Cerberus 2(9)
It’s the most stressful time of the year…
Preamble
This is fairly simple: vote.
And hopefully you’re voting for viable, sane, sincerely contemplative candidates. Not the manipulative, conniving, scheming kind. America has a lot to learn about voting and making voting a truly viable option toward action, but waking up to Chilean people’s glorious defeat of a terrible, restrictive, right-wing constitution should give all of us hope as we chase whatever dream democracy the people’s united voices can provide.
And now, onto the totally vain — but equally necessary — discussion of great art.
Ramble
Magik Markers — 2020
It’s hard for me to deliver a truly unbiased opinion about the Magik Markers for obvious reasons: they’re too good.
And yet, as shitty as the year 2020 has been for society collectivism, the album 2020 from Magik Markers may be their best, most cohesive musical statement in a mountain of excellent noise, experimental, and rocking releases. From the Henri Rousseau-inspired cover, to the dim, dense music holding out for some poignant, even hopeful lyrics — it’s truly a stunner, and the sort of mood enhancer and mood killer (a double dose) needed at this moment, in this year, and beyond.
Opener “Surf’s Up” is a psychedelic jam trapped inside the doldrums of four walls. It’s plastering the domicile with bright, vibrant paints, pastel wallpaper, and twisted art to stop the gray from completely taking over. “Born Dead” may be the best pop song Magik Markers have ever put down to a music medium. Much like “Surf’s Up,” it presents itself on a beige palette before adding simple, yet comfortable flourishes that make the claustrophobia of our confinement a little less constrictive.
And it’s these surprises that make each Magik Markers release worth seeking out. “You Can Find Me” sounds like an old CDR toss-off, and yet not at all aged or familiar despite its lower fidelity and nod to the band’s past. “Quarry (If You Dive)” is a chill, folksy tune that closes the album. But it seems so oddly deceptively placed after the traditionally taut “CDROM,” which is as classic as the Markers get on/in 2020.
Turns out 2020 — both the year and the album — has some goodness left to spread. Maybe things are turning around, even though the downers of the year may bleed well into the new decade. But art speaks to us in our worst times and challenges us to lift ourselves up, to redefine the surrounding muck into free expression to inspire society. Magik Markers have solidly made their strongest proclamation in 2020 via 2020.
Do your soul a favor: ignore this completely biased commentary and just do the work yourself.
Jupiter Sprites — Holographic
It’s felt like a dream these past few years, hasn’t it? I mean, nightmares are dreams so there’s truth to that statement.
Digressing…
I’ve been drifting back into shoegaze, dream pop, and various other forms of light music for heavy thinking. Lo and behold, we encounter Jupiter Sprites. Though I hesitate to call Olympia the home of dreams, it’s certainly spawned its share of music revolutions under the sleepy shadow of Mt. Rainier and its more storied brethren up north on I-5.
But Holographic is even more removed and remote from sounds and ideas that emanate from the once-grunge capital. Holographic has more in line with soul and R&B than the louder, more aggressive takes on shoegaze and dream pop. Some of them hit near-cliche levels, such as the on-the-nose “Feeeel”.
When Jupiter Sprites draws its inspiration from the positivity and realism of old school R&B rather than trying to capture a simple vibe, the album soars. “Haunt” maintains a feel-good vibe but it’s not overreaching to create a facade of a chill, haunting tune. It hits the right notes of oddball, chopped up melodies and vocals while having a radio-friendly (what does that even mean anymore?) rhythm that makes us all wish for freer, more democratic airwaves. “Stakes” has more in common with Information Inspiration-era Shuggie Otis than it does more modern touchstones, such as Tame Impala, who work in similar pop palettes.
Holographic isn’t going to be the album to wake us up from this ongoing nightmare, but it may be the one we need to handle the stress and unceasing pile-on. Right now, Jupiter Sprites are happy to stretch and gleefully yawn within that big shadow, ignoring that it is underneath a 500-year dormant volcano that could explode at any moment. Reminds you something, doesn’t it…
