The Neon Skyline - Andy Shauf
It's 10:30 pm on a Thursday. The bar is pretty emptied out but we're still an hour or so till last call. Plenty of time for Rose to wordlessly pass me another can of whatever they had extra laying around. The space is snug and dimly lit, overhead lamps suspended over the bar acting as the sole source of light. The mostly empty booths behind me sink into an inky, but comforting darkness just beyond the reach of that light, the curves of their well worn leather periodically highlighted by the neon sign flickering to life just outside. The door opens and a familiar smile outlined by neon light steps into the bar. I barely turn my head as Charlie takes the seat next to mine, while Rose pours him a glass of red.
Andy Shauf really panders to my style of music listening. Front to back, top to bottom, side A through side B. And while other artists often use the linear format of an album listen to imply progression, it's rare to see anyone use the format to tell a complete story over the course of eleven tracks. The Neon Skyline is the story of one evening, following our narrator through the melancholy and wistfulness of a night drinking because of a failed relationship. The lyricism and storytelling paint a lush canvas, pulling the listener right into the bar and through the memories of our narrator. The production evolves the best parts of his work on his previous LP, The Party, as well as his work on Foxwarren, managing to carve his own identity in the indie folk style.
It's not just that I love the stylings of the album though. I connect with a lot of the feelings of confusion, loss, and change that flow through this album very personally. This album was written during a stint in Andy's life where he was frequenting the Skyline (real restaurant), and though the story told over the course of the album is ultimately just a story, it's hard to imagine there's not a part of Andy's personality present in the narrator of The Neon Skyline. Listening to this album then, makes me feel like I'm catching up with an old friend who's been through a lot recently. In that way, The Neon Skyline plays like an auditory warm blanket. A sad warm blanket, but a warm blanket nonetheless.
Favorite Track: Neon Skyline
The New Abnormal - The Strokes
There's literally nothing I could write about The Strokes that hasn't already been written. Love em or hate em, The Strokes are an integral part of indie rock history. A band who have captured the hearts and minds of some of the great indie acts of the 2000's and 2010's, and who's presence is still felt strongly nearly 20 years after their debut. And while First Impressions, Angles, and Comedown Machine all have their ups and downs, when I heard Julian and the boys were back in the studio, my little indie heart skipped a few beats. Did the patron saints of the post-punk revival have what it takes to succeed in a space that has seeming moved on from their four chord riffs and ironic punk aesthetics, long after many of their peers have since moved on? Could they once again, be The Strokes? Of fucking course they could.
I often say I'd give anything to listen to Is This It for the first time again, but listening to The New Abnormal at the stroke (get it) of midnight on April 10th managed to elicit those same feelings of intimacy and nostalgia that made their debut unique. Julian somehow sounds better here than he's sounded maybe ever and the dueling guitars of Albert Hammond Jr. and Nick Valensi continue to exude the warmth and style that makes a Strokes song a Strokes song. This all being said, The New Abnormal isn't a greatest hits collection of riffs and lyrics. Long gone are stories of late nights and drunken confessions, The New Abnormal finds a much older Julian Casablancas. Themes of loss, disappointment, and bittersweet nostalgia pepper the album as Casablancas reflects on what feels like an eternity since their debut in 2001.
The Strokes makes me feel about music the way I imagine other people feel about apple pie, a warm spring day, or a fuzzy blanket during winter. I've been in love with them for so long, I can't possibly be objective about their music. But I don't want to be. I want to badly dance to Bad Decisions in my apartment kitchen. I want to annoy my neighbors playing the riff to Reptilia again and again and again. I want to make a vocal filter so I can sound just like Julian calling me from a New York City pay phone. But mostly, I just want to be one of The Strokes.
Favorite Track: The Adults are Talking
Shore - Fleet Foxes
2020 was a complete mess of a year. And being that art reflects the time it's from, it's no wonder we've gotten so many albums in quarantine that feel like "quarantine albums". Albums that embrace the distance, the darkness, and the confusion that we feel in one of the most trying years many of us have lived through. It's a strange contrast then, to spin up Shore and listen to a man sing about he wants to swim with friends on a warm beach. Written and recorded in quarantine by Robin Pecknold, the album harnesses all the warmth, optimism, and earnestness of the band's previous releases while re-framing the complexities of the modern day.
It's not as though Shore is an album about ignoring your problems. Through its 54 minute runtime, Shore speaks candidly about the weights we all carry through life. Lost heroes, broken trust, pains of growing up, and cycles of depression are just a few of the ideas Pecknold explores on the album's 15 tracks. Songs like Can I Believe You, A Long Way Past The Past, and I'm Not My Season speak to Robin's fears and anxieties but in a way that reminds you that the only way to move forward is to accept your past and face your problems. Rather than being pulled down by these themes, Shore's folk and choral styling make the songs feel like a fuzzy blanket holding you as you explore the reasons why you're sad this month. Fans of the band's previous work will be pleased to hear the evolution of the syncopated synth sounds from Crack-Up, Fleet Foxes' previous album, flow gracefully with the fuller and gentler tones from Helplessness Blues.
Shore was an album I really needed this past year. After a difficult 1-4 years and countless pieces of art attempting to be a referendum on the Trump presidency and pandemic-era depression, it's comforting to actually have someone tell me things are going to be ok. It can be so easy to create work that is too reactionary, thus too locked to a time, especially when it feels like we're all clinging on for dear life. Shore is a reminder that these anxieties never truly go away, it's only with time and perspective that we realize we've been through this before and we'll continue on long after. Cradling Mother, Cradling Woman, the album's penultimate track, finds Pecknold at the end of his journey exclaiming "And I feel worn, but the air is clean//And my clothes are torn, but it's right on me//Passing rain, blue white heat//Agony, not to me, it's not defeat". Overly earnest? Maybe. But I've spent more than my fair share of time being bitterly cynical and maybe it would be nice to pick up my guitar, strap on my Birkenstocks, and tell my friends I love them.
Favorite Track: I’m Not My Season