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I saw Lake Street Dive at the Greek Theater in Berkeley a few seasons ago, opening for The Avett Brothers. The bowl was packed, the cool summer air filtering through the crowd while they waited impatiently. Before the band even came on, I could see they were bringing their brand to the stage: a carpet, iconic retro-style Shure 55 microphones, and a floor lamp for warm lighting.
They were touring on Free Yourself Up (2018), an album of some of their best work, including “Good Kisser” and “I Can Change.” I’ve been a long time Lake Street Dive fan, since Bad Self Portraits (2014) and Side Pony (2016). I love the style of these earlier, more acoustic records. The group originally formed at the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston with the intention of making “free country” music. They quickly pivoted to a more pop and jazz influenced sound and began to put out infectious tunes driven by inventive bass lines, trumpet runs, and Rachael Price’s rich, perfect voice. When I saw them live, I found out that she is as captivating on stage as she is on record. In early quarantine, deep in a Lake Street Dive obsessive phase, I texted my then-boyfriend:
In my research today I unfortunately found out that she is married. While this information is soul-crushing to me, I will persevere and continue supporting her career by streaming my sad Lake Street Dive playlist everyday until I die.
Lake Street Dive gained traction with their viral cover of “I Want You Back” by the Jackson 5 performed on a Boston street corner. The band’s raw talent is clear—in a single live take, they capture the effervescent, energetic nature of the group dynamics, the way they feed on each other’s performance. The cover ushered them into more mainstream popularity just as they released their Fun Machine EP (2012), an eclectic collection of covers and a hit original “Clear a Space.”
While most of the material on their newest record deviates from the sound most associate with the group, it’s interesting when taken as a work of exploration of genre and electronic elements. My favorite is “Hypotheticals,” which tastefully incorporates a synth solo where they might have used horns in the past. While I won’t say Obviously (2021) is my favorite Lake Street Dive release, I’m excited to see what will come out of this experimental era.
St. Vincent knows how to serve an era. I became a more serious fan in the wake of her last record, MASSEDUCTION (2017), a hyper-pop and rock-inspired album featuring synths, 808s, and distorted backing vocals. She sported latex bodysuits and jet black slicked hair in her live performances, looking severe and futuristic. As a form of promotion, or anti-promotion, she recorded a series of satirical interview responses to presumably the most grating questions she might be asked. The lead single, “New York,” is still one of my favorite songs ever.
Now, St. Vincent has traded her black bob for blonde with bangs, her latex for blazers and scarves, and an almost robotic persona for something softer, but equally unhinged. This record screams 70s, in a rage of feathers, fever dreams, and funk. The internet is alight with comments comparing her to David Bowie, especially in her ability to transform herself, both in style and in sound, outside the grasp of genre. In “The Melting of the Sun,” she pays tribute to some of her idols—Joni Mitchell, Tori Amos, Marilyn Monroe, Nina Simone—whose careers were adversely affected by public perception. She grapples with how much she owes to these women and how she often fails to be as strong as them:
But me, I never cried
To tell the truth, I lied
While this record is swimming in controversy, it’s clear St. Vincent has created a masterpiece, a time capsule of all the best parts of the 70s. She pulls from influences like Steely Dan, Stevie Wonder, and Dolly Parton, crafting an impressive homage to one of the most interesting periods in popular music.
Bachelor is the super-group duo comprised of Jay Som and Palehound. Jay Som has made many a collaboration record, including And Other Things (2020) with Annie Truscott and Nothing’s Changed (2018) with Justus Proffit. Bachelor somehow feels more established and permanent; they streamed an online festival, did many an interview, and talk often about their friendship as an important aspect of their music. The album explores themes like climate anxiety, queer desire, and the wish to inhabit someone else’s life. “Sick of Spiraling” makes excellent use of guitars riffs verging on surf rock and profound lyrics:
If you can't have your own back
How the fuck can you have mine?
You are a braving light in a world so dark
Bachelor writes music for the moment; amid the horrors of the news cycle and a global pandemic, friendship is one of the only things we can really hold on to. I love my friends, even though it can be scary to care for people who have to exist in a world as harsh as ours. “Sick of Spiraling” tells us that it’s okay to need the people who need you.