Writing About Music 2

Last year, when I wrote the first entry of this series, I limited my discussion mostly to albums which had come out in that year (2024). I have decided this year to place no such restriction on myself. This is mostly because, in reality, much of my favourite music last year did not come out last year. This year, there are several entries that did not come out in 2025, but that I am also keen to discuss and share.

There has been some good music this year. Or, at least, I have stumbled upon some good music. There are elements to what I have been listening to this year which lead me to think I have enjoyed a less diverse set of music than the previous year (in editing this post, I am not sure I agree with this anymore, but I also know why I have said this). The key thing which jumps out to me is the number of female singers on my list of 'music worth writing about' this year. I know too little to know if this is just a personal tendency, or whether the punk scene is trending in that direction at the moment. The second theme is punk music. It has always been my main genre; my go-to genre; the genre which aligns, push come to shove, with my soul. But I try to branch out. I am not sure I have done so much this year, but where I have, I've enjoyed some wonderful albums.

Marriage License, by Drinking Boys and Girls Choir

This album was released in 2023 and is only around 23 minutes long. Much of it is also in Korean, so I don't really understand anything that is being said. I think that should stand as a testament to how good Marriage License is as a fast, high-energy punk album. Three quite fast tracks lead into Time, which is hardly a ballad, but does show musical dynamism beyond simply fast strumming power chords. Hit the Corner is the main 'single' on the album, and carries the energy with its tremendous simplicity. Again, 'softer' tracks like Secret Revenge and My Second Universe are followed by two songs, I Am Not a Machine and Grab the Chance, neither of which hit the one minute mark. True to good album form (in my opinion), Marriage License finishes on Wish, a nice blend of the fast and the tender which thematically weave their way through the whole album. Wish, at four minutes, is the longest song on the album, and the only one to feature effects and tricks which might be called indulgent. But in such a straight shooting album, indulgence here is not a bad thing. Rather, it feels like more of a payoff for a band that has by this point demonstrated they do not need indulgences to make good music.

If I were trying to indoctrinate someone into punk rock, Marriage License would be a bad choice insofar as it relies on one already enjoying the punk rock sound (or, I suppose, the listener being able to speak Korean). But I also think it is a great, short burst of what punk rock can (and should) be. High energy and abrasive, personal and intentional.

Solarium, by Ciao Kennedy

I love Solarium. It is very much a contender for my favourite album of the year, and even though I think I will give that 'accolade' to another album (later), I also think I will constantly debate whether Solarium should actually be considered by favourite album. (I did buy this album on vinyl, so...)

Solarium is a modern European jazz album, which is not a genre I had especially dabbled in before. While the jazz elements are definitely there--excellent drums, surprising melodies, experimentation in structure and flow--the album draws substantially (I think) on electronic music, and so sounds nothing like a traditional jazz album. The best way I can describe Solarium is alien. Its composition is so alien to the kind of music I normally listen to, or indeed, almost all pop music. But its timbre is also of an alien nature. It is invitingly sinister, in the same way I imagine a spaceship descending from a star-filled sky is both sinister (the darkness, the unknown) and terribly curious to explore further. While 'alien' remains the choice word, in my opinion (insofar as what I am trying to describe is a collision with stark 'otherness'), we might also conceive of Solarium as something from a parallel universe, with a common ancestory and unmistakably similar feelings, but also evidence of some point of divergence. Whenever I think of Berlin in the 1980s (as I understand it--I was not alive then), or the Cyberpunk universe, I have this same feeling of otherness infected by the familiar.

Last year, I wrote a comparable tract on Seeker by Carbon Based Lifeforms (another lyricless, electronic album). In that review, I explained how I inferred a plot into the album-cum-soundtrack of a human first-encounter with an alien lifeform. The critical difference between the vibe of Seeker and that of Solarium, though, is the former is awash with feelings of exploration; of humanity stumbling across something, and taking the bold step to pursue it, to become something new. Solarium's sinister inflection is that it projects feelings of invasion (I hate to use such a divisive word, but it is the one which comes to mind). As in: something is coming, what are we going to do about it? rather than: something is over there, what should be do?

For track recommendations, I will go beginning, middle, and end. NSLS is a sharp, dramatic opener that I think demonstrates very well that Ciao Kennedy are not like something you have probably heard before. The middle track, Foire du Midi, is a funny track--my impression is this is the band playing around. In some ways, it is quite tonally different to the rest of the album. But it builds into a brilliant climax. I did not appreciate this until I bought the vinyl record; on vinyl, one must flip the record halfway through, making Foire du Midi a 'final' track of sorts, and it is a great 'final' track. The actual final track is Hush Hush, another example which fits my rule of great albums in being a big, bold, and conclusing track.

Sunny Blunts, by FASTBLOOD

Something which is hard to put into words is the idea of identity. Some bands (and I'm talking about punk bands, here) have identity very quickly. A band like blink-182, for better or worse (and some of the latest albums are definitely worse, in this regard) have immediate identity. Another example is MS PAINT, a group whose album, Post American, I praised significantly last year for being a bold, new direction in punk. But others have to strive harder to achieve identity.

Having said this about something which I cannot really articulate, FASTBLOOD's Sunny Blunts is a great album. But I do think it is an album which lacks some identity; which feels, somehow in a bad way, terribly consistent. Songs like Hold On Me and Eyes Wide Shut suffer from this problem, probably. They are still quite good songs on their own. Let me be more positive, as there is lots to be positive about. The opening two tracks, Sexual Healing and Salvation, are great, and set a high energy level for the rest of the album. Small Town is a great use of quiet on the album (indeed, the album's only real use of quiet). And, more generally, I really love hearing a North East UK accent on the album. There is no attempt to hide it, or indeed, the Britishness of some (or several) of the songs.

This appears to be FASTBLOOD's first album, and as a first album, it is very good. And, maybe to convert the initial criticism into a positive, this album teases the opportunity for more development and evolution in the future, which I will look forward to.

Owls, Omens, and Oracles, by Valerie June

I love this album. I must say this before I say anything else, unequivocably, because it is a fantastic piece of work. There is not a single song I dislike. There is nothing on this album which disappoints. It is simply a wonderful accomplishment by a fantastic musician. Everyone should listen to this album.

My praise is unusual, at least for me, because I hate country music. I detest it. But Valerie June has taught me I do not hate all country music. In Owls, Omens, and Oracles one hears what I know country music should sound like, because one cannot fail to hear the depth and warmth in the lyrics, and in the composition. It is clear that whatever Valerie June believes country music to be is something that is both a) very different to what 'country' music is often said to be; and b) something I cannot hate, but must instead admit to loving. June clearly does--the twelfth track is called My Life Is A Country Song, after all.

The album opens with big songs like Joy, Joy! and All I Really Wanna Do, but the highlight for me is definitely Endless Tree. The chorus alone strikes of radical hope, when June dares us to imagine "a world where we could all be free." The energy on the album ebbs and flows, but in a way which is quite beautiful, constantly evoking a sense of the personal. Trust The Path is a slow piano ballad which hangs on the command to "trust the path, I'll only point the way." Songs like Love Me Any Ole Way and Changed are probably the most 'country' (along with the ditty Sweet Things Just For You), but they still draw on sounds which my immature ear cannot help but associate with a Lousiana sound, rather than the plastic Nashville of most 'country' music. Songs like Calling My Spirit and Missin' You feel almost voyeuristic, as June is so quiet and tender on these tracks. Finally, the last track, Love and Let Go is a beautiful ballad which builds into something larger than it is. Reflecting on themes of mistakes, return, and moving on, this deeply intimate album closes on a song which feels bittersweet, like friends departing for a long time--maybe forever--but knowing that even if memories are all they will have, they will still have something worthwhile. All I can do is return to this album, not knowing who Valerie June really is, what she believes, where she came from, or what has happened to make her write about love and loss and hope. But I don't need to know.

Truth be told, I don't really know what to write about this album. That much is probably obvious. But I love this album. I have racked my brain over whether this is my favourite album this year--and my three contenders are all brilliant albums. But only Owls, Omens, and Oracles has planted itself in my heart in this particular way. I love Solarium, as above, and Eat. Skate. Die., as below, is a great punk album. But Valerie June has produced something incredibly special in this album, and I would urge anyone to spend some time which it.

To All The Ones That I Love, by Press Club

Something really interesting is happening in Australia (and, I'll add, New Zealand), which I don't quite understand. Amyl and the Sniffers are leading the charge, to a large extent. But I'd also add The Beths (hence why I must also include New Zealand) and Press Club, whose album To All The Ones That I Love is pretty good. To an extent, this album suffers the same probably as FASTBLOOD's Sunny Blunts, as above, regarding identity. But where FASTBLOOD are clearly just starting to find their identity, Press Club has matured and refined their sound on this album. Besides maybe the last song (always a bad place to fail, in my opinion), all the songs on this album are really good.

There is something really honest in Wilt, with a hook of "oh god, this world is overstimulating." A song like Wasted Days invokes the best of 1990s alternative which, I think rightly, The Beth's are sometimes compared to, too, but songs like No Pressure show more edge and aggression than The Beths ever would (and perhaps draws better comparison to Amyl and the Sniffers). Vacate is my favourite song on the album, but is a poorly positioned track, in my opinion. It is track 6, so even on vinyl, it is the opening track of side 2, not the closer of side 1. Really, it should be the last track on the whole album, with the closer Desolution scraped. The title track has a nice hook, and flows nicely into Tightrope, the album's lead single and a great song.

Overall, I think this is a really accomplished piece of work, and as above, demonstrates that the Australian music scene is producing some phenomenal music.

Eat. Skate. Die., by LEMON BOY

OK. So, as above, my three favourite albums (which I listened to first this year) are a modern European jazz album, a soulful country album, and... this. To most people, this will be a mad list of top albums, and that's because it is. The first thing to note is while I could say lots about the sinisterness of Solarium or the quiet intimacy of Owls, Omens, and Oracles, Eat. Skate. Die. is just fun, and in places dumb, and LEMON BOY clearly know this, because they're clearly having so much fun on this album.

Sonically, I guess this album is kind of like Drinking Boys and Girls Choir's Marriage License. They are both fast, high-energy, kind of tongue in cheek punk rock albums. They both have female singers. They both demonstrate a clear range, from silly songs to songs which clearly come from the heart. But unlike Marriage License, which is just great to listen to, Eat. Skate. Die. does everything perfectly. It is a brilliant piece of music. It is everything a punk album should be.

It feels both wrong and necessary to talk about the role of gender on the album. There has long been misogyny in the punk rock community, and a notion that women can't be punk, or that a woman's interest in punk is just fashion, or driven by sexual desire, or something. That only men can be 'real' punks (for recommended listening, Teenage Halloween's Say It is a great go-to for this problem). LEMON BOY know how good they are. They know how punk they are. They know they do not need anyone to tell them this. They also know, I think, that they will always hear comments about their achievements and contributions because they are women. And so, gender is tackled directly throughout the album, sarcastically and sincerely. The opening track, I'm Fine, strikes of the frustration of being pissed off, but having to pretend to not be. Body Horror explores the relationship of the mind and body ("I'm just skin and blood and guts and bones, and I guess I kind of have a soul"). Sugar Daddy explicitly explores the relationship between sex and economic coercion in modern society ("sugar daddy, take care of me, it's the least you could do for fucking me / sugar daddy, it's not your fault we live in a society").

My favourite song on the album is Piss Baby, a song I interpret to be about insecure masculinity ("Cry Piss Baby! / Cry Piss Baby!") but which returns to themes of body horror and gender which the brilliant lyric, "I have this brain, I have this body, and in the end, it will kill me." The last two tracks, Oh No and Puzzle Pieces feel like something of a departure from the rest only insofar as these are slightly slower, slightly longer songs, which do not reflect the rushed tone of the rest of the album. Still, these songs continue the themes of gender and (to an extent) self-loathing ("I said, oh no, you'll be at my show"; NOTE: this is clearly a play on blink-182). Puzzle Pieces is a brilliant closer to a great album, one of the few moments on the album where a listener gets the sense of sincerity, rather than sarcastic or detached irony.

I want to say two final things about this album. The first is that there is a good chance I have not understood any of it. It is steeped in sarcasm, and (I think) explores a number of themes which I, as a man, just do not have experience with. So, there is every chance I have misunderstood a lot of the lyrical content. The second is that the guitar work on this album is phenomenal. It is something of a myth that punk music is easy to play, or that punk guitarists cannot play their instruments. Punk songs can contain elaborate solos, etc. But LEMON BOY both has a high technical level of playing, and catchy, fun riffs throughout. One of the reasons Jimmy Page is such a great guitarist is the combination of shredding and catchy, meaty riffs. LEMON BOY have that, too. This is a brilliant album.

Farewell, by Sinemis

Sinemis' Farewell was realised shortly after massive political protests broke out in Turkey. Amid the imagery of tear gas and gas masks, night time air illuminated by the pinpricks of modernity, the iconography of the whirling dervish, defying those forces of the incumbant government, cut through like a lightning bolt. I must confess my ignorance to a great deal of what was happening, but must also confess my primal fascination with such action; with such moments where the fabric of reality seems to split, and that future which is dying to be born collides with that past dying but still yearning to live.

The album's title is, I think, meant to be taken two ways, when considered against this backdrop. On the one hand, there is the optimism which fuels all rebellion, even in the gravest of moments--the hope that through one's struggle, the world may improve. From this perspective, 'farewell' is farewell to the past, to the incumbant government and to anti-democratic sentiment which animated much of the protests (again, as far as I ignorantly understand them). On the other hand, there is the pessimism (which, we must understand, is merely an inflection of the optimism, and not its antithesis) which sparks rebellion in the first place. From this perspective, 'farewell' is a farewell to democracy, to the promise of a better future. We see both these themes in the song titles Sinemis has chosen. It's Not Fate, It's You could be inferred as a cry for rebellion, a statement to encourage the masses onto the street, or as an accusation against the state, as a repudiation that whatever repression is being meated out as not the result of nature or some unstoppable, quasi-divine force, but you, the state, the government, the leader. Exit Democracy underscores what is at stake; Storm Before the Calm echoes the fact that peace, in one way or another, always follows rebellion; How to Lose a Country maintains the double-meaning--is the country lost when the people revolt, or is the country lost when the people do not revolt?

I have said much about the political backdrop of this album, and little about how it actually sounds. But I think the political backdrop is important for understanding the sound of this album; an electronic album with no lyrics. The overwhelming sound of the album is fuzz or haze or static; the beats and the electronic components cut through like embers from a fire, or, perhaps flares and flashlights and flashbangs amid a haze of tear gas and great mass of bodies. At times the aesthetics might be said to borrow something from glitch music (though I would not go that far), and there are distinct feelings of the modern meeting the traditional; of a collision. Flutters of chords offer a sense of magical wonder, while telephonic melodies play. Sinemis' work captures the only sound I can imagine for a televised revolution happening in the ancient cities of Turkey. It is cyberpunk, even asiatic is character, but distinctly different to the Japan-based traditionalism which infuses much of that genre's media.

I really like Farewell. At only eight tracks, it is quite short, but still, it flies by, maintaining its character throughout. I really recommend it.

Tel Quel, by ommood and Boztown

The last album on my list is Tel Quel. I am not going to say too much about this album. This is, in part, because there is not much that can be said. The genre that Tel Quel falls into is probably something like lofi hiphop, maybe ambient in places. Anyone who knows those genres knows that things are often much more about how they make one feel than about the distinct choices of the composers; musicians in these genres seek to cultivate a mood, which is often much more expansive than an individual sound.

I love Tel Quel, mostly because it makes me feel so calm. I do not think this is a 'warm' album, so to speak. While I could imagine a warm July evening in the garden, the sun descending, and this album playing, I am taken much more immediately to a December afternoon next to the fire. Tel Quel is a comforting warmth, the warmth of familiarity and home, rather than something more lush and energetic. It is a very short album--the eleven tracks rarely exceed three minutes--and so is perfect listening if you just need to chill out for a little bit.