Welcome to Something New, a newsletter about the human curation of movies, music, books, games, and everything else worthwhile.
I am working on a theory that we are living in a great time for music, despite all of the frequently blogged about evidence to the contrary. I believe that every genre is alive and well, with full beating hearts, in teenagers and 20-somethings all over the world. The streaming providers will not let you find this out passively, but if you dig in enough digital crates, you will find a new version of that thing you loved that you thought was dead. The universal access to music has allowed for rebirth, for iteration, and the creativity and access that people now grow up with means that we get new versions of old things, new spins on old songs, new combinations of influences (I heard just today, in NYTimes Popcast, a host refer to an artist as “like being raised on death-metal and Doja Cat”, or something lie that). This, my friend, is good.
When I first heard Horsegirl’s debut album, 2022’s Versions of Modern Performance, I knew I was hearing kids with impeccable taste, great ears. Filled with calculated haze, layered noise, and monster riffs, the influences and references were loud and proud. They were great imitators with great energy. This was new music for old heads. It was one of my favorite records of the year. But I didn’t spend too much time inside of it, really listening to it. It didn’t draw me in. It was a wash-over record, one to exist around you, like a comforting blanket.
Bands mentioned in reviews for this album cycle (critics love dropping sick band references in reviews):
Sonic Youth
Flying Nun
Electrelane
Bob Dylan
Al Green
Wilco
Marine Girls
The Cat’s Miow
Lois
Stina Nordestam
Velvet Underground
The Raincoats
The Feelies
Belle and Sebastian
The Jesus and the Mary Chain
Gang of Four
Beat Happening
Dry Cleaning
Wet Leg
probably like 37 others
I didn’t think too much about them after the first month of hearing that record. I slotted a track or two into my 2022 round-up, and kept on crate-digging.
When I heard that they were releasing a new record – sheerly by chance, for I was in the middle of a social media/internet fast – I was excited for what I assumed would be a typical sophomore release: a blow-out of production and sound, an expanse of resources, something bigger.
That’s not what Horsegirl made.
Using just five streams of sound – Nora Cheng’s voice, her guitar; Penelope Lowenstein’s voice, her bass; Gigi Reece’s seven-piece drum kit – the trio have found new creativity buried within simplicity. Affecting their guitar voicings, noodling with a violin, and, most importantly, replacing typical lyrical segments of songs with phonetic strings (there’s not a track on this record without an “ooh”, an “ah”, some “doo”s or “da”s), Horsegirl create clean, simple, gorgeous songs with a vision, with a purpose. There’s no drowning in reverb or layering, there’s just communication.
And yeah, okay, there’s an energetic and fierce guitar solo in “Where’d You Go?”, the opening track on this February’s Phonetics On and On. They’re rockers, first and foremost. But they’re slacking on this record, in the best possible way. Driving and bright, the record starts with a verve we might have expected after their breakout, but it already sounds more focused. Track two, “Rock City”, establishes the real vision of this entry: Reece moving us forward steadily, Lowenstein thumping with momentum, Cheng playing around on the treble end, and two voices bouncing around each other, playing back and forth, dancing. The lyrics are precise, observant, wise, colorful, and really grabbed me. It’s a beautiful collection of sounds and ideas. “In Twos” slows down even more, replacing motor with melancholy.
Then comes my favorite four track sequence in a long time: “2468”, a warm, rambunctious, imaginative diddy (and a complete banger) shaped after a song a kid would make up on their walk to or from school; “Well I Know You’re Shy”, a showcase for Lowenstein’s vocal range and plunky bass skills; “Julie”, my favorite song on the record; and “Switch Over”, which continues a type of droning from the previous track while also being a total body-mover that hits like a bolt of lightning.
“Information Content” packs a dense lyrical punch; “Frontrunner” removes the electric guitar and drum kit for acoustic, quieter options; “Sport Meets Sound” has wonderful structural playfulness, and “I Can’t Stand to See You” takes us home gracefully.
Phonetics On and On is an intentional, focused, and playful collection. The band didn’t blow up their sound, or blow it out. They honed it. It’s a record where the influences are perhaps just as clear as their debut, but their own voices and fingerprints loom larger. They seem to understand each other more, and they seem to have a new direction and purpose.
But they’re still young. And they know that.
“Julie” is the record’s masterpiece, a question asked and answered. A declaration of longing, of fear, of unknowing. A statement of confidence and faith. An alchemical blend of elementary bass playing, of nearly invisible percussion, and a dark, droning synth. The lyrics match that tinge of darkness, and also carry the sweetness of Loewnstein’s performance, of her handing us the story. The words falling naturally into-do-do-do–do-do’s. Cheng’s guitar slides and grinds all around the neck, cutting through the severity and sincerity of the rest of the elements, reminding us that we’re here to play, to have fun, to make mistakes.
The band members are off in college now, blazing new paths on the verge of surely stellar future careers. They’ve already come so far, already done so much. It is life affirming to watch the people coming up behind you make discoveries — ones you made yourself — and to discover themselves. I love them, and I’m so proud of them.
Do I want kids?
Thank you, as always, for reading. Please, listen to this record. Tell me your thoughts. Tell me what you hear in their sound. Tell me a band you’re digging recently.
You can find it on all streaming platforms, and you can buy it digitally, on CD, and on vinyl on their bandcamp. Why isn’t it on cassette? I have no idea, but if you want me to make you a cassette recording of it (…or any album), let me know, and I’ll send one to you. Really.
TTFN,
b
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