Best Tracks – 10.14.22

 Best Tracks – 10.14.22

 

Brian Eno – “Who Gives a Thought”

Eno’s newest album is a bleak, profound, and contemplative meditation on the state of the planet and one that fits in nicely with the sort of living-legend status he’s cultivated in the last few years. Eno isn’t resting on his laurels either, like the best of his songs, “Who Gives a Thought” is both eccentric and welcoming, finding a way to compare the annihilation of the planet’s smallest creatures with the plight of the poor, working man. Throughout, he manages to find warmth in the coldest atmospheres he creates and it’s hard to think of a more fitting swan song for Earth.

 

Bill Callahan – “Coyotes”

The addition of horn players and six or seven backup singers to Callahan’s now famously chilly folk adds some immediacy to this new album, but more importantly, it adds a gravitas that was missing from 2020’s Gold Record. Callahan detailed that he wanted these tracks to be “rousing” and “Coyotes”, with its layered instrumentation, and upbeat drum shuffle starts out like any slightly melancholic Callahan song. It’s later when the track twists into its second half, that it opens up as the emotion-ridden love song it is and achieves its most enthralling moments.

 

Fazerdaze – “Overthink It’

The return of the great New Zealand singer and multi-instrumentalist Fazerdaze comes in the form of a too-brief EP, but one nevertheless loaded with gems. Amelia Murray, burnt out from touring her debut and with a fresh record deal, cut these tracks as a resolution to the stasis she felt between release cycles. “Overthink It” in particular, feels as though at any moment it's going to collapse in relief, melancholic in its conception but cathartic in its push towards resilience. There’s been plenty of artists that have come out of the pandemic as new and reclaimed musicians, but few who sound so resolute in their new-found posture.

 

Plains – “Line of Sight”

Plains is largely a continuation of the kind of bright, accessible country rock that Waxahatchee honed on 2020’s Saint Cloud, but with Jess Williamson in tow to help give the album an even richer and warmer sound. The pair of singers harmonize and write so well together that even aside from the publicity stills where the two really lean into how similar they look, it's hard to think of a more bespoke collaboration. “Line of Sight” is a pleading, take on desperation, both personally and within the duo’s respective lives as musicians, and paired with the airy, country instrumental and soaring vocals, it makes for a song more inspiring than it probably should be.

 

Todd Rundgren – “Puzzle”

The newest cameo-heavy release from Todd Rundgren is a mess. Each guest sounds understandably elated to be working with one of the most definitive musician’s musicians, but Rundgren, not surprisingly at all, mucks up nearly every track with some strange left-field decision-making. Collaborations with Thomas Dolby, Sparks, and The Lemon Twigs all touch on greatness but are hampered with confoundingly silly lyrical motifs or annoyingly repetitive choruses and that’s not even mentioning Rivers Cuomo’s part in the pirate-themed, patois-laden “Down with the Ship”. All that being said, Rundgren, to his credit is something of a genius, or at least was, and with Adrian Belew by his side, “Puzzle”, transcends its limitations to somehow call back to both Rundgren’s softer roots and Belew’s fiery experimentation.

 

Mavi – “Spoiled Brat”

Whether or not this was the proper follow-up to Mavi’s great debut, Let the Sun Talk doesn’t really matter. It turns out that after shelving the would-be second album, Shango in favor of something more personal, Laughing So Hard It Hurts delivers and sounds not like a placeholder, but an album to rival anything else he’s done. “Spoiled Brat” shows that Mavi is just as effective when he’s laying out his quick delivery over a somber and restrained cut and that in fact, it works even better with this flow.

 

King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard – “The Land Before Timeland”

King Gizzard has never sounded more like a jam band. That’s not a stab at them, after all sounding like a jam band is just one of many, many costumes they’ve tried on over the years. Laminated Denim is an album made up of two side-long 15-minute tracks, cut within the constraints of a literal ticking clock. The first of which “The Land Before Timeland” with its crystalline guitar detours, builds and interplay is reminiscent of a less noodly Phish, and is all the better for it. The persistent harmonica stabs give the track some nice distinction, but the energy is ecstatic, and that’s what the band is really trying to capture.