The Playlist: Pearl Jam Kicks Up a Fury, and 9 More New Songs
|
Version 0 of 1. Every Friday, pop critics for The New York Times weigh in on the week’s most notable new songs and videos — and anything else that strikes them as intriguing. This week, a protest song from Willie Nelson, a few unwise words from Chris Brown and a St. Patrick’s Day surprise from the Gloaming. Just want the music? Listen to the Playlist on Spotify here (or find our profile: nytimes). Like what you hear? Let us know at theplaylist@nytimes.com and sign up for our Louder newsletter, a once-a-week blast of our pop music coverage. For about 40 seconds at the beginning of “Can’t Deny Me,” the first original new Pearl Jam song in five years, the band is downright itchy — Eddie Vedder trades the messianic for the agitated, the guitars are a little arrogantly lazy, the drumming is filthy. It’s bracing, a nervy and grounded protest from a band that ordinarily prefers to soar. (Pearl Jam dedicated its live performance debut of this song to the students affected by the Parkland, Fla. school shooting.) But then something like a melody arrives, and the song begins to resolve itself into something clean, plaintive, not nervous at all. A shame. JON CARAMANICA Willie Nelson’s resilience is one of this country’s most powerful natural resources. At 84, he is as puckish as ever — a flirt and a scoundrel. The charming, vital “Me and You,” a new track from Mr. Nelson’s forthcoming album “Last Man Standing,” is a protest song masquerading as a serenade. “We are definitely outnumbered/There’s more of them than us,” he sings. But never fear — reassurance is just around the corner: “The world has gone out of its mind except for me and you.” J.C. “Ventriloquism,” Meshell Ndegeocello’s new LP, is a woozy tour through the R&B of the 1980s and ’90s. It’s also a showcase of the manifold territory that is her style: There’s acoustic balladry, sighing neo-soul, and dance grooves that start in the hips and swirl into the head like an intoxicant. Ms. Ndegeocello practices a coy and unperformative form of seduction — her impenetrability is her sensuality. So it’s no surprise that she takes well to “Private Dancer,” Tina Turner’s coldly steaming ballad about sex work and isolation. Moving through the melody like a lone figure through a fog, Ms. Ndegeocello lends a reticent dignity to the song’s lament. GIOVANNI RUSSONELLO Clever enough to be funny and provocative but not smart enough to anticipate the think pieces it’ll engender (if people bother to pay attention), the new single from Lil Dicky and Chris Brown delivers a progressive premise in reductive garb. In the song and video, the two performers trade bodies. Mr. Brown sings the first half as Lil Dicky, puerile as they come, and Lil Dicky raps the second half as Mr. Brown, alluding to his criminal history and alleged gang ties. But it’s the first half, with Mr. Brown enthusiastically singing wish fulfillment for Lil Dicky, that’s most vexing, especially when he thrills at his ability to safely use the one word a white person should not: “Wonder if I can say the N-word/Wait, can I really say the N-word?” And then he does. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And then, once more. J.C. The improvising saxophonist and avant-garde maestro John Zorn is about to release “The Book Beriah,” the third and final installment of “Masada,” his 613-piece epic based on the Torah’s commandments. This book stretches across 92 tunes and 11 CDs, each disc featuring a different ensemble. Mr. Zorn’s way of presenting “Masada” — a project he first introduced 25 years ago — submits the material fully to the yens of its many performers. He is deliberately skipping a step, nudging back against the idea that a major work establishes its identity through some standard-setting recording. (These “Beriah” pieces have been in circulation onstage since 2014.) On Disc 3, the Spike Orchestra fuses klezmer with surf rock in an oddly resonant admixture, run through the apparatus of a jazz big band. On Disc 7, the Gnostic Trio (harp, guitar, vibraphone) elevates and aerates Mr. Zorn’s cyclical compositions. And in the beginning, on Disc 1, the Argentine vocalist Sofía Rei sings in a declaratory gale over the eight-string SazBass of J.C. Maillard. G.R. An alluring dance song by Kitty (formerly Kitty Pryde) that channels the Latin freestyle of the late 1980s. (This is maybe a trendlet in the making — see also SOBxRBE’s recent “Carpoolin’.”) The aura is synthetic and the emotion is confidently cool. J.C. As bachateros go, Prince Royce is versatile, a singer who embraces a real range of music, from classic ballads to chintzy pop to street-friendly trap and reggaeton. “El Clavo” is, spiritually, a blend of several of these directions — a slow thumper with a light melody and an urgent sentiment (your man is terrible to you; I am better than your man). J.C. Dreamlike and lightly whimsical tough talk from the rising rapper Lil Mosey that sets itself apart from SoundCloud rap peers thanks to a cheerful sense of melody and high-test, shimmering, pop-minded production by Royce David. J.C. Kurt Elling has covered Paul Simon’s “American Tune” before, as a piano-vocal duet on “1619 Broadway: The Brill Building Project,” but on his forthcoming album, “The Questions,” he sinks into the song more completely. With a full band this time, he sings in a warm-ember baritone over wafted horn harmonies, seeking to reconcile Mr. Simon’s devotional patriotism with a contemporary drive toward action. In this new music video, clips of recent protests mingle with black-and-white factory footage. It’s broad-strokes idealism, soft at the center and deliberately unspecific, but what saves it is Mr. Elling’s voice: bright, devout and earnest. G.R. St. Patrick’s Day is not popularly associated with introspection, but try it with a song from the new live album by the Gloaming, a group steeped in Irish tradition that carries the music into pensive, even mystical realms, particularly when Thomas Bartlett’s piano transmutes the harmonies. “The Sailor’s Bonnet,” a reel that might have just been a foot-stomper, becomes an odyssey of storm, struggle and completion. JON PARELES |