Music

Best Albums of 2023: # 5 – 1

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5. Emm Gryner, Business & Pleasure

Gryner purposely set out to make a “Yacht-Rock”-inspired record and fully understood the assignment, working with veterans of the constituted-after-the-fact genre (more of a feeling, really) and constructing songs harkening back to another era while somehow remaining contemporary in their outlook (more like timeless, actually.) So, if “Loose Wig” and “Burn The Boats” recall Steely Dan, and “Jack” is in sync with Toto and “The Chance” references Christopher Cross’ “Ride Like The Wind”, her resilience and the newfound joy her craft exudes prevents them from serving as mere homages; as a matter-of-fact, they also sound like Emm Gryner songs—melodic, inviting, yearning and effervescent.

4. Romy, Mid-Air

I was hoping for a good debut solo album from this vocalist of The xx but honestly wasn’t expecting one this good: diving headfirst into electronic dance music (particularly diva house), she manages to sound cool, calm and collected as ever while simultaneously like she’s having the time of her life. Full of paeans to same-sex lust and love, it also liberates her from her past poker-faced ambiguity. On “Enjoy Your Life”, she turns a basic three-word cliche into a code to live by and in turn, a means of salvation, while on the insistent “She’s On My Mind”, her declarations of desire blossom, build and gradually turn euphoric.

3. The Clientele, I Am Not There Anymore

I fell in love with this mostly-active-in-the-00’s indie British trio on their 2017 return, Music For The Age of Miracles, which became of one my favorites of that decade. On this follow up, they reprise their trademark autumnal chamber pop but suffuse it with more instrumental segues and spoken-word tone poems and even some subtle electronics. Stunning opener “Fables Of The Silverlink” serves as an overture with melodies and motifs reappearing throughout the rest of the album, which soon emerges as a complex, hour-long song cycle about childhood memory and infringing mortality. If that sounds intimidating and arty, it’s just as often embracing as on the crisp, clear pop of “Blue Over Blue” or the absorbing, Middle Eastern-accented “Dying In May”. 

2. Everything But The Girl, Fuse

Sonically, this picks right up where their last record, 1999’s Temperamental left off, but only to a point. In the interim, Ben Watt and Tracey Thorn both released multiple solo efforts, some of them pretty accomplished ones, so it follows that this return conveys maturity and wisdom gleaned since then. Although predominantly electronic, these ten songs are encouragingly evolutionary, alternating bangers like “Nothing Left To Lose” and “Caution to The Wind” with more atmospheric, delicate stuff such as “Run A Red Light” with its enthralling sense of space and reverberating piano chords.  Thorn’s vocals are also occasionally adjusted and enhanced, revealing new shadings as applied to lyrics charting the passage of time and a tenuous future—perhaps, not so tenuous; is this the beginning of a superb second act?

1. Corinne Bailey Rae, Black Rainbows

Best known for her 2006 hit “Put Your Records On”, this Brit’s released only three more albums since that year’s self-titled debut; each one has revealed depth and exhibited growth beyond that pleasant single but her first effort in seven years is something else. Expertly swerving between genres and tones, it’s a tour de force whether essaying Afro-futurism (“Earthlings” beats early Janelle Monae at her own game), heavy, insistent thrash rock (!) (“Erasure”, “New York Transit Queen”), Laura Nyro-esque balladry (!!) (“Peach Velvet Sky”), creeping exotica that turns on a dime into Prince-worthy psychedelia (“He Will Follow You With His Eyes”) or a heady, multipart groove workout (“Put It Down”). Inspired by her residency at Chicago’s Stony Island Arts Bank, Black Rainbows is unwavering in ambition and breathtaking in scope. Although very much its own thing, taking it all in, I can’t help but compare it to another groundbreaking fourth album by one of my favorite artists (whom I could even imagine covering the crystalline “Red Horse”.)

Best Albums of 2023: # 10 – 6

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10. Sparks, The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte

If ever an act was perfectly positioned for a victory lap, it’s the venerable duo of Russell and Ron Mael, more in the spotlight than ever thanks to Edgar Wright’s documentary about them and their divisive musical film Annette. It also doesn’t hurt that this delectably-titled 25th (!) studio album catalogs all of their strengths while continuing to reveal new hues in their art-pop palette, including the anthemic (and typically snarky) “Nothing As Is Good As They Say It Is” and also “It Doesn’t Have To Be That Way”, a lovely summation of the brothers’ philosophy without the snark. Maybe their best since Lil’ Beethoven?

9. Robert Forster, The Candle and The Flame

Forster’s fourth album since Grant McLennan (his partner in The Go-Betweens) passed is his quietest and most domestic-focused, even if all of it apart from opener “She’s A Fighter” preceded his wife’s cancer diagnosis (update: she’s still fighting it.) One expects such maturity and taking stock from a 65-year-old, although Forster was already doing so (rather brilliantly) nearly twenty years ago on Oceans Apart. These nine observations are all of a piece, but “Tender Years” is the key: “See how far we’ve come”, he poignantly sings, and he’s earned the gravitas for it to really mean something.

8. Slowdive, everything is alive

After a solid, self-titled reunion album six years ago, this iconic 90s shoegaze band is consistent as ever but with a hunger to reassess and evolve. The dominance of electronics (nearly half the songs are built on synth riffs) sets it apart from all their past work without obscuring the elements that made them Slowdive. Those tired of waiting for another Cure album may find “kisses” a more-than-adequate substitute; still, alternating the poppier stuff with a pastoral instrumental (“prayer remembered”) and slow-building, eventually shimmering rave-ups like “shanty” and “the slab”, they prove nearly as vital in 2023 as they did with 1993’s Souvlaki.

7. Christine and The Queens, Paranoia, Angels, True Love

Leave it to this oddball to attempt an honest-to-god triple album in the streaming era (although at 97 minutes, it could’ve been a double). Having come out as trans-masculine last year, Chris (formerly Héloïse Letissier) nearly goes for broke with an Angels In America-inspired concept LP about shifting identities, spiritual yearning and god knows what else. He seems determined not to repeat himself and everything from the discordant, eleven-minute “Track 10” (actually Track 7) to the lovely, simple “Flowery Days” not only suggests new, intriguing directions but a passion for development and growth which, four albums in, is timed just right.

6. Jessie Ware, That! Feels Good!

I don’t envy Ware the task of having to follow up the exceptional What’s Your Pleasure?; her fifth album is more a lateral move than any attempt to top it. Leaning further into the hedonistic pleasures of disco and dancefloor soul, it may come off as a little expedient at times—little here matches last year’s glorious, pre-album single “Free Yourself”, although the samba-inflected “Begin Again” comes close. Regardless, Ware’s effusiveness nearly saves the day whether she’s indulging in a parade of double-entendres (“Shake The Bottle”) or easing on down the road towards some kind of unabashed bliss (“These Lips”, “Hello Love”).

Best Albums of 2023: # 15 – 11

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15. Jamila Woods, Water Made Us

The succinct, Neneh Cherry-worthy “Tiny Garden” is one of this year’s best singles, but Woods’ third album offers a lot more to love. Reallocating her focus from the cultural essaying of 2019’s LEGACY! LEGACY! towards the intimacy and fragility of relationships, she tempers her alternative R&B/folk with nifty poetic interludes (“I Miss All My Exes”, “Let The Cards Fall”) and simple hooks that exude restraint but also undeniable pleasure (“Practice”, “Boomerang”). While not necessarily an innovator nor yet an icon, her natural talent and deeply felt point of view are in ample supply.

14. The Tubs, Dead Meat

For sure, the vocalist bears a heavy resemblance to Richard Thompson but within thirty seconds of rousing opener “Illusion pt. II” it’s obvious this foursome is no mere homage or tribute act; their welcoming melodies, intricate guitar lines and rarely obvious chord changes all sound effortless like good pop music should but seldom does. I suppose one could argue the originality of things like the spiky riffs of “Sniveller” which conjure up postpunk to a degree bands like Franz Ferdinand have been trading in for decades now, but that doesn’t render it any less of a thrill to hear.

13. Sufjan Stevens, Javelin

Not a return-to-form in the style of Carrie and Lowell, just as that record wasn’t one in relation to Seven Swans. Apart from the uninspired, simplistic lyrics of 2020’s The Ascension, he has never been one to rest on his laurels; what makes Javelin so intriguing is in how it resolutely sounds like a Sufjan Stevens LP while also a push forward to reassess and explore what that means in 2023 (and beyond.) Knowledge that it’s a tribute to a recently deceased partner adds unignorable context but even without that news, this shows him refusing to be complacent and remaining engaged with wherever his muse(s) take him.

12. Alex Lahey, The Answer Is Always Yes

What can you do after two ten-track, near-perfect power/punk-pop albums? Logically, you’d shoot for a third, but on her first release in four years, this Aussie singer/songwriter takes a slightly different approach, opting for more looseness and impulsivity on introspective, pandemic-era observations like “Permanent” and “The Sky is Melting”. Rest assured, she still brings the hooks (the latter’s ascendant chorus is one of her best) and her never-wavering sense of economy, but from “Good Time” to “Shit Talkin’”, she’s refining her craft while never obscuring a sense of who she is, which is no small feat.

11. Mitski, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We

She nearly turned into a more elusive Pat Benatar over her increasingly slick past two records (note: this was not a good thing), so her about-face here is a bit of a relief. It also reminds me of the similar shift Sam Phillips made on Fan Dance two decades ago but far less minimalist, employing choirs and strings, pedal steel guitar and more atmosphere than those last two albums together offered. “My Love Mine All Mine” is one of the least likely fueled-by-Tik Tok crossover hits and that it could’ve easily happened to any of these 11 tracks reveals this collection’s consistency.

Best Albums of 2023: # 20 – 16

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20. Yves Tumor, Praise a Lord Who Chews but Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds)

According to my Spotify “Wrapped” for this year, my favorite genre was “Art Pop”; thus, it seems right to kick this countdown off with something fully of that description, near Fiona Apple-length LP title and all. I highlighted effusive single “Echolalia” in my mid-year report, but Sean Lee Bowie’s fifth album under this moniker is often as catchy as it weird, spiced with vintage samples, shape-shifting song structures and in “Operator”, a cheerleader chant previously adopted/rendered demented by Faith No More three decades ago (and in this artist’s hands, just as effectively today.)

19. Meg Baird, Furling

I felt moved to hear this after Dusted Magazine praised it mid-year and opener “Ashes, Ashes” registered with me in no time. A languorous six-minute comedown of wordless sighs over a piano-and-rhythm-with-vibes vamp, it’s a perfect mood-setter for this gentle, gauzy, occasionally devastating folk opus. Like The Sundays’ Harriet Wheeler, Baird’s breathiness and cheery but sustaining high tone contrast skillfully with the minor chord progressions and pastoral acoustic settings. An affable companion to my top album of last year, Beth Orton’s Weather Alive.

18. Paul Simon, Seven Psalms

Five years into his retirement from touring, octogenarian Simon made an unexpected return with a record unlike anything else he’s done: a 33-minute song cycle inspired by the Book of Psalms featuring seven movements and released both physically and digitally as one unbroken track. Potentially a challenging listen for those looking for another addition to the man’s voluminous songbook, it’s also a reminder of his innate talent, with both words and music continually revealing nuance and something approaching enlightenment on each listen. If this proves his final word, it’s one of his most profound.

17. The National, Laugh Track

I am among those wondering why these Dad Rock Gods opted to put out two albums six months apart this year instead one killer release. First Two Pages of Frankenstein hit my honorable mentions list (“Tropic Morning News” might end up their deserved legacy hit) but I’ve come to prefer Laugh Track for being a bit roomier and also a whole lot more ambitious. The seven-minute “Space Invader” with its thunderous coda is the peak, but diversions on either side of it (a Bon Iver duet; scrappy, improvised closer “Smoke Detector”) make the case that these are much better than mere leftovers.

16. Meshell Ndegeocello, The Omnichord Real Book

Thirty years on from her debut album (and nearly ten since her last set of original songs), Ndegeocello returns with a lengthy, typically genre-averse collection. Although the titular electronic instrument is present throughout, it is but one ingredient in a blend of soul, funk, jazz, folk and rock that no matter how spacy or boundary pushing rarely drifts off into the ether or loses focus. She’s endured as an artist not only for her capacity to explore but also for her ability to connect, a distinction that often separates a legend from a flash-in-the-pan.

Best Albums of 2023: Honorable Mentions

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Regarding my favorite music this year, I’m counting down a Top 20 Albums list (instead of my usual Top 10 or 15) over the next few days. I wouldn’t say that I was necessarily more engaged with new music compared to past years, but I can’t deny the effort I put into looking for it. Spotify provides numerous paths towards finding it (particularly through its personalized “Discover Weekly” playlists) and naturally not everything clicks (I made it one-and-a-half songs through that much-praised Wednesday album before moving on.) To stumble upon a great new song/album or for longtime artists to seemingly emerge with one out of the blue is what keeps me stimulated and also motivated in the pursuit of more.

Here are some albums that didn’t make my Top 20 but are still worth further delving into (with a few footnotes):

  • Boygenius, The Record
  • Caroline Polachek, Desire, I Want To Turn Into You
  • The Coral, Sea of Mirrors*
  • Depeche Mode, Memento Mori**
  • Fever Ray, Radical Romantics
  • Jake Shears, Last Man Dancing
  • Jungle, Volcano
  • Kara Jackson, Why Does The Earth Give Us People To Love?*
  • Kate NV, WOW
  • Kylie Minogue, Tension
  • MAN ON MAN, Provincetown
  • Metric, Formentera II
  • The National, First Two Pages of Frankenstein
  • Peter Gabriel, i/o***
  • PJ Harvey, I Inside The Old Year Dying
  • Shamir, Homo Anxietatem
  • Troye Sivan, Something To Give Each Other
  • US Girls, Bless This Mess

*Seriously considered placing these two in the Top 20.

**Entirely, unexpectedly their best in over two decades for what it’s worth.

***This came out on 12/1, so I may need more time to absorb it (even if it was released track-by-track throughout the year.)

Mix: Elevator To The Moon

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In midlife, I find myself more receptive to aesthetics I would have deemed inconceivable in my youth: adventurous cuisines and libations (the twenty-year-old me would’ve shuddered at a sushi dinner or a glass of rye whiskey), facial hair as an attractive feature (though not necessarily on myself) and most of all, music deemed seriously unhip by my peers. I mean, at 21, I listened to Dionne Warwick as often as I did Blur or XTC but in the past few years, I’ve had a newfound craving for mid-20th century instrumental Lounge and Exotica, not to mention that terminal scourge of a genre, Easy Listening.

I wonder if it’s an attempt to return to early childhood. At that impressionable age, I’d often find solace in WEZW (“E-Z 104 FM” (actually 103.7)), Milwaukee’s own easy listening station. A few years back, I came across a recording from it circa June 1980 on YouTube and with it, a flood of long-dormant memories. My parents would play it in the car (not as often as their beloved “Mix” station WMYX, which unlike WEZW is still on the air) and I’d occasionally hear it out in the wild (mostly at barber shops, doctors’ waiting rooms, even in the principal’s office once when I was sick in fourth grade.) It was practically a staple all through December when it would (mostly) switch over to a holiday music format.

Last year, I began compiling a Spotify playlist called “Elevator to Bliss”, generally adding tracks via the app’s “Let’s Find Something For Your Playlist” algorithm. Whittled down from 50-odd tracks and retitled to fit its space-age vibes (in many senses of the term), some of the thirty selections below might’ve appeared on WEZW back in the day, but not all. As one digs deeper into the notion of “Elevator Music” (Joseph Lanza’s book of the same name is an enlightening resource), one excavates genres upon subgenres. Often, what separates the (mildly) stimulating from the merely soothing comes down to a matter of personal taste; this is the sort of playlist that is also effective when left on shuffle. However, I’ve attempted a trajectory of sorts, beginning and ending with different versions of the same tune, exhibiting how easily an instrumental shlock hit can be gently repurposed as sci-fi camp (by Mr. Spock, no less!)

In between those alternate-world bookends sits a cornucopia of film music from renown masters (John Barry, Henry Mancini, Lalo Schifrin) and more cultish figures (Riz Ortolani, Sven Liabek, Carlos Rustichelli) along with a few selections from the early 70s (themes from Airport and Klute) that anticipate primetime soap opera scores from later in that decade. Cool Jazz is also represented with vibraphonist Cal Tjader rubbing shoulders against Bossa Nova king Antonio Carlos Jobin and flautist Herbie Mann. If we’re including the 70s, we have to make room for some instrumental funk (Charles Stepney) and such genre-bending oddities as Michel Polnareff’s “Voyages” and Alain Tew’s spare but sex-x-y “The Fence”.

I turn to this playlist when I want to zone out to instrumental music, whether while writing, working, walking or drifting off to sleep. Still, it’s not exactly the same as background or ambient noise. I no longer believe in “guilty pleasures”—all that matters to me these days is how pleasing I find the music; this playlist does the job.

Haunted Jukebox Mix #7: Elevator To The Moon

Mix: Feels Like Summer (2003)

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Twenty summers ago, I made my last ever mixtape—that is, a music mix on a C-90 cassette as opposed to a blank compact disc. A few months earlier, I had acquired my very first laptop computer (dude, I got a Dell) which allowed me to make the move from analog to digital.

By late July 2003, I had a few mix CDs under my belt but circumstance gave me an excuse to make one more mixtape. In my hometown of Milwaukee, I met up with my parents (who then lived in Iowa) for three nights; then, I spent another six nights with my friend Laura, a Chicago native whom I met as a student at Marquette University some years before. I’d moved to Boston shortly after graduation but she stayed on. Between her job at a nursery and other family commitments, I was left alone roughly half of that time to apartment-sit, see other old friends and explore the city I’d left behind. Laura lived on the East Side just off Oakland Ave and I had a blast visiting all the old haunts, from the Oriental and Downer Theatres to Bradford Beach, Atomic Records and even Klode Park out in Whitefish Bay.

With ample time on my hands, I curated a mixtape for Laura as a thankful gesture for putting me up. I had brought an entire Case Logic 128-capacity CD wallet with me stuffed with all-time faves, recent purchases and a few discs I had to review for Splendid!, a music website I wrote for at the time; I may have also schlepped a blank tape with me purposely for this task. Laura was (and continues to be) a friend I make mixes for on an annual basis, going all the way back to our senior year at MU when we first bonded as friends and I crafted her a tape she dubbed the “Kriofske Mix” (a moniker I lent to two of my (now former) blogs.)

Revisiting this mix two decades on, I feel transported back to my late 20’s, an primordial era where I apparently thought nothing of including two songs by Ani DiFranco, two tracks from the Punch-Drunk Love soundtrack, an album cut from The White Stripes’ then-new Elephant (my #2 album of that year, I haven’t listened to it in at least 15) and the gauzy opener from Blur’s then-new Think Thank (also not heard in full in a long, long time.) I had also recently gotten into The Go-Betweens, The New Pornographers and Mary Lou Lord—hearing what I selected from each again reminds me what it was like to discover an artist one connected with so instantly you’d rush out and devour their back catalog piece by piece depending on what you could find in (for me, mostly used) record stores.

Among these twenty tracks, six are from albums I reviewed for Splendid! Required to write about everything from obnoxious prog-rock to near-ambient mood music, they’re scattered across that range: Paul Brill’s genre-expanding take on Americana, Natacha Atlas doing the same for world music (and sounding entirely different), Northern State (a clever and disarmingly low-fi distaff Beastie Boys), two cuts from a compilation for a record label helmed by a member of the Cocteau Twins (including the title track above) and an a capella cover of a Pixies song on TV On The Radio’s debut EP, so new-sounding and exceptional I wasn’t surprised by the mass-acclaim their second LP Return To Cookie Mountain received three years later.

True to titular form, there’s a loose and fairly obvious summer theme going on here. My favorite section is the last five songs—“You Had Time” sets the pensive, reflective mood (much better than the other DiFranco selection, anyway) and Jeff Buckley’s dreamy, ethereal cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” (which I listened to about 100 times that summer) runs with it, sustained by another old-school Stuart Murdoch reverie. Somehow, the contrasting tones of Shelley Duvall and Tunde Adebimpe just fit right in. I often cringe at mixes I made decades ago, but at least the last quarter of this one hit nicely when I revisited it a few weeks back, walking under the overgrow trees of the Commonwealth Mall on an idyllic mid-summer late afternoon.

Haunted Jukebox Mix #6: Feels Like Summer (2003)

Mix: Suffocated Love

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In midsummer, as the humidity surfaces like a dense soup infiltrating all in its wake, I turn to music that’s languorous and laid back but not prosaic or aural wallpaper. In the mid-90’s, a genre dubbed “Trip-Hop” pleasantly attained this sweet spot: bands such as Massive Attack, Morcheeba, Portishead and the lesser-known-but-just-as-worthy Mono all blended loping beats and samples with chill female vocals into tunes like intoxicating smoothies that at best transcended the “mood/bedroom music for stoners” tag that was often bestowed upon them.

This is not entirely a trip-hop mix despite its title coming from a track off of what remains arguably the genre’s furthest-reaching masterpiece, Tricky’s Maxinquaye (1995). Actually, it began as an overview of modern-day songs in the same spirit (if not quite sound): Lana Del Rey’s groove earworm “Peppers”, The Clientele’s incorporation of breakbeats into their ever-distinct chamber pop, vibrant new songs from artists who were there in the 90’s (an evocative highlight of Everything But The Girl’s reunion album Fuse; Slowdive’s first single from their forthcoming release.) Then, Christine and the Queens’ “Tears Can Be So Soft” ended up successfully emulating/updating that sound, so it was no short leap to include stuff from both eras (among others.)

Since trip-hop could be such a nebulous genre, some songs that don’t really fit there still find their place here. “Love Nobody”, indie singer Jenn Champion’s collab with electropop artist Oyster Kids is a track I rediscovered after saving it to an ongoing folder of new music heard on my Spotify-curated “Discover Weekly” playlist two years ago—more 21st century 80’s (an accidental genre that could warrant its own mix) but an affable entry point into what follows. Speaking of the 80’s, Yacht Rock could be trip-hop’s sideway equivalent of that era, and U.S. Girls’ “Only Daedalus” and Emm Gryner’s “Loose Wig” are nothing if not 21st century yacht rock (and so Steely Dan-influenced I couldn’t help but place one of their old songs in between.) As usual, a vibe mix is more a journey than a destination (Del Rey next to Bill Withers next to Air!) even if it concludes with Stars’ Amy Millan blissfully considering the value of being here now.

Haunted Jukebox Mix #5: Suffocated Love

We Can Play The Part: Halfway Through 2023

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Below you’ll find many of the usual suspects when it comes to my favorite albums of the year (so far): Jessie Ware’s looser, wilder (and perhaps slapdash by design) follow-up to the best album of 2020, Robert Forster’s song cycle about aging and resilience, Emm Gryner’s triumphant yacht rock-influenced return and Alex Lahey’s long-awaited third full-length. Others I couldn’t have predicted a year ago: Sparks’ most compelling release since 2006’s Hello Young Lovers, Jake Shears back in action with a second solo album that nearly ranks with the best of his former band Scissor Sisters, supergroup Boygenius reemerging with a record that sounds better with each spin and most of all, a reformed Everything But The Girl, 24 years on from Temperamental and it’s like they haven’t missed a day (or a beat.)

New to me is Yves Tumor’s unclassifiable art-pop, their laboriously-titled fifth album stuffed with vivid neo-psychedelia and chewy (if twisted) hooks (see onomatopoeic earworm “Echolalia”.) Nowhere near ready to claim a favorite of these twelve yet, but Christine and the Queens’ ultra-recent triple(!) album is the one I feel has the most room for exploration and growth.

Favorite 2023 Albums So Far (in alphabetical order by artist):

Alex Lahey, The Answer Is Always Yes

Boygenius, The Record

Christine and The Queens, Paranoia, Angels, True Love

Emm Gryner, Business & Pleasure

Everything But The Girl, Fuse

Fever Ray, Radical Romantics

Jake Shears, Last Man Dancing

Jessie Ware, That! Feels Good!

The National, First Two Pages of Frankenstein

Robert Forster, The Candle and The Flame

Sparks, The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte

Yves Tumor, Praise a Lord Who Chews but Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds) 

Rye Lane

So many movies I have yet to see (Asteroid City and Past Lives among them) and a good chunk below are technically 2022 titles that didn’t play Boston or hit streaming until this year (Laura Poitras’ best film to date and Jafar Panahi’s most accomplished in years) or titles I saw at IFF Boston (watch out for Christian Petzold’s amazing Afire.) Perhaps the most obscure title below, Give Me Pity! is the one I’d most encourage people to see, although British rom-com Rye Lane is right there on Hulu and a exquisite way to spend 82 minutes.

Favorite 2023 Films So Far (Alphabetical by title):

Afire

All That Breathes

All The Beauty and the Bloodshed

Give Me Pity!

Godland

Hummingbirds

No Bears

Of An Age

Pacifiction

The Quiet Girl

Return to Seoul

Rye Lane

Mix: Let’s Break Out The Lancers!

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When I was young, my parents weren’t particularly fancy in regard to what they drank (at least before I got them into vodka martinis in my mid-late 20s.) After work, my dad often enjoyed a bottle of Michelob poured into the tall, narrow glass while on holidays and other special occasions, my mom favored an inexpensive table wine—most often, Lancers Rosé, a Portuguese variety which came in an opaque, slightly chunky, burgundy-colored bottle. I recall this as a ubiquitous presence in our house up through the ‘90s when I was considered old enough to imbibe along with my folks. Still, given its classic design, Lancers felt more like a 1970s remnant; I suspect it accompanied many a fondue pot or a helping of Steak Diane sautéed in an electric skillet.

This mix could provide the soundtrack for a Lancers-soaked dinner party my parents or their friends might’ve thrown in the years immediately before my birth. Roughly spanning 1967 to 1973, it conjures a comfortably bourgeoisie, non-rock (or at least soft rock) vibe—unhip, if you’re less charitable, if not positively square. Without fully lapsing into Muzak territory, some of these smooth sounds are directly from my parents’ record collection of the time: Sergio Mendes and Brasil ‘66 (crafting a magic carpet ride out of a Simon and Garfunkel folk-rock standard), The Fifth Dimension (somewhat forgotten gem “Last Night I Didn’t Get To Sleep At All”) and of course Burt Bacharach, both as a solo artist (“Pacific Coast Highway”) and on tunes written with Hal David and made famous by Dusty Springfield (“The Look of Love”), Herb Alpert (“This Guy’s In Love With You”) and Dionne Warwick (“Amanda” from The Love Machine soundtrack is a bit of a deep cut but its arrangement is Burt at his baroque best.) 

Other selections I remember hearing on the radio (in particular, Milwaukee’s still-on-the-air WMYX-FM), albeit a decade or so after their heyday include Mason Williams’ groovy symphonic rock instrumental “Classical Gas”; Todd Rundgren’s “Hello It’s Me” (the classiest singer-songwriter crossover hit this side of vocal-soundalike Carole King); “We’ve Only Just Begun”, arguably The Carpenters’ best, most melodically complex single (written by 1970s mascot Paul Williams); The Spinners’ syncopated-yet-still-like-buttah “I’ll Be Around”.

The title references a lyric in Peggy Lee’s novelty hit “Is That All There Is” which I do not recall hearing in my youth; other selections fit the overall vibe but were likely too quirky (Julie London’s unlikely Ohio Express cover, Minnie Riperton’s psychedelic folk hymn), obscure (Harry Nilsson pre-“Everybody’s Talkin’”, Laura Nyro’s original version of an eventual hit for The Fifth Dimension) or ephemeral (Lalo Schifrin’s soundtrack music) to encounter in the wild back then. By the mid-70s, sophistication of this sort was quickly becoming passe in pop music—Barry White’s breakthrough single “I’m Gonna Love You Just A Little More Baby” is the pivot, anticipating disco excess but not above lacing its seven-minute-long seduction suite with flutes and harpsichord. It’s placed near the end of this mix, late in the evening after the Lancers ran out with a mysterious glass bowl of all the guests’ keyrings perhaps surfacing (though not at one of my parents’ gatherings as far as I know.)

Haunted Jukebox Mix #4: Let’s Break Out The Lancers!