Swim Into The Sound's Staff Favorites of 2023

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I won’t beat around the bush too much, but before we get into our staff’s favorite records of 2023, I’d just like to take a moment to brag about them and what an awesome year we’ve had. 

Back in January, I put out a call for new writers and the response was greater than I ever could have hoped for. A couple dozen people reached out to me, and about half of them went on to become regular contributors over the course of 2023. Reviews, premieres, single write-ups, interviews and more all flowed from the minds of these incredible writers, all of whom are doing this purely for the love of the music. 

Aside from those more traditional bits of music writing, we also established a regular monthly column called Haters Delight, which took this blog in a more timely, goofy, and gripey (but still good-natured) direction that fell outside our usual perview. While I was a little nervous about wading into such negative waters at first, I soon discovered that pretty much everyone loves a communal bitch sesh.

These writers also helped widen the scope of this blog and the music we cover. Through expansive quarterly roundups (including the one you’re about to read), they honed raw passion into thoughtful write-ups, making the case for artists that I typically wouldn’t be able to speak eloquently on or even know to cover. Who would have guessed that bringing in a talented slew of people also meant a wealth of new passion and perspectives?

At the time of writing, we’ve published 69 articles this year (nice), amounting to a little over 100k words total. About half of those have been penned by our talented team of guest writers, and I think that goes to show just how much these people have helped make Swim Into The Sound feel like a real music blog, not just some dork typing about emo music into his Macbook. 

When we published our first-ever Staff Favorites roundup back in 2021, I talked about how lucky I felt to have this talented team of writers at my back, and now that feeling is amplified tenfold. I couldn’t be more proud of this team or their work; they make me want to be a better, more well-rounded music writer. Scroll down to read about their favorite albums of this year, then go follow them on social media, and support all of their projects. Each and every person in this article is talented beyond belief with taste to match, I have no doubt you’ll come away from this with a list of incredible new music to check out.

Without further adieu, here are Swim Into The Sound’s Staff Favorites of 2023. 

Nickolas Sackett | Greg Mendez – Greg Mendez 

Forged Artifacts / Devil Town Tapes 

When I was younger, my childhood home was often blanketed by the background hum of a random radio station or TV show. I didn't have a strong concept of actors or fiction yet, so there were times when I would fall into the conversations of Law & Order or Sex and the City and believe I was listening in on real people out there somewhere. The songs on Greg Mendez remind me of that (perceived) window I thought I was stealing looks through as a child– stolen glimpses into a world far away from my own, hushed confessions and painful stories told in a whisper from behind a lit cigarette in an alley. And yet, despite how bleak these stories can unravel, their mere existence reminds you that although all of this can be quite painful and terrible, there's still so much beauty to be found. 

Other Highlights:

  • Indigo de Souza - All of This Will End (review)

  • Field Medic - Lightisgonept2

  • André 3000 - New Blue Sun

  • Taylor Swift - 1989 (Taylor’s Version)

  • 100 Gecs - 10,000 Gecs

  • Olivia Rodrigo - Guts

  • billy woods & Kenny Segal - Maps

  • Chuquimamani-Condori - DJ E

  • Earl Sweatshirt & The Alchemist - VOIR DIRE

  • Jungle - Volcano

  • The Drums - Jonny

  • Hotline TNT - Cartwheel


Joe Wasserman | phoneswithchords, Ben Sooy – phoneswithBen

Start-Track

I’m not sure I believe in love at first sight. Frankly, I don’t give the notion much thought. I do, however, believe in AOTY at first listen. That moment for me this year was when I first heard “If Time,” the lead single off phoneswithBen, the collaborative album by phoneswithchords and Ben Sooy of Denver rock band A Place for Owls. There is not much more that I can say about this record than what I already have on my Substack. I’m in love with its sounds and melodies, the way it speaks to me about my anxieties and worries, and the way it makes me feel comforted and okay. Before listening to this album, I felt alone with age and time. When I listen to it, all I can think about is the warmth that surrounds me.

In alphabetical order, here are five more albums that spoke to me this year:


Nick Webber | Vagabonds – The Pasture & The Willow

Self-Released

I’m very bad at picking favorites, but The Pasture & The Willow is the album that has snuck up on me the most this year, and I love a grower. The record begins with “Sungazer,” a mantra: “It won’t happen like you think.” There’s something ominous and mystical in the atmosphere, like a prophecy. As foretold, the song blooms from hushed slowcore to shoegazey/yelly post-hardcore in barely 3 minutes, an anthem for grief prolonged and an apt prologue for the fevered, contemplative vision to follow.

The album’s title evokes something literary and bucolic, and the lyrics are often painting impressionistically: pastoral scenes, trees that weep, just noticing the beauty of simple things. Interspersed are these earnest, personal vignettes of everyday life; “The Checkout Line” describes a breakdown at work, where the backroom becomes a sanctuary for the grieving grocery clerk. The infinite crashes into the ordinary.

There’s also joy in the fullest, most mysterious sense: the peaceful reassurance of waking up next to someone you love, the hope for a future out from under the thumb of the forces that conspire against your flourishing, perseverance in the pain and uncertainty. It won’t be like this forever; visions of settling down somewhere quiet in the country, longing for rest. “The peace comes to visit / But never to stay.”

The Pasture & The Willow is gentle in its heaviness, wrapped in some of my favorite guitar work of the year. I found myself reaching for it when I felt weary, anxious, or reflective. It’s the one thing that felt good to listen to when I was driving to the hospital last week (everything is fine now). It’s equal parts calm and cathartic; I’m still caught off guard at how massive the arrangements get. And at the center of it all is this preoccupation with connection. Can we cut through the curtains that separate us from each other (and me from myself) and climb on through?


Elizabeth Handgun | Water From Your Eyes – Everyone’s Crushed

Matador Records

Goofy yet profound, experimental and artistic yet grounded, Water From Your Eyes delivered one of the greatest albums of 2023 and possibly all time. The musicianship! The humor! The daring to go where few musicians have ventured before! It’s all there on Everyone’s Crushed. From the flurried and chaotic lead single, “Barley,” through “14,” which is mellow and shot through with longing, to the thumpy, punky closer, “Buy My Product,” the album delivers a bewildering yet beautiful tour through the minds of Rachel Brown and Nate Amos. The album also gets more interesting with each consecutive listening, rewarding close attention and an open mind. The whole project is strange and remarkable but with a little current of tender jokiness running throughout. I’m crushed!


Logan Archer Mounts | Lydia Loveless – Nothing’s Gonna Stand In My Way Again

Bloodshot records

To be fair, I must admit this is my second favorite album of 2023. I am rolling out my entire list of 100 albums on my Instagram (@sleeps.with.angels, shameless plug), and I don’t want to show off my top pick just yet. But I have a trend that seems to ring true every year: my top spot is occupied by what I think is objectively the year’s greatest musical experience, and the runner-up album is usually what I listened to the most. My bootleg third-party app streaming stats for my Amazon Music account may say otherwise, but Lydia Loveless’ sixth studio album was a cornerstone soundtrack to my year. The only two times I’ve seen the Ohio-based, alt-country singer-songwriter were in 2023, and they were at the exact same venue just eight months apart. In March, she appeared for a pop-up acoustic set at the Empty Bottle in Chicago, coincidentally enough, my second favorite venue in the city. The show mainly contained new, never-before-played material from her upcoming album that had yet to be announce. I was thrilled to hear these tracks in such an intimate setting and couldn’t wait for the final product to be unveiled. 

Nothing’s Gonna Stand… arrived in September, with Lydia returning to her Chicago label Bloodshot in conjunction with her own imprint Honey, You’re Gonna Be Late. It’s a concise, ten-song collection that showcases what Loveless does best: twangy guitar rock with unforgettable hooks and melodies. Besides the excellent singles “Sex and Money” and “Toothache,” the entire record is full of no-holds-barred honest pop, like the self-effacing “Poor Boy” or the wall-crumbling breakup anthem “French Restaurant.” The track “Ghost” features the album’s title in its chorus: “Now that I’m dead, nothing’s gonna stand in my way again.” You can bet I listened to that song over and over again as I was preparing to, and successfully did, quit my job. The spring of anticipation and the late summer of constant rotation led into the fall of presentation: I soon found myself at Loveless’ tour opener back at the Empty Bottle on Black Friday, this time with her full band and a record out in the world. I stood right up against the stage again as they burned through most of the tracklisting of Nothing’s Gonna Stand…, as well as fan favorites like “Head” and the return of the oft-requested “Wine Lips.” I got her to sign my concert scrapbook, including the setlists I was able to grab from the stage at each show, and thanked her for the brilliant record. So even though it didn’t take the coveted number one spot, on a personal level, I could not have gotten through this year without it. And for the first time all year, I truly feel like nothing’s gonna stand in my way again, thanks to Lydia Loveless.

If that sounds good to you, you may enjoy some of my other favorites I’ve selected:

  • Sincere Engineer - Cheap Grills (Chicago folk-pop-punk international touring sensation returns with her best and catchiest release yet.)

  • The Mountain Goats - Jenny From Thebes (John Darnielle’s prolific catalog expands with this theatrical sequel to the 2002 classic All Hail West Texas. In some ways, it’s sort of the anti-album to its lo-fi companion, but I think that’s what makes it one of the band’s best among their last handful of titles.)

  • Dave Hause - Drive It Like It’s Stolen (The Loved Ones’ frontman burns through ten songs in 28 minutes, a more compact, but just as fulfilling, version of the heartland punk he’s perfected over the years.)


Ben Sooy | Gia Margaret – Romantic Piano

Jagjaguwar

Last night, I felt a panic attack approaching. Car trouble, money trouble, difficult day, underlying grief, and mental instability. I was trying to breathe deeply, get to sleep, and remember I’m okay. I’ve learned a few practices to help in a time like this. I can kneel down and put my face in the carpet, I can lay on my back and slow my breath, I can count all the things I’m grateful for, I can listen to music that helps center and calm me down. 

When asked about her very good (mostly instrumental) 2023 album Romantic Piano, Gia Margaret said, “I wanted to make music that was useful.” This is music that is of great use to me, personally. There are sounds from the natural world, piano songs filled with longing and peacefulness, touched by melancholy. The squeak of a piano bench, the sound of cicadas at night. It’s useful the same way walking outside and being surprised by a thunderstorm is useful; I forget about my troubles, wrapped up for a few moments in something bigger than myself. This album improves my quality of life and my mental and spiritual health in ways I can’t begin to articulate. I think it would be helpful to you too. 

Other 2023 favorites:

  • Nick Webber - All The Nothing I Know (A thoughtful and beautiful exploration of what it means to realize that you don't know anything about anything, but that's okay! Written and painstakingly self-recorded by universally beloved human Nick Webber.)

  • Josaleigh Pollett - In The Garden, By The Weeds (Josaleigh and her musical partner Jordan Watko created a masterpiece, one of my favorite records of the last ten years. Dark and lonely, hopeful, heartbreaking songs for when you feel insane and need a friend.)

  • Plain Speak - Calamity (Plain Speak writes and records the kind of songs I've always attempted to write and record. Earth-shatteringly good indie rock in the vein of your favorite Death Cab record.)

  • Broken Record - Nothing Moves Me (Denver emo band Broken Record was created in a lab to make the exact kind of music I like: emo made by people who obsessively listen to Jimmy Eat World, Sunny Day, and the Cure. I would die for Denver emo band Broken Record.)

  • Elliott Green - Everything I Lack (Crushingly good songs about addiction and heartbreak written by a very kind human being. If you like any of the boygenius crew, for the love of God, check out this record.)


Jason Sloan | Glia – Happens All the Time

Candlepin Records

Consider the wheel. Invented in Mesopotamia, or maybe Eastern Europe, or China, or perhaps in each location independently, the wheel was seismic upon impact, perfected almost as soon as it was conceived. Millennia of human ingenuity may have added component parts here or there, but the underlying technology has remained fundamentally unchanged. You’ve heard the one about wheels and reinvention. 

The beauty lies therein—a well-made wheel is still a hell of an instrument. And on Happens All the Time, Glia fashions one hell of a wheel. While they may not be inventing new textures out of whole cloth the way Kevin Shields did way back when, Glia polishes up the familiar into 41 minutes of blissful shoegaze; the shuffling drums and psychedelic guitar crunch of “Tumble” alone are worth the price of admission. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it; just make sure you make it really fucking good. 

An off-the-top list of old (new-to-me) songs that meant a lot this year:

  • Yard Act - “100% Endurance” (2021)

  • Silkworm - “Couldn’t You Wait” (1994)

  • Breakwater - “Five” (1995)

  • Hard Girls - “If They Never Find Out” (2012)

  • Gangsta Blac - “Down wit Clique” (1998)

  • Prefab Sprout - “Appetite” (1985)

  • Thurston Moore - “Benediction” (2011)

  • Red Red Meat - “Gauze” (1995)

  • Swervedriver - “Never Lose That Feeling/Never Learn” (1993)

  • Nicki Minaj x Cocteau Twins - “Heaven or Super Bass” (2021)


Connor Fitzpatrick | Lankum – False Lankum

Rough Trade Records

Irish music reigned supreme in 2023, well, for me at least, seeing great albums from John Francis Flynn’s contemporary twist on folk standards to Lisa O’Neill’s orchestral storytelling to Øxn’s experimental doom. But among all these towering achievements, one album stands out as a titanic classic. That album is Lankum’s False Lankum. 

The Dublin doom folk quartet’s fourth album feels like a masterpiece in the truest sense as it crystallizes the band's elements into a singular, haunting tome. Lankum infuses their Irish folk with drone music, creating an atmosphere that is as menacing as it is tranquil. The stories in these songs often feature characters who live hard and wretched lives, doomed for some sort of tragic death. “Go Dig My Grave” tells the tale of a woman who ends her own life after being spurned by the man she loves. Fun stuff, right? But it's the way the band brings these stories and characters to life that makes the album so enthralling. They're at their best when Radie Peat takes on the lead vocals backed by traditional instruments like uilleann pipes and bayans as she describes the lives of the meek who did not inherit the earth. False Lankum is a dense album that rewards those who return to it, and I intend on returning over and over so I can savor every minute of it.


Katie Wojciechowski | Bully – Lucky For You

Sub Pop Records

I am trying to wrangle this blurb into something that’s not jarringly tragic. And honestly, it might be a futile effort. After all, Lucky For You is about a dead dog, about breakups, about the end of the world as we know it. When you lose your dog, your marriage, or your career, there’s grief, of course, and also, there is rage. A sensation that resonates with hoarse yelps, the slamming of cymbals, chugging, distorted electric guitar chords. With Lucky For You, Alicia Bognanno of Bully has turned the shards of grief and anger into grunge-pop melodies that are as unflinching as their subject matter deserves: she lost her beloved dog Mezzi last year, after more than a decade together. These songs are the sound of her attempts to process life’s stock-in-trade heartbreaks—romantic wounds, crippling self-doubt, and the horrors of living in America—without her best friend by her side. 

There have been days this year when singing along to “Days Move Slow” in my car at the top of my lungs has felt like a conversation with a friend who understands: a friend who’s a step ahead of me, who’s cracked the code of alchemizing despair into melody. Even before I knew that “A Wonderful Life” was about a dead dog, I felt Bognanno’s warm, punchy words in my bones: “What a wonderful life / my heart’s breaking on the bathroom floor” quickly became the refrain, this last summer, for my own life falling apart in real-time. 

Bognanno’s vocals have a retro quality, evoking charismatic pop-rock voices from the early 2000s, like Michelle Branch or Sheryl Crow in her louder moments. But she’s not content to cash in on basic pop blueprints: like its 2020 predecessor SUGAREGG, Lucky For You leans into distortion, thick bass riffs, and, at times, full-on yelling, like in the Bikini Kill-esque final track “All This Noise.” The last two songs of the album zoom out on the sociopolitical factors that tally among Bognanno’s sorrows: the latter torching the American government in a blaze of rage, the former, “Ms. America,” a soft, piercing reflection on the improbability of the dream of motherhood in a rotten country like ours, where there’s endless funding for weapons manufacturing and none for healthcare or schools or even clean water. I listened, a hundred times over, when she sings, “All I wanted was a daughter / try my best to raise her right / but the whole world’s caught on fire / and I don’t wanna teach a kid to fight.” All that we’ve lost this year, so many of us. All that 2023 unceremoniously stomped against the curb. I’ve watched it all slip through my fingers, and I’ve carried my dog’s old collar in my backpack when I’ve bounced between temporary homes, and I’ve listened to Bully like a prayer, knowing that despite how it sometimes feels, I’m never really alone.

My other favorites:

  • Black Belt Eagle Scout - The Land, The Water, The Sky

  • Paramore - This Is Why

  • Kara Jackson - Why Does The Earth Give Us People To Love?

  • Hotline TNT - Cartwheel


Russ Finn | Ryan Davis & the Roadhouse Band – Dancing on the Edge

Sophomore Lounge

Leading his band State Champion, Ryan Davis crafted cinematic songs about bar bands and barflies, using impeccable vocabulary and wit like some sort of art-school-educated Hoosier John Prine. Since his last album with State Champion, 2018’s Send Flowers, Davis has spent a lot of time painting, drawing, and writing the seven songs found on my favorite album of 2023, Dancing on the Edge.

The atypical country-rock structures and long-winded rambling found on Dancing on the Edge feel like the natural continuation of State Champion, even if it’s rebranded as a solo album. Davis’ time spent making visual art perhaps informs the striking imagery and minute details within his songs. His ability to effortlessly put the listener in a “piss-stop town,” a “shipyard plumber’s band,” or a “junk drawer heart” is unmatched. Beautiful lines like “there’s a blackened space between the back of my head and the back of my face” are found so frequently on Dancing on the Edge, it would be impossible to summarize all of the best lyrical moments in a short blurb. Instead, I suggest you listen to the opus “Flashes of Orange” and give the lyrics serious attention. For the literary-minded singer/songwriter fans out there, Ryan Davis & The Roadhouse Band’s Dancing on the Edge is an essential album and one of the best of 2023.

For what it’s worth, my second favorite album of 2023 is My Back Was a Bridge for You to Cross by ANOHNI and the Johnsons. Below are some releases from friends, acquaintances, and obscure corners of the internet I feel deserve more attention:

  • Spirit Furnace - Spirit Furnace EP

  • Heavy Quitters - Heavy Quitters

  • Riley Parker - Discover EP

  • Bailey Allen Baker - Grab a Bucket

  • Perfect Angel at Heaven - EP

  • Chief Broom - Hidden in Plain Sight

  • Taxiway - This is Permanent

Swim Into The Sound's 12 Favorite Songs of 2023

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Our inevitable 2023 Album of the Year list is slow going, so as a writing exercise, I’m going to do some short little write-ups on a bunch of my favorite songs that came out this year. Believe it or not, in all my years running this blog, I’ve actually never done a roundup like this. I suppose I’ve always been daunted by other publications that can publish massive, genre-spanning 100-count lists of songs because they have an actual staff, but I am just one man. Instead, you get a hyper-biased recounting of my year through a dozen songs. I hope you love them as much as I do. 

1 | Militarie Gun - “Do It Faster”

It’s hard to believe that “Do It Faster” has only been in my life for ten months. From the now-iconic “OOH OOH” to the rockin’ guitar riff and unforgettable chorus, everything about this song feels like it was created in a lab to appeal to me specifically. Aside from single-handedly revitalizing the word “stooge,” this song is a wonderful little encapsulation of where this style of hardcore sits in a post-GLOW ON world. “Do It Faster” is a poppy rock song with an instantly transferable energy tailor-made for windows-down scream-alongs, your dumbest thrashy dance moves, and the strongest finger-point you have.


2 | Talking Kind - “Damn Shame”

“It’s such a damn shame I wasn’t / damn shame I wasn’t listenin’.” Not only is that one of the best choruses of the year, it’s also what you will be saying to yourself in a few years time if you sleep on this Talking Kind record. The solo outing of Pat Graham (of Spaynard and Big Nothing), it’s easy to see why “Damn Shame” was the lead single for his new project. It only takes a couple of listens before you find yourself effortlessly singing along to these words. Only Graham can make regret sound so catchy. 


3 | Bully - “Days Move Slow”

It’s been said before, but “Days Move Slow” sounds like it should be scoring the opening scene of a movie. In my head, I see Clockstoppers or Max Keeble's Big Move, the type of early 2000s kids comedy movie that could have only been made in the lead-up to the Iraq War. I see bleach blonde hair spiked to the heavens and a table full of breakfast food before our hero says something like, “Sorry Mom, I gotta jet, can’t miss the last day of school!” before grabbing his skateboard and running off to catch the bus. This song invigorates me in a way that very few ever have, and I’m more than content to live in that three-decade-old Nickelodeon-approved timewarp for two minutes and forty seconds with Alicia Bognanno as my guide. 


4 | Wednesday - “Quarry”

As a certified Wednesday freak, picking my favorite song off Rat Saw God proved to be a challenge. The obvious choice might be the titanic eight-minute “Bull Believer” or the lap-steel-led “Formula One.” There’s also the ultra-singable “Bath County” or the all-too-relatable “Chosen to Deserve,” and while I adore all those songs, “Quarry” eventually revealed itself to me as the song off the Asheville denizens fifth full-length LP. This track really has it all: depressed small-town imagery and hyper-specific personal details, plus it all builds to a joyous, swaying shoegaze riff. “Quarry” also has a vehicle-filled music video that, much like everything else in the Wednesday Universe, showcases the band’s penchant for cute, creative, and endearing art. Wednesday forever. 


5 | Greg Mendez - “Maria” 

In less than two minutes, Greg Mendez managed to convert practically everyone from a curious listener into a ravenous fan. The second single to Mendez’s excellent self-titled record, “Maria,” offers a harrowing tale of drug use and self-destruction, but wraps it in a melody that somehow feels timeless, as if it’s always been here. The instrumental is modest, just a guitar and drums, allowing Mendez’s voice to take center stage, presenting him as the heir to both Elliot Smith and Alex G’s throne. A cautionary tale turned into an immaculate bit of songwriting and artistry. 


6 | Ratboys - “It’s Alive!”

Channeling equal parts Rocky Mountain hiker and evil scientist, “It’s Alive!” is one of the most joyous songs of the year, a track that never fails to fill me up to the brim with optimism, hope, and light. Like the first warm day of spring, listening to the emphatic “It’s Alive!” is like stepping outside, feeling the sun's rays across your skin, looking up to a clear blue sky, and filling your lungs with a big puff of crisp air. In a way, this song channels a similar sense of naturalistic wonder as Ratboys’ own 2021 megahit, “Go Outside,” but swaps that song’s post-COVID anxiety with boundless optimism and happiness. A powerful feeling to have at the click of a button.


7 | Superviolet - “Overrater”

While I was late to the party with The Sidekicks, I was right on time for Steve Ciolek’s new project, Superviolet. As the lead single, “Overrater” had a lot on its shoulders: introduce the new band to mourning Sidekicks fans, get people geared up for the full record, and maybe even convert a few new fans in the process. As living proof of the third one, I can point to “Overrater” as the precise entry point for my fandom. The song begins with a pace-setting electronic beat but soon explodes to life in a fun-loving blast that feels like the music equivalent of breaking into a full sprint. Even as bullies surround us and insults fly, persistence prevails, allowing the listener to stride out the door with a fresh outlook and indomitable spirit. 


8 | saturdays at your place - “tarot cards”

At the beginning of the year, I had no idea who saturdays at your place were. Despite living in Detroit for a couple of years and digging deep into the emo scene, I was unaware of the talent amassing across the state in Kalamazoo. saturdays materialized over the course of the pandemic, emerging with a nine-song record in 2021 and segued that release into a No Sleep signing as well as an impressively realized EP, which they dropped at the top of the year. Having since amassed over 2.5M plays on Spotify, “tarot cards” is an undeniable emo song, boasting a god-tier riff, cathartic group chant, and tried-and-true lyrics of being awkward at a party. No wonder why this track has been subject to TikTok trends and dumb memes alike; it has the sauce to become a generational Midwest Emo song like “Two Beers,” “Death Cup,” or “Cinco De Mayo Shit Show.” Before I get too ahead of myself with hyperbole, I’ll slow down and look forward to screaming along to “tarot cards” for many more concerts to come. 


9 | Slow Pulp - “Cramps”

Yet another record that was hard to pick any one song from, the sophomore outing from Slow Pulp is chock-full of throwback indie rock that shines and shimmers like the light bouncing off a lake. While Yard was preceded by four absolutely immaculate singles, “Cramps” was the first out the gate and set an immediate high bar that signaled a level-up from 2020’s Moveys. Beginning with a powerful burst of drums, the band quickly locks into a shoegazy sway as lead vocalist Emily Massey sets the scene with snarling lyrics about wanting it all. The whole thing rockets forward for a sensible three minutes, complete with crunchy guitars, spry drumming, and a nifty little drop-out at the end to ease us down from the high-energy state. 


10 | Caroline Polachek, Charli XCX, George Daniel - “Welcome To My Island (Remix)”

While you might be surprised to see a remix on this list, it only takes one listen to understand why I love this pumped-up, electrified version of a Caroline Polachek classic. Sure, I liked Desire a fair bit, but throw some spicy Charli XCX verses in the mix and put it all over a club-ready beat? I’m IN. I’ll also cop to having the biggest crush on Charli XCX, so hearing her spit one of the horniest verses of her entire career always gets my heart rate up just a little. Barring my personal affinity for curly-haired party girls, it’s also cute to hear Charli write these lines of wanting a “white dress, countryside, house, and kids” over an instrumental that her (now) fiancée has made. That’s true power couple shit, and I love it for both of them. Throw all of that on top of Caroline Polachek’s anthemic opener, and you have a recipe for success that will soundtrack car rides, gym visits, and amped-up pre-game playlists from now until the end of time. 


11 | MJ Lenderman - “Rudolph”

Four drum hits and we’re off to the races. MJ Lenderman’s “Rudolph” kicks off like a celebratory firecracker with a swampy twang beat and the perfect amount of pedal steel. The first line goes on to confirm that, yes, this is indeed the Rudolph you’re thinking of. Lenderman bellows over his bandmates and his own fuzzed-out guitar, screaming of Lightning Mcqueen and making a self-referential call-back just a line or two later. Of course, there’s a sick guitar solo, and then they hit us with one more chorus because they’re professionals. They also give us that bouncy little four-note countdown one last time, and let me tell you, I can’t wait to break out my freakiest dance moves to that next time I see it live.  “Rudolph” is a perfect between-album entry to the MJ Lenderman canon, ending up feeling like a victory lap for both Boat Songs and a celebration of his signing to Anti- Records. The only thing I love more than seeing dudes rock is seeing dudes win.


12 | Talking Kind - “Pretty Flowers”

First off, yeah, I know what you’re thinking, ‘another Talking Kind song on this list??’ To which I say YES, believe it, It Did Bring Me Down is that good. On the mid-album cut “Pretty Flowers,” the stakes are set immediately in plainspoken words: “I bought some pretty flowers / I was going to drive to your grave after work / Instead, I pulled over and cried and cried and cried.” Basically everything is on the table from the outset, all wrapped in a melody anyone could hum along to. The rest of the song grapples with mortality and loss as Pat Graham belts an MJ-like chorus of “I'm still working it out. Yeah, baaaaaby, I'm still just working it out.” A minute later, our hero still hasn’t found a compromise as Graham sings, “I don't think I'm ready / I don't think I care if I'm ever ready,” then interrupting his own rhyme as he sings “spaghetti” and holds the last note like a piece of putty. It’s an absurd, hilarious, and endearing little non-sequitur to end the verse on, which was, up to that point, a pretty forthright meditation on death. He hits us with one more chorus, allowing the listener to either laugh at his joke or croon along, making for a fun little musical choose-your-own-adventure. It’s a heartwarming moment packed into the exact middle of this 3-minute gem that makes me appreciate the craft of songwriting more than I ever have before. 

Listen to a playlist of all these songs (plus some outtakes) above. Alternatively, if you want even more and would like to see all my favorite songs of the year in chronological order, check out this playlist. 

Jimmy Montague – All The Same | Single Review

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SELF-RELEASED

“All The Same” by Jimmy Montague feels like a breath of fresh air. His discography is full of soft-rock jams that meld contemplative and deliberate arrangements with the free-wheeling spirit of rock ‘n’ roll from days gone by, but the new single opens on a decidedly more vintage (and somehow even sweatier) vibe– a rollicking and expressive crescendo of jazz piano. If nothing else, it demonstrates the compositional and instrumental talents of the man himself. But that isn’t all it does. Its drawn-out and embellished chords also foreshadow the jaunty, Broadway-esque main riff of the piano-driven rocker, which is eventually propelled into motion by chunky drums played metronomically to a driving rock ‘n’ roll beat. Montague’s vocal delivery, which is simultaneously hushed and urgent, has never shined brighter than it has on this song. He sounds both impassioned and detached at once as he croons for a love he waits for by the phone. The verse elides into a wonderful backslide of a chorus before the inimitable Chris Farren takes the wheel with an almost effortless guitar solo and a falsetto disco verse. Truly a meeting of the minds guys.

The groove comes first to both him and Montague on this track– the verses slip by, the second chorus is unsung, and those driving drums play the song out. “All The Same” is an evolution from Montague’s last LP, honing his instinct for slick pop-rock without sacrificing musical complexity, vintage pastiche, pure rock and roll, or complete sincerity. It’s a perfect slice of ‘70s nostalgia to pair with a big-bodied automobile, a beautiful lover, some worn-in bell-bottom jeans, and whatever remaining marijuana you can pull together. You can stream the song now on your platform of choice, at the strong recommendation of this writer. Jimmy Montague’s new LP, Tomorrow’s Coffee, drops early 2024.

Mikey Montoni is a nonfiction writing student at the University of Pittsburgh, originally hailing from New York. When she's not writing, she's bruising herself attempting skateboard tricks, playing with her punk rock band, digging through bookstores for '70s pulp sci-fi paperbacks, and wandering Pittsburgh in search of good coffee.

PHONY – Heater | Album Review

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Counter Intuitive Records

I’m a known short album enjoyer, and Heater, the new album from PHONY, just might be the best example ever. The record is a scant nine songs that add up to a grand total of 21 minutes; that’s just two minutes longer than I Became Birds or your favorite Joyce Manor album. It makes sense then, that in 2021, the latter would enlist Neil Berthier to play guitar and synth in support of their then-upcoming record 40 oz. to Fresno.

While his ongoing Joyce Manor tenure might net him a lot of cred in millennial emo circles, Berthier has been creating excellent records under the PHONY moniker as far back as 2019. That’s not to mention the half-decade he spent fronting the now-defunct Donovan Wolfington. So it should come as no surprise that Heater is as refined and punctual as it is. This is the sound of someone who’s been at it for over a decade, and this album specifically sees PHONY refining the pop-punk formula into a glossy collection of shredders that are pointed, addicting, and deliver a complete arc within the time it takes to watch an episode of Spongebob. 

Things kick off with “Caroline,” a re-recording of a song initially released as a one-off single last year as a prelude to PHONY’s third album. While I had assumed Caroline was doomed to obscurity as a non-album loosie, it’s nice to hear the song here perched at the onset of a new record, gaining a well-deserved second life in the process. In comparing the two versions, it’s fascinating how they each embody their respective “eras” so well: while the 2022 Caroline is still peppy and energetic, it fits better in the disaffected, disorienting, and death-obsessed world of the album that came after it. In contrast, the 2023 Caroline is snappier and scrappier, with a brighter vocal take that signals to longtime fans they’re in for something different than last year. 

Following this revisitation of an old single-name classic, PHONY spends the remainder of Side A ripping through the album’s three singles in reverse order. “Card In A Spoke” springs to life with a bouncy drum pattern that sounds like a dribbling basketball or a heartily-thrown dodgeball. This is only the warm-up though, because everything explodes to life when the rest of the instruments slam into the track about 24 seconds in. Wielding a snotty pop-punk riff and hard-charging rhythm section, Berthier desperately searches for signs of life and a sense of time following a crashlanding on alien terrain. The group can hardly wait a minute before getting to a guitar solo and then rolling back into the chorus again, ironically making the listener also feel like a card in a spoke getting beaten with the repeated prongs of energy stemming from the band. 

“World You Love” begins with a waltz but quickly builds into a full-body ballroom sway as images of bloody sidewalks and brain-frying boardwalks flash between cathartic cries of “REALLY WHO GIVES A SHIT!?” One proggy guitar solo later, and we’re dumped off into “Chinatown,” the album’s lead single and one of my favorite songs of the year. Perhaps the closest to the maudlin vocal stylings of AT SOME POINT YOU STOP, this song has a fun drum beat and attention-grabbing opening moment as Berthier explains to some faceless other, “You were built for speed, and I was built to last.” From there, the song slides headfirst into a jumpy punk section as we hear tales of sunshine and tequila shots delivered in an enthusiastic shout. 

After a pretty relentless outpouring of energy over the first ten minutes, “Roof” acts as a solitary moment of reflection before jumping into the record’s back half. Based around a simple piano line, this track is the perfectly placed interlude slotted right in the middle of the album and almost feels like a mirror to last year’s “KALEIDOSCOPE.” More a scene-setting exploration of drunkenness and disconnection, some studio chatter punctuates the minute-long excursion before the album’s remaining four songs swoop us back into the pop-punk mayhem.

Just as was the case with the first half of the album, almost each of the songs on Side B boasts a catchy hook, cocky vocal delivery, and flashy guitar solo. Things rarely dip below 100 bpm, “Water In Your Wine Glass” is the closest thing the album gets to a “slow song,” and even then, PHONY can’t help but build up to a snappy little guitar solo midway through. Similarly, “County Line” eases into things with a somber beginning, but that only lasts about 20 seconds when the band roars to life for the chorus. 

Heater resolves on “Pass The Ball,” a song that touches on touring life, alcoholism, and learning how to commit to something. To me, this song is really about partnership and learning how to share yourself with someone else, whether that be in a romantic, platonic, or creative setting. The lyrics promise, “You could really have it all / if you learn to pass the goddamn ball.” This mantra is delivered calmly at first but then in a near-scream by the end. As the title of the song is repeated, the guitar crescendoes into a post-rock wall of noise and, most shockingly, some Sweater-Song-esque “oooh ooohs” appear to sing the listener off. All in all, it’s a very big swing that ends up feeling like the perfect closer to a blisteringly fast record. 

I know I’ve talked a lot about the speed and tempo of these songs, but it’s surprising just how amazingly everything flows when placed together. These tracks feel like an amazing synthesis of emo and pop-punk, all delivered in a style that feels true to this project and Berthier’s last ten-ish years of music-making. It’s stunning to hear an album this complete and fulfilling delivered in just 21 minutes, and the crazy thing is you can just let it all roll from the top again.

Up until now, I haven’t talked too much about AT SOME POINT YOU STOP, the PHONY album that came out before this one. That record was one of my favorites of 2022 and fleshed out a world of emotional indie rock unlike any I’ve ever heard. While it was an album about death, loss, and reconfiguration, the bigger question it leaves the listener with is what comes after. Heater, it turns out, answers that question with an emphatic collection of songs where life flashes by at superspeed. These songs are the sound of someone experiencing existence after a sort of cosmic reset that rendered everything before it null. They’re fast because that’s exactly how things unfold in the real world. When I throw on this record and the songs each blaze past me, I’m reminded of this fact. Everything is fleeting, and we’re just lucky to be here taking in the scenery—a card in the spoke, flickering along and enjoying the ride for as long as we can.

Frog – Grog | Album Review

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tapewormies

The sailors survived off rum. Not in the nutritional sense, of course, but in the way one may survive by watching their favorite sports team. Everybody needs a little something to get through the day. The problem arose when the sailors realized they could stockpile their daily rum rations for two, three, four days at a time and then drink themselves silly. Eighteenth-century British naval ships were dangerous operations, and drunk or hungover sailors posed a threat to everybody’s safety. An enterprising admiral named Edward Vernon began mixing fresh water into the rum rations in a 4:1 ratio, shortening the liquor’s shelf life and thus forcing the sailors to consume responsibly. Vernon’s concoction took on his own nickname: Grog, after the grogham cloth he wore around his waist.

Daniel Bateman has always operated in this space, writing fiercely humanist songs under the moniker Frog about the ways in which people mete out coping mechanisms to survive. In the intervening years after 2019’s Count Bateman, his wife gave birth to twins. Faced with the twin specters of newfound responsibility in fatherhood and a pandemic-wracked world, Bateman suddenly found he needed to dig deeper within himself to be able to write and escape into his music; in this regard, it’s fitting that the fifth Frog album is titled Grog, after the beverage which kept the sailors able to focus on the tasks at hand. Grog is, in many ways, a culmination of the greater Frog project: a refinement of the musical and lyrical themes Bateman has pursued his whole career, with fuller arrangements and a bounce that never quite materialized on older records. It also marks the band’s first go-round as a family affair, with Bateman’s brother Steve taking over full-time on drums.

“Goes w/o Saying,” the first proper song on the album, is one in a long tradition of Frog songs that cloaks sexual pursuit in vaguely religious language. But this time, they let the instrumental—a series of chiming pianos—ride out for over a minute after Bateman stops singing until the song starts to sound like hourly church bells collapsing inward on themselves. It’s a new trick for the group, the music now working in greater tandem with the lyrics. Lead single “Black on Black on Black” rides a ferocious stomping groove as Bateman works in abstract notions about Odysseus and Athena. He’s long been obsessed with the modern American myth—2015’s Kind of Blah namechecks Judy Garland, Fred Astaire, MGM, and Patrick Ewing all within a three-song run—but this dive into more classic mythology represents a new frontier. Rather than using pop cultural knowledge as evocative shorthand, he taps into some of the oldest shared cultural knowledge available as a world-building device.

But Grog’s most salient change is Bateman’s status as a new parent. Where his prior character sketches often dealt with fumbling young adulthood in pseudo-autobiography, with all the impulsive drugs and awkward sex that entails, he’s trained his gaze on a younger generation this time around. “420!!” is a melancholy guitar symphony of adolescent shenanigans and early pot-smoking laced with a morbid undercurrent: “You’re gonna die, and yeah, it’s cool / You don’t know why you’re going to school.” It’s a weed-addled bildungsroman in miniature that recalls what its characters are experiencing in real-time: a firmer (and maybe sadder) understanding of the human condition undercut by buzzed euphoria that borders on acceptance. Fatherhood is tackled most explicitly on the tender “Ur Still Mine,” a musing where Bateman imagines talking to a fellow parent before offering words of encouragement to his own kids. “New Ro” lands a bit closer to the Frog songs of prior albums, a bluegrass romp that flashes back to his hometown “where the girls they put out in a car/and the pizza guys know who you are.” 

Everything converges on the stunning closer “Gone Back to Stanford,” a bleary vignette about a college underclassman having trouble adjusting to the next phase of her life. Like many of the best Frog songs, “Gone Back to Stanford” is a series of images that stops just short of adding up to a story, littered with asides, non-sequiturs, and foreboding undercurrents. This unnamed person goes to parties and drinks Ketel One and has unfulfilling one-night stands; through it, she’s trying to work up the nerve to tell her mother she wants to transfer out. Bateman fleshes out the scenes beautifully, able to capture the pain and elation and danger of these environments from afar without ever passing judgment; paternal, but never paternalistic. It’s also the most richly arranged song of the band’s career–never before have they been able to execute the kind of drop they pull off at the end with as much heft as they manage here. They bring it home on one of Bateman’s best turns of phrase over his years of writing about lost innocence: “Born in a manger/Going home with a stranger.”

Jason Sloan is a guy from Brooklyn by way of Long Island. You can find him on Twitter or occasionally rambling at Tributary.