In another year, its layered guitar work and massive drums would have prompted massive pits and reckless stage dives at outdoor music festivals. Hopefully, for Dogleg, that future involves kids doing literal backflips into much bigger crowds. All you can do is bask in the power of Flo Milli shit. She has a rare ability to connect the fragmented images passing by the window to what she feels inside: She shows us funnel clouds dropping from the sky, a slaughterhouse, and a shopping mall, and turns each into a signpost for her own confusion.
As the song builds, despair is tempered by a burst of energy that hints at survival. Pop music loves to memorialize doomed romances and terrible exes; the genre offers considerably less for failed friendships. It serves as the grand finale to an especially intimate folk song, hinting at the virtuosic talent he often keeps behind the scenes. Set to walls of guitar and synth hooks, his lyrics contain a nod to the music that inspired him as a Black teenager interested in punk and indie, and to the unfulfilling jobs he worked for years to pay the bills before quitting to focus on performing and producing.
Not any more than someone who manages to make jeans and a T-shirt look beautiful. And it only takes her a minute. One thing nine months more or less alone reveals is whom to miss and whom to let go. Always ahead of his time, Shamir wrote an anthem for figuring this out before lockdown; lucky for us, he released it just as the loneliness really set in. In a year defined by dancing on your own, Shamir made it sound like self-actualization.
The real magic is the winking humility of the image in the mirror: a woman criticized endlessly for being too rich and too gauche who knows that living well is still the best revenge. So too will she. Like a gentle river, time passing slowly is better than it not passing at all. Lil Uzi Vert just beamed down in a pair of Balenciaga jeans that cost more than your biweekly paycheck before taxes , and he is ready to rap. But time and time again, his efforts to rendezvous with his digital paramour are interrupted by real-life obstacles, from locked hotel rooms to the awkwardness of online intimacy.
Over beachy guitar riffs and bouncy hand claps, singer-bassist Emily Kempf expresses a desire to detach herself from the limitations of relationships, painting separation as a bittersweet opportunity for growth. The difference between independence and loneliness, Dehd suggest, is your relationship with yourself. Even this stylish opportunist has still got some charisma left. Lil Durk]. You might consider this as kind of like one of those pop-punk covers of turn-of-the-millennium hits gone spectacularly right.
But as the barbed guitar riffs and methodical bass plucks give way to a chorus made for a hot-pink dressing room montage scene played at 1. Tamara Lindeman sketches out a villain—the titular thief, silent and cool—before lifting the veil on larger forces at work: laws, banks, a rotten system that forces people to act in their own self-interest.
By the time "Robber" reaches its urgent climax, Lindeman has transformed a personal reckoning with societal failures into a reflective prompt for the listener. Can you blame yourself for ruthlessness if you were never given a choice?
While she luxuriates in the heady, horny stuff of the verses—of perfect symmetry and blown candles—the beat throbs with lockstep control, less feeling love than meaning business. Bounding along atop a turbo-charged filter-house template, the song gleefully reanimates the ghosts of French touch and harkens back to the days when house producers regularly and rightfully landed in the Top Jazmine Sullivan has a gift for eulogizing relationships that are beyond saving, and even beyond possibility.
The vocal melody encompasses a range you could find under one hand on the piano, just a few notes, while her fingerpicking works its familiar, comforting magic. There were so very few reasons to break out in ecstatic dance this year, but Jayda G offered a sublime exception.
Dry, papery beats, synchronized claps, and muffled chit-chat lend the atmosphere of a packed, pulsing nightclub—and the molasses-slow breakdown offers one of the best beat-drop payoffs of the year. After months of inertia, Jayda G brought the dancefloor to us. Some might find it crass to describe death in the same words as a wiped hard drive, but, well, this is still Grimes.
It opens with percussion that sounds like a rapping at the door, a wake-up call. After a raft of heavy breaths, barking dogs, and a pounding-heart bassline that convey the frazzled yet determined energy of finding your footing, the song ends with a twinkling flourish of keys—a playful ta-da underscoring the realization that a broken lock is just the beginning. Their rich, fluttering harmonies pirouette over trap snares, finger snaps, and wobbling bass, all the while painting a portrait of a perfectly unbothered night out with friends.
Meghan Remy wears the perfectionist swagger of American pop like a disguise. Her stylistic shifts might seem willfully evasive, but as she puts it on "4 American Dollars," "It's not personal, it's business. Girls, which revels in the sounds of hard-fought freedom—gospel, blues, Springsteen—utilizing their easy familiarity as a Trojan horse for materialist critique. Inverting a quote from Martin Luther King Jr.
Listen: U. If asked to pinpoint the primary emotional experience of quarantine, you might go with listlessness, or fatigue. But neither quite nails it.
Sophia Allison of Soccer Mommy nailed our constant recursion, atrophy, isolation, gall, and grief back in the early spring. Then it floats back down and alights on these days , the great borderless period of time in which we find ourselves.
Following detours into Tony Bennett-style crooning , lightly country-fried rock , and Oscar-winning melodrama , Lady Gaga made her ferocious return to the club with the all-bangers-no-ballads Chromatica. No tears left to cry? It begins like a faithful car being jump-started to make the last leg of a long trip; a spark of life followed by relief.
But it also wears a graceful disguise. On her debut album Stranger in the Alps, Phoebe Bridgers stopped analyzing her dreams. Profile Successfully Updated. This Email ID is already registered. Submit or click Cancel to register with another email ID. Submit Cancel. Please enter Valid details Ok got it!
Enter Email ID Submit. Edit Email Id Contact Us. Create New Save OR. Select From Existing Playlist. Listen to Taang Uthake - Housefull 3 1 day ago. Labheshs iPhone 6s Active Save. Are you sure want to delete the Playlist Delete Cancel. Recent Searches. Songs View all. Albums View all. Playlist View all. Radio View all. Videos View all. Movies View all. Artists View all. Video Playlists View all. TV Shows View all. Episodes View all. TV Episodes View all.
Are you sure, you want to continue yes no. No Yes. Do you want to save changes? Yes No. Papa, can you see me? Papa, can you find me in the night? Papa, are you near me? Papa, can you help me not be frightened? Looking at the skies. La la la La la la la Swallow pills like cherry pops Lose my way and lose my touch Can you hear me?
La la la la Can you hear me? La la la la. La la la La la la la I've got sharpies in my socks Draw three lines and test my gut Draw three lines and rest my luck goddamn. La la la La la la la Can you hear me? Can you hear me? More on Genius.
0コメント