Blue Bendy – So Medieval
Though London six piece Blue Bendy came up in the same scene as Black Midi and Black Country, New Road, their discography (one EP and a handful of singles) is much scanter than those contemporaries. So Medieval, their debut album, cements their status as one of the most interesting bands in the British scene. To my ear, the influence of Black Country, New Road lingers over the proceedings: lead singer Arthur Nolan’s voice bears some resemblance to Isaac Wood, their lyrics mix cryptic imagery with pop culture references, and the music itself can be delicate one moment and bombastic the next. But where Black Country, New Road are all about slow buildups and sweeping climaxes, Blue Bendy’s music will give you whiplash; other bands might let these songs unfurl over ten minutes, but Blue Bendy find a way to jam the same highs and lows into a three minute pop song. The real trick is that you never feel like a Blue Bendy song is overstuffed; even at their most frantic, all of the pieces fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.
Clarissa Connelly – World of Work
I was a big fan Clarissa Connelly’s 2020 album The Voyager, which split the difference between wonky art-pop and ancient folk music; listening to it almost felt like stumbling onto an artifact from some long lost civilization. Connelly is part of the same Copenhagen scene that’s given us modern classics from ML Buch and Astrid Sonne, and her debut album on Warp Records continues that winning streak. World of Work widens Connelly’s sonic palette further than ever before. “Wee Rosebud”, a surreal vignette from the perspective of the titular bloom, sounds like a bizarro Gregorian chant. Ruminative opener “Into This, Called Loneliness” transforms slowly from a sparse piano ballad to a chorus of sorrowful voices. “Crucifer”, perhaps my favorite song here, is an earworm about the struggle between heaven and hell. Mythical and mystical in equal measure, World of Work is one of the year’s most immersive listens.
Swanox – Rhodyrunner
I lived in San Francisco for a couple years. Though it’s perfect weather and beautiful Victorians create an idyllic surface, there’s darkness roiling beneath it: rampant homelessness and social inequity, annual wild fires that make the air toxic, the constant threat of a cataclysmic earthquake that will level the entire city. Bay Area mystic Anthony Boruch-Comstock Orion taps into this very specific brand of malaise with the music he makes under the moniker Swanox. From languid rockers to twinkling electronics, these tracks that capture this dichotomy perfectly: they’re unabashedly pretty while dripping with unease.