Critic-at-Large

Record Roundup 

2charm: star scum city 

These two tatted, shirtless, Australian party boys (who, on the DL, had been flirting with dance music for a decade already as part of the indie outfit Cub Sport) seemed to have come out of nowhere and told us they were the progenitors of a brand new genre, ‘Gooner Pop’. I mean, I first heard of this duo in the pages of Butt Magazine, for Christ’s sake. But the album they turned out has less to do with, I dunno, having epic chemsex at the club than the totalising embodiedness, standing alone in a crowded room, maybe still missing that one ex you can’t get off your mind, that has energised dance music for a few decades now. In its insistence that we dance through the pangs of nostalgia (see “prerogativ”e) by dancing with our hottest friends (see “girl”s), star scum city emerges from the Y2K Eurodance rubble formulaic but utterly convincing, replete with five major assists from the rising Aussie dance hero Ninajirachi. We might be in a cost of living crisis, but the one thing they can’t take away from us is our right to party. 

Kiss Facility: KHAZNA 

You’d be a fool to miss this dreamy wee debut from Kiss Facility, a duo consisting of singer-songwriter Mayah Alkhateri and producer Salvador Navarrete (a.k.a. Sega Bodega). It’s sung through entirely in Arabic (with a bit of gibberish in there, too, just for fun) — which is probably why it hasn’t received as much attention as it should have. But even to this monoglot’s ears its electronics come across groovy and intelligent (the reversed sounds on “Absent From My Eyes” are particularly idiomatic); and Alkhateri’s sense for melody is so direct I’d honestly call it catchy (see “Cheap Poetry”, “Flesh Mix”). “Qamar 14”, on the other hand, pulls in a lovely tension between its anthemic rhythms and its muffled, shoegaze-y reverbs and distortions. Moody, sexy, stylish — but not unconsciously so. 

Bruno Mars: The Romantic 

Oh deary me! I haven’t really liked Bruno Mars since Unorthodox Jukebox, to be totally honest—and, looking back on it, I’m not really sure about that one either. I find him a little overwrought; but I suppose it does take a certain talent to do enough with a song that someone like me can shrug and say, “It’s too much!” To his credit, Mars is clearly a real nerd about funk and soul music; The Romantic is steeped in those genres’ history, and it comes together with such affection that you wouldn’t dare call it a cash-grab. But he sort of loses me by the sixth track, “On My Soul”, which is so reminiscent of Curtis Mayfield’s “Move On Up” I realised I’d rather be listening to Mars’ playlist than putting his new songs on mine. 

Mitski: Nothing's About to Happen to Me 

I don’t want to come off too harsh, because this new Mitski album is probably the best thing that happened to me last week, but it is a little disconcerting to see a songwriter as skilled as herself relax and settle into a groove. I’m not saying that every songwriter ought to take a high-octane, Taylor-Swift-style approach, inducting fans into a new ‘era’ at every album release—but Mitski’s last two projects have been decent but unremarkable indie-rock slow-burners that lean heavy on the chamber aspects (a string section here, a borrowed chord there) and this new one is no different. I for one still miss the skittish energy of Be the Cowboy and the music-school grunge of Retired from Sad, New Career in Business. But then again, it’s hard to miss what’s gone when you just shut up, Jackson, and listen to the thing. She’s still turning out striking stanzas like “When I die / Could I come back as the rain / See see the world again / Fall again” (“Lightning”). Well, Mitski has always been a scribe to loss; now, she sounds a little older and a lot more direct as she extrapolates loss to death—or perhaps, rather, registers that all loss implies or anticipates death—which is this album’s central, haunting preoccupation. 

Harry Styles: Kiss All The Time. Disco, Occasionally 

Okay, okay. “Aperture” is still a bit of a surprise as a lead single—for its LCD Soundsystem influence; for its syncopated verse giving way to an anthemic chorus—and it’s true that the record that follows is a touch less catchy than, say, 2019’s Fine Line. But only a touch. Really, this is a typical Styles affair that displays less the dancefloor millennial angst of LCD than a familiar blend of musical (forgive the pun) styles, all fine-tuned to death by Styles’ old songwriting beau Kid Harpoon. “American Girls” is a solid piece of arena-pop channelling more interesting singers like Matty Healy or Ezra Koenig—but ‘Dance No More’ sounds like it was found, like, six years ago, on the cutting room floor of the studio where Jessie Ware made What’s Your Pleasure? or Dua Lipa made Future Nostalgia. For me, it’s songs like “Carla’s Song” that show the true Styles—romantic, eager to please, but not especially gifted—singing, “I know what you like / I know what you really like” over and over in a weirdly charming mix of conviction and desperation. When I hear these songs at parties, in ads, or out shopping, as we’re all likely to in the following decade, I won’t turn my nose up—in fact, I’ll probably even hum along.