1) Okkervil River, “In a Light” / “It Hasn’t Happened Yet” / New music from Okkervil River always feels like an event. Will Sheff and Co. handle issues of nostalgia and longing as well as any act making music on the planet today. Two new songs line up behind the band’s strongest efforts. The first, “In a Light,” beautifully rounds into form, a textured bit of songwriting that works on the listener over six minutes. “It Hasn’t Happened Yet” dances a bit more, giving Sheff’s weathered vocals a groove to engage.
2) David Bazan, “Bazan 2021 #1” / As part of a series of forthcoming releases, the sobering songwriter and Pedro the Lion mastermind kills listeners softly with two songs. The original “For Your Bearings” builds from a plaintive, progressive piano line to become something enveloping. A cover of Gillian Welch’s “Revelator” is haunted and haunting, something like a David Lynch take on a spiritual.
3) Cortney Lamar Charleston, “Dopplegangbanger” / The new collection from the Chicago-forged poet delivers wonders of language and contemplation. The personal and political twine here in ways they do for, well, everybody (some of us are just better at suppressing the connection) as Charleston disarms the reader with wit in one line, then staggers them with the weight of reality in the next.
4) Danny Caine, “Three Poems” for No Contact / I’m such a fan of Caine’s writing, which both celebrates and challenges cultural tropes, sneaking up on readers with stop-in-your-tracks moments of revelation. The three poems published here charm and arrest the reader with their observations on nostalgia, what we missed during the pandemic and more. The final piece (“I Was Carried to Ohio”) builds around one of my favorite National songs, turning its lyrical themes inside out:
Drive down the right stretch of I-480
at 80 while “Bloodbuzz Ohio” plays
loud enough to taste and a new exit will appear—
you will know it because you won’t be able
to read the sign.
5) Cyndie Randall, “After Daddy” for The Florida Review / My friend Cyndie Randall consistently creates image-rich, soul-baring poems. This work is a worthy addition to her expanding catalog. An early word picture (“Every mornin I ask Mama, Why do your eyes look like torn screens?”) establishes tone and mood, setting the table for visceral, tip-of-the-teeth-and-tongue language that lingers with readers (“Our songs blanket the buzz through the afternoon and shimmy the ash in the mantle urn”).