Paste is the place to kick off each and every New Music Friday. We follow our regular roundups of the best new songs by highlighting the most compelling new records you need to hear. Find the best new albums of the week below, from priority picks to honorable mentions.
Blunt Chunks: The Butterfly Myth
The Butterfly Myth is rich in texture, not in the least because of the distinct instrumental choices deployed to support Caitlin Woelfle-O’Brien’s levitating voice. Opener “Fill My Cup” starts with slow, weighty drumming, liberal tambourine usage and a little fuzzy guitar before fading away as Woelfle-O’Brien sings over a bed of keys and steel—adding just the right balance of punctuation and flourish needed to uplift her voice. Living somewhere between the softness of Sampha’s voice and the breadth of Aerial East’s, Woelfle-O’Brien’s voice suits the pensive soft rank lane that Blunt Chunks inhabits. Bolstered with layers at key moments and backup from singer Quinn Bates, the vocals breathe incredible emotion into heartfelt yet plain spoken lyrics. Feelings of anticipation, devotion, avoidance, despondence are all there, delivered with nuanced tricks of affectation and instrumentation that signal distinction but proximity. She cannot escape feeling all these in one body; neither can her listener. For an album that traffics in softness and mythology as well-tread as that of the butterfly, Blunt Chunks’ debut avoids the pitfalls that could send the music careening towards cliche. It’s diaristic, folksy indie done just right. Caitlin Woelfle-O’Brien and her band add a soulful sheen to the twangy backbone, presenting a more diverse palette than peers typically offer. The songs on The Butterfly Myth work in juxtaposition, doubt and dramatic turns that coagulate into a story where you’re invested in the outcome. It is not a “perfect” album but, for a debut album especially, it’s a feat. —Devon Chodzin [Read our full review]
Chanel Beads: Your Day Will Come
“Dedicated to the World” immediately ushers you into Your Day Will Come’s liminal space, as long synths stretch as if they’re rising from bed, drawing the blinds. Acoustic guitar then picks up the pace and distorted strings jut in, chiming and shimmering as Lavers’ high-pitched vocals roll in a stream of consciousness, as if freestyling a feeling. “Life stretches out and recedes in me / for you / I had that thought again / is memory just acting out, erasing / what did you see?” Immediately, Shane Lavers announces himself as the unreliable narrator, questioning the validity of his own unspecified memories and impulses. The uncertainty continues on “Police Scanner” as Lavers proselytizes alongside a millscany of layered strings, hummed synths and poised percussion. “You owe it to yourself / gotta believe in something else,” he mutters, trying to convince himself, and anyone listening.
Lavers silently gives himself time to process too, meandering in the instrumental ambience of “Your Day Will Come” and “Coffee Culture.” Both these tracks feature a combined recording of the London Philharmonic Orchestra processed alongside live violin from Zachary Paul. The title track begins like a straightening of a tie. Postured strings puff their chest out and stick their chin up as drums roll in and a quiet synth plays. But then: a gust of wind causes a rapture as a long bass strum spreads all the sounds out in a deep sigh. The strings soon fade and spectral synth swirls, dancing alongside sighing vocals. The song feels like that moment you’re swimming in the ocean, minding your business, when all of a sudden you notice a wave increasing in size and speed, growing taller, taller. But instead of paddling away, you’ve planted your feet. You’re prepared to let the water rain down and take you, wherever it may go. It’s an ominous prophecy: Your Day Will Come. Or, it’s a reassurance; a command to be patient. Whatever the case may actually be, Your Day Will Come promises inevitability. Here’s another inevitability: Chanel Beads is bound for greatness. For years now, Lavers has been workshopping his avant-garde pop around the greater NY DIY scene. Chanel Beads has become one of those Brooklyn bands everyone seems to have seen live either on some guy’s rooftop or in a small, crowded bar, and all that hard work has culminated into a gorgeous, career-long debut. Chanel Beads’ day is finally here, now. —Sam Small
claire rousay: sentiment
The pop that claire rousay constructs on sentiment may sound infinitely different than that which often gets labeled “pop,” but the faint outlines of song structures and deep, affective resonance tie it to pop as it’s understood today. Perhaps its closest relative might be the bedroom work of Orchid Tapes, who often utilized at-home production, found sound and experimental techniques with which to chart an emotional dialogue within fluid structures. sentiment makes perfect sense as pop in a context where the immersive compositions of Foxes In Fiction, the diaristic entries of Blithe Field and the extremities of katie dey are all understood as working with pop’s glorious and bendable toolbox. sentiment approaches such an act of exploration with warped vocals and tender-strummed guitar more than rousay’s albums typically feature, but they’re buttressed with recordings from the field that is her everyday life.
One special standout is “w sunset blvd,” a snippet of a conversation between rousay and a friend as she indulges in a Coca-Cola in a popular cafe. She lets us in on a moment where she’s treating herself—suggesting she’s either desperately sad or experiencing something special. It could be either or nothing; it’s still notable to bask in the artist’s day-to-day life, soaking up the sounds of Los Angeles and an innocuous conversation, thinking of how those exchanges somehow stay vivid in our memories. This leads into closer “ily2,” featuring Meg Duffy of Hand Habits on a masterfully finger-picked guitar. There’s something brutal about “ily2,” as we see rousay beg for her counterpart to say “I love you, too,” recognizing that it could be a lie but still wanting to hear it. There’s a cruelty to one’s self—an urge to secure fleeting moments of emotional security—that rousay narrates throughout sentiment unflinchingly. It’s uncomfortable, but her music often thrives in the uncomfortable. —DC [Read our full review]
Cloud Nothings: Final Summer
More than anything, Cloud Nothings’ eighth studio album is a reassurance that Dylan Baldi will always discover new ways to turn existential angst into meaty, catchy, sometimes-heavy rock songs. As Cloud Nothings turn 15 years old, Baldi’s repetitive mantras are simpler than ever, imbuing uneasiness into only a handful of words. Recorded by Philadelphia mainstay Jeff Zeigler (The War on Drugs, Torres) and mixed by Sarah Tudzin of Illuminati Hotties, Final Summer is a dependable, giant slab of rock music in its purest form. Occasionally Final Summer will hammer a hook into oblivion, finding new meaning by letting a line repeat and repeat. “Daggers of Light” concludes with Baldi peering through a looking glass, chanting “I was on the edge of another life”—as if his reiterations would somehow transport him there. The early single “I’d Get Along” contains a total of nine words, creating an chaotic adrenaline rush when Baldi finally belts the title. According to Baldi, the song stems from a pandemic-era obsession with doom metal, which explains its nasty, firm guitar tones. Baldi has always been effective at conjuring a stark sense of feeling, even if the specifics aren’t usually in focus. On “The Golden Halo,” Baldi holds out the words “gold today” as if he was avoiding further conversation, countering the song’s aggressively sunny, jubilant guitar melody that could be at home on 2020’s The Black Hole Understands. —Ethan Beck [Read our full review]
Ekko Astral: pink balloons
After signing with Topshelf Records, DC punks Ekko Astral shot their debut album, pink balloons out a cannon. Lead single “baethoven” puts their “mascara mosh pit” music is on full display, opening with the ringing of guitar feedback into a barrage of wobbly guitars, punchy beats and piercing shouts—examining the harsh realities of love and how pristine fairytale romances aren’t necessarily achievable in our doomed world. “ICYMI, the earth’s coming down / And I’m throwing a fit at the luncheon / But I ain’t calling it quits here for nothing,” vocalist Jael Holzman sings, in a declaration that even though everything is going to shit, they won’t give up on finding love even if it isn’t perfect. On “devorah,” the intro is led solely by hollow, ringing vocals and jeering, accented guitar before the track abruptly bursts into a brash, percussive spiral of energetic noise. Short, glaring vocals are sung, spoken and snarled in the verses and chorus by Holzman, contrasting their elongated and angelic intro. According to the band, the track is about “empathizing with marginalized people” and persevering through “the worst our world can offer,” referencing murder, Taco Bell, two-week trials and seven-dollar coffee. To that truth, “devorah” is a lean and hard-hitting post-punk miracle. And on “on brand,” Holzman and the crew make good on a sharp, twisting track submerged in a gut-wrenching intensity. Thick layers of guitar, bass and percussion are smeared across the song. Holzman’s wailing vocals reign across the track with a demanding physicality, as she sings of capitalism in relation to women and materialism: “She’s got a pair of cheetah print pink pumps made by federal prisoners / She likes to wear ‘em to the seventies club / wax nostalgic about racism and sexual listeners.” The track—and pink balloons—masterfully navigates the transition between tumultuous passages of dark, condensed noise and moments of brief cavernous and sparse sound. Ekko Astral are creating a forward-thinking blend of fierce noise rock that revels in its own destruction. —Grace Ann Natanawan & Olivia Abercrombie
Pearl Jam: Dark Matter
Pearl Jam’s 12th album transcends the band’s generational and creative eras over nearly 34 years—it rages and riffs hard, but there are somber, pared-back, folksy meanders worthy of a long road trip within, too. “Wreckage,” in all its anthemic drama and wailing—near-breathless one-liners delivered like falling dominos over echoey, multi-layered guitar—is borderline-Matchbox 20 circa the late 1990s, as is the underwhelming “Won’t Tell.” There’s a haunted, overwrought quality to both songs that doesn’t quite hit as hard as the title track, which employs Vedder’s versatile vocals to rumble menacingly before unleashing furious outbursts like sonic thunder claps. In a determined undertone, Vedder urges us to “take the breaths from my chest, take the pulse, and I’m outta line, we’re losing time, dark matter.” Having gained momentum, he exclaims “It’s strange! These days! When everyone else pays! For someone else’s Mistake!” It thrills in the same vein that “Animal” did just over 30 years ago. Gossard’s circuit-breaking, wild guitar lines drive the song along on fierce momentum but Vedder, like the Shakespearian actor he sometimes is, times his lines perfectly to land with emotive heft.
It is when the band—and Andrew Watt—evoke Pearl Jam’s stunning capacity to rage at the injustices of the world, invoking personal grievances in equal measure, that Dark Matter is at its best (see “React, Respond” and “Waiting For Stevie”), while less on-brand tracks like “Upper Hand,” which enters on a synthesizer intro, embrace novelty with mixed results. It’s fine, it’s O.K., but it feels like frills and bows on a well-tailored suit: needless flounce. “Running,” on the other hand, is a speedy, noodling, two-minute-and-20-second rip-roar (whipping up some classic Gossard guitar wails) as Vedder’s near-shout delivery builds to a crescendo before being unceremoniously cut out. Following up this burst with the bouncy, childlike “Something Special” is a major mood switch, in which Vedder pays homage to his role as a father and the freedom, power and responsibility his children carry as the next generation. —Cat Woods [Read our full review]
Other Notable New Album Releases This Week: Cadence Weapon: Rollercoaster; Hot Joy: Small Favor EP; Lucy Rose: This Ain’t the Way You Go Out; Pillow Queens: Name Your Sorrow; Taylor Swift: The Tortured Poets Department; Tei Shi: Valerie; The Melvins: Tarantula Heart