814 shift shapes

on Mk.gee, Hats, and the 80s

Mk.gee’s Los Angeles show was the Grammys for anyone whose Taylor Swift is Chappell Roan, and if that doesn’t mean anything to you, you’re likely on the internet just a normal amount and not Too Much. Without looking into it purposefully, I learned that Dijon; Brakence; and Tyler, the Creator were all there. He’s an artist’s artist, earning praise mostly for his guitar work and strange, unexpected melodies.

I think a lot of people see Mk.gee (pronounced “McGee”) as a pioneer, and it’s true that his music is doing something new in the current indie pop landscape. But Mk.gee is pulling inspiration for his sound from the 80s, specifically the work of the under-appreciated but highly influential band The Blue Nile.

I have to pause here to credit the thesis of this piece to my friend Madeline, who has her own Substack. We had the following exchange recently:

madeline speaking absolute truths about mk.gee

Hats (1989), The Blue Nile’s most influential album, has come back around in the public consciousness with the rise of music like Mk.gee’s. I saw “The Downtown Lights” on Lorem recently, and was sort of shocked. The songs on Hats have only a few million streams at most; I credit Madeline entirely with my Blue Nile education, as she covered “Saturday Night” at a show I played with her. The record met strong reviews upon its release, but it didn’t make it out of the 80s the way that Born in the U.S.A. (1984) or Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (1987) did, becoming pervasive in the youth culture as eternal symbols of angst and the kind of freedom only adolescence brings.

But artists never stopped listening to Hats. In a strange and hilarious turn of events, Taylor Swift recently name dropped “The Downtown Lights” in a song as a reference to Matty Healy, who has stated that Hats is his favorite 80s record. In all seriousness, you can hear the influence of the album on the 1975’s music, in its bigness and optimism, as well as in the roundness of the synths and guitars. “Love It If We Made It” sounds like it nearly sampled “Saturday Night.”

On a much more indie scale, artists like Mk.gee, Westerman, Dijon, Jai Paul, Matt Champion, and Blood Orange are all directly or obliquely referencing The Blue Nile in their clean guitar tones and major melodies. In a similar way, the Cocteau Twins, especially their seminal album Heaven or Las Vegas (1990), have been coming back around, except that they’ve always been here; the album basically birthed the entire genre of dream pop, inspiring acts like M83, Beach House, and Animal Collective. Many of the visionary sounds on the album were created with guitars accidentally, despite sounding like dialed synths. Younger artists took the sound and ran with it, while the source material fell out of popularity.

I have to admit that until Madeline pointed it out to me, I didn’t connect the dots of The Blue Nile and Mk.gee, and gave the latter credit for something completely new. I think what I’ve learned in writing this piece, besides the fact that music critics giving rave reviews used to be a real art form, is that most things are just not new. There is almost always very valuable and informative precedent for a sound that feels inventive, which does not diminish the quality of the new release but rather brings the context of legacy and lineage to a previously isolated concept. Hearing Mk.gee’s Two Star & The Dream Police (2024) in this new light has only enriched the experience, like zooming out on a corner of an image to see the full picture.

What with the cultural hyperfocus on new music, it’s nice to hear something old and something new so closely related, knit together across time. I appreciate reminders that discovering old music can be just as rewarding as hearing something that came out this year, and it’s an important part of a healthy music diet, so to speak. I hope this piece encourages you to seek out the sources of your favorite new sounds, and specifically listen to Hats.