
The front page of his bold bright-on-black website welcomes you with the following: “You’re finally home, my fellow weirdo.” He might as well have rolled out a red carpet for a dweeb like me. Basic Printer (Jesse Gillenwalters) and his color-blocked universe hail from Nashville’s underground, where he has developed a small but mighty following for his catchy experimental pop with electronic twiddly sound bits. True to the tone of the album, he succumbed to his id and set it free a week early. HAHA YEAH is 26 minutes of bright vocals over earwormy rhythms as he explores relationship drama and emotional blockage, an experience he describes as a “temper tantrum” of emotional immaturity.
The album makes an interesting choice by tossing medical terms in with its robo-imagery, giving this pop a bit of iron and gristle. The first track is called “<3 MECHANICAL HEARTBEAT <3,” pre-emoji hearts included. This tune laments the speaker’s defensively cold heart with a pretty vocal. Boppy “TOURNIQUET,” references tying wounds and “razors in her mouth.” It’s a little metal for the bedroom pop but I’m not mad about it – these medical references give his candied synth an edge. But HAHA YEAH gets more dark than gooey. “EVER SINCE YOU MOVED (DOWN THE STREET)” uses its mechanical voice for a fizzy buzzy confession and then lets VGM sounds express the shame and panic that the voice cannot. Even the end of “PATIENT ROLE” slows itself down and darkly declares that “we are conjoined,” the weightiest medical word of the tune and one that shifts its sadness into what feels like a want of control.
“PATIENT ROLE” ends up being a stand out track. It has this mellow descent that is so smooth and beautiful while also being powerfully desperate. A hip hop interlude from A. J. Crew slides smoothly through extended covidian metaphors. But the biggest draw for me is how Jesse’s cutie-pie vocal wraps around my vena cava. We get moments of his raw insecurity coming through: “Tell me/I need to know I’m needed/I need to know I’m healthy/I’m begging for empathy/know me.” It warbles through my mellow and pokes the buttons in my needy spots. I like the way his voice goes high. Get it, Mariah.
HAHA YEAH reveals a lot of turmoil in eight pop tracks. It comes to a begrudging, maybe even petulant conclusion that makes it hard to know if its voice is maturing or just yielding. But what it does most successfully is toss in eggs and sugar to bake these contradictions into funfetti cake. It’s a worthy choice for the repeat button, I think.
Funhouse Mirror is the fifth offering from Danish duo Vinyl Floor. Brothers Daniel and Thomas Charlie Pederson share vocals and songwriting duties and play most of the instrumental parts themselves. Supported by a handful of invited musicians, the album was recorded live in Malmö, Sweden and finished in their native Denmark. Funhouse Mirror’s ten tracks are a plate of biscuits with buttery layers of beautiful sound and lyric. This is really approachable and satisfying melodic indie pop with gently psychedelic qualities and stark lyrical imagery. The Pederson’s vocals have a richness, like a tint to them that I feel like I keep hearing in other artists of Scandinavian descent (Daði Freyr and Erlend Øye come to mind). They are clear, pretty, and warm.
Funhouse Mirror is a collection of minor key melodies stuffed with soaring whooshy moments thanks to its liberal use of horns, keys, and breezy vocals. From the start, opener track “Anything You Want” is a stomper that introduces the album’s retro “grandchild of Sargeant Pepper” feel. Following, “Clock With No Hands” and “Between Lines Undone” really center those amazing Pederson vocals. They’re chock full of Jellyfish-like woowoos, and I love me some woowoos. Woowoos power the engines that keep Vinyl Floor’s melancholic songs in flight. Like much music coming out right now, the majority of songs were written in the dark years. Funhaus Mirror is an attempt to make that inescapable mid-lockdown “Groundhog Day” feeling into something that transcends, and somehow it manages to capture both the good and the bad without being too reminiscent of all those crappy feelings that you’d rather forget, because now they feel like funnel cake during a day at the carnival.
Around mid album we start getting heady and folky, with tracks like “Dear Apollon” and “Ever the Optimist” playing with idioms and allegories. “Dear Apollon” prays for divine inspiration through Billy Joel-esque piano soft rock, continuing that sense of listlessness: “I long for pacific winds to shake me through, today not tomorrow.” “Ever the Optimist,” turns this common phrasing of words into a character who seems to descend into himself. As “Ever” rolls into a delicious jamband groove, I realize these attempts to stay skyward and jaunty are more and more desperate.
By the last third of the album, the tracks become one long narrative diving into one’s darkness and back. The album hits its emotional nadir during “Death of a Poet,” where it changes and molts before descending into proggy grunge in “Stare, Scare.” This one is heavy enough for some Heavy Metal-esque mental animations thanks to its electric guitars and references to fear. For all of its tonal darkness, this one is the most optimistic as it stares mortality in the face, and suddenly drum beats are clubs bashing the brains of zombies or Nazgûl or stalfos – pick your fantasy poison. Its finale, “Days,” is like a reward for the vigilance of battling the evils. If the album soars through the sky, “Days” is a dusky orange horizon and a reason to set down and rest your head.
All in all, Funhouse Mirror is beautifully done. It carries its triumph throughout its ten tracks and still manages to end on the strongest emotions. It’s a great offering for anyone who is looking to sit in their sads and watch the clouds.
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