Why I Created QUARANTINE: A Collaborative Playlist
About two weeks ago, when the news broke that we wouldn't be returning to school because of COVID–19, I did what I always do in a time of crisis or anxiety—I turned to music.
Below are your search results. You can also try a Basic Search.
About two weeks ago, when the news broke that we wouldn't be returning to school because of COVID–19, I did what I always do in a time of crisis or anxiety—I turned to music.
One of the reasons I love music so much is because it makes us feel. No other sensation comes close to when we find the album that speaks to us, or the artist who really understands what we're going through. Over the years, I've collected a lot of music by a lot of artists which perfectly capture so many emotions: I have a playlist for driving down my favorite Texas highway, multiple albums exclusively for vibing, and an artist for when I feel like my life is just too similar to an A24 movie. Good music has the incredible ability to find our weakest spots when we're already at our weakest, and to kick us when we're already down.
The cover art for Overcoats' latest record The Fight shows the duo, comprised of Hana Elion and JJ Mitchell, grasping each others' hands. Their unease is palpable: fists clenched, brows furrowed, frowns pronounced. Even the album's title evokes a sense of violence.
Allie X's vision of pop has always been difficult to pin down. Since her popularity exploded in 2015, her image has been guided by macabre, dark aesthetics. Yet, the actual music she makes is much brighter; her electropop sound shimmers with addictive hooks and sparkling synthesizers. "Catch," her breakout song and lead single off of her debut EP, CollXtion I, showcases this contrast spectacularly. Punchy drums and 80s–inspired synths create a dazzling backdrop for Allie X to deliver one of the best hooks of the 2010s: "Just wait until I catch my breath," she sings, pausing to gasp between the words "my" and "breath." That tiny break, that teeny little sixteenth–rest, feels monumental, cavernous, infinite. It makes you tense up and lean in just before the beat kicks back in to dissolve all the built–up tension.
We’re living in a post–pop world. Yes, that’s a contradictory statement. The idea of “popular music” simply refers to music that is, well, popular. Attaching the prefix of “post,” then, is a meaningless exercise: our notion of pop music changes as mainstream consumer preferences change. Through the 2010s, however, a variety of artists and labels have deconstructed pop music by shattering songs to reveal their barest elements, creating their own unique, semi–ironic masterpieces in the end. These songs are often harsh and difficult to listen to. They’re also absolute bangers. What better label is there for this than post–pop?
It was late on a regular Thursday night, and my friends and I were hanging out in the floor lounge, doing just about nothing. I had a date scheduled for that night, but they canceled on me at the last minute, so I was stewing in my seat when I overheard two of my friends joking about some video they were watching on a laptop. I had known from last semester that they were big BTS fans, but I had always brushed it off as them just doing their thing. I tolerated the music videos and memes they made us watch on the TV screen when we scrolled through YouTube. That Thursday night, I decided to engage, and I was introduced to the world of the boy band BTS, or "Beyond the Scene.". I was forever changed.
“Rollin' eyes back in my head, make my toes curl, yeah, yeah,” Justin Bieber croons to his wife Hailey Baldwin in his new hit “Yummy,” a catchy ode seemingly to their sex–life and the first song off of his latest album Changes. In fact, the whole album seems like an ode to Baldwin and their relationship, with allusions to their extracurricular activities (to put it euphemistically) and introspections on their newfound love and how it has “changed” him.
Most people have probably heard the name Björk before. For nearly the past three decades, she's been a monumental figure in pop culture. Even if you haven't listened to a single note of her music, it's hard to escape the iconic moments she's come to define. Take, for example, her controversial swan dress at the 2001 Academy Awards, or the 2015 MoMA retrospective which centered around her career thus far. She's also starred in Lars Von Trier's film Dancer in the Dark (2000), which won the Palm D'Or at Cannes and landed Björk with vast amounts of critical acclaim for her role. The role, she said, was so exhausting she vowed to never act again. Thankfully, she hasn't said the same about music.
It would be nearly impossible for anyone walking down South Broad Street to miss the colossal building that makes up the Kimmel Center campus. The hub claims to be the center of Philadelphia’s arts culture, and though such a statement is exclusive and incredibly lofty, it does manage to be the home of many incredible performance groups. One such group is The Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia. As one of the founding resident companies of the Kimmel Center, the Chamber Orchestra has made its home in the Perelman Theatre where it performed its most recent engagement, “À la Française.”
In any other year, Armor for Sleep’s tour announcement would have caused an uproar. After all, the Jersey emo band officially broke up in 2009, playing a final show at Bamboozle Festival in 2012. Releasing a cryptic video two days before announcing a tour should have had every rock music outlet frothing at the mouth. Instead, it was just the latest in what’s rapidly becoming 2020’s weirdest musical trend.
It's easy to see the world in binary. Good or bad, love or hate, friend or lover, right or wrong. Things are, or they are not. Yes, it's easy to see the world in pairs, but in doing so, we limit ourselves from experiencing the full spectrum of life. In reality, binary views are overly simplistic—degrading, even—and rarely paint the full picture. In the first entry of Moses Sumney's double LP græ (labeled græ: Part 1; Part 2 will come out May 15), the vast space between black and white is stretched open, allowing the infinite shades of grey to be examined with crystal clear focus.
Billie Eilish is inescapable. Since releasing her debut album, WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?, less than a year ago, Eilish's rise to fame has been stratospheric. Eilish became a six–time Grammy recipient and the subject of a meme all before she could legally vote. The constant media attention she receives leads to hot takes, think pieces, and comparisons to other artists—namely, Lorde, the teen alt–rock star that came before her.
As is the case for many young artists in the age of the internet, Orla Gartland gained popularity after posting covers to her YouTube channel. Almost a decade later, her success on the charts and her sold–out tours indicate the twenty–five–year–old Irish musician managed to translate her success into the “real world.” Only six months after releasing her third EP, Why Am I Like This?, Gartland is back with her fourth, Freckle Season.
Grimes (aka Claire Boucher, aka c) has had it rough the past few years. Since 2015, label issues have delayed new music from coming out. She's been under constant media and public scrutiny thanks to her relationship with Elon Musk. Azealia Banks came for her throat. And she's a bit upset that we're killing the fucking planet.
It may sound trite to begin with some version of "time flies," but it's difficult to avoid the sentiment this time of year—The Family Jewels turned ten years old on February 15th. The debut studio album of Marina, then performing under the name Marina and the Diamonds, ushered in a wave of emotional lyrics masked by danceable pop. From the deceptively upbeat and hits–slightly–too–close–to–home “Oh No!” to the vulnerable ode to isolation “I Am Not A Robot,” the album is filled with some of Marina’s classics. On “Hollywood,” she sings about the allure of American commercialism while “Girls” is filled with a sarcastic overturning of all of the stereotypes women must overcome. It’s personal and honest, the perfect example of how pop music can be made powerful.
“There is only one result with comedy, laughter. If you do something bizarre, you can justify any reaction.”
After releasing his debut 2018 record vertigo—which went to number one on the iTunes chart in 12 countries and accumulated a jaw–dropping 200 million streams—and selling out a world tour, EDEN lives up to his success on his sophomore album. With no future, the 24–year–old Irish musician and producer manages to maintain his dedication to the art while continuing to experiment with his sound.
Post–hardcore defies definition, even within its name. Hardcore suggests a connection to hardcore punk, but "post" implies an X–factor, something beyond its parental genre. In practice, that has meant everything from the metal screams of Dance Gavin Dance's Jon Mess to the gothic elements of AFI and the progressive concept albums of Coheed and Cambria. Orange County–based Thrice had its roots in the Southern California melodic hardcore scene, but it was the 2005 release of their album Vheissu that elevated them from a simple rock band to a titan of post–hardcore.
Although the Oscars are primarily a night to celebrate film, live musical performances have become a staple of the award show. This was especially true this year, when the Academy decided that, for the second consecutive year, the Oscars would not have a host. These performances ran the gamut of quality: some were fantastic, some dull, and some were just bizarre. With this in mind, Street has ranked these performances from less–than–ideal to iconic. It should be noted, however, this ranking will only include the musical performances that were not written for use in the broadcast, so musical moments such as Janelle Monáe’s enjoyable opening number and Utkarsh Ambudkar’s skilled yet perplexing mid–show rap recap, will not be present.
As is the case every year, the Grammy Awards overtook social media with a flood of hot takes regarding nominees and winners. People love music, and after a year of falling in love with new albums, it only makes sense that people’s passions rise when the day of the awards ceremony finally arrives. There are a few categories, however, that are overlooked each year. Among these categories, which are typically cut from the evening ceremony and made part of a daytime broadcast, is the category for Best Musical Theater Album, and a trend in its recent winners suggests a laziness on behalf of Grammy voters.
Get 34th Street's newsletter, The Toast, delivered to your inbox every Friday morning.
Newsletters