Namasenda, Limbo (YEAR0001 Records)
This one’ll be out in May, when it’ll be used to soundtrack some backseat romancing most wonderfully. This girl is Swedish, and when I was told her stuff was blissfully pop-oriented my mind naturally expected ABBA, which this is in a way, after a purely house/trance fashion, but you should be thinking more Kylie Minogue for the shorthand. She’s been around the Swedish techno underground for a while, breaking through with an EP in 2017; here, she fixates on a sound that I’d characterize as the passion of the AutoTune, a tool that’s all over this thing, but not to the detriment of its sexy mission. Like I alluded to, it’s Kylie for increasingly tech-accustomed ears; neo-trance track “Ultra Bomb” delivers a polite-enough drop composed of pure prettiness, a la Above & Beyond, if you’re familiar. “Cola” combines subdued reggaeton with super-refined pop sugar; “Heaven” gives us similarly innocuous dubstep. Clubgoers won’t want to miss this one. A+ —Eric W. Saeger
U2, Days Of Ash [EP] (Interscope Records)
Not knowing this six-songer was even coming, I received this on (appropriately enough) Ash Wednesday, the day it came out. I hadn’t followed U2’s doings at all since their disastrous co-branding event with Apple in 2014, when 500 million iTunes users found the U2 album Songs Of Innocence rudely shoved into their devices for free, whether they wanted it or not. I liked the band’s first two albums, back in the late Cretaceous, but Bono’s irrepressible epicness got on my nerves upon hearing The Joshua Tree, and I haven’t been back until now, when this album’s Soundcloud stream link was rudely shoved into my emailbox. Now, this is serving as an advance for a full-length album due later this year; the songs focus on headline items like Minneapolis vs. ICE and things like that, with Bono delivering some horribly apathetic vocal lines (sample: “I love you more than hate loves war” in the plodding, apathetically titled “American Obituary,” a tune that microwaves so many old U2 melodies it feels like a medley). The rest of this thing just sucks, like “Song Of The Future,” which convinces the listener that U2 regrets not being more like Flock Of Seagulls or something. Not trying to be edgy or anything, I swear, this is just a really stupid record, fact not opinion. F —Eric W. Saeger
PLAYLIST
A seriously abridged compendium of recent and future CD releases
• Yikes, here comes Friday, Feb. 27, with a bunch of spanking new albums for us to laugh at together, don’t hog the popcorn, I’m only going to say it once! No, I’m kidding, I’m full of love for all bands and music, what would we do without it, but do I really have to include Mitski, who is this generation’s Yoko Ono? Seriously, as with Yoko, you either like Mitski’s awful music or you pretend that it’s viable, and we’re only in this mess because during Yoko’s first appearance in 1972 on The Mike Douglas Show, when Yoko sang a duet with Chuck Berry that sounded like a yowling match between two alley cats, no one dragged her off the stage in a butterfly net. Cut to now, where we have Mitski playing the part of a super-important avant-garde artiste, writing nonsense songs about existentialist whatever, and if your college roommate likes her, there’s no escape unless you decide to quit college. But anyway, she has a new album coming out this week, titled Nothing’s About To Happen To Me, and I’m going to “live review” the title track right now, let me take my tummy medicine and go do this. OK, the video starts out with our heroine being all softcore-sexytime but appropriately slovenly; the beat is mellow French café-style chill but with too much bass and dissonant melody, and then she starts singing, which of course never works out too well, but wait, it’s not all that bad. I think she’s trying to be Portishead, but there’s nothing very cool going on here. Ack, now she’s fooling around with a magnifying glass, making her mouth look huge only because she doesn’t care what anyone thinks of that, and she’s dressed like Rasputina in a poofy Victorian-era dress. OK, this just in, she moved the magnifying glass up to one of her eyes so it looks big. From there nothing much else goes on; to sum up, it’s sort of like 1970s radio pop, a lot better than her last album, not that there’s any music out there that isn’t. At some point I fully expect her to become a Vegas act meant to entertain millennials who had, you know, bad college roommates.
• Oh how adorable, looks who’s back and being all Satan-y, it’s Rob Zombie, who sings about gross devil stuff and Frankensteins and Night Of The Living Dead stuff, the only song I ever really liked from him was “More Human Than Human” because it ripped off Gravity Kills so exquisitely. Naw, I don’t actually hate Rob Zombie; he’s sort of like a heavy metal Herman Munster who watches too many 1980s horror B movies, and I don’t expect much deviation from that template on this new LP, The Great Satan, which opens with “(I’m a) Rock ‘N’ Roller.” Yup it starts with weird Martian sounds, and then it becomes evil and doomy and industrial, like Skinny Puppy for dummies. I don’t mind it, nope.
• British “virtual band” Gorillaz are back again, with more collaborations and cartoon antics and music I don’t personally like, on “their” new album, The Mountain! If you like ’80s krautrock with Aughts-era falsetto vocals, you’ll love the new single “The Happy Dictator,” which includes a feat from Sparks, believe it or not.
• We’ll round out the week with Bruno Mars, you remember him, from back when you were in junior high just a couple of years ago, when there was still some faint semblance of hope for humanity. Yes, his new album is The Romantic, which spotlights the title track, in which he does all sorts of Bone Thugs And Harmony scat-singing over a poppy 1970s-pseudo-jazz beat that evokes Drake covering an Otis Redding song or whatnot. It’s OK! —Eric W. Saeger
NOTE: Local (NH) bands seeking album or EP reviews can message me on Twitter/Bluesky (@esaeger) or Facebook (eric.saeger.9).
Featured Photo: The Grownup Noise, No Straight Line in the Universe and Jennie Arnau, A Rising Tide
