Turn It Up - 4/21/2025

Earworms, obsessions, recommendations

More of the great music, new and old, including old stuff that’s new to us, and all of it helping us get through right now. [And be sure not to miss Part 2 of “The Best Country Albums of 1985.” Truth is, the Part 1 posts of our Best Country Albums series are my excuse for diving into the really fun stuff in Part 2—obscurities and oddities, loads of non-canonical hits and not-to-miss album tracks, weirdo side projects and lesser-known work from country’s biggest legends, and lots more. — DC]

Amina Claudine Myers – “Wasted Life Blues” (from Salutes Bessie Smith, 1980)

Jazz pianist-vocalist Amina Claudine Myers, now 83, released her second album, a tribute to Empress of the Blues Bessie Smith in 1980, back when she was already nearly forty. You can hear that maturity, by which I mean simply her grown-ass life experience, in the album’s opening version of Smith’s “Wasted Life Blues.” The track begins with just Myers and her piano, sounding a little like she’s only playing for herself, and a little like she’s accompanying a silent film. But while never drifting too far from Bessie’s melody, she begins to add her own sorrow and strife to the tune, with near-gospel flourishes and a doom-saying left hand. When her band joins in and Ms. Myers finally begins to sing, she has already been sharing her blues for longer than the entirety of Smith’s original recording. She’s just getting started. “Oh me, oh my! Wonder what will become of poor me?” she asks, over and over. That sentiment would sound like mere whining coming from most singers. But Myers—with a declarative emotional presence that evokes Nina Simone, with a questioning moral clarity that had me flashing to Iris DeMent—convinces you that her existential query is the only one that matters. Just thrilling. (A pair of 1980 Myers albums, Salutes Bessie Smith and Songs for Mother E, have been available at Bandcamp since the fall. Hat tip to friend-of-the-newsletter and New York Times contributor Alan Scherstuhl.) – DC

Heather Mae – “What I Know Now” (from What They Hid From Me, 2025)

The “genre-fluid songwriter” and artist-activist Heather Mae released two albums last month, the alternative-leaning What Have They Done to Me (produced by fellow Nashville singer-songwriter ZDAN) and the hookier, more pop-minded Kiss & Tell (produced by Lollies aka Timbaland and Hayley Williams) though I’d stress such general distinctions get blurred often as not. I’m still absorbing it all and still trying to figure out who all plays what: Allison Russell, Crys Matthews and SistaStrings are among the collaborators. One instant standout moment for me is “What I Know Now,” an acoustic guitar-strum and voice story song about meeting a guy when “18 years old in the back of a bar,” going home with him, and… “’Let’s take it slow,’ I remind him.” The tension in the music builds slowly, seductive and menacing both, full of excitement and regret both. This is one of those songs where narrative and performance, shame and wisdom, all become one. – DC

Abby Webster – “Give Me Money” (single, 2025)

All I know about Abby Webster is what I’ve googled: She hails from Montana and has released one album and a few singles over the last year or so. I plan to get to those, but for now I’m stuck on her “Give Me Money,” which pulled me in first with its melodic hook, it’s shiny but loose version of folkie alt.country, and some great pedal steel from a player named Cabot Wetz. What’s kept me listening are the lyrics, which dis Spotify, low-ballin’ promoters and “the patriarchy” while complaining righteously but not without a smile that “if there’s an economy where you can live on exposure, I sure want to go there.” Her demanding sing-along chorus will be hard to bear for my favorite of the year: “I need money! Give it to me, bitches!” – DC

Mekons – “A Horse Has Escaped” (from Horror, 2025)

We’re in a moment when it’s difficult for me to avoid hearing everything as a metaphor for politics. “A Horse Has Escaped,” from the Mekons’ new Horror, begins with dogged rhythm and spooky synths like it’s going to be a soundtrack for a film from the album title’s stated favorite genre. But when Sally Timms sings “the barn is on fire,” and then repeats frantically, “It’s too late, it’s too late, it’s too late,” I thought instantly of our world on fire. That connection made, “A Horse Has Escaped” led my mind directly to remember that 2018 bit from comedian John Mulaney, more accurate and prescient than he could possibly know at the time, about a metaphorical horse running amok in a metaphorical hospital. “We don’t know where he’s going but he knows how to run,” Timms cries increasingly frantic. “We left the gate wide open… It’s too late, it’s too late, it’s too late.” Horror, indeed. – DC

Connie Smith – “A Far Cry from You” (single, 1985)

Had never heard this Connie Smith number until early last week when I was finishing the research for my “The Best Country Albums of 1985, Part 1” and “Part 2.” Mentally and physically weary of the music biz hustle, Smith had stepped away from her recording career in the late 1970s but made a tentative return in 1985 with a non-album single notable in at least three ways. First, the song was written by a young Steve Earle, whose 1986 album debut, Guitar Town, was itself just half a year away and would include a recycling of the melody to “Far Cry” called “My Old Friend the Blues.” Second, Smith’s release climbed to No. 71 on Billboard’s “Hot Country Singles,” which turned out to be her final appearance on the chart. Finally, Connie’s “A Far Cry from You” is short and sweet, barely two minutes, and just really good. She’s singing about finally getting to that place where she’s over the blues, swearing to us that her tears are finally all dry. When, on the chorus, she follows Earle’s melody from a heavy alto up to the quivering, lonesome top of her adult range, I’ll bet you don’t believe her. – DC

Bon Iver – “I’ll Be There” (from SABLE, fABLE, 2025)

Over almost twenty years (!), Justin Vernon’s project Bon Iver has never sounded better than it does on the fantastic new album SABLE, fABLE. The short SABLE side is lovely, three songs that harken back to the snowed-in folk-pop of Bon Iver’s first records. But the real magic comes on fABLE, where Vernon fully indulges his love for pop and R&B in some of the most vibrant music he’s ever made. “I’ll Be There” is a pulsing slow jam with a descending melody sung by Danielle Haim (who co-wrote the song) and then answered by Vernon – in his husky lower register, which he complements here and elsewhere with his breathy falsetto – insisting “tell me more or tell me nothing.” As usual with Vernon, even in this more direct mode, the lyrics are almost irrelevant: What matters are the layers of sound that wash around the listener in burns, fades, and unexpected juxtapositions. It’s a vibe, in the best sense. (The fact that it features Memphis R&B virtuoso MonoNeon on guitar is a bonus.) Like many of the best Bon Iver tracks, “I’ll Be There” sounds like the product of an AM dial settled halfway between two radio stations, probably Adult Contemporary on one end and the “Quiet Storm” side of R&B on the other. It’s a great track and a great album from my fellow Wisconsin native, who does our home state very proud. – CH

Valerie June – “I Am in Love” (from Owls, Omens, and Oracles, 2025)

Speaking of career highpoints, Valerie June’s new album might be her best yet. The artist has always balanced an honoring of traditions with cosmic mysticism, musical root work that finds some of its most fertile ground on Owls, Omens, and Oracles. As much as I’m loving the joyous rave-ups like “Joy, Joy” or “Endless Tree,” I’m pulled more right now to the album’s beautifully quiet moments, like the a capella prayer “Calling My Spirit” or the spare devotional “I Am in Love.” June knows how to find every texture of her remarkable and distinctive voice, and here she comes close to the ear with tender flourishes and the occasional grainy growl. Supported by a stately piano-driven arrangement that neither overwhelms nor abandons her performance, June maintains the mystery as “I Am in Love” wraps itself around the listener. And she ends with a knockout punch: “What it does it mean when it hurts to love you?” The question remains unanswered, but June’s song and singing honor all possible explanations. – CH

Perfume Genius – “Clean Heart” (from Glory, 2025)

Mike Hadreas’ latest album as Perfume Genius came up on me slowly. I liked it on first listen (as I always do with Hadreas’ work), but it was only on the second or even third listen that I realized I’d been intoxicated by it. Many of its tracks were written during or in response to COVID lockdown, a forced isolation that sent Hadreas both inward and outward, meditating on life and death over arrangements that set his quivering, quavering tenor adrift on a sea of keyboards, guitars, and percussion. On “Clean Heart,” you can practically feel the listing of Hadreas’ ship as it sails over the anxieties and acceptances that accompany the dust-to-dust journey referenced in the chorus. Bubbling synth drums mix with ethereal background vocals, a shimmering keyboard shines alongside a screaming guitar, and Hadreas ends the song by unfurling into an incandescent falsetto. Beautiful stuff. – CH

Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise – “Baby” (from Time to Discover, 2000)

There is a lot to love about The Pitt, the fantastic new HBO hospital drama that just finished its first season. The show had me hooked from its first five minutes, which feature main character Dr. Robbie walking to work with the gorgeous Robert Bradley’s Blackwater Surprise track “Baby” pulsing in his earphones. The song’s appearance, bookended at the end of the final episode, reminded me just how much I loved the run of albums that the Detroit soul-rock band released around the turn of the 21^st century. Time to Discover, on which “Baby” appears, is the best of the bunch, featuring lead vocalist Bradley pleading and shouting his way through tracks that run the table from the deep funk of “Ride” to the twangy lament “Tramp 2.” “Baby” recalls the humid intimacy of Memphis’ Hi Records in the 1970s, with Bradley longing for his lover over a guitar-fueled arrangement that manages to be tasteful without soldering off the rough edges. Time to Discover celebrates its 25^th anniversary this year, which makes the Pitt reminder even more welcome. Take time to discover the album, and the band, whether you’re finding them for the first time or – like me – being re-introduced to an old friend you hadn’t caught up with in a while. – CH

Recommended readings:

-Josh Crutchmer on Vandoliers lead singer Jenni Rose, for Rolling Stone

-Grant Alden on the Bottle Rockets, alt.country and No Depression, at No Depression

-Taylor Crumpton talks to Tanner Adell, for Essence

-Jewly Hight on Danae Hays at the Grand Ole Opry, for WPLN

-David Browne on how DOGE is hurting music documentaries, for Rolling Stone

(On the anniversary of Paul Revere's ride, an installation by Silence Dogood at Boston’s Old North Church. Photo by Aram Boghosian.)

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