I’m not the writer I used to be. I like to blame the internet. I think the place has gone from an enriching sandbox to a dulling thalidomide. Everything I try – organization, regiment, time management – is destined to be foiled by a rotating set of social media websites, games, and text messages.
I don’t listen to music the way I used to, either. In college, I listened to three or four new albums a day, chronicling my thoughts endlessly. Now, I am frequently frustrated by my own impatience. For some reason, I find it much harder to sit through a complete record – indeed, even the phrase "sit through" drips with an eagerness to move on.
It seems I have no self-control. What is to be done? Do I cultivate the monastic attitude required to actually become a better writer, reader, or listener? Should I accept the sea change and use the internet to my advantage, posting takes on Instagram and recording album reviews for TikTok?
I don’t think I have it in me. I like artifacts, and the modern internet is so fleeting and temporary. I want something basic – something stripped back and bare, just text and image.
You may notice that I’m listing these albums in alphabetical order by artist instead of ranking them. I take issue with the algorithmic approach to media consumption that dominates the landscape right now. Even the words “media consumption” send a shiver down my spine.
This album is a 7.2? What are you talking about? How can I say one album is better than another, even marginally, when two alleged tens or zeroes can be so different? Plus, now you can’t get mad at me for having the wrong opinion.
I have made a Spotify playlist (yuck, but another time) to accompany this review. In the spirit of collaboration, I encourage you to make your own playlists and send them to me at crewbitt@gmail.com. You can also send your complaints, comments, and threats here, as well.
Anyway, let’s get on with it.
I wanna be on the fringe!
Like many indie rock fans, I was introduced to Cheekface through their 2022 single “We Need a Bigger Dumpster.” The goofy track, talk-sung by the equally goofy Greg Katz, marked what felt like the “end” of the worst of COVID-19. The broad anxieties and paranoias of the pandemic years were brushed off with a casual “everything is fine” and the underlying fear that things were about to get much, much worse.
With their new album, It’s Sorted, the Los Angeles trio tackle the agitation of the postmodern era with an exuberant and sarcastic flair. A spiritual sequel (in my mind only) to Jeff Rosenstock’s iconic WORRY., It’s Sorted employs vivid imagery and wry humor to underscore gripes about doorbell cameras, grad school, and trophy hunting.
It’s Sorted is filled with the bells, trills, whistles and thistles that Cheekface fans have come to know and love. On “Life in a Bag,” the slicing guitar gives way to a crunchy keyboard hook, an inescapable annoyance that one can’t help but anticipate with glee. The album is filled with bright percussion, from the persistent cowbell of “There Were Changes in the Hardcore Scene” to the adulant, clapping crowds of “Popular 2.” Cheekface’s sound is a little grimy and a little grainy, but the band takes advantage of every inch and second of musical space to pack it with bright inflections, groovy basslines, and whistle solos.
The grime of the production, of course, isn’t even the album’s biggest hurdle. That would be Katz’s voice, a love-it-or-hate-it mimicry of John McCrea (Cake) and his mumbly barely-singing. This isn’t Hobo Johnson, though – there is a distinct melody and tempo to Katz’s voice, and a personality and comedy to lines like “We found your social security number on the dark web” that poseurs like Johnson can only hope to capture. Plus, there are enough vocal accoutrements to keep things fresh, such as the pitched-up backing vocals of “Waking up again and again” on “Grad School.”
Cheekface is at their best when they’re talking about changing norms, best exemplified (shocker) on “There Were Changes in the Hardcore Scene.” Harkening back to the Rosenstock comparison, this track laments the commodification of punk spaces and the hypocrisy of some of these communities. It’s Sorted is cynical, to be sure, criticizing anything that makes money at every turn and eschewing popularity for “The Fringe.” But it is a gleeful cynicism, one that doesn’t attack so much as it prods and points at the state of things, beer in hand, and laughs “Weird, huh?”
Favorite Song: “There Were Changes in the Hardcore Scene”
What in this crowd of a million men could make a worthy study?
Sam Sparks, the man behind Gumshoes, makes the music I wish I made. His jaunty, DIY concept albums are the epitome of outsider art, and his 2023 LP, Dreadnought Dreadnought, painted a fun little image of a lone sailor trying to sail against the waves of an industry that he refused to buy into. His new album, Cacophony, is a gleeful lamentation of fame and fortune that follows in the wake of its predecessor.
Sparks loves a concept album, and is insistent on exploring his ideas in great detail, both on and off the tracks. His Bandcamp page describes his newest album as the biography of a failed punk band, the titular Cacophony, after they play a show for “an audience of zero.” Gumshoes has always written about outcasts, rejects, and losers, and it’s telling that his latest work is a reflection on a collective of failed artists.
The highlight of the album is “Nobodies,” a pyromaniacal discourse on art for its own sake. Told from the perspective of Cacophony’s lead guitarist, it’s a tribute to stand-up musicians and streamless artists. There is a beautiful futility as Sparks sings “You can sing like no one’s listening, ‘cause nobody is.” Throughout his career, Sparks has seen little in the way of mainstream success – but, like his protagonists, he finds himself unable to stop.
Through the lens of a flailing punk act, Cacophony paints a history of the unrequited relationship artists can have with their art. On “The Puppet Waltz,” a singer abandons his craft, using a hand puppet as a proxy. Sparks’ chamber pop often gives way to swirling tragicomedies, and he describes, in detail, the lives of men who live lives inches from the ledge. “Last Living Kennedy” tells the story of a drummer, aged by industry and the burden of trailblazing, as he contemplates throwing in the towel.
Still, it’s not all doom and gloom for the Gumshoes protagonists. In a heart-bursting waltz, the “Last Living Kennedy” decides that he has sold his soul – ”to melody” instead of to “his enemies.” This pursuit of art as a means of self-expression and a form of beauty is noble – not in spite of its humility, but almost because of it. On “Nobodies,” Sparks goes from bemoaning his lack of audience to seeing it as a gift, singing “you’ll be fruitful in your failure.”
The analysis Sparks invites goes down easy, even if the songs may grate to a listener used to soaring melodies and trained singing. Through the metaphor of alien abduction, “One Fine Specimen” is all about dissection and critique, a come-and-see plea to read deeply into his work. While Cacophony is not as riotous and bold as Dreadnought Dreadnought, its focus is ten times clearer and its messages are more palatable to musicians, critics, and fans.
Favorite Song: “Nobodies”
Do you think anybody’s actually gonna dance to this?
I’ve never really been a fan of the Beastie Boys. The Gen X adoration for the brash, punchy trio was something I didn’t understand, even though my friends insisted and tried to get me on the bandwagon.
It turns out I never have to listen to the Beastie Boys, and thank God for that. This year, Pennsylvania Zoomers Joseph Bertolino and Braedan Lugue put out NO HANDS, a rowdy follow-up to their 2023 debut, PUNK TACTICS. The album is lightning in a bottle, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it snapshot of internet and youth culture in 2024. It will probably age terribly, but for now, the fervor and drive behind it are euphoric.
The duo is Gen Z through and through. Their lyrics are incredibly – almost painfully – online. They sounds like kids as they sing about Roblox and Round1, and their immaturity really comes through when they rap about money and butts. Somehow, this works in their favor, allowing audiences to not take them too seriously and just enjoy the music in front of them. “Living life like it’s double XP weekend” is an extremely contemporary idea, but it carries with it the ethos of “carpe diem,” a perennial mentality that the pair embrace throughout NO HANDS.
While their lyrics ooze with modernity, the production and the duo’s instincts are pure old-school. Sure, they rap about John Cena and Attack on Titan, but there is a timelessness to a lot of what they’ve put out on this album, especially with the boisterous beats, guitars, and saxophones that dominate NO HANDS. Joey Valence speaks to this consistency on the titular track, saying “When I was ten, I was sippin’ Shirley Temples / Present day, I’m still sippin’ Shirley Temples.” The jury is still out on whether or not these two will blow up like the Beastie Boys did, but they clearly have the energy and eagerness to go long.
Favorite Song: “BUSSIT”
I been chillin’ in a dark place.
In 2018, Tierra Whack released WHACK WORLD, a 15-minute, 15-song mixtape that sent ripples through the music world. In the time since, those ripples have spread further, as Whack has showcased her artistic talents with theatric performances from the infamous Tiny Desk to SFMOMA, where I was lucky to watch her perform earlier this year.
Whack has earned a reputation for bubbly, artsy hip-hop, and her new album is no exception. Her vocal warbles and comedic attitude are inescapable on WORLD WIDE WHACK, as are her darker introspections. This juxtaposition can cause a bit of whiplash, and the production throughout the album embodies this back-and-forth. “DIFFICULT” is a Pierrot’s anthem, a cold, sad treatise on the difficult and unending passage of life. Whack sings “living is difficult” several times throughout the song with her signature delivery, a vocal flutter that carries vulnerability and truth with every utterance. After the bleakness of “DIFFICULT,” the bouncy and energetic “SHOWER SONG” comes on, and Whack gleefully sings “I sound great when I’m singing in the shower.” Her delivery here reminds me of iconic tracks like “Stir Fry,” buoyant and uncaring. This contrast is common on the album, as Whack bounces between soft piano over lofi drums to crunching, even overbearing beats and melodies.
That’s not to say WORLD WIDE WHACK is inconsistent or uneven. The contrast is the point, and this is made clear on the transition between the first two tracks. “MOOD SWING” is prototypical Whack, a glittery piano under a wobbling but steady voice. It’s got the catchy hook, a single verse, and a return to the hook – exactly the formula she perfected on her 2018 debut.
Immediately after this, she punches in to “MS BEHAVE,” a manic episode manifesting with toms and just the right amount of stank. Her bipolar approach to this new work expands on and deepens her previous projects, demonstrating her flexibility without discarding her assets.
It’s impossible to fully understand WORLD WIDE WHACK without the Rosetta Stone of “27 CLUB.” The album’s closing track is a Camusian meditation on death, artistry, and fame, blending suicidal ideation with realistic optimism. Whack embraces the complex dynamics of modern life, neither praising nor condemning her emotions or the people around her. Instead, her album looks at a glass of water without seeing it as half empty or half full. When you have drink in your cup, what’s the difference?
Favorite Song: “27 CLUB”
Griselda’s run been some years, I’m ‘bout to give us ten more.
In a world of noise, it’s bold to move in silence. For the past decade, Griselda Records and its affiliates has been quietly putting out some of the best easy-listening rap in the industry. They’re a prolific label, putting out album after album like it’s nothing. Over the years, cofounder Westside Gunn has maintained this reputation with a consistent series of well-crafted mixtapes and well-timed collaborations.
Gunn’s blend of street life and laid-back production creates a breathing atmosphere and a drama fit for the stage. The cast on Still Praying is a who’s-who of Griselda. While it’s still Gunn that plays the lead, every protagonist needs a deuteragonist, and in the play of Still Praying, nobody serves as a better foil to Gunn than DJ Drama.
Performing a similar role to his features on Tyler, the Creator’s Call Me If You Get Lost, Drama brings fanfare through his ad libs and commentary. From frequent grunts to imitated gunshots, he is Greek chorus, comedic relief, and hype man all rolled into one. He is serious with a sense of humor, his bombastic appeal blending effortlessly with Gunn’s reedy timbre.
Backstage, there's production from Conductor Williams, Denny Laflare, and Camoflauge Monk, each bringing their own distinct twist to the crunchy drums and gentle keys that dominate Still Praying.
Laflare is particularly strong here, prologuing the album with a smooth trumpet sample from Piero Umiliani on “Waly Fay” and the haunting “Justin Roberts.” “Runway Pieces At The Last Supper” is another buttery smooth entry, while Williams and Monk serve up harder punches on songs like “Free Shots” and “Still Praying.”
The latter, the album’s titular track, is also it’s longest. This is a must, as it’s here that the largest cast is assembled: Griselda staples like Benny the Butcher, Boldy James, and Conway the Machine scrawl their signatures on the track like a tribe of John Hancocks, each leaving listeners eager to hear who’s up next.
Favorite Song: “Still Praying”
