MUSIC

It's Officially Spotify Wrapped Season

The annual round-up is a little creepy and pretty pointless, but we love it anyway.

Photo by: Yarenci Hdz / Unsplash

This week, Spotify rolled out their annual Wrapped series, their marketing peak of the year.

For those who aren't one of the streaming giant's 113 million premium subscribers, Spotify Wrapped is when an inconceivably large amount of data is collected and then presented in the form of aesthetically pleasing, neatly organized, and Instagram-ready visual roundups of your listening habits over the past 12 months. It covers the basics, like your five most-frequented songs and artists of the year, as well as more niche topics, like what you gravitated to each season and how many countries your music came from. Spotify even took it a step further this year to commemorate the end of the decade, revealing the personal top song and artist for each year the user has been subscribed. A 2016 study found that the average listener spends 2.5 hours on the app a day; that's over a trillion total hours a year that Spotify keeps a very close eye on.


For music junkies, scrolling through their yearly Spotify Wrapped is as exciting as receiving a small gift. With something so personal and integrated in our lives as music—though we rarely look at it in such a broad scale—the expansive synopsis of how we choose to spend our listening time over the year feels like a deeply telling look at ourselves. We strive for a Top 5 that summarize us well, although the inevitable guilty pleasure song or white noise track might slip into the mix. Each result is catered uniquely to each of us, ensuring us all that nobody listened quite like we did. Spotify tries really, really hard to make us and our results feel special, calling us "World Citizens" and "genre-fluid."

There's also the fact that we love divulging our music tastes to our followers. Since Spotify first introduced their share-to-Instagram story feature last year, posting our current favorite songs has become a somewhat-begrudged habit—so much so that tweets often float around teasing the boastful music junkies who partake. Part of us knows that nobody actually cares what we listen to, but our curated music taste is a handy way to express ourselves—or a persona emblematic of who we want to be—to others. Sharing our top artists and songs of the year takes it a step further: We actually do listen to that very cool music year-round.

So, when you look at it from afar, Spotify Wrapped isn't much more than a creep-level analyzation of one of our daily habits, perfectly optimized and positioned in such a way that encourages us to share the results and encourage all of our followers to do the same thing. It's marketing to a T, but however ridiculous it sounds, I'll still be looking forward to it every year.

MUSIC

20 Great Albums You Missed in 2019

Check these out before you make your year-end lists.

Abby Jones

2019 will almost definitely go down in history as the year of Billie Eilish, Lizzo, and Lil Nas X.

These newcomers were so omnipresent throughout the year that it's almost hard to associate 2019 with any other artist. But don't be fooled—the year came with plenty of underground and independent releases that deserve their time to shine, too.

While there were countless underrated albums this year, we've rounded up just 20 to listen to just in time before you make your year-end lists.

Empath, Active Listening: Night on Earth

Empath

On their debut full-length album, Active Listening: Night on Earth, Philly noise-pop quartet Empath deliver microdoses of breakneck adrenaline in their buzzing synths, thrashing drums, and the vocals of lead singer Catherine Elicson, whose conversational yells surmount all the bustle. Their music is unkempt and unhinged, but each track is tethered in their own addictive melodies. The album isn't meant to be easily digestible; it's meant to drown out the world.

Helado Negro, This Is How You Smile

Roberto Carlos

On Roberto Carlos Lange's sixth album as Helado Negro, anxiety, love, and power—or lack thereof—all culminate into a sublime, soothing piece of work. While Lange's musical foundation is subtle electronica, this album also employs dashes of acoustic guitar and a Latin flair, though no element is overbearing. Gentle and intimate, This Is How You Smile gives space for your worries, while also offering a giant sigh of relief.

Mannequin Pussy, Patience

Marisa Dabice

Marisa Dabice is heartbroken and furious, but on her punk band Mannequin Pussy's third album, she's making progress in moving on. Patience doesn't wallow in the pain of her abusive relationships: It offers a catharsis, one that admits "yeah, this sucks," before willfully moving on. Patience is broad and expansive, spotlighting Dabice's seamless belting of choruses as much as her enraged growls. It'll make you want to cry as much as it'll make you want to set your ex's stuff on fire.

PUP, Morbid Stuff

PUP

So many pop-punk bands luxuriate in their own sorrows that, when groups like PUP offer counterarguments like "Just 'cause you're sad again, it doesn't make you special at all," it feels like a harsh kick to the shin. PUP are clearly depressed and angry, though as Morbid Stuff exemplifies, not without an analytical lens. They're aware of their problems, which is the first step to healing from them; Morbid Stuff invites you to do the same, with a tongue-in-cheek self-deprecation and some of the year's most massive hooks.

Weyes Blood, Titanic Rising

Weyes Blood

Judging only by the grandiose compositions of Weyes Blood's music, you might not guess that her fourth record, Titanic Rising, is largely an ode to an impending downfall. The album is stunning, intricate, and majestic, but not without singer-songwriter Natalie Mering's convoluted, almost apocalyptic concerns on her own metaphorical sinking ship. Like peak cinema, it is both gut-wrenching and brilliant.

Control Top, Covert Contracts

Control Top

In case you haven't heard, the current political climate isn't so great. Like their most notable punk forebears, the twisted depths of government and society are of Control Top's highest concerns, and Covert Contracts covers a lot of ground; capitalism sucks, the patriarchy sucks, and there are crooks on both "the left and the right." There's truth in it all, but at least with Control Top's noisy, kinetic instrumentation and singer Ali Carter's sneering proclamations, the band creates an open space for these complaints.

Charly Bliss, Young Enough

Charly Bliss

Young Enough embodies a joyful, euphoric purge of pain, led by the songwriting and inimitable vocals of Eva Hendricks. She channels betrayal and anxiety into ecstatic power-pop; it shimmers and bursts with ginormous melodies, but always remains grounded in reality.

Chai, PUNK

Chai, PUNK

Japanese disco-punk band Chai embody cuteness on their own terms. The Nagoya quartet dismiss the beauty standards of their home country on their second album, PUNK, while lacing blasts of bubblegum pop and electronic samples into their bombastic drums and driving guitar riffs. Empowerment is the new black, and with Chai, earnestly loving yourself has never sounded so much fun.

black midi, Schlagenheim

black midi

black midi aren't for everyone, but that's OK, because they don't want to be. Their debut LP, Schlagenheim, is an opus of the young London guitar band's idiosyncratic, suspenseful, and overblown brand of indie rock. Driven by mathy, knotty drums and Geordie Greep's theatrically peculiar voice, above all, black midi are weird—but not weird enough to detract from their sheer talent.

Slowthai, Nothing Great About Britain

Slowthai

Newsflash: The United States isn't the only country with issues. Just listen to Slowthai, the distinctive, edgy Northampton rapper who assures us that Britain isn't just screwed up: There's nothing great about it at all. He calls out Queen Elizabeth by name, denoting the harsh lines between the elite and poor, furiously pleading for a resolution between his gritted teeth. By album's end, we have to consider: Maybe there's not much great about Britain after all, besides Slowthai himself.

Faye Webster, Atlanta Millionaires Club

Faye Webster

Though the title of her debut album might call to mind the high-profile rappers she photographs (Offset and Lil Yachty among them), Faye Webster crafts R&B with a sweet southern flair. Her music is introverted and simplistic, mixing modern jazz and soul with classic country elements like slide guitar. Her featherlight vocals exude a sense of loneliness throughout, as though she feels like a fish out of water in her own home; but as the listener, she helps you feel less alone.

Florist, Emily Alone

Florist

It's an easy crutch to call female singer-songwriters vulnerable, as if writing from the depths of one's expansive emotions is a revolutionary task for someone as small-brained as a woman. But Emily Sprague, the leader of the band Florist, is truly vulnerable to a shocking degree. As you might guess, she wrote and performed Emily Alone all by herself. The acoustic folk she created in her solitude—albeit small—is breathtaking and arresting. She might be singing about herself, but it's chilling how deeply the listener can relate.

Kelsey Lu, Blood

Kelsey Lu

Kelsey Lu is not only a cello master, she's an innovator. She implements her main instrument throughout her debut LP, Blood, as a vehicle for her melodies, one that makes her chamber-pop feel both rooted in traditional foundations and soaring with modern textures. The project is exquisite, weaving classical orchestration into contemporary R&B, disco, and pop, until the result is uniquely Lu.

Black Belt Eagle Scout, At the Party With My Brown Friends

Katherine Paul

From the get-go, Katherine Paul wants you to know that she's an indigenous queer woman eager to make waves. That identity might not be explicitly stated in her second album, At the Party With My Brown Friends, but the theme of resistance underscores her songwriting: She demands to be seen, but not tokenized. At the Party is soft and exquisite, but not without putting up a fight.

Oso Oso, Basking in the Glow

Oso Oso

Whatever wave of emo revival we're on these days—seriously, I've lost count—Jade Lilitri is steering the ship. Under his Oso Oso moniker, the Long Island singer-songwriter crafts emo-tinged pop-punk that's undeniably catchy. His choruses soar as he contemplates what it means to be happy while navigating his newfound success. When he proclaims "now I know what I want" on high-flyer "A Morning Song," you can't deny he really means it.

Club Night, What Life

Club Night

It's easy to compare Oakland quintet Club Night to a plethora of predecessors, though they're not limited to one vein of indie rock. They can evoke the poppy ecstasy of groups like Los Campesinos! and Ponytail as much as they call to mind emo pioneers like Cap'n Jazz and the Promise Ring—often in the same song. Because of their wide-spanning influences and the unique way they blend them, Club Night are tricky to put in a box; if anything, they exist in a box entirely their own.

Jamila Woods, LEGACY! LEGACY!

Jamila Woods

Reference points comprise much of Jamila Woods' LEGACY! LEGACY!, but not without careful consideration. Each track on the Chicago singer-songwriter-poet's second album is named after a notable artist of color who's inspired her somehow in her deeply introspective, yet highly political R&B. Woods straddles the line between a tumultuous past and an unwritten future, her vocals are airy, but never compromising her rage.

Little Simz, GREY Area

Little Simz

Being in your 20's is a confusing time. UK rapper Little Simz makes this era of uncertainty the thesis of her album GREY Area, her razor-sharp, rapid-fire delivery invoking a similar sense of thoughts spilling over and over. Backed by unassuming production, GREY Area feels like watching Little Simz working through a 300-piece jigsaw puzzle on her own, if observing such a task could be so thrilling.

Sudan Archives, Athena

Sudan Archives

Athena is a character referenced so often that her meaning can often dissipate in the saturation. But Sudan Archives' new album, Athena, reinvigorates this meaning, exhibiting just as much strength and tenacity as it does sheer beauty. Hip-hop production, pop-leaning melodies, and grand violin parts (courtesy of Sudan Archives, herself) amount to a project worthy of its namesake.

MIKE, Tears of Joy

MIKE

Bronx rapper MIKE doesn't make bangers. Tears of Joy is an ode to his late mother; accordingly, the 20-song album is incredibly evocative and poignant. MIKE's twisted samples, deep vocals, and home-spun quality evoke alt-rap torchbearers like Earl Sweatshirt. But as somber as the project is, there's still a relieving sense of healing as MIKE spits about his own grief.

John Mayer

Richard Isaac/Shutterstock

I think we can all agree that rock has been toast for a while.

In 2017, Hip-Hop/R&B surpassed rock as the most popular music genre in the country, and its popularity has only grown since. Even pop is doing better than rock, with Ariana Grande recently tying The Beatles to occupy the top 3 spots on the Billboard Hot 100 consecutively. From Chad Kroeger and Corey Taylor's ridiculous beef to Tool's empty promises and Weezer just continuing to suck, rock has seen better days. But if you go on Billboard's Hot Rock Songs chart, what you'll see may just be the nail in the genre's coffin.

In recent months, Queen has made a strong comeback due to the popularity of Bohemian Rhapsody, and out of the top 50 songs on the Hot Rock chart, the legendary band holds 16 of the spots. Interspersed between are tracks by Panic! At The Disco, Imagine Dragons, John Mayer, Mumford & Sons, George Ezra, lovelytheband, Hozier, Twenty One Pilots, and some dude named Yungblud. Not one of these artists is a rock and roller. The only outlier is Cage The Elephant, whose latest single "Ready To Let Go" doesn't place until #21.

So what does this tell us? Well, for one, it's clear that people don't know what rock is anymore, and modern rock is in such a dismal place that listeners are revisiting Queen to scratch that itch. "For the last few years, the Billboard rock charts have been an abysmal slog of new pop artists that occasionally hold guitars like fashion accessories," wrote Noisey. The article goes on to cite the uncanny rise of The Guardians of the Galaxy 2 soundtrack, which dominated the chart for 22 weeks and eventually hit number one. At the 2018 and 2019 Grammys, they didn't even bother to air the Best Rock Album category. This year's winners, Greta Van Fleet, whose album Anthem of a Peaceful Army debuted at #3 on the Billboard 200, are only famous because they sound like a B-list Led Zeppelin. "Greta Van Fleet is all costume," read a scathing review on Pitchfork, referring to the band's cliche 70's fashion choices. "They make music that sounds exactly like Led Zeppelin and demand very little other than forgetting how good Led Zeppelin often were." The group's nostalgic appeal only adds to the stagnancy of modern rock and proves that even the genre's up-and-comers can't craft anything new from its ashes.

So what's next for rock and roll? Well, The Black Keys recently debuted their first new song in five years, but it's not exactly a groundbreaking addition to their discography. As for The Arctic Monkeys, their highly anticipated Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino polarized its fans, with many dismissing the project as melodramatic and self-indulgent. "Even a nice classic-feeling pop melody...devolves into a lurching drag," wrote Rolling Stone of the project. Critics had similar critiques on Jack White's Boarding House Reach. "Sadly, the years have steadily whittled the playfulness from White's material," wrote Pitchfork. "His work is now too lumbering and unmoored for anyone to take much pleasure in it."

Even the term "rockstar" is being pinned more frequently to rappers, with artists like Lil Uzi Vert and Danny Brown now claiming the title. As artists like Breaking Benjamin, Nickelback, Gerard Way, Slipknot, and Buckcherry continue to create carbon copies of their early 2000s sound, artists like Juice WRLD, XXXTentacion, and the late Lil Peep have fused rock with Hip-Hop influences – with the resulting concoction brandishing a whole new subgenre of music. Rock has officially retired, and the longer these dying acts hold onto the mantle (i.e. Adam Levine at the Super Bowl) instead of passing it over to where it belongs, the sadder they inevitably become. Let the greats be great, but can we stop pretending that "modern rock" exists?


Mackenzie Cummings-Grady is a creative writer who resides in the Brooklyn area. Mackenzie's work has previously appeared in The Boston Globe, Billboard, and Metropolis Magazine. Follow him on Twitter @mjcummingsgrady.


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