Your Love is Killing Me / Promises

“Break my legs so I won’t walk to you/Cut my tongue so I can’t talk to you/Burn my skin so I can’t feel you/Stab my eyes so I can’t see”

Fuck, that sounds outrageous just to read it, doesn’t it? Not so when Sharon Van Etten sings — no, wails — these lyrics in her new song “Your Love is Killing Me,” the most recent single she’s shared off her forthcoming album, Are We There.



I didn’t think she’d be able to produce an even swifter kick in the gut than she did with “Serpents,” from her last album Tramp, but I’ll be damned with this one. I'll. Be. Damned. Before we get to the requests for leg-breaking, tongue-cutting, skin-burning, and eye-stabbing, she begins the song:

"it’s understood
you’ll be a man
by the time I see you
we’ve been through
better days
and you’ve tasted all my pain"

At least, I think that’s what she’s singing. With each listen — and I’ve listened to it maybe 10 times in the last several hours — I keep straining toward my speakers, trying to catch every syllable through all the emotions she’s managing to convey with her voice. I mean, her voice: just listen to how it bends and turns and wrecks you in this song. No wonder I’m having a hard time understanding things like:

"try to tell you this when I’m sober
how I feel about loving you
try to remember all the turn of events"

and later:

"You love me as you torture me."

I absolutely cannot wait to hear her perform this live. Whenever that may be, I hope I’m just a little wine-drunk, enough not to care if my knees buckle and I choke back a sob or two.

I don’t know when that will be, but as Owen Pallett wrote in his The Talkhouse review on the new Tori Amos album: “In the meantime, I’m a trembling mess.”

Sorry to get a little out of order there, but being a "trembling mess" described it all too well. But this leads me to the next song I’d like to write about, the other new song that has me hitting replay and feeling in utter awe about the badassery of my favorite female musicians.

Yes, it's by the one, the only: Tori Amos. She’s just released her 14th album, and boy, are people talking about her. Over at NPR, one take wasn’t enough, so they gave 10. (It’s amazing. Read it.) And, as I mentioned, Owen Pallett has written a rather incredible piece on his fandom experience with Tori Amos, which I identified with on many levels.

My complete experience with loving Tori deserves a standalone written ode, though, so I’d like to focus on this one particular track from Unrepentant Geraldines. It’s called “Promise” and I’d really love it if everyone would listen to it, now:



You’ll notice that this isn’t Tori alone on the vocals: her daughter, Tash, sings with her on this, this utterly gorgeous “mother-daughter vow” — as Pallett describes, “their voices joining together like ivy and brick; it is devastating.”

“Where the sun shines/ I will be there/ You are the light/ That follows you everywhere”

“Will you look for me?”

“I will rescue you”

Devastating. Well, Ann Powers at NPR might describe it as an "alternately intimate and trivial mother-daughter exchange," and maybe that's also so, and maybe that's why I find it so devastating.

It, like "Your Love is Killing Me" is a song I don't want to end, but when it does it's almost a relief, because I can take a deep breath and just think about how beautiful it is. Even the parts that are painful.

Oh, Fiona: My Favorite Sullen Girl Returns!

Seven years: It's a very long time; it is no time at all. Seven years ago, I was 21-years-old, living on 2nd Street in Bloomington, having a great time and having a miserable time. Seven years ago I was listening to Fiona Apple.

Seven years ago it was 2005, and Fiona Apple had just released Extraordinary Machine, her first album since When the Pawn... in 1999. I was giddy and talked a lot to anyone who would listen about how Fiona Apple's first two albums helped me survive high school. I loved Extraordinary Machine (but not as much as her others) and couldn't stop staring at the album artwork, with Fiona looking as beautiful as ever and really, not so sullen at all.

Besides, she was singing songs like this:



So while that album couldn't possibly take the place of Tidal in my little sullen girl heart, or When the Pawn... it didn't have to—because Fiona and I had already sealed the deal long before then.

Whether she was moaning "I tell you how I feel but you don't care"; mouthing off, "If you wanna make sense, whatcha lookin' at me for? I'm no good at math"; or asking and pleading, "Shall I release you? Must I release you?" Fiona seemed to have felt every emotion I was going through, or maybe ever would, starting from when I first heard her announce to the world as she was taking off all her clothes and staring into the camera:

"I've been a bad, bad girl"

It didn't matter that in 1996, I was only 12. Or maybe it did. Because when you look at it that way, I've been listening to Fiona for pretty much my entire life. Maybe seven years isn't that big of a deal, in the scheme of things. And so, after a seven year wait, she has released a new album: The Idler Wheel is wiser than the Driver of the Screw, and Whipping Cords will serve you more than Ropes will ever do. 

It's a mouthful, and I love it. And I love that you can stream the full album on NPR rightnow. (Like right this very second.) And I love that she released a video for the first incredibly badass single, "Every Single Night" and she's wearing a fucking octopus on her head, not to mention singing about how "every single night I endure the flight of little wings of white-flamed butterflies in my brain" because maybe, some people hear that and think, "What the fuck?" but I hear it and think, "Exactly, Fiona, exactly."



There's also a song called "Werewolf," and it's currently fighting with "Jonathan" to be my favorite track on the album.

Seven years ago I was listening to Fiona Apple, and I was listening to her seven years before that, and still before that. And I suspect that seven years from now, if I'm lucky, I'll still be listening to Fiona, having a great time and having a miserable time. I'm going to see her in concert on July 10. I'm so excited, I don't even know what to do.

For more of my favorite sullen girl, read her interview with Pitchfork. Listen to Tidal. Listen to everything. Roll around in your underwear. Put an octopus on your head. Just do whatever the fuck you want. It's what Fiona would do.

Monday Mix Tapes: Revisiting Miss Thang & Moesha

I have to admit, it was with more than a little glee that I discovered today that Monica and Brandy have a new single.

Don't even try to pretend you didn't immediately think of "The Boy is Mine" video. Just don't even.

But before we get to this new song, I think we need to talk about some things. Like my love of Brandy and Monica, particularly from the years of approximately 1994 through 2000. Yeah, I was young—we don't need to get into specifics, do we?—but so were they! I loved them.

First, I met Brandy:

I had to share the album cover, because I loved it so wholeheartedly. I wanted nothing more than to be this hip. The hat! The boots! The attitude!

Sure, my brother Jay kept talking about how she looked like a goldfish, but I didn't care. He made fun of just about everything I liked at around this point in our lives, so I took his snarky comments as confirmation of her awesomeness. Besides, who cared? She was singing this:



Soon after, Miss Thang entered my life. Who didn't love "Don't Take it Personal (Just One of Dem Days)" in 1995?



I will admit, Brandy might have had a slightly bigger space in my adolescent heart than Monica. But I think we all know why, right?

Mo to the E to the ...



Now, as it happens, my love for Monica and Brandy has changed over the years. I haven't bought or listened to any of their recent albums (the last Brandy album I got was Full Moon, if that tells you anything). However, I may or may not have occasionally watched "Brandy & Ray J: A Family Business" on my days off the summer I moved back in with my dad. I found it hilarious. Leave me alone.

Oddly enough, I randomly listened to "Miss Thang" in its entirety as I was getting ready to go out on Friday night, and I still loved every minute of it. I mean, "Before You Walk Out of My Life"? "Why I Love You So Much?" There was a reason Monica was the youngest artist to have two consecutive Billboard chart-topping hits.

So it's probably also time we listen to this Monica hit:



That said, I wasn't quite sure what to expect with the new Monica and Brandy duet. Over at NPR (I'm keeping up with Monica and Brandy via NPR now? Good lord), Frannie Kelley writes of the song:

Brandy and Monica, who, like Usher, have been making R&B hits since they were teenagers in the late 1990s, team up for a rematch of "The Boy Is Mine." Here they're on the same side and they're a little more grown up. The accoutrement certainly is; the styling on the video, from the gowns to the vehicles, is luxe. Maybe so luxe it distracts from the chesty alto Brandy's working and the perfectly calibrated runs Monica lays down.

I definitely agree about "the chesty alto Brandy's working and the perfectly calibrated runs Monica lays down" and sure, the video is "luxe," even if I did keep thinking, when the hell is Mekhi Phifer gonna show up?

But, um. We need to talk about a few things. Watch and listen, will you?



LOG OFF YOUR FACEBOOK! CLOSE THAT MACBOOK! THAT SHIT BELONGS TO ME!

Well, I now know what makes me laugh harder than listening to Ray-J talk. Every time "log off your Facebook" or "that Macbook" was mentioned, I busted out laughing in my cubicle.

Even so, I still like the song. I really do. I can't help it. My 14-year-old self would disown me if I didn't. But if you think this song (or video) will ever top this, you must be trippin.

Monday Mix Tapes: 'Cooing Elegant Boleros' with Y La Bamba, Robert Glasper & Common

I am in so much trouble. Here I am, already juggling multiple girl crushes on Sharon Van Etten, Ana Tijoux, and, yes, SIGH, Lana Del Rey, and then I find out about Luz Elena Mendoza of Y La Bamba.

photo from [here]

It was probably inevitable: Not only does Neko Case make a little guest appearance on the title track of Y La Bamba's new album, "Court the Storm,"  but it seems the inspiration behind the band name comes from Mendoza's six-toed cat, Bamba. From her six-toed cat. Bamba. Over at NPR, Felix Contreras writes of Mendoza:

Ultimately, it's Luz Elena Mendoza's vocals that draw me in. In interviews, she's said that the music she writes will never sound like traditional Mexican music. But to me, her deep, dreamy voice is exactly the kind I used to hear blasting out of the radio in my mom's kitchen — belting out rancheras, cooing elegant boleros or letting loose over accordion-fueled corridos.

I'm not quite sure what I love more—that I completely agree that her voice is deep and dreamy, or this amazing happenings in this kitchen he describes. Belting out rancheras? Cooing elegant boleros? Dude, that never happened in my mom's kitchen. And while I'm not even entirely sure what it all means, it certainly sounds fucking awesome, and reads that way as well. I also really enjoy the earnest-looking dudes harmonizing and playing with her: 



And since NPR First Listen so obviously fuels my Monday Mix Tapes as of late, next up we have the Robert Glasper Experiment.

Take a listen to "Black Radio" streaming at NPR. Lots of familiar guests on there, including Erykah Badu, Musiq Soulchild, Chrisette Michelle, Lupe Fiasco, Bilal, and the artist formerly known as Mos Def. (Side note: I fucking LOVE that I get to say "the artist formerly known as Mos Def"—it's Yasiin Bey now.)

Here's "Ah Yeah," featuring Musiq Soulchild and Chrisette Michelle. It's really a sweet song, with a simple but beautiful and true message. Right from the start:

I think beauty's overrated/cause that's something anyone can be/attraction now that's something different/ah-huh/ and thankfully you're both to me

When Chrisette Michelle comes in, after a lot of lovely "ah-yeah"-ing, talking, "You're sweet/and you see through me/you let me be free/I'm woman/I'm woman"—it's just the bizness. I love it:



And while I really enjoyed the entirety of "Black Radio," this one was another favorite of mine:



Last, but not least, I finished reading Common's memoir last week. I'm glad I read it (even if I now know more than I ever really needed to about his first sexual experiences). I particularly enjoyed learning more about his relationship with Erykah Badu and his thoughts on President Obama.

But his chapter, "Retrospect for Life," that begins with a letter to his unborn, was my favorite part. Being the Chicago man he is, I figured—and hoped— it was not a coincidence that he begins the chapter (after the letter) with an almost direct quote from Chicago poet Gwendolyn Brooks' poem, "The Mother," stating, "Abortions never let you forget."

As with the rest of his book, I found this chapter to be honest and thoughtful. I've always loved this collaboration with Lauryn Hill, particularly with the Stevie Wonder hook. Common writes about the song: "That was a very personal song for me. It was also a public song in that I wanted to reach out to women by talking about something that matters deeply to them." I'm glad he also admits that his acting in this video is not, um, the best.

The song, however, is something else entirely:



Happy Monday! What's been playing in your ear buds? Tell me about it!

Monday Mix Tapes: The Ambiguity of It All (Maybe, Perhaps?)

Some songs I've been listening to, and loving. Maybe they have a common theme (in my mind)? Maybe?

In this first video, Sharon Van Etten talks about her song, "It's Not Like," saying it's about "being happy, and being sad; cliché human emotions that everybody feels about love; frustration and excitement, the ambiguity of it all" and I really love it. I listened to all of her albums at work today for the first time before I listened to her new album that's streaming on NPR. Her new album is called "Tramp," and I love that, too. The title and the content.

Without further ado, here she is talking about, and singing, "It's Not Like":



I also recently spent a day listening to a lot of Leonard Cohen after listening to his newest album, "Old Ideas," on (surprise!) NPR. It's fantastic, and I listened to it three times in a row.

But you might know this track a little better. I just love every damn lyric in this song, from "I used to think I was some kind of gypsy boy" to "You held on to me like I was a crucifix" to "I'm cold as a new razor blade/you left when I told you I was curious/I never said that I was brave" ... but that's kind of just Leonard Cohen for you, isn't it? Okay, I'll shut up now.

Just listen:



When I was home a couple weeks ago, I snagged a copy of my dad's 92.3 WTTS Collector's Edition, which happened to include a live recording of Ray LaMontagne singing "For the Summer" at The Lawn at White River State Park in Indianapolis—the same performance I saw with my family this summer. When I listen to it, I remember exactly how I felt that night at the show. And how I felt moving back home for the summer (well, a little longer than just the summer) as an adult two years ago.

Here's Ray singing "For the Summer":



"The ambiguity of it all," right? Maybe it's not always good, but it doesn't have to be bad, either, I don't think. After all, like Ray sings, 

Through the years I have learned / Some things worth the tellin' / And you'd be right in guessin'/ that each and every lesson they were hard won

Now, so long. "It's time that we began to laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again."

Monday Mix Tapes: I Heart NPR Music

If you're not hip to NPR's "First Listen" feature, you're missing out. I am 100 percent obsessed with it.

Just a sample of the awesomeness it's allowed me to hear, prior to the album release: The Black Keys' Brothers, Jenny and Johnny's I'm Having Fun Now, The Swell Season's Strict Joy, and Joanna Newsom's Have One on Me.

And that's only a sample of the awesomeness! (Yes, I have now used the made-up word, awesomeness, twice in one post. Three times.)

So far today, while attempting to be a grownup and organize my finances (ha!), I have already listened to the new Deerhunter album and am currently falling in love with "a young man Aloe Blacc" (to borrow NPR's turn of phrase). Seriously. Click on that bizness. He's incredible.

After that, my heart is about to go pitter pat for my first full listen of the new John Legend and The Roots collaboration. (I've already pre-ordered it, duh.)

How can I complain about being flat broke when I'm listening to all this awesomeness, sitting on our back porch eating my pop's leftover chicken pot pie?

I can't. Now go brighten your Monday and listen to some music. If you've got any homemade chicken pot pie, all the better.

Monday Mix Tapes: The Late, Great Lena Horne

In honor of Lena Horne, who died yesterday at age 92:



From NPR:

"Horne was denied roles with any artistic range whatsoever. Too proud to just take anything, Horne resigned herself to a career as a musical entertainer so those who followed her might have more choices. She pushed open a door that Josephine Baker, as the first African American to star in a major motion picture, had just unlocked.

We think of Horne of as a phenomenal singer and dancer who put a dignified face on black beauty that was rare at the time, but who knows what else she had to offer. Tempting, titillating but never tawdry, she proved you could be a diva with less skin and more sass, a concept that seems to elude a new generation."

Here she is on the Rosie O'Donnell show in 1998. I love how modest she is (and the number of bangles she's wearing):




Rest in peace, Lena Horne. A true diva, beauty, performer, and trailblazer.