Barrie – Canyons
Barrie are a new five-piece band based out of Brooklyn, and they’ve just released their debut single, “Canyons,” which is the kind of groovy, dreamy haze that’s easy to fall for. The band’s fronted by Barrie Lindsay, who used to put out music as Grammar, and there’s a noticeable weight behind her words that supports the head-in-the-clouds transportation that the rest of the song encourages. The opening scene is especially evocative, giving yourself over to what might be out of your control: “In the back of the matinee, sitting on velvet/ Tilt your head back when the trailer play, red light exit,” Barrie sings as the song ramps into gear. “Oh, you’re breathing in when you’re ready/ Oh, you’re breathing dust slow and steady.”
Read the rest of this article at Stereogum
Kero Kero Bonito – Only Acting
Kero Kero Bonito full on rock out on their new single, “Only Acting,” subbing in real-life guitar, bass, and drums for the first time on a track in place of their usual synthetic take on bubbly pop music. But those soaring instruments hit the same dopamine receptors, and make them sound like kindred spirits of contemporary ’90s rock revivalists like, say, Charly Bliss.
Sarah Perry’s lyrics here are all about learning to embody the feeling behind something rather than stick strictly to a script, just like how “Only Acting” adheres to the spirit of the KKB ethos if not the sound. “I thought I was only acting, but I felt like exactly like it was all for real,” Perry sings. “I sure didn’t know it hurt so, but then no rehearsal could show you how to feel inside.” The London trio love to keep you on your toes though, and there are some surprises on “Only Acting” best left unspoiled, though let’s just say that it’s no wonder that they made a radio edit as well.
Read the rest of this article at Stereogum
Frank Ocean – Moon River
It is truly a sign of the terrible times that many American youths have never wept uncontrollably to “Moon River,” the heartbreaking ballad “a very lovely, very frightened girl” strums on her fire escape in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Lucky for them, Frank Ocean, the elusive romantic we truly do not deserve, dropped a cover of the Henry Mancini/Johnny Mercer classic just hours after Valentine’s Day. As originally performed by Audrey Hepburn, “Moon River” is a wispy ode to wanderlust and the immense opportunities “two drifters” find in the glorious unknown. But it becomes something far different in Ocean’s hands; as he showed on his 2016 cover of the Isley Brothers’ (and Aaliyah’s) “(At Your Best) You Are Love,” he is never content with simply imitating another artist.
Ocean’s version of “Moon River” trades Hepburn’s gentle sigh for bold and confident yearnings. As he warbles about the wild surrounding world, Ocean envisions his own self-realization through double-tracked new lines like “What I see, What I become.” Ocean’s only sin here is cutting the original’s detail about “my huckleberry friend,” a sweet allusion to the carefree innocence of childhood that feels right up his alley. (As he once sang, wisely, “We’ll never be those kids again.”) Ocean’s “Moon River” retains the enchanting comfort of the Hepburn original without sacrificing any of his genius. It’s the balm we never knew we needed.
Read the rest of this article at Pitchfork
Pizzagirl – Carseat
Rock bands used to be mysterious organizations. Fandom was an exercise in extreme patience. You whiled away the hours in monk-like private study of records, lyrics, and liner notes. A new song or video or interview hit like a scientist’s “eureka” moment, offering a new lens through which to explore familiar worlds more closely. But there were weeks and months where you heard nothing and pure enthusiasm and hope had to suffice. This was decades before bands sagely buttered all their favorite publications with access and exclusives come album time, before every inch of every performance was broadcast to the world across intersecting planes of social media. I miss the quiet of the ’90s sometimes, and I have a funny feeling a lot of working musicians do too, now that everyone feels the same icy pressure to inflate every album release into a multimedia event.Pizzagirl crafts DIY gloom-pop with a spectacular display of ambition.
Matching indie songwriting to faltering electronics, there’s an endearingly ramshackle tint to much of his songwriting.
Defiantly solo and extremely individual, Pizzagirl’s debut track caused a stir online, and this follow up should underline the hype.
‘Carseat’ is all drifting synths and sighing vocals, an oddly surreal yet emotionally engrossing electro-pop ear-worm. He explains…
“‘Carseat’ is an ode to the non-drivers of the world (like myself), the bold and beautiful ones who have control over the music on every journey, whether it be far or wide. So relax, tune in to pizzagirlFM, kick back in the passenger seat and bop away!”
Read the rest of this article at Clash
Ravyn Lenae – The Night Song
When Steve Lacy, known for his work as part of the Internet and for composing one of the best beats on Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN. using only his iPhone, was offered an opportunity to produce an EP for Chicago R&B upstart Ravyn Lenae, he went for it. “She’s so young and she’s not locked into a certain style or vocal range, so anything I’d give her, she’s like, ‘I got you.’” he told Beats 1 late last year. He looks at his relationship with Lenae as his Pharrell-Kelis or Timbaland-Aaliyah moment.
Those are bold comparisons, but Lenae and Lacy’s alchemy on Crush bears them out. When Lacy works with artists like Kendrick or Tyler, the Creator, he often pushes them to change their style to adapt to his own delicate style of soul and funk. With Lenae, they’re exploring together, and “Sticky,” the EP’s irresistibly catchy single, makes it clear they’ve found something special. On the song, Lenae’s not just proffering lyrics about a crummy relationship—she slips and slides through cadences over Lacy’s unconventional riffs, and her “woo-hoo-hoo”-ing is as muscular as the bass. She’s got the range to take on Lacy’s contemporary SoCal soul.
The 19-year-old singer’s past work—including stints touring with Noname and SZA—suggested an artist who doesn’t just want to be famous, but who wants to build herself a new musical world. Her first two EPs, produced by Chicago’s Monte Booker in 2016 and 2017, paired her soul-inspired vocals with his signature off-kilter beats. Their artistic success hinged on Lenae’s ability to find herself in the music, adapting her supple and versatile voice to the producer’s idiosyncratic palette.
Read the rest of this article at Pitchfork
