The comeback had been festering, just beneath the surface, for a number of years now, but 2013 may finally have brought about a pop music renaissance. I’m not talking about Top 40 – the days that permitted consistently “good” music on the Top 40 charts have long since disappeared. The term “pop music” doesn’t need to be derogatory – it should imply a level of accessibility, not the derivative and over-produced slush we’ve come to associate with the term. The new wave has been inspired by the deep wellspring of 1980’s pop sensibilities. Hall & Oates. Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks. Tears for Fears. The Pet Shop Boys. New Order. Bands that crafted solid tunes. Lyrics. A catchy hook. A solid beat.
It’s been awhile since I dished out a new music recommendation but this guy has forced my hand. I loved this record from the first listen, but my esteem has only grown for this debut LP from the Liverpool-based producer/artist Matthew Barnes. I had this record on during a workout the other day– I know, not exactly workout tunes but I couldn’t help myself — and I had to stop what I was doing to listen. How many records do you hear each year that force you to stop… and just get lost in the music? One? Maybe two?
It’s been a few months since I was last blown away by a new record. There have been some great records, don’t get me wrong, but nothing really sent me scurrying to the bl-g to scream names from my squatty soapbox of musical superiority. Well, I’m back with a new recommendation and it did indeed send me scurrying for the soapbox. While it’s not Paul Simon’s Graceland, the fact that I’m mentioning this record in the same sentence says just about as much as I need about it’s musical pedigree.
I’d like to call bullshit on half of 2013 already being over, but the calendar says July 8th and since I have a complete inability to keep track of days, months, years, and whatnot, I’m going to have to believe what all of my electronics are preaching. The iPhone does not tell a lie, although Siri is a conniving little… Read more »
Last year I plugged POOLSIDE, a band with aspirations no greater than inspiring you to chill out and drink adult beverages next to a sterile body of water. The ocean, most likely. I definitely don’t see them advocating a stagnant pool or freshwater lake. This year, I’ve got another fantastic candidate for chill-the-fuck-out record of the year. I submit to you: VONDELPARK. Critics seem to call them dream pop, but that doesn’t really translate here. Vocals are whispy, synthy and minimal.