Albums of the Year: Madison's Picks

by Madison James

Albums of the Year: Madison's Picks

Mister Goblin- Four People in an Elevator and One of Them Is The Devil

In a period like the one we’re in now, the idea of slack is somewhat foreign. It’s so reassuring to come across something that feels like it fell into existence quite like this album does for me. The idea of a record taking its time and mozying along in a time and age where everything, including the music, is about speed and intensity, it’s really just such a breath of fresh air having somebody kick back and just kinda groove. It hums and buzzes its way with notes that wouldn’t sound too out of place on a Saddle Creek comp fifteen years ago. It’s so familiar yet something new and exciting, and the warmness of it all with the general unease of mystery throughout its overall loose concept (one of the people in the elevator is the devil). It’s a person on a subway that looks like somebody you talked to because their aura felt like home when you were somewhere that didn’t. This should be more people’s album of the year.

Pink Navel- EPIC

As a creative type myself, something I will constantly find fascinating is the way artists worm through limitations. I’ve seen acts that have setups that cost more money than I’ll seen in my life and yawn, but then watch somebody with a SP-404 and a personality get an entire room shaking their asses. First time I heard of Pink Navel was them going through a song of theirs in a sedan armed with nothing but their sampler. I had it bookmarked for a week. This thing is wild. It had me nodding as much as I was tilting. It’s a promethazine flavored ice cream cone being melted with a blow drier by a comic book villain, using then what melts to create a collage of pieces of vinyl record, skipping, scatting, and chortling to completion. This is truly one of my favorite things to have come across this year.

Raccoon Tour- The Dentonweaver

This album sounds like a massive dirt caked wooden derby car with flags made of bedsheets flapping, carting a group of kids your parents told you not to talk to, donned with cardboard knight costumes and whatever knives they found in the kitchen to raise hell in the hours after trick-or-treating. They’re also setting everything on fire. It sounds like a child’s imagination through the lens of someone desperately holding onto that innocence, understanding it’s sand in an hourglass with no bottom. Nate Burr and his crew captured one of the most fun sounding albums I’ve heard in years. Its blood is coursing with an existential dread but it’s dancing and laughing, making it course fast through every ligament. Maximalist 00’s indie rock indebted music will destroy everything in its path every fucking time and Raccoon Tour will be the one laughing and dancing on the ashes.

Polo Perks- Punk Goes Drill

As somebody who has some kind of leg in the race, I am so fucking sick of emo and, in a sick way, the pandemic forcing emo to evolve through limitations and (literal, legal) restrictions to survive was the best case scenario. In comes Polo Perks. I was shown this on a late afternoon after shooting tequila over a kitchen sink in an uptown Manhattan apartment by somebody with their ear closer to the ground than I’ve ever been. It takes exactly a second to understand what’s going on but once it clicks, you’ll just be left going “... huh.... damn”. There’s no apt metaphor, this is just genius. I didn’t get emo rap until I came upon this and sincerely, I fucking love the internet.

For Your Health- In Spite Of

For Your Health is truly a spectacle on all fronts. If I had never listened to their music, I’d know exactly what it would be like from the people who send me their tweets screencapped or linked saying “yeah literally”. There’s nothing but bone and blood here, and bones are fucking fangs with this thing having no time to waste getting from A to B. There were so many moments from this record that had left me sitting like “... oh fuck” and skipping to the beginning to hear it again. It clocks a little under 18 minutes and it leaves you a fucking crater. It’s a meteor strike you won’t see coming until it’s over, then you’ll keep rewinding the news coverage of the complete wreckage.


Albums of the Year: Madison's Picks

by Madison James

Albums of the Year: Madison's Picks

Mister Goblin- Four People in an Elevator and One of Them Is The Devil

In a period like the one we’re in now, the idea of slack is somewhat foreign. It’s so reassuring to come across something that feels like it fell into existence quite like this album does for me. The idea of a record taking its time and mozying along in a time and age where everything, including the music, is about speed and intensity, it’s really just such a breath of fresh air having somebody kick back and just kinda groove. It hums and buzzes its way with notes that wouldn’t sound too out of place on a Saddle Creek comp fifteen years ago. It’s so familiar yet something new and exciting, and the warmness of it all with the general unease of mystery throughout its overall loose concept (one of the people in the elevator is the devil). It’s a person on a subway that looks like somebody you talked to because their aura felt like home when you were somewhere that didn’t. This should be more people’s album of the year.

Pink Navel- EPIC

As a creative type myself, something I will constantly find fascinating is the way artists worm through limitations. I’ve seen acts that have setups that cost more money than I’ll seen in my life and yawn, but then watch somebody with a SP-404 and a personality get an entire room shaking their asses. First time I heard of Pink Navel was them going through a song of theirs in a sedan armed with nothing but their sampler. I had it bookmarked for a week. This thing is wild. It had me nodding as much as I was tilting. It’s a promethazine flavored ice cream cone being melted with a blow drier by a comic book villain, using then what melts to create a collage of pieces of vinyl record, skipping, scatting, and chortling to completion. This is truly one of my favorite things to have come across this year.

Raccoon Tour- The Dentonweaver

This album sounds like a massive dirt caked wooden derby car with flags made of bedsheets flapping, carting a group of kids your parents told you not to talk to, donned with cardboard knight costumes and whatever knives they found in the kitchen to raise hell in the hours after trick-or-treating. They’re also setting everything on fire. It sounds like a child’s imagination through the lens of someone desperately holding onto that innocence, understanding it’s sand in an hourglass with no bottom. Nate Burr and his crew captured one of the most fun sounding albums I’ve heard in years. Its blood is coursing with an existential dread but it’s dancing and laughing, making it course fast through every ligament. Maximalist 00’s indie rock indebted music will destroy everything in its path every fucking time and Raccoon Tour will be the one laughing and dancing on the ashes.

Polo Perks- Punk Goes Drill

As somebody who has some kind of leg in the race, I am so fucking sick of emo and, in a sick way, the pandemic forcing emo to evolve through limitations and (literal, legal) restrictions to survive was the best case scenario. In comes Polo Perks. I was shown this on a late afternoon after shooting tequila over a kitchen sink in an uptown Manhattan apartment by somebody with their ear closer to the ground than I’ve ever been. It takes exactly a second to understand what’s going on but once it clicks, you’ll just be left going “... huh.... damn”. There’s no apt metaphor, this is just genius. I didn’t get emo rap until I came upon this and sincerely, I fucking love the internet.

For Your Health- In Spite Of

For Your Health is truly a spectacle on all fronts. If I had never listened to their music, I’d know exactly what it would be like from the people who send me their tweets screencapped or linked saying “yeah literally”. There’s nothing but bone and blood here, and bones are fucking fangs with this thing having no time to waste getting from A to B. There were so many moments from this record that had left me sitting like “... oh fuck” and skipping to the beginning to hear it again. It clocks a little under 18 minutes and it leaves you a fucking crater. It’s a meteor strike you won’t see coming until it’s over, then you’ll keep rewinding the news coverage of the complete wreckage.