Electronic song

Billie Eilish Contemplates Distraction and 10 More New Songs

“TV” – from a pair of modestly strummed but lavishly produced “guitar songs” just released by Billie Eilish – begins as one of her hushed, breathless ballads about estrangement, self-doubt and desire for numbness, this time using television; she considers putting on “‘Survivor’ just to watch someone suffer.” But she’s onto something bigger – how entertainment feeds distraction, alienation and apathy – and it’s becoming ostensibly topical in 2022: “The internet has gone crazy watching movie stars on trial / While they flip Roe v. Wade,” she sings. But Eilish hasn’t forgotten that she’s an artist herself; as she reflects on her isolation in a closing chorus – “Maybe I’m the problem” – she composes into an arena audience, singing and clapping. JON PARELES

Jessie Ware seeks tried-and-true disco tools in “Free Yourself,” encouraged by stalwart producer Stuart Price (Madonna, Pet Shop Boys, Dua Lipa). There’s a bouncy octave piano riff, a solid rhythm and finally the sounds of a floating, floating string section, as Ware promises freedom will do good: “Keep climbing that mountain,” urges she. “Why aren’t you having fun?” Breakdowns and buildups come together with a sense of shimmering inevitability, strutting to a grand finish that surprisingly never happens: “Don’t stop!” Talk

A Flo Milli song is like a Blingee filter: strong, flashy and resolutely feminine. This week, the Alabama rapper released her major label debut, “You Still Here, Ho?”, a kind of witty sequel to her irresistible 2020 mixtape “Ho, Why Is You Here?” After an introductory invocation of the muse, who in this case is reality TV legend Tiffany “New York” Pollard, the album is a showcase for Flo Milli’s swaggering humor and the chattering ease of her signature flow. Plenty of other rappers would slow their pace when given such a dreamy beat like “Hottie,” but Milli is more relentless than ever, oddly flirtatious while taking a breather to set some boundaries (“I don’t answer if I’m grumpy”) Here, as on other highlights on the record, she spits like a cartoon character happily sliding down a rainbow. LINDSAY ZOLADZ

Three notable South African producers – Tyler ICU, Kabza De Small and DJ Maphorisa – worked on “Inhliziyo” (“Heart”), a spacious amapiano track built from shakers, sustained keyboard chords, low tapping percussion and dark, almost subterranean basslines. What makes it even more haunting than most amapiano songs is the voice of its songwriter, Nkosazana Daughter: quiet and almost private, hinting at non-Western inflections and imbued with the inconsolable sorrow of its Zulu lyrics. . Talk

The Sun Ra Arkestra evokes a loose community, the feeling of non-conformists coming together for a common purpose. When the Arkestra recorded “Somebody Else’s Idea” during Sun Ra’s lifetime, June Tyson sang lyrics like “Somebody else’s idea of ​​Things to come/Need not be the only way”. The current Arkestra, led by saxophonist Marshall Allen, reappropriates the song without words, like a quiet bolero with saxophones or voices without words carrying the succinct melody on Afro-Caribbean percussions. They are sometimes joined by Farid Barron’s dissonant flowery piano, brass interjections, flute trills and undulating strings, each adding its own contribution until, like a caravan at sunset, the melody settles in a place of rest. Talk

‘You’, taken from Canadian singer-songwriter Julianna Riolino’s forthcoming debut album, ‘All Blue’, is a bubbly and deliriously catchy explosion of power-pop. Riolino’s impassioned delivery and cranking energy will appeal to fans of Angel Olsen’s more upbeat “My Woman” songs, but Riolino also mixes the sounds of vintage country and jangly garage rock in a way that makes it unique. is clean. “Everyone is fine until they drown in someone,” Riolino sings in this ode to devotion, with the intensity of someone clinging to life. ZOLADZ

Austin-formed and now Atlanta-based indie-rock band Mamalarky celebrate a deep and joyful friendship in “Mythical Bonds,” the lead single from their September-released album, “Pocket Fantasy.” With a teasing smile in her voice, guitarist Livvy Benneett sings, “I don’t care what I do as long as I do it with you. Complications – and there are plenty of them – are in the music: stop-start meter changes, peculiar chords, gnarly counterpoint, all wrapped up in two playful minutes. Mamalarky makes math-rock fun. Talk

“Mom, I’m next to a lot of love,” sings Los Angeles singer-songwriter Sabrina Teitelbaum, in one of many much-quoted lines from her second single as Blondshell. (Also: “I think my kink is when you tell me you think I’m pretty.”) Over the first half of “Kiss City,” Teitelbaum delivers these lines in an arc, a croon some little self-mockery, accompanied by a discreet arrangement of piano and guitar. But halfway through, “Kiss City” tears apart and becomes a towering rock song, giving Teitelbaum the space to shout those same lines wholeheartedly, as if suddenly in a dream, confessing the kind of things she had being terrified to admit in waking life. ZOLADZ

Sometimes, surprisingly, romances actually work. With a pedal steel guitar sighing affirmations behind her, simple-voiced country singer Kelsey Waldon unrolls images and similes — “like a monarch to a mimosa,” “simple as a cotton dress,” “patient as the moon” – to marvel at reliable, nurturing love: no drama, just comfort and gratitude. Talk

Recorded in Montell Fish’s bedroom in Brooklyn, “Darling” – from his new album, “Jamie” – is a love song imbued with fragility, delivered like a serenely undulating waltz. “Have you fallen in love, darling? he wonders in an otherworldly falsetto, over pickings of acoustic guitar and creaking of low-fi strings. A large chamber-grunge chorus surges as he begs, “Please don’t run away,” but the beat drops and ghostly piano chords are his only accompaniment as he resigns himself, “I finally let you go,” he said. decided. Talk

TJ Hertz, the electronic musician who records as Objekt, uses the proudly unnatural tones of techno to generate ever-increasing tension in “Bad Apples.” It undermines the methodical predictability of most dance music. Even if the rhythm remains square and dancing, the sounds and the silences continue to arrive, to accumulate, to suddenly disappear or to fracture. Buzzing, chiming, throbbing nasal tones, crossed rhythms of deep bass, slips and crackles, blips that turn into swarms: in the next two bars, anything can appear, from any direction. Talk