Once upon a time, I was a naive high school chick that prided myself in being cool, completely un-catty and *gasp*, "one of the guys." I find this to be 100% embarrassing now. 

I know this isn't a unique experience, but my point is that it's one that I have thankfully outgrown. Embracing Girl Power in every facet of my life has been one of the most joyful and enlightening choices that I have made.

I still enjoy the white-guy melancholy of Radiohead, and will always love the wonky, pre-2008 Kings of Leon, however, there is something about listening to other women in their mid-twenties & early-thirties emote that completely soothes my soul. It's like being in a real life babysitters club, but there are no children or babies, and there is a lot of venting. 

Lady Lamb, Lydia Loveless, Angel Olsen, Lianne La Havas, Carla Morrison, Courtney Barnett-I could go on and on, but these are some artists that have really shaped my twenties. I've spent a good deal of the past few years listening to these women, and although their sounds and influences are ranging, they share such an intimate, conversational quality to what they produce. I don't mean intimate to mean sexual, or even quiet or private- I mean that they are so honestly and unabashedly themselves. They are experts at telling you their deepest feelings without everything sounding like some hesitant confession. These are women that own their truths and are singing them to the world.

When I finally listened to Mitski's album Puberty 2 last week, that same feeling sucked me in immediately. All 11 tracks (it's too short! I want more!) remind me of the thousands of conversations I've had with myself over the course of my life. As someone who deals with the invisible and overwhelming ties of anxiety and the bouts of depression that they bring (I never know which triggers the other? Am I depressed because I'm anxious? Or am I anxious because I'm depressed? It's the worst chicken-egg conundrum) the tracks Happy and Fireworks in particular feel all too familiar. 

I often find myself trying to explain the abstract, nebulous feelings of anxiety to my boyfriend and close friends. Clinical terms are cold and don't match the confusion. I find myself using metaphors and strange adjectives that never quite match. When I'm around company or am in public and the weird veil of anxiety sneaks up, we use a code phrase- "feeding the fish."

Suddenly, in the middle of something fun, or mundane, or routine, it sneaks up and numbs me. I usually say nothing and continue trying to look fine. After about 5 minutes, Chris will notice. He will look at me and say "How's the fish doing?" and I'll reply "I forgot to feed it," and he'll know. Then he holds my hand, and knows my secret, and I power through it until I can get home and cry in the shower.  That's one of the few things that helps. 

This sums up that feeling in a way that I've never been able to verbalize. 



 Sorry to get all real today. I'm trying to decide how often it will be healthy for me to listen to this, because I would be lying if I said it didn't make me teary. Here's one that I can listen to without crying.




Because of all this heavy emoting, I spent week 29 listening to Shura's album Nothing's Real. It's revamped 80's synth pop at its finest,and for about 40 minutes I was mindlessly happy. 

TLDR: If you want to get in touch with yourself and do some heavy emoting: LISTEN TO MITSKI. If you want to have some mindless fun this weekend, definitely check out Shura. Neither is wrong. Music can't be wrong.

Let me start off first by defending myself: I technically never stopped listening to an album a week. I just stopped writing about them. I'm not proud. 

You know that when someone starts off by defending themselves instead of apologizing for their misdeeds, they're probably not worth your time. I swear, I'm not like everyone else.I can change! I promise!

Even though I should be stewing in a pit of shame somewhere, I'm actually really excited about all the music I've been listening to. Whenever I hear someone born before 1975 claim "there's no good music anymore" something inside me explodes, and I have about a millisecond before one of the following responses bursts forth:

1. UM WHAT? COULD YOU REPEAT THAT, YA OLD COOT?
2. I'm sure that's true, if you have 3 radio  stations pre-programed into your 2003 Honda Odyssey and you spend most of your commute listening to things like "the morning zoo" and people over 40 trying to talk about "The Biebs" and "Life Hacks." 
3. Please stop talking
4. Dumb stare
5. A combination of all of the above

Honestly, I should start teaching a class on how to buy a cell phone and pay for a music subscription service, because I'm tired of overhearing this conversation.  It's almost always when I accidentally find myself at some random neighborhood dive bar, The Summer of '69 (vom) is blaring over the speakers, and a bunch of guys drinking Bud Lights are reminiscing over when they didn't have guts, and their wives had sex with them. Super rock'n'roll stuff.

Now, let me talk to you about all of the great music I've been listening to, (while I simultaneously pour one out for all the sad people that will never hear of these artists because they only know how to operate Yahoo's homepage and Facebook.)

Week 14: April 4- April 10
A New Place 2 Drown by Archy Marshall
Archy Marshall is too young to be this good, and yet here we are. I jumped on the King Krule bandwagon late last year, and had no idea how many monikers he was making music under.

A New Place 2 Drown sounds completely different than Archy's work as King Krule, but it's hard not to listen to them back to back. Archy's voice is so strong and so unique that it's hard to not see them as one in the same.




Week 15: April 11- April 17
Painting of  A Panic Attack by Frightened Rabbit
To be honest, my memories of this album are a bit of a blur. It was the week my grandpa died, and I spent a lot of time driving to see family, and listening to music un-emotionally, and halfheartedly.
It really didn't stand out to me as being notably different than any of their other albums (or the Owl John solo project), but was delivered as another Frightened Rabbit album to a dedicated fan base. I didn't hate it. I just like to be a little surprised sometimes.


Week 16: April 18- 24
Jackrabbit by Sam Fermin
This album had been playing in my apartment for weeks before I actually started listening to it. Chris had been obsessed for awhile, and kept trying to get me to listen to it. I acted like the distant and distracted father in a quirky family film trying to make room for it in my line-up 
"Well, I don't know son, that week was supposed to be Sia's new album, but I'll see if I can have my secretary move some things around for me. I promise I'll listen to it, and make your T-ball game this time. Promise."
Spoiler, I missed the T-ball game and disappointed him. BUT I end up listening to the album and realize how I've been such a tool for not listening sooner. Finally, we have a happy reunion while the titular track plays in the background. THE END. Moral of the story: I am a great girlfriend and a terrible father, and this album is all the fun you're missing.

Week 17: April 25- May 1
This is Acting by Sia

More like: This is going to be straightforward. Every track sounds about the same, she does that sing-scream that brings you to your knees, and can make me dance no matter where I am.
I will admit though, by the time I reach the end of the album, all I want to do is listen to Rihanna sing the music Sia wrote instead of Sia, 




Week 18: May 2- May 8
 Armour EP by Tender
I was really lazy this week and listened to an EP instead of an album. This EP isn't crazy or groundbreaking, but let me tell you, it is in line just behind Sufjan Stevens for great nap music. That might sound like a diss, but it's not. Unless you're white noise, or a CD of whale calls, there isn't much that can get me sleepy. So, good on you, Tender.





Week 19: May 9- May 15
The Colour in Anything by James Blake

Just kidding. There are more good "nap bands" than I had originally calculated.










Week 20: May 16- May 22
2.0 by Big Data

This album is hard to google, the album art is ridiculous, but I came for the Kimbra collab, and I'll be damned if it wasn't the best track on this thing.

That woman's existence is a work of art.






Week 21: May 23- May 29
ANTI by Rihanna
I had this on my list for "at some point" until the babe that colors my hair told me "that album is dope. She does a Tame Impala cover." It was immediately moved to the top of my list.  The whole album is a little all over the place, to be honest, but when you're in the mood for RiRi, even that gets a pass. 







Week 22: May 30-June 5
THE HAMILTON SOUNDTRACK
WHERE HAVE I BEEN, Y'ALL?? I can't count the number of times people were recommending this to me last year, and I completely brushed it off as "yeah, well it's awesome...for a musical."

EGG ON MY FACE.

I am an obsessed convert. Now when someone cuts me off when I'm driving, I don't swear or flip my middle finger. I roll down my window, and start screaming the 10 Duel Commandments. If someone forms a cult/religion, sign me up.

Week 23: June 6-June 12
A Moon Shaped Pool by Radiohead

I'm going to be completely up front with you when I say that for the next few weeks I was listening to my new album 5% of the time, and re-listening to Hamilton the rest of the time. Love the new Radiohead, but *shocker* it's a little depressing to listen to on a girls' trip to Vegas with your mom.






Week 24: June 13-19
Coloring Book by Chance the Rapper
Everything Chance creates is pure black magic. Listening to this album was one of the most joyful experiences I've had this summer. I don't practice any religion, but this is about as close to going to church and having a religious experience as I have gotten. 







Week 25: June 20-26
Love You to Death by Tegan and Sara
Every time the Quin twins announce a new album, the 16-year-old inside me freaks out a whole bunch. I have fond memories of hating everyone around me, wearing too much eyeliner and listening to The Con. 

Much like I've blossomed into a  young, vibrant and happily medicated woman, so too have the Quin girls grown their music to be less angry.



Week 26: June 27-July 3
Tween by Wye Oak
Love this album art, love the ethereal edge Wye Oak has grown. I'm not sure my dad and I can cover any songs on here like we've covered Civilian to death, but that's probably a good thing for the people around us. 

I want to start out by saying that I've been a pretty big failure at this for the past few weeks. Those couple of 60 & 70 degree days really caught me off guard, and I haphazardly threw my posts together. Vitamin D will do that to a girl.

"Luckily", the sun is gone again, it's cold as the dickens (as my great-grandmother used to say) and I'm ready to buckle down.

Truthfully, I owe a lot to Pitchfork for reigniting my fire.  Pitchfork is definitely one of the most frustrating facets of the music industry, but their review of Lucius' new album was some of the biggest BULLSHIT I've read from them in awhile.

I was really curious about what Good Grief would bring to the table, since their freshman album Wildewoman was such an exciting find for me when it came out. I listen to their song Turn It Around to pump me up almost every day. It's like Jessica's daily affirmation ritual, but not cute. Even with that track being so unbelievably amazing and integral to my every day life, I really believe that Good Grief blows Wildewoman out of the water: not in the way that Wildewoman was "okay" and Good Grief is "better," but more like a continuance of the water metaphor: Wildewoman was a beautiful, splash-less dive from a Junior Olympian who has great promise, and Good Grief was the crazy friend who showed up to the actual Olympics and did the most unbelievable & obnoxious cannonball you've ever seen and all the people in the stands storm the judges table and steal all the number 10 posters and jump into the pool with them.

But not the fucking Pitchfork judge. In this metaphor, Pitchfork isn't the group of international spectators. In this metaphor, Pitchfork is the pissy Olympic judge from Russia who gave Good Grief a 6.3 out of 10 just because emoting makes them uncomfortable.

"As put-together as Good Grief’s presentation is, and as ingratiating as its songs are, the record suffers from a distinct lack of identity..... making Good Grief sound like everything at once but nothing in particular. "

Whatever, Pitchfork. We don't all have concrete identities, and we don't need them either. Have you ever read Humans of New York? Do you think it would be so widely popular if all the people that were interviewed were like "Sup, I'm Kevin and I have it all figured out. Interview over."

Good Grief is full of energy and harmonious belting, and if that's not cohesive enough for you, then you can fuck right off.

With that note, I'm going to be listening to Beau next week (and still probably Lucius).
Beau released a lil baby, self-titled EP last year and I liked 4 out of the 5 songs on it (Soar Across the Sea was not my cup of tea). I'm excited to dive into this new album, although I'm a little disappointed that they kept my least favorite song and cut my favorite.

I'm not sure why I chose to listen to this. Probably because people on Twitter told me to.

Which artists' new release should be my next album of the week? #NewMusicFriday

— Cait Cliff (@Cait__Cliff) March 11, 2016

 It's Jeff, so it's super melancholy, and almost every track is just a different version/demo of songs that have already been released. Honestly, it's a little creepy that he's been dead for 20 years now and 90% of his albums are posthumous releases.

In spite of all that, I still decided that I would lust after it, hoping that with a new album there would be something new to discover about Jeff after all these years.

That doesn't seem to be the case here, but nevertheless I'm still not necessarily disappointed that I chose this album for the week. It's given me a chance to get reacquainted with old favorites and discover new gems that I had overlooked back in the day when I was listening to Hallelujah on repeat.

The final track on the album "I Know It's Over," is both perfection and irony. It's a Smiths cover at Jeff's most vulnerable and emotive. The irony is that we'll never believe it's over.