It's going to take years to unpack the last few months of 2023. Whatever mental trauma is inflicted upon those removed from the situation in no way approximates the devastation and inhumanity occurring daily to millions. That the US is funding it all, and institutions and businesses domestically are punishing those who speak out about it, is sickening and terrifying. The latest Lulu's email newsletter wrote more eloquently about it all than I could, and plainly calls for empathy at the end: "Be good in a bad world."
And we do that, pretending things are normal for the sake of others, our kids, our partners. But things are not normal, and that pressure forces other changes, because while we can to some degree control what happens within our lives, there's no fix for seeing (let alone experiencing) dead, maimed children regularly on Instagram, victims of bombings without caution or consequence. A sense of powerlessness pervades. What we can do is keep talking, sharing and banding together. Being good in a bad world.
Some notes:
Lots more instrumental, or nearly instrumental, music than usual this year on my list, which tracks with the current climate. Music without words, or without discernible words, leaves space for thoughts to become untangled, sure; but a lot of what’s highlighted below felt more transcendent than meditative.
I still listen to rap quite a bit, but very few new songs I heard stuck around past a few days. Call it malaise from living in an era where every other song on the radio has a trap beat. Starlito dropped a clunker, which shouldn't have shocked me but did, and it personally felt significant. Maybe it’s indicative of the old guard’s demise, but hopefully it removes a wall and allows me to engage with newer rap music better. That being said: Veeze's Ganger was head and shoulders above everything else; billy woods' short verse on "As the Crow Flies" made me gasp the first time I heard it (and I also loved ELUCID's verse on "Baby Steps"); and I listened to The Jacka's The Jack Artist most of all.
Of all the books I read this year, two books by Fernanda Melchor, Hurricane Season and Paradais, stood out. Melchor’s prose is incredibly powerful, bleakly funny and vicious in equal measure. The sharp, frank assessments by characters in often ludicrous situations feel like a product of the contemporary but imbued with some ancient wisdom. Shout out to Julia S. for the new and notable South American literature tips.
In the midst of holiday/short day doldrums, amidst endless bleak news reports, it was difficult battling back cynicism to listen to anything, especially back to all of these records and tapes listed below. It ended up being oddly therapeutic, highly enjoyable and maybe necessary, the same as when I force myself out to shows when it's easier to stay home. That feeling chips away at the notion of this list-making exercise as futile, for me certainly, but hopefully also for you. Thank you for reading, and I hope you find something you like, too.
And so:
LP
Lewsberg, Out and About (12XU)
Equipment Pointed Ankh, From Inside the House (Bruit Direct Disques)
The Native Cats, The Way On Is the Way Off (Chapter Music)
Water Damage, 2 Songs (12XU)
VoidCeremony, Threads of Unknowing (20 Buck Spin)
Emily Robb, If I Am Misery Then Give Me Affection (Petty Bunco)
CIA Debutante, Down, Willow (Siltbreeze)
Olimpia Splendid, 2 (Fonal/Kraak)
Nusidm, The Last Temptation of Thrill (Bruit Direct Disques)
Incipientium, Undergång (Happiest Place)
Witness K, s/t (ever/never)
Leda, Neuter (Discreet Music)
12"/10"/7"/CS
Chrome Cell Torture, Laugh Then Lie 7" (Scarlet)
Joe Colley, Acting As If 10" (Substantia Innominata)
Here it is: my yearly summation of the small labels working through rising costs and punishing manufacturing delays, the artists making music unafraid of chance, and the freaks supporting all of it in spite of the daily consequences of a ruling class increasingly detached from reality. Lots more that deserve accolades from more prestigious publications, and I'm sure they'll get 'em, but these are records that were inseparable from certain points of my year, including now. Yeah, they were all kinda my favorite at one point, and could be again tomorrow, but Kilynn Lunsford is #1 for a reason. Glad to be back at shows, however sparingly, experiencing all the awkward camaraderie and room-silencing/room-flattening performances that come with them. It all feels more necessary than ever. Up and up in a world of lava. Happy New Year, everyone.
LP
Kilynn Lunsford, Custodians of Human Succession (ever/never)
