Reviews by kuvien

A damn fine film score, despite it being attached to an egregious film. The orchestral elements are quite subdued, actually, with a focus on the piano and the violin, making the music more intimate and fragile. There is an ill-at-ease feeling that runs throughout these compositions.

I embarrass myself by trying to sing along to this joyful, wonderful album. I try to mimic that scratchy, sexy falsetto, and of course I fail. Who can compare to that illimitable bedroom voice?

So I called up Al this evening (because he asked me to), and he told me in the sweetest, most minimal chocolate tones of what he was going to do to me. I mean, the euphemisms really got me going, but at the end of the call, he got all religious on me, and I was confused, along with being hot and bothered. He told me "Jesus is waiting." Um, is that a euphemism, too? I know and love Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", his ode to his orgasm. Is...is this the same kind of thing, a conflation of sex and the religious experience?

Poetry married to rock music in the form of poezja śpiewana, so as to escape the anti-Western music censors. Music conceived in the minds of forward-thinking students dreaming of a different world as they lived behind the Iron Curtain. Violin, flute, and delicate acoustic guitar carry the beauty of this classic album. Other than the lyrics themselves, the vocal choral moments communicate the strongest Polish atmosphere.

It took me a long time to find this one, but as I was so charmed by Korowód, I didn't give up. I just loved the idea of Grechuta forming a student music group that focused on strings and the delivery of sung poetry and poetic recitation. It's all so charming. It just tickles me to know that here's a case of the young leading artistically, of students taking the ideas they're learning and turning it into something beautiful. A lot of classical sensibilities on display here. "Niepewność" is a high point.

I first stumbled across the poezja śpiewana genre when I found Ewa Demarczyk's 1967 gem, Ewa Demarczyk śpiewa piosenki Zygmunta Koniecznego. I think I was poking around for non-English language music and found her, was impressed by what I was hearing, and searched out more of that genre. I can't understand a word, of course, but there are translations, and for me, there's some charm also in not understanding the meaning but rather immersing myself in the sung stanzas of Polish poetry. The Russians do something like this, too: setting poetry to music. The jazz piano flourishes work well. "Pewność" is by far the best song on this album.

This is perhaps the greatest of all the hidden gems in my collection. I know that's a bold statement to make, but I slept on it and have decided to stick with that assessment. It just moves me with wonder and surprise with each listening experience. I am continually amazed at what's going on in this record, and I often pause and say "wow" aloud at the intelligence, creativity, and fearlessness of a masterpiece that takes me on a journey I didn't know I needed. I am grateful for the profound vision contained herein.

The poster boy of shlock.

Late 90s schlock-pop. Starbucks fodder.

The first track is one of my strongest memory music anchors. Reminds me of high school. I listened to the Dead a lot. The thing is, I went to high school from 1989-1993, so this wasn't the contemporary music of my peers. Summer days driving my first car down country roads, windows down, friends laughing, on our way to the lake. Is it a hot take to think the last song is the weakest? Maybe it's just overplayed.

I played the hell of out a few Grateful Dead greatest hits CDs back in high school, so I knew about half of this album already. Great tracks, of course, but I am happy to get to know the Dead a bit better with their lesser-known, off-putting tracks, some of which are quite experimental and lack in melody, like "What's Become of the Baby".

This is a great break-up album. Great for us listeners. Not so great for the man who's had his heart trampled on. Poor guy. The acceptance of gay men is a new thing in Western society, and thus in many circles, it's easy to just think that homosexuals don't have real feelings or real relationships. This album showed me differently.

When my colleague died, her mother's elegy broke my heart. She said, "The last time I saw Dana, she was sitting with me on my back porch and said, 'Mama, why can't I find someone to love me the way Daddy loves you?'"

All my ninjas love this one, and I don’t want to be left out. This whole album feels like a pleasant journey to me, but not really until the third track comes around. The first two tracks might seem to be figuring things out, not knowing what the tone of the album is, but I think this is very much intentional, a way of expanding the palette to allow for more colors, a deep-breathing exercise to allow for fuller expression. The bass clarinet leads the way with so much character, but it’s not all easy listening here. Pay close attention and hear the variance in the themes, at times undercutting the sense of comfort with strings fraught with suspense. I feel the double bass in my gut—not a punch, mind, but more like a rub, letting me know it’s there, not letting me wiggle free. The album progresses rather sultrily (in a white European way) as it embarks on a long expedition, the lazy pace set by a bit of throwback big band jazz sounds, a touch of the cinematic on the orchestral strings, the focus on the viola on the last track, and that waltz-like whirl of the bass at the very end, just rubbing my belly in circles.

All you need is a three-second snippet of this album to say "this is what the album sounds like". It will yield no more than this.

I listen to this only because Lestat does. I admit I am a poser.

Imagine listening to this for all eternity.

Nowhere near as good as Carly Rae Jepsen.

Funky basslines, airy flutes, and sophisticated harpsichords make up the backbone of this album. There are as many unsettling, discordant moments contained herein as there are dreamy, melodious ones. Perhaps it's also good to understand the film subtext of this score: it is the "allegorical story [of] humans living on a strange planet dominated by giant humanoid aliens who consider them animals."

Not only is the music—these classic Cuban tunes—charming, the backstory of the album is just… heartwarming! After recording for and (for which González was the session pianist) wrapped, González just loved the piano so much he stuck around and played a while longer, and that got everyone interested in what he was doing. They all joined in a kind of jam session with almost no rehearsal, and this spontaneous album was born.

One of those few albums where I sit back flabbergasted, unable to describe what I just heard. It’s like some 60s psych folk singer came into the 21st-century, wandered the mists of psychedelia and made some weird bedroom tape somewhere between The Flaming Lips and Kishi Bashi. Don’t get too comfortable with this album, because he’ll flip the sofa you’re relaxing on.