The Best Tracks of 2015 (40-31)
Little Mix are personified machines of music, not that far removed from the underground obscurity of PC Music and J-Pop, the only difference really being target demographic. But “Black Magic” is endearingly refreshing. There’s a lot of music clogging up the top 40 that are not more than advertising slogans that sell the very essence of marketing, a missing void in your life. You will not be your complete self without product, relishing on insecurity and feasting on young impressionable brains. Meghan Trainor’s made a career out of telling girls what to do to get the attention of men. In this sense, Little Mix are taking the piss out of their whole industry. Through the bubblegum pop-perfected chorus, they make it sound “too easy” to have everything; “boy you belong to me/I’ve got the recipe” - yet destroy any notion of marketability through the notion that this cannot exist. “And it’s called black magic” is another way of saying “fucked if I know”. There’s no instant gratification. "Black Magic” is a complete condensation of all the good parts of 80′s bubblegum pop, with perfect instrumentation and an unstoppable vibe.
Life always gets in the way. You can go through weeks thinking you haven’t made any progress, counting down the days until your inevitable demise (I espicially feel this way being on holidays from uni). It’s hard to get out of this existential process, as deriving meaning out of nothing isn’t impossible yet difficult. You can lose track of yourself, your identity in the meantime, feeling an emptiness that swallows you. It’s this narrative that Kurt Vile so easily achieves an understanding with in “Pretty Pimpin” - an identity crisis triggered by seeing the days go past without introspection. He’s not the first person to describe an existential crisis, yet he does it in such a naturalistic way, describing a sort of normality despite this crisis – which makes his writing so compelling.
“Constantly Hating [ft. Birdman]”
Barring Kanye West, Young Thug is the closest thing this generation has to a new David Bowie. His visual appearance is constantly changing, and his aesthetic is both challenging and brilliant. His sound is defiantly his own, while manipulating and warping other genres around his agency. His supreme singing/rapping voice is incredibly captivating, and “Constantly Hating” strips down the production outside this force to its very core, to a near trip-hop beat. Brilliant in how it depicts his state of mind, “Constantly Hating” is paranoid, confessional but also braggiodocios, it’s not really revealing, but it feels very personal. Young Thug’s feelings become our own, his “hustle” being blended in with Birdman’s (straight fire) verses depicting a love of this lifestyle, it’s not clear if Thugger’s so sure.
“Feeling Myself [ft. Beyoncé]”
Everything about “Feeling Myself” is condescending. Out there are millions of working-class families, scrambling from each paycheck to make ends meet, and here are two women telling everyone how amazing they are. Yet it’s this obviously self-centered means that has an end - they don’t really care, and they’re going to celebrate themselves, or “feel themselves”. For a song that’s by-appearance about masturbation it’s easy to see why this song isn’t a dick-measuring contest. Nicki more-or-less ridicules men, while boasting of her success, yet no one bats an eye to this, let alone derides her for having the nerve to put men down a peg. “He in love with the co-co” must be one of the most savage calls in hip-hop this decade.
Earlier this year Kevin Parker mentioned a euphoric feeling he felt listening to the Bee Gees under the influence, as each individual beat felt illuminated in it’s own massive power. Likewise, “Reality in Motion” is Kevin at his most anthemic. “There’s no one else around you” is as amazing a feeling as ever, and despite the title, never feels like reality.
“Just Like We Never Said Goodbye”
As “PRODUCT” comes to an end, you’ve just witnessed 7 songs terrifying in how they manipulate emotion into a vapid, soulless corporate machine, this track comes on. Instead of going for avant-garde experimental pop, SOPHIE shows a tinge of real connection in this final track. It might be cliched to say, but this is the first time SOPHIE’s lyrics could be seen as near-poignant. “Just like we never said goodbye” is described as a euphoric feeling, devoid of any alterior motive. Almost too great a love to be contained by its mechanic roots, and makes a point of their twisted irony, and what can really prevail.
Noah Lennox isn’t the first artist to deal with the fragility and finality of life, but no one has done it with this much panic. In 8 minutes, Lennox views his life on the outside, realising his life keeps moving forward without looking back. It’s an enclosed array of anger, perspective and regret that makes “Come To Your Senses” so potent. It’s almost like waking up from a drug trip you’ve been on for a long time, only to realise reality isn’t any less surreal and deranged. Lennox is a family man, he could be speaking about his children, his career or anything when he looks back on his “creations”, it’s not something one would usually ponder - whether they’d do it all over again, or even if they could. Yet, the song is almost joyous, or at least devoid of sorrow, he’s just asking himself if he’s mad. It’s hard to say if even he knows.
It takes a huge amount of confidence to replicate My Bloody Valentine. For fear of appearing as a knock-off or pretentious, “Sparks” renders itself in classic Beach House mode. A slow, almost robotic, grazing guitar beat underlines the entire track, making it feel slowed down to almost vaporwave levels – yet this is where the emotion is culminated. This isn’t a personality change for the band, but it’s relentlessly optimistic, pulling from a past and future to achieve a sense of timelessness.
Staples doesn’t even care. He’ll appropriate that classical sound as his own weaponry, even daring to use the trap rap sound. And that’s what “Senorita” is, a gigantic automatic weapon aimed at its listener. Desperately sad, Staples sees himself stuck in a corner, unable to escape – whether that be his fate, his community, from violence. The constant recurring “bripp” shunted forward in the mix embellishes a sense of repetition, constant inability to escape. But that’s also in the song, a beat that stirs its listener into a state of desolation – of course this hook is by Future, the master of blurry existence. There’s no focus in Vince Staples’ world, juxtaposing the false reality embodied by the beat with his own perception, which isn’t just about the black experience, but a paranoia for a future where there is no chance of redemption.
It’s safe to say Max Martin’s done it again. “Tell me what you want/what you like/it’s okay/I’m a little curious”. It’s very self-explanatory - in this world of #feels, selfie sticks and shots of food it’s refreshing to see a pop song so endearingly earnest about its intentions. It doesn’t want to change its listener, or even persuade it in some way. It’s not really emotional in impcakIt’s been two years since “Spring Breakers” came out, not fully endorsing the very state of mind this song seems to condone, but its influence seems entirely apparent in every element of this song. While it’s not really envisioning any sort of future with the subject of the song, Lovato sings with a sort of optimistic hope, not just spurred on by the summer but also the electric energy a large amount of people can create. Both extraverted in appearance but introverted in ambition.
There will be a spotify playlist at the end of the countdown.
