The term “alternative R&B” came with its criticisms via other artists pigeonholed by the label. Originally dubbed as “PBR&B” by music critic Eric Harvey as a joke, the sound being written off as hipster-friendly comes off as insensitive and reductive. To me, R&B has always pushed boundaries outside of its original conventions. This evolution is evident more now than ever: more left-field, genre-melding experimentation is being pushed by current musicians to create an almost genreless experience. Simply put, the music has always been more than just “alternative R&B.”
Bob Dylan is a revered artist, loved by so many. He sang his protest songs at the 1963 March on Washington, opening for Martin Luther King, Jr. The Beatles spoke in reverence of Dylan’s talent, noting him as their hero. His folk music can be both spine-chilling and heartwarming. Dylan is not only the recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize for Literature, but the source of my sanity.
It’s been 13 years since Carly Rae Jepsen launched her hit song “Call Me Maybe,” and she attempted to break out of her one-hit-wonder reputation with the release of her studio album “The Loneliest Time.” Before going into what makes the album so great, I have to address my biggest gripe with it—its lack of cohesion.
I’ve been following the band Big Thief ever since the release of their fifth album back in February 2022. When I saw that their frontwoman, Adrianne Lenker, had her own extensive discography, I had to check her out. Upon listening to her various singles and albums, I ended up finding who I consider to be one of the best living songwriters out there. In honor of her greatness, I’ll be reviewing her sixth studio album, which was released late last month, “Bright Future.”
Shoegaze has become almost unavoidable to Gen-Z listeners. From TikToks nearing approximately 180,000 posts under the hashtag “shoegaze” to a new generation of rising shoegaze bands, the genre has found new life. However, it wasn’t this way in the beginning, especially to a more general American audience.
“Waters of March” by Art Garfunkel, originally sung in Portuguese as “Águas de Março” by Antônio Carlos Jobim, is about spring in Brazil as an allegory for life: how it continues on despite our best efforts to control it. It reminds us how with the ugly, comes the beautiful.
Instead of going on a shopping spree for a new wardrobe or making a list of dorm essentials, the first thing I did this past summer was reorganize all my Spotify playlists. Sadly, I put all that effort into making the perfect college soundtrack only to find myself too busy to listen to it.
People can only consume so much, especially when multiple albums are released every day. It’s not possible to listen to everything — unless you have too much time on your hands. Since we’re nearing the end of half the decade, it makes sense to write about retrospectives on albums that went unnoticed. I hope that you find something you like here because I feel that all of them are worth a spin.
Leaf prints have now imprinted the pavements of Commonwealth Ave. and the gushes of wind have left us reaching for sweaters. Fall has finally arrived and a new playlist is definitely needed to get through the next couple months.
“Honey” lived up to, and even exceeded, my expectations. Throughout the course of her 11-song sophomore album, Samia transported me to a world of her expertly made coupling of heart-shattering lyricism and gorgeous instrumentals.
