56 Nights dropped in March, so one can be forgiven for wondering why it’s being reviewed in The Sil’s reduced July issue.
What one can’t be forgiven for is not having heard what is one of Future’s best mixtapes yet in some form or another.
That 56 Nights followed January’s Beast Mode so quickly speaks of two of Future’s discerning qualities. One, that he recognizes how fickle today’s rap industry is and quickly sates his legion of fans with releases that closely follow the heels of one another. Two, that he is not content to completely buy into a mixtape culture that values one or two songs that will blow up the streets mixed in with a lot of filler.
How Future differentiates himself from the rest of the pack is through ensuring that his mixtapes can be boasted about as being dud-free.
In other words, anything Future comes out with is a certified, grade-A fucking banger.
The title refers to the “56 nights” that Future’s DJ, Esco, spent locked up in Dubai during a visit to the 2014 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.
While Future is on a professional roll, with a tour with Drake and endless calls for him to feature on others’ tracks under his belt, the Atlanta native is going through no small amount of personal turmoil.
Since breaking up with his fiancée, Ciara, because of an affair he had with her stylist, Future has gone through a phase in which he attempted to get over the relationship by turning into the arms of other women and then immortalizing those moments in club bangers. While this approach has yielded great material, it has also taken its toll on Future’s well-being. Although it had been fun to sing along to Future’s tales of debauchery on tracks like “Fuck Up Some Commas,” those songs now feel like the artist’s attempt to distance himself from the very fresh pain of having ruined his relationship. Even though tracks like “Hardly” hinted at the rapper’s true emotions, they were always book-ended by more impersonal cuts.
On 56 Nights, Future spits his heart out over the hard-hitting beats. Rather than getting swallowed by the massive intstrumentals, Future’s personal confessions like “I pour up again and again/ I said I wasn’t gonna fuck with that bitch then I fucked her again,” bring his pain to the forefront. Gone is the bravado that accompanied his boasts of how many women he slept with, instead replaced by a disinterested apathy for the casual sex and drug use that he reluctantly uses as a crutch in order to avoid confronting his plentiful demons.
56 Nights is a step forward for Future in his breakup recovery process, and a reasurring one at that as he proved that he can funnel his frustration towards producing a focussed piece of art that still goes when you hear it in the club with your squad, or as you drive alone at night with your own problems running through your head.
When North Carolina based record label Paradise of Bachelors announced they would be handling the American release of Tamara Lindeman’s new record Loyalty with her band The Weather Station, they teased fans with beautiful album artwork as well as the back sleeve of the LP which included the lyrics in their entirety.
This may have been the shrewdest marketing decision I’ve seen from any label in a long time. Having Lindeman’s lyrics precede the record itself shows the label knows exactly what they gained in signing her: a lyricist with few equals.
To refer to her as just a musician seems limiting in that it misses the power her words have even when rendered plainly in size twelve font on the back of an LP. Her songs feature an interplay between poetry and music rare even in the world of ever self-conscious singer-songwriters. With just a handful of lines Tamara addresses weighty existential dilemmas that other artists would struggle to cover even across an entire album.
Knowing her careful attention to details, it comes as a bit of a surprise that an album entitled Loyalty would feature songs like “Personal Eclipse” that express such a deep sense of disconnect like “Lately I find myself lonely - I wouldn’t have called it that before. I always took it as a comfort - what all the distance was for.”
In fact many of the songs deal with themes of distance and nothingness, a lack of touch and silence. The idea of loyalty demands some kind of relationship, something for the devotee, to be devoted to. It’s strange that these songs find Lindeman on the road far from friends or listening to the bedroom recordings of a lover who has passed away. There is distance both geographically and physically between the singer and anything she could be loyal to.
However, this absence is what clarifies where her loyalties ought to lie. Having removed herself to distant places like Montmagny and Nebraska it becomes easier to assess what is worth her loyalty. The ability to hold polar opposites in tension without having them break her has always been one of Lindeman’s greatest strengths as a songwriter. “Floodplain” friends simultaneously advise her “don’t move too fast” and “don’t let it pass you by” and Lindeman seems fully capable of doing both.
By the end of Loyalty, Lindeman has come to terms with the idea that distance and intimacy are often not very far apart. The closing track, “At Full Height,” embodies this as it finds Lindeman proclaiming her loyalty to a lover and finding peace with the paradox that “I don’t even know him- but he’s mine.”
The brilliance of Loyalty lies in its ability to bring the listener close, to provide a glimpse of Lindeman’s world while maintaining enough distance to give the captured moments an intriguing sense of intimacy. Like she sings in “Floodplain,” the newest release from The Weather Station is an experiment in “seeing double.”
Jokes about Kristian Matsson’s height are well past their expiry date. Yes, the odd class clown who never grew up may be tempted to make a jab at the Swedish singer-songwriter’s decided lack of stature given that he goes by performing name of The Tallest Man On Earth, but he more than makes up for it with his natural musical talent.
Oft subject to lazy comparisons to Bob Dylan just because of his gravelly voice, a three year period between his last release sees Matsson seeking to distance himself from the folk legend with a fiercely individualistic new record. Entitled Dark Bird Is Home, Matsson’s fourth full-length record is largely concerned with the dissolution of two marriages; the first being Matsson’s recent divorce from his wife, and the second between his voice and his guitar. Normally one for vague lyrics, Matsson explores his personal challenges with a newfound directness. Having plied his trade as a one-man show for three albums, Matsson opted to pick up a slew of instruments during the recording process and will be backed by a full band on upcoming tour. The results, if anything else could be expected from Matsson at this point, are terrific. Certain albums could be found guilty of stewing in misery solely for the sake of it, but Matsson’s albums have never been lacking in intent. Dark Bird is Home shares this characteristic and always seems to be trying to uncover a new leaf and move on with life all while taking one’s losses on the chin.
Album-opener, “Fields of Our Home”, finds Matsson resorting to his usual pastoral references, but the way he cavorts through them has changed. Gone is the almost panicked strumming of days past in favour of a more lackadaisical approach. With his older records so full of youthful urgency, the more considered and decidedly slower sound is a stark departure for Matsson who now seems focused on slowly building up in order to achieve a massive moment of catharsis.
“Little Nowhere Towns” is another standout for how Matsson takes the piano, which has featured prominently in his old songs like “Kids on The Run”, and produces the same nostalgic tone. Joyous at some points, mournful at others, the track serves as a worthy one capable of serving as midpoint in the album and tying things together with aplomb. “Seventeen” is perhaps the best indication of what Matsson is capable of when he combines lush instrumentation, with his voice and guitar. While not the greatest vocalist you’ve ever heard, Matsson’s charm lies in how he inflects his voice with subtle intonations that pull at your heartstrings, which grow more and more vulnerable with each verse.
Dark Bird Is Home serves as an impressive shift in style from the Swedish artist that fans old and new can latch onto for a comforting listen.
After putting out two EPs in 2013, BANKS released her debut full-length album Goddess in 2014 and quickly established herself as a frontrunner of the surging minimalist pop movement. Collaborating with a handful of producers including Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs and Sohn, BANKS manages to craft a seductive and intense body of work that bleeds emotion. She is vixen-like on some tracks with her voice wailing like a siren, lustful and tortured. On others, she shows a more vulnerable dimension, switching to a softer, more cautious tone.
Goddess is a prime of example of how opposites attract with the polished production often juxtaposed by the rawness and emotion in BANKS’ voice. But perhaps it is this juxtaposition that manages to capture interest throughout the 14-track (18 for deluxe) affair.
I am really enjoying the experimental path pop music is heading towards at the moment and I put my faith in BANKS whose quiet passion is leading the uprising and breathing fire into the revolution.
Deeply moving and atmospheric, The War On Drugs’ third album is nothing short of impressive. Combining foggy instrumentals with Adam Granduciel’s mournful vocals, Lost In The Dream creates a tingling sensation that persists throughout the album.
Granduciel is incredibly creative with his direction of the band’s sound, the most notable example being the opening of the first track “Under the Pressure,” which sounds eerily like a kettle as it starts to heat up on a stove.
Admittedly, Lost In The Dream is an album that requires the listener to be in a specific mental state. While the single “Red Eyes” has gotten its fair share of radio play in recent months, the album as a whole is definitely not meant for sunny Friday afternoons as you leave your last class. Rather, it demands a kind of focus that can be found when writing an essay at 3 a.m. or walking a great distance on a drizzly day.
This is All Yours is a delicious mix of the catchy riffs, and soothing melodies that define Alt-J’s unique sound. The British stalwarts’ lyrics are both poetic and vague, and at times Joe Newman’s vocals are almost entirely unintelligible. The catch here is that discovering the meaning behind Newman’s lyrics as the album progresses is as enjoyable as it is challenging.
“Warm Foothills” is a sweetly charming addition to the album. Its gorgeous harmonies paired with a light-hearted guitar riff and the beautiful imagery that’s offered by the lyrics is a sure-fire recipe for an amazing song. It’s impossible not to feel moved, especially when the voices croon out “I tie my life to your balloon and let it go.”
Alt-J’s sophomore effort is full of equally compelling songs, and is one to seek out for those who are keen on experiencing something a little bit different from their usual fare.
Lykke Li’s latest album, I Never Learn is another thematic step forward for the Swedish songstress that highlights the unavoidability of her favourite topic, heartbreak.
Having explored the immediate pain of a breakup in Youth Novels and charted the effects of ever-clinging despair in follow-up Wounded Rhymes, Li seems to embrace her fate with aptly titled I Never Learn. While riddled with the same mournful darkness as her previous albums, I Never Learn has a more powerful underlying cohesion that results in greater depth than her previous efforts.
“Just Like a Dream” is a standout that put listeners in a somber trance with its consistent deep vocals and powerful drumbeat throughout. The loneliness found in the rest of the tracks will be relatable to anyone who has endured having their heart broken.
The emotions in I Never Learn are devastating when considering how they consume Li, but leave you wanting to delve deeper into both her mind and music.
2014 brought about the resurrection of Ben Howard’s electric licks and transcendent timbre with the release of his sophomore album I Forget Where We Were. Howard’s mellow tone was one that was dearly missed by his nucleus of fans, a following that has grown exponentially since his first venture into the Indie scene. The album features tracks marked by simplicity, yet is intricately layered with eclectic sounds, electric echoes, and an overall permeation of his soulful, burning voice.
The shift from acoustic to electric guitar comes as a surprise, but only works to complement his electrically charged wails. His tracks may build and crash in the background but his whispery voice carries every track from its burgeoning start to the final chord. Among all other galvanic album releases this year, Ben Howard’s second album is a refreshing alcove of soothing tracks that will make you — if even for a second — forget where you are.
Born Tahliah Barnett, FKA Twigs owns an aesthetic that is eerie and unconventional. From her album covers to her music videos, her works emulate a distortion of beauty that adds to her eccentric persona and allure. In LP1, crystalline beats puncture through flesh and bone, though her breathy voice never fails to linger and heal these wounds. The album is filled with punchy beats and crafty synthetic hooks. Her lyrics, though not cathartic, are intimate and relatable.
A standout track is “Pendulum.” It emulates the vibe that defines the rest of the album; beautifully tragic. Twigs manages to convey a desperation that so many of us are familiar with in a way that doesn’t make her a damsel in distress. This song is her autopsy, and though she lays disassembled on the track, you still can’t figure her out.
FKA Twigs manages to merge a cavalcade of electronic beats and orchestral instruments with her tantalizingly warped vocals. She is clandestine and provocative, and every whimper or lustful sigh that fills the occasional silence in LP1 further imposes the mystique behind this extraterrestrial seductress.
Some go to church on Sundays, I listen to What is This Heart?. The emotional expansiveness of Tom Krell’s third record under the How To Dress Well moniker renders it every bit as cathartic as religious gatherings are supposed to be.
While Krell suggests, “ there’s no design, no god,” on opener “2 Years On (Shame Dream),” the message he sends with the remainder of his album is not morose, but rather uplifting. Krell abhors easy cynicism, and this deeply earnest effort serves to counteract it.
The tall falsetto-voiced singer grapples with existential issues deftly, perhaps aided by the work he has done on his dissertation on nihilism and German philosophy. Although the subject matter is lofty, Krell’s honeyed vocals and the immersive production all bring one back down to earth to engage with his demons in an experience that won’t fail to induce tears. Far from depressing, the record combines a whirl of emotions into a rehabilitative sonic experience. If you embrace What is this Heart?, it’ll return the favour.
Through brilliant production, back-and-forth chemistry between Killer Mike and El-P, and willingness to be completely unapologetic in its lyrics, the second collaboration between the duo never feels stale or bloated underneath its middle finger to almost everyone and everything. Run The Jewels 2 is not for the light-hearted or easily offended. Hooks like “Lie, cheat, steal, kill, win, win, (everybody doing it)” set up the duo to aggressively persecute any critics in their way while providing transitions into serious topics such as police brutality, racism, drug usage, war, death, and government hypocrisy.
What makes the album particularly amazing is the ability to balance all of this. Every song could easily be a single on its own due to the ability to stand separated from album context, and the sheer quality of every track from top to bottom. Each feels completely unique from the last. Each invites you to rage and to build up feelings of rebellion against whatever may be holding you down. Good luck finding anything else quite like RTJ2, but look out for the cat-inspired (seriously) remix Meow The Jewels.
When I first heard Alvvays I didn’t think much of it. Their track “Adult Diversion” had been posted on a music blog I followed, and while I liked the song, I never followed up on it. Months later multiple friends of mine started telling me I had to listen to this band that “was like Best Coast, but with better lyrics.” While I could see the similarities, after endless loopings of “Archie, Marry Me,” “Next of Kin,” and “The Agency Group” I quickly realized Alvvays was so much more.
It’s hard to pin down just what it is that makes the Canadian indie-pop’s self-titled debut so compelling. Maybe it’s Molly Rankin’s ethereal voice, or the perfect balance of the “less is more” production philosophy, or even Alec O’Hanley’s expert use of dissonance in his guitar playing. What is clear is that each listen of Alvvays builds on the dreamy summer soundscape that I’ve come to love. Proof that Canada makes music to be proud of; Alvvays doesn’t disappoint.
Annie Clark, better known as the effervescent St. Vincent, has always been somewhat of an anomaly. From her butterfly wing-wearing days touring with Sufjan Stevens to her latest self-titled album, she has never played by the rules, but it’s always worked for her.
St. Vincent is jarring, mismatched, often dark, but always sounds exactly as it should. Without trying too hard, St. Vincent has fashioned herself as an art-pop icon by refusing to be anyone but herself. In a world where the weirdos are rarely celebrated, St. Vincent has delivered the best album of the year, a pop-rock-electronic album that allows for both introspection and intense dance sessions guaranteed to up your self-esteem and overall mood. From the ethereal aura of “Prince Johnny” to the retro simplicity of “Huey Newton,” Clark manages to produce her best album to date that somehow captures the essence of the past and the future effortlessly.
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While discussion happens within the office to appreciate a person’s accomplishments in life, no matter how large or small they may seem to passive participants, it is difficult for anyone to have a clear state of mind following a death. It is even more difficult for an author to write a piece that they can be comfortable in publishing. You only get the one chance to represent an entire person’s life.
Perhaps it is fitting then that we admired and respected ASAP Yams to the degree we do. He was not a well-known figure to the public, many people confusing him for an active artist based on his prominently featured ASAP prefix, but he operated behind the scenes in a way many of us could only wish to achieve. His ability to manage and find the perfect people to work together in a matchmaker mentality, his sheer dedication to hip-hop, and his vision and passion for music all remain constant sources of inspiration for anyone involved in any way with the arts.
Though he was never behind the mixing boards of a studio, Steven Rodriguez helped form the styles and nuisances of numerous prominent artists known today through his breadth and depth of music knowledge. Through his Yamborghini Records side-project, he worked with and developed Dash, Vince Staples, Aston Matthews, and Joey Fatts, and had some degree of influence with Flatbush Zombies, Action Bronson, Freddie Gibbs, and Danny Brown as evident by guest appearances.
His best known work, however, was with the ASAP crew. Everyone in ASAP owes their founder their careers. Cultivating their talents, matching up their flows, mannerisms, and lyrical content with a balance between artistic legitimacy, mainstream appeal, and constant tweaks and adjustments to match their development can very rarely be done on a singular basis. To manage to do this with an entire group of people on top of his side work is extraordinary.
We honour ASAP Yams because we can all connect to him. We are not always admired and idolized for our work and passion, but we do it anyway because of our internal drive and motivation. ASAP Yams represents everyone who has ever not been respected or appreciated to the degree they should be.
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When I walked into Mills Hardware to interview The Beaches, I was thankful for reprieve from the snowy flurries still raging outside, but even more appreciative of the opportunity to sit down with the Toronto four-piece alternative rock outfit and former Silhouette cover stars.
I had missed their set at Riot Fest due to a scheduling conflict, and an interview before their Supercrawl set fell through at the last minute, so I was excited when I learned that I would finally get the opportunity to sit down with Jordan Miller, Kylie Miller, Eliza Mc- Daniel, and Leandra Earl before their latest Hamilton gig.
Despite being nothing more than a stranger to them, the four girls were more than welcoming and quickly made me feel at home in the basement of the venue. As they impatiently awaited the arrival of their food, we settled down for an interview.
Jordan (bass/vocals) and Kylie (guitar) are sisters, as their shared surname suggests. Aged 18 and 17 respectively, the pair have been playing music together for close to ten years. After enlisting the help of Eliza (drums, 18) but being mocked for their success — their high school peers resented the fact that their music was being featured on the decidedly unhip Disney Channel — the band altered their bubble-gum image and added Leandra (20) whose skills on the keyboard have added a new dimension to their sound.
Having all attended the same Toronto high school, the four women have a noticeable chemistry and often finish each other’s sentences while trading quips with knowing glances. Eliza said that remaining close friends while being in a band together goes hand in hand and the other three were quick to agree.
“It’s easy for us since we genuinely like each other,” said the drummer.
Jordan went so far as to suggest a parental dynamic comes into play with Kylie figuring as the strict parent and Leandra as the nurturing one. All jokes aside, it was plain to see that they were serious about their musical aspirations and fully committed to realizing their ambitions.
They’re currently signed to a temporary deal with Island Records that entails them being periodically flown out to L.A. to work with producers. The output they create while there will determine whether the label decides to sign them to a full deal or keep developing their raw talent.
To watch the video for “Loner,” probably the band’s biggest hit, is to fully understand the crossover appeal that the band possess and what must have attracted the label.
While anxious to see how it all pans out, Kylie said “it’s kind of the best of both worlds” in how they’re able to visit L.A. for free, while still retaining creative freedom when they hit the studio. As the lone member of the band still in high school, one would think that Kylie would be stressed about having to take time off school but the senior appears to be handling it with ease. She added that the trips are often so brief that sometimes her teachers don’t even notice she’s gone.
Although only one of them is old enough to legally drink, the band has played most of their shows in bars and always has some stories to share when asked. One Toronto venue, which they refused to name, once gave them some trouble when the security guard came into the backroom and told them, “no fans allowed back here, band only.” Some other venues don’t even deem them worthy of that much attention, telling them to simply stay put until they’re due on stage.
As troubling to hear as the treatment they’ve received may be, the band has their sights set on the bigger picture. They all echoed the same plan to record their first full-length record over the next year.
As the last to join the band, Leandra had a bit of perspective when stopping to consider how the band has grown over the years and said the arrival of a manager has brought a lot more opportunities to perform at festivals and expand their horizons. Eliza said that the addition of Leandra has allowed them to pursue a direction that wasn’t just “hooky and guitar-driven.”
If they stay on their current track, The Beaches’ optimism will soon prove warranted. With the Canadian alt-rock scene plagued with a slew of mediocre male bands, this female ensemble couldn’t be more deserving.
Holy Oker’s debut EP Diamonds is a collection of six electro-dance tracks that combine house-drenched kicks with emotional lyrics. Holy Oker is the solo act of Greg Bevis, drummer from electro-dance group Bear Mountain. Having already found success on the indie scene, Bevis is stepping out on his own to explore electronic music through a more personal approach. His style is a mix of arpeggiated synth hooks and syncopated bass with euphoric melody. Bevis’ tracks, though infused with infectious beats, are not your typical tunes for fist-pumping Fridays at the club – they are fragile and personal, precisely what makes this EP so refreshing.
Every track is a little piece of heartbreak. Synth chords act as the soft overlay of hopefulness, creating a juxtaposition of pain and optimism. The title track, “Diamonds,” is an intimate and personal track from Bevis. Attentive ears will pick out a quiet sigh near the beginning of the song as the synth hook blends with the simple guitar riff, a detail that highlights an unusual vulnerability in his music. My favourite track off the EP is “Love Like A Gun,” where the minor key and dark lyrics bring you pangs of melancholy, only for the syncopated rhythm to carry a soft, airy feel that takes you back to sweet dreams and good memories. The rest of the EP follows a similar formula, one that allows the collection of six songs to work incredibly well with each other.
Perhaps what makes this EP so pleasant is that it doesn’t follow expectations. Holy Oker is a crossover between the electronic beats of CHVRCHES and the breathy voice of Sufjan Stevens, with hints of bands like Haim and, of course, Bear Mountain. His distinctive orchestral arrangements are reminiscent of the works of Jon Brion. Here is a soft, almost fragile voice, combined with strong synth-pop chords and powerful bass beats. The tracks are punchy and edgy with a touch of whimsical, unexpected in the periodic bursts of electronic energy, deep bass, and unreal beats. Bevis’ personal spin on electro-dance has an oddly likeable dissonance that sets him apart from similar artists. His lyrics tell stories about a complicated and disillusioned addiction to love – and his music is a kind of self-medication I’d gladly take.
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In the age of the internet, there has never been more access to music in all of history. More importantly, there has never been more music being created and recorded than what we have seen in the last ten years. Thanks to the advent of home studio and computer-based digital audio work stations, creating a quality recording of your work has never been easier. Musicians no longer have to rely on major labels to make what they love, resulting in music for the masses.
So why is it that when I sift through my Facebook news feed I hear the same broken record echoing that “the music industry is dead,” when my iTunes library seems to grow bigger every year? I’m talking about those kids who won’t shut up about how the only good music was made in the 70s, or that old-school hip-hop is the be-all and end-all of quality rap music. How can someone complain about music being dead when every conceivable sound is being created and recorded around the world? Do you really want to go back to a system where you were only able to listen to the handful of bands that could afford the thousands of dollars it costs to go to a recording studio 30 years ago?
I can already imagine your counter-argument. Yes, I know that people have their own preferences and tastes, and some people might just like a different style, but too often the people complaining describe music as a hugely important thing in their life. If you don’t care about music and just want to listen to a few of your favourite tracks, that’s fine, but if you love music the style you love is very likely still being created, and you just don’t know about it because you’re too busy mourning the loss of Pink Floyd despite only knowing “Money” and “Wish You Were Here.”
Instead of complaining about Nirvana being the last best west of rock, start looking for the hundreds of bands that still want to create music that way. Instead of whining about Wu-Tang-Clan why not look into the rap artists who love them, and are channelling their style to this day. There is almost a zero percent chance that someone right now in this world with billions of people that someone isn’t making great music just like the artists you love. You just have to find it.
Is it that hard to imagine that there are people just like you, who want to create music that channels your favourite time period? If you love classic rock, check out Tame Impala, The Black Keys or The Sheepdogs. If you miss old-school rap, check out Joey Bada$$ or Kendrick Lamar. To borrow classic relationship advice, there are other fish in the sea, and those fish probably play your favourite music. Sure, these artists aren’t going to be identical carbon copies of the older generation, but there is far more to music than what you hear on the radio. Are you really so dull that you have already given up on finding new stuff in your 20s?
At the end of the day, those complaining about rock or hip-hop being dead need to admit to themselves that they are either too lazy to look for something new to listen to, or just looking for something to complain about. I’m grateful for the music of the past, and excited for the music of the future. If music is really important to you, maybe you should be too.
By: Nimra Khan
Taylor Swift has released her new album 1989 on October 27th into the much-anticipated hands (or iTunes libraries) of “Swifties” everywhere. Just two years since the release of her album Red, 1989 marks a complete crossover into pop music, with no sight of the country-loving girl we once knew.
I've been a Taylor Swift fan from the beginning, but I had started to lose interest since the release of Red. I found myself growing tired of the repetitive slow, sad, and broken-hearted songs that she was producing, and wanted something more. It seems 1989 was just what I needed, as it has blown me away with how catchy its songs are.
While still belting about her love life, Swift has crafted a completely new way to express her feelings through her music. Much like her single "Shake It Off," the album starts and ends as upbeat and exciting. Beginning with a dark verse before slamming into an uplifting chorus, the darkest song on this album, "I Know Places," has to be my favourite. It felt like a very personal song about what a relationship must be like while in the public spotlight.
While many of the songs are upbeat, Taylor has managed to bring back a few of the ballads she is known for. However, unlike her past works, these songs like “This Love” and “You Are In Love” don’t slow down the album, and help to balance the high-energy of all the fast-paced songs on 1989. As a welcome bonus, the album even comes included with three voice memos explaining the song writing process for three of the songs, and a pleasantly surprising set of Polaroids.
My only complaint about 1989 would be that most of the songs still revolve around the same generic love and heartbreak lyrics that Swift is known for. Still, it is honestly refreshing to see a complete change in style from Taylor Swift, as she is doing exactly what every artist shouldn't be afraid of: evolving. Even if you aren't a Taylor Swift fan, this revamped Taylor Swift album is a perfect way to open up to her for any lover of pop music.
By: Rachel Harper
Ben Howard continues to rock the indie-folk scene with his second album I Forget Where We Were released on Oct. 21. For fans of Every Kingdom, the familiar sound of the previous album is still an underlying presence, while at the same time propelling itself into a new direction.
Howard, a 27-year-old English singer-songwriter, is quite popular in the U.K., is quickly becoming a rising star in North America. He has a considerable fan base in the Greater Toronto Area, having played at Echo Beach in August 2013.
Howard has been a favourite of mine for a few years, and his new album has only enhanced my love for his music. Part of this is because of his very distinct, pleasant voice – soft, airy, and transforming almost into a rasping growl when he reaches low notes. Many of his new tracks incorporate goose bump-inducing harmonies, similarly to his previous album. The song is either overlapped with Howard’s voice, or with India Bourne, the bassist and cellist within the group.
There’s a healthy mix of acoustic and electric guitar in I Forget Where We Were, which pairs perfectly with the array of fingerpicking techniques Howard employs. “End of the Affair” is one such song, with Howard plucking a soothing rhythm at the intro, and ripping through harmonics with a savage passion near to the end. “In Dreams” displays this talent as well, as notes seem to fly by while the drums plod steadily along in the background. This technique is a staple of Howard’s and while it produces a calming arrangement, it also helps the song build itself up to greater heights.
Howard’s talents are not limited to his technical skills, as he is also a fantastic lyricist. His songs and their meanings give you something to chew on as you’re thrust into feelings of nostalgia and wistfulness. This makes I Forgot Where We Were offer a certain grounding effect that results in wonderful de-stressing music. If you’re in need of some serious relaxation, this is the album for you.
