1) The music of Radnor and Lee / I spent my time well this week, in the company of actor-writer-filmmaker Josh Radnor and indie-rock guru Ben Lee—spinning their 2017 eponymous album and 2020’s “Golden State.” Tethered to the best elements of traditional folk, pop and classic singer-songwriter records, these songs come alongside the listener as spiritual affirmations, slip the burdens off their backs so they might travel a bit lighter.
There’s something truly special about hearing Radnor and Lee harmonize, especially when those harmonies frame and fulfill modern takes on Julian of Norwich or humbly return to a home state (“Ohio,” in this case) to gently plead forgiveness.
And I’ll be turning these lyrics over for some time—thank you, gentlemen:
I sing out for protection
And I sing to be redeemed
I sing to stem illusion
Knowing nothing's what it seems
2) Braids, “Euphoric Recall” / There are moments on the latest from this Montreal trio that hypnotize me. Raphaelle Standell-Preston’s vocals absolutely shimmer, projecting gorgeous resignation, over piano and digital swells on “Apple.” On late-album cuts such as “Retriever” and the title track, Braids creates something that is surely pop but also knows and cherishes each principle of Brian Eno’s ambient canon; these songs are shot through with magnificent light.
3) James Ivy, “Everything Perfect” / Music digests have compared the latest EP from this New Jersey native to ‘90s-forged bands like Third Eye Blind. Whatever your point of reference, “Everything Perfect” is a delirious plunge into Ivy’s melodic gifts, the sweetness of his phrases and the momentum of each song tempered and adorned by gusts of noise and scuffed-up sounds.
4) Chimeka Garricks, “A Broken People’s Playlist” / The Nigerian-Irish writer is a man after my own heart here, crafting each story in this collection “under the influence” of songs by the likes of U2, Nina Simone, Leon Bridges and P.M. Dawn. Garricks’ prose is forever gently probing—relationships, manhood, love and lust—as what’s interior becomes part of the atmosphere. Beyond the intricate humanity of these stories, he models what it means to write completely under music’s spell, not just about music.
5) Michael Garrigan, “Epistemology: Bullfrogs” for River Mouth Review / I absolutely adore the gentle motion, the series of chosen yet altogether natural relationships, in this short poem by Michael Garrigan: between the hiker and the family of frogs, “some full-throated searching, yearning, expanding / and contracting into questions and answers”; between curling and kneeling; between song and silence. This work is a sweet meditation unto itself.