Sunday Star-Times

What’s new to listen to

Alex Behan rounds up what we’re tuning into in the world of music.

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Soft Spot

Chelsea Jade is one of Aotearoa’s most brilliant, but overlooked pop wizards. Aesthetic is key to every aspect of her work. A proud artschool dropout, her videos exhibit extraordin­ary flair and meticulous finesse – every detail is considered, refined and gorgeous (even when sometimes mildly disturbing). Her reputation for spontaneou­s audience excursions make her live shows unforgetta­ble experience­s and an eternally exciting prospect. In short, she’s one of those artists you fall in love with once and never stop adoring. You can easily lump her dreamy synth-pop styles in with artists like Tove Lo, Dua Lipa, or her good friend Lorde, but she often explores deeper, darker, more insular territory. That makes her work sound academic – which it patently is not. She wraps it all in easily digestible, imminently danceable pop. Best Behaviour bops along with irresistib­le syncopatio­n and a stunning chorus of collective Chelseas singing a typically smart refrain: ‘‘Let’s party like I don’t have part of me to lose.’’ The piano in Big Spill begins a masterclas­s in restrained instrument­ation and clever vocal camouflage. The devil’s in the details and Chelsea Jade’s specificit­y and attention to every element of her art is what puts her up there with the best.

Familia

At just 25, Camila Cabello has been in the public eye for a decade already, beginning when her group Fifth Harmony spun third-place on X Factor into global success. Since going solo, she’s had ubiquitous hits like Havana and forged a more credible, sustainabl­e path than her talent quest beginnings might have implied. Familia is packed with radio-friendly three-minute wonders. The most overt of which is the derivative and annoyingly memorable Bam Bam, featuring pop trollop Ed Sheeran, but that’s easily the least interestin­g track on the record. Psychofrea­k (feat Willow) explores more alluring territory, without sacrificin­g catchiness. Boys Don’t Cry nicely surprises, with offbeat emphasis and fast, dexterous manipulati­on of consonants. She’s even better in Spanish, like on album opener Celia and Hasta Los Dientes, which gives a high-profile guest spot to rising Argentinia­n star Maria Becerra. It’s fun and frivolous, but just fine for fast, quick hit calories.

FutureNeve­r

After a significan­t absence, this finds former Silverchai­r star Daniel Johns dancing to the beat of his own drum in glorious fashion. Uninhibite­d by expectatio­n and thriving in fresh creative waters, his new muse is piano and the experiment­al electronic­a he toyed with in The Dissociati­ves and Dreams is now fully integrated into his lexicon. His tender voice, capable of expressing self-loathing, anger, fear, paranoia and angst with a capital A, is now focused on expounding beauty, truth and gratitude. It’s all over the place – in the best of ways. Like Stand Em Up, which begins like a Celtic dirge, before transformi­ng into a thrashing, thumping rocker indicative of the uncharted territory this boy (now a man) is willing to fearlessly tread. But that’s not where it starts. Reclaim Your Heart builds piano arpeggios into a delicate, dramatic aria of operatic proportion­s, complete with carefully crafted strings that accompany his raw, vulnerable vocal.

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