A Song a Day

Daily musical knowledge from a West Australian music lover Currently writing: #a song a day

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A Song a Day #144

Shoegaze Special #5

'The Big Gloom’ - Have A Nice Life (from 2008′s Deathconsciousness)

Shoegaze’s enduring qualities have allowed it to be reinterpreted in many different ways over the years, particularly after the genre’s pinnacle of the early nineties. What few could have ever predicted is how dark it could get - not many could have conceived of the latter-day industrial/post-punk infused shoegaze masterpiece Deathconsciousness, by the Dan Barett and Tim Macuga-led Have a Nice Life. The record came out of nowhere and sounds like it, as crazily the album was recorded using the most basic computer music recording tools available (GarageBand!) and mastered using low-quality mp3 files. However none of this detracts from the album itself, which is a mesmerising descent into doom-laded shoegaze, as if Joy Division became even more depressed and doused themselves in low-fidelity distorted guitars and GarageBand drums.

All of these frankly insane aspects come together perfectly on ‘The Big Gloom’, the album’s most accessible song and a dizzying descent into madness and depression, one which utilises its parts to becomes a classic. The eight-mute long exercise in tension is led by a warm, fuzzy guitar, the aforementioned muffled GarageBand drums and, most importantly, Dan Barrett’s plaintive cries for someone to “please, please please release me”. It sounds gloriously morbid, embodying the ‘big gloom’ of its title, but here the song builds and builds towards what can only be described as one of the greatest cathartic moments in the genre. All of these instruments come together in a muffled shoegaze haze, amplified by the low quality mastering - and as Barrett cries for the “dead ones” to “open up [their] eyes” alongside a cinematically despairing synth line, the song achieves a feeling of mournful hope that is almost entirely unique to the band itself, be it in the genre of shoegaze or throughout all of music. 

The song is a latter-day genre classic, and one that garners the fervent devotion of all the best ones of the genre, no matter their context.

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A Song a Day #143

Shoegaze Special #4

‘Celia’s Dream’ - Slowdive (from 1990′s Just for a Day)

Shoegaze as a genre/movement is one of the most singular and unique ones in music, however much of its DNA is shared with another genre that flourished at the time, borne out of the Cocteau Twins’s brand of cinematic dream pop. The shoegaze band that best mastered the dream pop-like qualities of the genre were Slowdive, led by Neil Halstead and Rachel Goswell. While their 1993 album Souvlaki is probably the pinnacle of the mixed genres, their first album, Catch the Breeze, is still noteworthy as a document of the band applying their own ideas to the movement at the time.

The best of the songs on this album is ‘Celia’s Dream’, an aptly-named lightweight swirl of a shoegaze song, drowned in the same distortion that defined shoegaze, but also basked in the effervescent glow of dream pop. The song’s production allows an almighty echo to ring through the song, particularly with the delayed guitars floating alongside Neil Halstead’s iconic drawn-out vocals. Slowdive’s penchant for an enchanting melody is on full display here, drawing in the listener into the echoing soundscape of the song, which takes off into the shoegaze-approved stratosphere after the final chorus. Here the delayed and distorted guitars swirl into a whirlwind of sound, always threatening to spin out of control but never quite doing so, reaching a catharsis before reaching a classic Slowdive fade out. This song is a simple but perfect piece of the shoegaze puzzle, and while the album may not live up to this song overall, it is still an important touchstone in the genre and one which only hints at the greatness of the band’s work to come.

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A Song a Day #142

Shoegaze Special #3

‘Sight of You’ - Pale Saints (from 1990′s The Comforts of Madness)

The first wave of shoegaze classics is actually much more diverse than it is given credit for, especially outside of the holy triumvirate classic of Loveless, Souvlaki and Nowhere. There are quite a few ‘secondary classics’ that attack shoegaze music from the perspective of other genres, one of which is Pale Saints’ 1990 gem, The Comfots of Madness. The album is a kaleidoscopic pop rollercoaster, melding the genre with the jangle-pop sprightliness of The Smiths in their heyday. This means their music is both melodically adventurous and accessible than many of the other distortion-washed bands that followed during the period, making the album a bit of a lost classic.

The jangle-pop approach’s perfect melding with shoegaze is best seen in the album’s penultimate track ‘Sight of You’, the point where all of the album’s  short sketches of ideas and melodies come together in a fully-formed shoegaze epic (or as epic as the band could be). As soon as the indelible bass line kicks the song off, it is clear this song is an epic pop song first and a shoegaze song second, with the washes of jangle-pop distortion used to lift the pop song to new heights. Ian Masters’ soft crooning becomes an instrument the way the best shoegaze bands allow their vocalists to become, acting as a constant between the song’s bass-driven verses and guitar-riff coloured passages. All of this culminates in a classic major-key guitar solo before returning to Masters and his ever-constant delivery of the song’s simple but perfect melody, which ultimately places the song in shoegaze’s pantheon, even as it inevitably slows down into a segue into the album’s final song (as Pale Saints were seemingly obsessed with at this point in their career). The band may not be as well known or well regarded as shoegaze’s Big 3, but this song is, for my money, as good as any those bands ever produced.

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A Song a Day #141

Shoegaze Special #2

‘Untouched’ - Alcest (from 2016′s Kodama)

Skipping ahead from Loveless all the way to the modern times of 2016, shoegaze continues to push forward - albeit with not nearly as much popularity and adoration as what followed it during the halcyon days of the early 90's. While there isn't much in the way of commercial success, there is still bands pushing the envelope of their own brand of shoegaze, and one of the best of these is Alcest, pioneers of the 'blackgaze' movement, fusing the ferocity of black metal with the steaminess of shoegaze at its peak. Alcest's previous album, Shelter, did away with much of the black metal influences of their previous work to a create a straight dream pop/shoegaze hybrid, and as amazing as that album was, it was very much an overarching look at the genre rather than an in-depth innovative exploration. Kodama returns to some black metal influences, however on the song ‘Untouched’, Alcest push the boundaries of what they achieved on Shelter and end up with one of their best songs.

‘Untouched’ plays like a culmination of all of Alcest’s best aspects (sans lead singer Neige’s metal shrieks, which I can live without!), particularly Shelter’s shimmering dream pop gleam and shoegaze atmospherics. Neige here uses his voice as an instrument in conjunction with the music, using his vocals as soft and floating waves atop the chiming and distorted guitars (rather than using it in harsh opposition to the music, which his screams often provided). This creates a song very much in the Shelter mould, however in the context of Kodama’s darker atmosphere, the song has a darker and more melancholic depth that Shelter deliberately avoids. This makes the euphoria of the song’s guitars and vocals much more powerful, particularly in the song’s last minute, where the song’s guitar riff conveys a duality of lightness and darkness that pushes the songs to heights that many shoegaze bands can only dream of. The song marks the logical midpoint between the band’s best blackgaze moments and Shelter’s most life-affirming triumphs, culminating in a modern day shoegaze classic that I believe firmly belongs in the genre’s canon. Shoegaze is most definitely alive and well, and Alcest continue to pioneer the genre towards breathtaking new heights.

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A Song a Day #140

Shoegaze Special #1

'What You Want’ - My Bloody Valentine (from 1991′s Loveless) 

To mark my return to music blogging, for the rest of November I’m going to be exploring what has almost certainly become my favourite genre of music - Shoegaze, a genre (or movement, who knows!) defined by its fuzzy distorted guitars, its dream-like vocals and, of course, its really silly name. What better place to start than with the greatest shoegaze album of all time, My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless, a magnum opus of incredible proportion that stormed the peak of the genre and was never bested. 

The album has so many masterpiece songs (particularly the out-of-this-world soundscape of ‘To Here Knows When’), but none enrapture me as much as ‘What You Want’, for my money one of the greatest rock (or even pop!) songs of all time. Here, the penultimate track of the album drops all pretence of complexity and delivers it straight, with Kevin Shields taking vocal lead on a rock song written around a brilliant vocal line and some masterful production magic. The song powers through its verses in an almost pop-like way, as the melody circles back consistently to Shield’s breathy “oh, I come back to” refrain, an indelible hook on par with the best rock songs I’ve ever heard. What really makes the song however is the guitar riff and the production trick involved with it - the songs’ verses seem to be deliberately buried in the mix, sounding very light and ‘tinny’ (for lack of a better word), yet when the unforgettable guitar riff arrives, it fills the rest of the mix, enveloping the song completely and all but defining the loud-soft dynamic that so many bands would long to emulate ever since Loveless arrived. The mastering of the song here is almost a pioneering milestone in modern production, and the fact that this trick is pulled off on a song that is effectively a brilliant pp song buried in shoegaze guitars is one of many feats that prove Loveless’ continually lasting appeal even today. 

Shoegaze may have reached its critical peak here - but there was still so much more to come, which I’ll be exploring for the rest of the month.

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A Song a Day #139

'Everybody Knows’ - Leonard Cohen (from 1988′s I’m Your Man)

After being away from this blog for nigh on a year, recent catastrophic events have led me to return to the thing I enjoy doing the most - writing. Leonard Cohen’s death, so shortly after the paradigm-shifting (for the worse) election, has put a dampener on life and closed 2016 on as sour a note as possible. But in these times it is important to celebrate life, and Leonard Cohen’s one is definitely worth celebrating, even if only through a small tribute to a topical song that I love. 

After first hearing ‘Everybody Knows’ in Atom Egoyan’s underrated 1994 film Exotica, I fell in love with this darkly sinister synthpop song dedicated to the uneasy feelings of inevitability and cynicism towards the futility of life. Hardly a song you would use as a tribute for someone’s life, but this song radiates Cohen’s best trait of a dark and deadpan humour that defines his best work. You can see it permating all through the song, be it through the borderline-cheesy synths that punctuate the song’s forward march, Cohen’s almost parodic despairing and dark voice, or even the buoyant female backing vocals that add an almost choral reverence to Cohen’s gospel of inevitability. The song’s lyrics foreshadow and impending doom that resonates far too well in this post-election world - “Everyone knows that the plague is coming / Everyone knows that it moves to fast” - but Cohen’s delivery and the song itself strangely give off a sense of hope, one that inexplicably brings me back to this song so often. This warped sense of hope showed that Cohen knew exactly how I (and so many others) see the world, and for that I’m grateful for music like his, especially in the trying times that lie ahead for so many. Hopefully his life can be celebrated through his music, just like Bowie’s was earlier this year.

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A Song a Day #138

‘Heroes’ - David Bowie (from 1977′s “Heroes”)

The passing of David Bowie was a shock for everyone, one that will reverberate throughout the world for years and years to come. It is impossible not to write something about the power of his music, and what better song to write about than ‘“Heroes”’, Bowie’s most powerful and monolithic piece of music that sounds as fresh and as inspiring as any song released this century. The power of the song rests in its simplicity, built over a motorik-like pulse of guitars and bass that never let up in their forward momentum. On top of this never-ending engine are two classic musical moments - Robert Fripp’s triumphant and iconic guitar (which inspired my favourite LCD Soundsystem song, ‘All I Want’) and, of course, Bowie’s iconic vocal, which grows more and more desperate as the song continues. Bowie’s triumphant story about two lovers separated by the Berlin Wall is so extraordinarily uplifting that the song is even titled “Heroes” (with quotation marks) to add irony, as if Bowie is backing away just one step from the song’s otherwise brilliantly hopeful and romantic message. “We can be heroes / just for one day” was a mantra for a society segregated down the middle, but more than that are words to live by for all of society, regardless of any ironic connotations that the song intends to deliver. That the song was not more popular when it was made is a tragedy, but now it is almost universally recognised as a classic, emblematic of Bowie at his brilliant best - and the fact that songs like this exist from the musical icon make it a little bit easier to accept his passing. Of course, only a little bit though.

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A Song a Day #137

‘True Affection’ - Father John Misty (from 2015′s I Love You, Honeybear)

Having concluded my 2015 countdown, I was surprised to realise I had never given I Love You, Honeybear a full listen, which was a massive oversight in the world of 2015 music. Having listened to it now, I sincerely regret not listening to it earlier, as Josh Tillman’s work as Father John Misty is unparalleled in creating a view of Americana that is drenched in realism in post-irony. Tillman sounds like the detached outsider looking in to a world of seedy motel rooms, sexual escapades and excessive vices. Only here, the post-irony is matched by a true sense of sentiment, one that while detached and disillusioned is also hopeful and resilient (probably a result of Tillman’s real-life marriage). The best example of this is ‘True Affection’, a strange outlier of a song that challenges the notion of internet and phone-based communication.

Tillman begs to show his lover “true affection”, going against the grain of the “strange devices” that dictate modern day society’s lives. He longs for a “crazy conversation” structured “sentence by sentence”, so that he can actually conjure up a real-life connection with another human being. The message is simple here, but in Tillman’s post-ironic world where vices and excess are only matched by emotional detachment and modern American isolation, it plays as a rallying cry towards a classic and romantic notion of both inter-human connection and love itself. All of this is brought to life by Tillman through a floaty and singular mash up of electronic synths and violin flourishes, creating a catchy and emotive piece of pseudo-electronica that stands far apart from the ironic folk arrangements that he masters on the rest of the album. The music here plays into the technological frustrations of Tillman, and as the album’s outlier, the song becomes a beating heart in a post-ironic and capitalist Americana society. ‘True Affection’ is brilliant, and I Love You Honeybear is an even better album with such a singular and complete vision (and one that I regret not discovering earlier).

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A Song a Day #136

Best of 2015 Countdown (30-1)

#1: ‘Levitation’ - Beach House (from 2015′s Depression Cherry)

Perhaps the only reason ‘PPP’ isn’t my favourite song of the year (or at least isn’t in my top 2/3) is because of another song on Depression Cherry that is so overwhelming in its brilliance, 'PPP’ was pushed down somewhat to avoid a Beach House-obsessed top of my list. Even songs from Thank Your Lucky Stars could be on this list, but were pushed out because of this one song. 'Levitation' is the album's opening track and easily one of the band's greatest achievements, reaching a new level of dream pop that even the best songs on their previous albums never reached.

'Levitation' is almost religious not only in the way it is both uplifting and enlivening, but in the song's aural effect on the listener, akin to the act of ascension. This may sound like needless hyperbole, but rarely does a song actually embody the song's name in its emotional output. The song's best part comes at the end, when Victoria Legrand's breathy vocals begin to cascade upon each other, overlapping in ways that are completely unnatural. "There's a place I want to take you / where the unknown will surround you" is Lefrand's ode to love itself, but then this is replaced by "Take my hand / as our bodies lift up slowly", and the way these lines cascade upon each other create a hazy and weightless atmosphere, as if there is a religious ascension (or levitation) taking place. Matched with the lone synth drone that eventually envelops the song during the outro, until nothing else is left, the song achieved its goal of a (non drug-assisted) levitation, and this synchronicity between song title and music is almost overwhelming in its success.

When this focus on aural experience is matched with Legrand's most romantic lyrics, which focus very much on the 'here and now' of romantic love, the song reached even further heights. "After midnight we could feel it all" and "when the train comes I will hold you" place the listener at the heart of a romance that feels breathless and weightless at the same time, while Alex Scally's dreamy guitar (which sounds like it is submerged underwater) brings a sublime depth to the song that brings to mind the 'depression cherry' colour of the album's cover. The unique visual colour matches perfectly with the song's aural atmosphere and message, which gives the song a uniquely enchanting staying power in a way that only m Beach House can reach. For these reasons 'Levitation' is my favourite song of the year - an aural and visual ascension that reaffirms not only a hope and desire for the power of romance in one's life (including my own), but also the power of music to irreparably alter and impact a state of mind in as positive a way as possible.

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A Song a Day #135

Best of 2015 Countdown (30-1)

#2: ‘Radioface’ - Gang of Youths (from 2015′s The Positions)

This song is so damn good! That’s the succinct review for ‘Radioface’, the barnstorming instant classic from Gang of Youths, the song that effectively announced the band’s arrival onto the world stage as a world-class band. Of course, being an Australian indie band, you wouldn’t exactly expect a new band to be able to produce music that sounds world-class straight away, but that’s what 'Radioface’ does, sounding like an Australian version of The National, except one that focuses on the cathartic release, rather than the restraint of the music.

Clocking in at almost seven minutes long, the song is the culmination of the emotional journey of The Positions, where the sickness of the lover is placed in the hands of the narrator completely, who self-deprecatingly calls himself 'Radioface’. While it's not abundantly clear why he is a 'radioface', reading between the lines, the name becomes the song's beating heart. The song's pivotal line of "my Radioface / is coming up live", signals the point where the narrator promises to save his lover and help her through this tough time. The narrator may have been called 'Radioface' in a joking manner before, but now it is a highly personal link between the narrator and the lover, and using that moniker as the one that will save the lover is a brilliant inversion and clearly the song's most powerfully emotional and personal moment.

This cathartic moment is made possible by the music itself, which is more directly grand and epic than any music since the glory days of post-rock. There is no ironic detachment or pretentiousness here - it is purely a massive blast of catharsis uninfluenced by current musical trends, which makes the song so loveable. While highly influenced by The National (specifically the Peter Katis production and the drumbeat straight out of 'Apartment Story'), the sheer weight of cathartic power, alongside David Le'aupepe's distinctly Australian perspective on life and the struggles within create a song that stands so singularly apart from every other musical trend that you can't help but appreciate the music's unrelenting power. Gang of Youths here have created a special piece of emotional music that wears it's heart on its sleeve, singular in its approach to music and its emotional honesty, and that is why 'Radioface' is one of my favourite song of the year.

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A Song a Day #134

Best of 2015 Countdown (30-1)

#3: ‘Living My Life’ - Deerhunter (from 2015′s Fading Frontier)

If ‘Yes I’m Changing’ is a deep personal evaluation of a person in flux, ‘Living My Life’ is goes even deeper and examines what happens if one completely disappears - and whether that is in fact 'living a life’ at all. Deerhunter have always been a band of deep personal and emotional analyses, and this is mostly because of Bradford Cox and the intricacies and neuroses he brings forth to all his music, be it about himself or about a character. Following his accident with a car, Fading Frontier digs deeper into Cox’s psyche, and is full of moments that question himself and where he is with his life, with 'Living My Life’ being the culmination of this existential distress (while also being the album’s clear highlight).

The song begins with the repeated mantra of "I'm living my life", and the repetition of this mantra plays out like a reassurance that Cox is, in fact, 'living his life' to its fullest extent. Cox is living his life "off the grid" and "out of range", on a "darkened stage", and here you get a clear sense of a loneliness and self-exclusion, one that speaks directly to me as a somewhat reclusive person. The doubt in the narrator becomes even clearer in the second verse, where Cox begs to "conquer all this fear" and "recover the lost years" that he has spent on the "fading frontier", and this depressing doubt he feels about his life and its accomplishments paints the song as a desperate attempt to reconnect with a kind of life that everyone else leads. The song's longing for connection is something that deeply impacts upon me, as I can see myself in Cox's narration, reaching out for connection - and here it is delivered in the best way possible, full of one of the band's most straightforward melodies and Lockett Pundt's most buoyant guitar playing since the band began. The song is a Deerhunter pop song in the purest sense, and when the whole band plays out a musically rich outro alongside Cox's cries of "I'm living my life", the song's depressing message turns hopeful, and turns it into a rallying cry towards reconnection. Here Deerhunter create one of their most tightly packed musical moments, full of personal and evocative lyrics alongside sharp pop writing, and this makes the song one of the best I heard this year.

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A Song a Day #133

Best of 2015 Countdown (30-1)

#4: ‘Yes I’m Changing’ - Tame Impala (from 2015′s Currents)

The great not-so secret of Tame Impala is the loneliness and introversion of Kevin Parker. The music may be surreal journeys through psychedelic rock and pop, but all of these journeys are buoyed by the most insular and self-deprecating lyrical feelings of Parker himself. Lonerism is explicitly about Parker’s loneliness, and the psychedelic rock masterpiece that surrounds the songs help colour Parker’s insular world where he has “gotta be above it”. Currents, on the face of it, is Parker breaking out of his shell and embracing a life without loneliness, even after a break-up - and on the surface, the new glimmering pop sounds are Parker embracing this musically and emotionally. Underneath though, the sentiment is borne of the same loneliness, and this is never more clear than in ‘Yes I’m Changing’, the album’s most pop-influenced song.

The song is clearly a post-breakup song, meant to highlight the ways in which Parker’s voice is escaping his head “where demons cultivate” by emphasising how he’s changing. The brilliance of this song though is the hidden doubt in the message that you can pick up on - Parker’s proxy says that “people never change but that’s bullshit, they do”, and you can almost hear the songs voice reassuring itself that it is actually changing and not stuck back in its lonely ways. This doubt manifests itself in Tame Impala's most outwardly pop song so far, complete with soaring synth lines and melodies straight out of the magnificent eighties. The music itself is bright and outward in ways Tame Impala have never been before, as if trying to magnify the "changing" Parker is going through (even the guitars are gone!). The songs positive changing message and the underlying tone of resistance carries on into the outro, where "the world beyond the door is calling out for you" - but here again the 'you' may be Parker's proxy, reaching out to grasp a changing that he so wishes to grasp onto. This longing for being more outgoing and different is such a universal theme, people like me grasp on to the same message, which in turn makes the song a brilliant piece of universal musical genius, turning Parker's own confusion into a universal doubt, played out across four and a half shimmering pop minutes. Essentially it is pop perfection, and is easily one of my favourite songs of the year.

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A Song a Day #132

Best of 2015 Countdown (30-1)

#5: ‘PPP’ - Beach House (from 2015′s Depression Cherry)

I may be a little obsessed with Beach House, as is the nature of their music - it invites you in with its languorous and warm soundscapes and never lets go once the song's melodies grab onto you. Depression Cherry is full of these types of songs, most of which take their time to unfurl into momentous and stunning romantic classics that I grain themselves within your soul. This gives Beach House a cultish-like following, where only the initiated truly understand the power of their songs while others look on and hear nothing but boring and monotonous music. One song that inspires this fervent devotion, from me at least, is 'PPP', an elegiac waltz around the idea of a relationship, with soundscapes that only Beach House can muster.

The song is very interested in mood setting, hence the very rare spoken vocal introduction, where Victoria Legrand breathes out the foundations of a relationship "out in the heartland", where lovers ask themselves if they are "ready for this life" of supporting each other. This sets a highly romantic tone for the song, which is somewhat undercut by Legrand's worry about the future, where if the thin "ice should break" it would be her "mistake", probably as a result of the song's titular 'piss poor planning'. So the romance of the song is given clear stakes, and on doing so the song morphs from a romantic ode to a fresh life together into a desperate attempt to keep what was perfect together for as long as possible, through the almost impossible to attain "infinite trust". This desperation overflows come the song's two and a half minute outro, where Alex Scally's mournful slide guitar traverses up and down throughout a range of notes and emotions along the song's dancing-on-ice waltz time signature, getting more and more desperate as Legrand's voice envelops around the guitar alongside drumming that becomes more and more aggressive. This outro is one of Beach House's most iconic moments, simultaneously capturing the feel of a romantic waltz with the feel of a desperation and despair, all through the evocative dream pop that the band has mastered better than anyone else. The shiver-inducing outro is one of my favourite musical moments of 2015, as romantic and desperate as it is enveloping, and because of this it is easily one of my favourite songs of the year (and sometimes is my favourite of the year!).

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A Song a Day #131

Best of 2015 Countdown (30-1)

#6: ‘Sons of the Serpent’ - Mark McGuire (from 2015′s Beyond Belief)

Mark McGuire’s 2014 album Along the Way was an enveloping piece of long-form new-age prof and electronica, one that ebbed and flowed over an hour of electronic soundscapes and emotional sound structures. While this album and its relative uniqueness was a welding shock to someone who had never heard of Mark McGuire, you could tell that this album was just the beginning, as he would only get better on subsequent albums. That promise was fulfilled on Beyond Belief, a mesmerising 80 minute opus of new age electronica merged with soaring guitars that only the uniquely talented McGuire can perfect. Some song unfurled over 15 all-encompassing minutes, while others highlighted McGuire’s pop sensibility in their newfound directness and accessibility. Case in point is album highlight ‘Sons of the Serpent’, a soaring example of guitar-driven rock that plays out like an epic end to an album’s that’s only just begun.

As the song begins, it immediately becomes clear that this is a peak moment in McGuire’s career, as his dignities guitars have been transformed from the intricate picking of Along the Way into a massive wall of sound that is epic in its overwhelming nature. In fact, the whole guitar-driven intro, featuring the barrage of guitar sound is one of the best musical moments of the year, sounding as if it’s signalling the end of the world with shoegaze-inspired guitar textures and a solo that screams out 'epic’, especially through the perfectly-timed octave jump it pulls off. The solo taps into the almost cheesy sounds of the eighties in the best way, but knowingly maintains a melodic drive that anchors the song to very long album it’s a part of. On top of this massive guitar sound is McGuire’s most vocally driven song so far, featuring oblique yet impactful lyrics longing to “break these chains of love” alongside ominous distress about the will of the “absolute and divine”. While they may be somewhat cheesy out of context, in the album’s story of a futuristic world gone mad it makes perfect sense, and McGuire’s muffled and almost robotic voice helps to power this theme and infuse the music with it almost completely. So somehow, despite the post-apocalyptic content, McGuire has crafted one of his most accessible and enjoyable rock tunes so far, and the pure brilliance of this makes it one of my favourite of the year, by far.

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A Song a Day #130

Christmas Special

‘Christmas Unicorn’ - Sufjan Stevens (from 2012′s Silver & Gold)

Taking a short break from my countdown to discuss Christmas music is not something I planned to do, as like most people Christmas music can be incredibly grating and hardly joyous when you hear it over and over again. Trust Sufjan Stevens then to make a Christmas song that not only goes against all of the pre-conceived notions of what a Christmas song should be, but also is completely insane in its grand aspirations. The song starts innocently enough, where Sufjan talks about being a “Christmas unicorn”, a silly and whimsical statement perfectly inline with the frivolities Christmas includes. The “Christmas unicorn” though is Sufjan’s attack on the commercialisation of Christmas and the loss of its singular identity, as the very notion of a “christmas unicorn” is an amalgamation of two completely unrelated concepts that have been forced together in an attempt to make sense of what Christmas has become. Well he might also be “a Christian holiday” and “a symbol of original sin”, he’s also simultaneously a “mythical mess” and a “construct of your mind”, essentially a confusing mess - which is what Christmas has become to Sufjan.

Not only is it a confused religious mess, but the commercialisation of it is something that has imbued itself within everyone who celebrates the holiday. The unicorn is “hysterically American...with a credit card on their wrist”, and this focus on the commercial Christmas aspects is a part of every person, as they all wear “the uniform of a unicorn” (an amalgamated and confused Christmas celebrator) just like Sufjan. All of this sounds pretty indicative of someone who has lost faith with Christmas itself, but Sufjan’s two 50 track-plus Christmas albums highlight someone who does still have faith in the holiday and wishes it would return to its former glory. How else does one explain the song turning from a Christmas criticism into a glorious 12-minute cover of Joy Division’s classic ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’, complete with a cacophony of brass instruments and choir? The song becomes a hopeful ode, turning the refrain of “love will tear us apart” into a starry-eyed chant towards a more meaningful and mystical holiday, all through pairing the depressing Ian Curtis-penned lyric with the essentially crazy chant of “I’m a Christmas Unicorn / It’s alright, I love you!”. This song may sound like a crazy and overwrought piece of insanity, but at its heart its a classic Sufjan song, full of hope and wonderment for a better world - and through that, it captures the Christmas spirit in a way that so little Christmas songs actually do. The song should be a Christmas staple in every household - and hopefully one day it will (as unlikely as that is).

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A Song a Day #129

Best of 2015 Countdown (30-1)

#7: ‘Clearest Blue’ - CHVRCHES (from 2015′s Every Open Eye)

CHVRCHES’ The Bones of What You Believe was such a perfectly formed album of electro-pop, it was hard to believe that the band would be able to replicate its success, let alone replicate or even better its quality. On Every Open Eye they did just that, creating an album with more ferocious force than their previous one, packed with laser-guided melodies and hooks that it was almost overwhelming. While the album lacked the novelty and surprise of their first, many of the songs perfect the formula of The Bones of What You Believe, none of which are better than the album’s final pre-release single, ‘Clearest Blue’. 

'Clearest Blue’ is a clear sequel to the first album’s ‘Tether’, but here it is more concise, more vicious and more desperate in its presentation, creating a song that is almost impossible to forget. Lauren Mayberry’s voice is at the front and centre of the song, like all of the best CHVRCHES songs. Here Mayberry’s clear and powerful voice is the fulcrum point of the song, surrounded by continually cascading synths and a pounding electronic drumbeat, all of which are perfectly tuned to support Mayberry’s voice and the indelible hooks she is singing. All of this builds towards the drop at the halfway point of the song, from which the song spirals into a constant pounding electronic outro punctuated by Mayberry’s voice floating alongside it. The “saved by clearest blue” hook is one of CHVRCHES’ most memorable melodic lines, and when it is surrounded by the band’s most danceable and most directly epic piece of electronic music, it is clear that the band have managed to piece together a small masterpiece of electronic pop. While the song shares ‘Tether’s penchant towards an electronic climax, here it is brighter, more powerful and more melodic, something I wasn’t sure CHVRCHES would be capable of after the success of their first album. ‘Clearest Blue’ is a brilliant pop song and an even better representation of a band operating at the peak of their musical powers.

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A Song a Day #128

Best of 2015 Countdown (30-1)

#8: ‘Fired Up’ - Titus Andronicus (from 2015′s The Most Lamentable Tragedy)

Having a penchant for the dramatic is always a good thing, and this is especially true in music, where music can live and die based on the emotional investment it gains from its listener. Titus Andronicus are amazing at this, as their punk rock songs are as dramatic as they can get, often featuring time signature changes, key changes, whole song upheavals, spoken recordings and song lengths eight minutes-plus (and I haven't even mentioned the instrumentation itself!). This brilliant dramatic inclination comes through in spades on The Most Lamentable Tragedy, especially in short bursts - one of which is album highlight 'Fired Up', an orchestral paean to non-conformity masquerading as a vicious punk rock anthem.

Here Patrick Stickles is continuing the story of the album's rock-opera tragedy, but the song importantly stands on its own, especially in Stickles' passionate defence of being different. The confusion and depression that comes with being different manifests as a fire some are forbidden "to receive", yet Stickles uses the song as a rallying anthem in his call for people to "keep it always burning!", clearly impassioned with self-experience ("why'd you have to act so different"). This message is a strong and important one, and the passion in it is matched by the music's highly dramatic nature. Throughout the song, a bed of strings from Owen Pallett adds melodic warmth to the song which, alongside the choral backgrounds, never clash with the monstrous guitar riffs and Stickles' abrasive and harsh voice, in fact always adding to the drama of the song, helping it to sound momentous and significant. Here Titus Andronicus managed to input the best dramatic impulses of The Monitor into a shorter and more direct package, creating an impassioned 2015 highlight on an album full of emotionally charged rock moments.