1) Craig Finn, “A Legacy of Rentals” / I’ve spent so much time inside the narrative world of Hold Steady frontman and solo act Craig Finn; I know the colors and characters well, but never seem to lose my curiosity. His lyric dramas tell the tales of people who would attest that “I feel like I’m riding a train I’m not on,” as he sings here on lead track “Messing with the Settings.”
It’s hard to order Finn’s records or place them in context, as they feel like chapters in one, lifelong story I never tire of. This story matters so much, but never diminishes any musical chords in favor of its hard-luck poetry; these songs contain gentle grooves, house exquisite string flourishes, staccato piano runs and bright but searching saxophone solos.
2) Nectar, “No Shadow” / This Illinois band braids the best cords of pop-punk and alt-rock, delivering its songs with an energy that drives forward but never pushes too hard. Less than 30 minutes long, “No Shadow” remains fresh throughout, casting Nectar as a delightful companion for road-tripping, relationship-defining or just about any other task.
3) Ada Limón, “The Hurting Kind” / “Lose my number, sadness. Lose my address, my storm door, my skull” is among my favorite lines in this remarkable new collection from Limón. A soulful seer, the poet comes alongside readers, gently helping us mind and mine the gaps between our thinking, feeling and doing, between the earth and suggestions of something like heaven.
“Rain / comes while I’m still standing, a trickle of water / from whatever we believe is beyond the sky,” she writes in one piece, staring into the liminal on our behalf.
4) Teju Cole, “Blind Spot” / “Your progress is not a line, direct or winding, from one point to another, but a flickering series of scenes,” Cole writes here. By this definition, “Blind Spot” is a document of his own progress, as the novelist and cultural critic pairs short dispatches with his vivid, everyday photography. A different sort of travelogue, both through various destinations and Cole’s interior life, the book describes people, places and new ways of seeing.
5) Alissa Wilkinson, “Living in the shadow of school shootings has changed us. Movies about them have changed, too.” for Vox / Art is no less than a reflection of our own understanding. Without going too meta, it’s important, then, for us to assess what we do or don’t understand. Alissa Wilkinson is one of our best guides, helping us sift our perspectives. She does this here in a recent piece which proves tragically timely again, examining how films about school shootings have evolved across an age in which we’ve done so little to prevent them. Read Alissa’s work even if you haven’t seen all the films she mentions—as a means of gazing upon our gaze.