What’s new to listen to
Alex Behan breaks down what we’re tuning into in the world of music.
Chloe¨ and the Next 20th Century
Waltzing into the latest Father John Misty is like stepping into a 1920s Parisian club after dark. Later, it evokes the golden age of cinema and pays tribute to beatnik America, but it begins with muted horns, sweeping strings and a lilting melody that sounds two martini’s down. That lilting voice is one of the serenader’s greatest strengths without a doubt. Theatrical through and through, he’s a versatile, virtuosic showman. Kiss Me (I Loved You) is gorgeously structured, with a Hollywood fairytale glow. The same can be said for Funny Girl – some of his most elegant, excellent work, complete with a cleverly plucked bridge and the return of those moody, muted horns.
As Chloe¨ jazzily draws to a close, Goodbye Mr Blues sparks up a light, breezy folk number, ruminating on the short nature of life in the finest traditional format. It’s the kind of song that makes you want to throw away your job, buy a few cattle and move to a lifestyle block.
Wet Leg
It’s always exciting when a new band bursting with verve pops out of the woodwork – especially when they seem as fully formed as this Isle of Wight band who have got everybody talking. Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers say they never had any intention of becoming a ‘‘serious’’ band. Friends since school, they made music to amuse themselves and pass time on their sleepy, secluded island. But in 2021, the world heard Chaise Longue and their lives changed forever. Funny. Absurd. Catchy as all hell and fun to sing along to, even if it’s just to feel all the pretty round sounds. There’s a Mean Girls joke, a clear love of alliteration and a gag about getting the big D (a degree), executed with excellently deadpan delivery. Equally juvenile (and fun) is follow-up single Wet Dream, which confirmed their knack for infectious hooks. If there’s a common element, it’s euphoria. Noisy, raucous and occasionally ridiculously loose, it’s precise and concise when it counts. Wet Leg are power pop, with punk energy – infectious and danceable. It’s almost entirely light, silly stuff, but it’s classily put together and a little bit of brain-off, carefree fun feels good right now.
My Friends
Christchurch singer Mousey paints a pretty picture on the opening track of her new album. It sounds like the album cover looks. Happy. Tranquil. Children playing in a blissful, watercolour paradise. A flute flits like birds twittering in the distance, and it’s only slightly misleading, the rest of the record isn’t quite so wilfully cheery. Mousey’s first album Lemon Law garnered her some enviable award nominations and support slots with Reb Fountain, The Beths and The Chills. Her love of local songwriting is noticeable in her own work too, there were moments during this eloquent collection I was reminded of those who have gone before like The Stereo Bus and Straitjacket Fits. Bright love songs like One Dollar Wednesdays and Wait For Me jangle along like familiar friends laughing in the afternoon sun.
More intense moments come with the regretful, late-night piano on Rachel (a highlight) and the delicate sadness of My Hands Are Made of Glass.