What's a Listening Log? Well, the idea is quite simple. It's a weekly segment that consolidates all the mini-reviews Dozens Of Donuts has given on RateYourMusic over the past week, split between the Past and Present. A straightforward grading scale has been put in place, ranging from A+ to F-, with C acting as the baseline average. There is no set amount of reviews per week, just however many I get around to reviewing. And don't expect week-of reviews. I wait one month - with at least three listens under my belt - before I rate and review an album. Enjoy!
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2020 | Psychedelic Rock | Listen
A LOST CITY, BROUGHT TO LIFE BY A SAHARAN MIRAGE
And here I thought Angel Deradoorian would fade into the sunset, a Neo-Psychedelia trend-abider incapable of transformation. While the metamorphosis isn't quite on the level of the other Angel - Angel Olsen and All Mirrors - the departure from safe harbors into the formidable wasteland of sweltering Psychedelic Rock is impressive. Five years removed from her debut, the psychotropic seedling of Expanding Flower Planet, and Deradoorian's travels have taken her to another world unexplored. Find The Sun crafts a sound totally singular in 2020, one rich in foreign mystique and nefarious imagery. Right from the get-go, on the laborious 'Red Den,' one's embedded in a world of snake charming, dust storms, and dramatic mirages. Find The Sun never lets off this aesthetic, investing time in exploring the minutiae, whether it's the sullen temple of 'Monk's Robes' or the festive stroll down 'Devil's Market.'
None drift off the ether better than the nine-minute (anti?) centerpiece 'Illuminator.' Situated in a precarious spot amongst Find The Sun's tracklist, this sojourn into the unexplainable hits all the right notes. Yes, even the ones errantly spurted out of its inescapable woodwind. Intoxicating, mystifying, oddly funky, 'Illuminator' two-steps across arid plains with a mind - played by Deradoorian's long-gone talk-sing - rotted by the sweltering heat. Wholly original, as is the bulk of Find The Sun, the one fault I find across the album's 54 minutes is Deradoorian's apprehension towards commanding the stage. On songs like 'Corsican Shores' and 'Saturnine Night,' she fades into the hallucination like a voice you're unsure even exists. This causes Find The Sun to lose some of its headstrong assertiveness, as the songs don't land when it comes to being menacing and foreboding. That being said, her command of psychedelics is out of this world, as seen most prominently on the closer 'Sun' and its dehydrated multi-layering. The chorus ("it's gonna mess with your mind") tells you all you need to know.
B-
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2020 | Progressive Pop | Listen
FINDING TREPIDATION IN BOTH HOPE AND TRAGEDY
Perhaps 2020 wasn't the best time to check out Everything Everything, for all signs point to RE-ANIMATOR existing long past a prime it's indebted to. Proclamations have been made, and will continue to, in regards to Everything Everything's overt influences; Radiohead and TV On The Radio. Two quality bands providing perpendicular approaches to Art Rock, acquiescing here in what can ultimately be described as a collaboration. Needless to say, Everything Everything's identity rests solely on the shoulders of giants, as originality is dashed to the ether. As the name implies, RE-ANIMATOR brings about an era all-but removed, clueless to the transformation happening in Rock music elsewhere. That said, talented musicians make gratifying music, even when they're going through the motions.
If we're to single out specific songs, 'It Was A Monstering' and 'Moonlight' mimic In Rainbows-era Radiohead with unabashed devoir, as 'Big Climb' and 'The Actor' rip off TV On The Radio circa Return To Cookie Mountain with the same audacity. Either example is impossible not to hear, distracting from anything Everything Everything hope to accomplish. Even Jonathan Higgs' vocals somehow find a middle ground between Thom Yorke and Tunde Adebimpe, simultaneously despondent and hysterical with anxiety the one fragile thread connecting the two. Even when tonal shifts to one side or the other occur - take 'In Birdsong' and 'Arch Enemy' - that tissue of manufactured uncertainty finds a common foothold. This allows RE-ANIMATOR to turn spastic substance into relative uniformity, though songs like 'It Was A Monstering' and 'Black Hyena' go a bit too overboard in conforming to the equilibrium.
Thankfully, RE-ANIMATOR ends on a good note. The three-track run of 'In Birdsong,' 'The Actor,' and 'Violent Sun' is easily the best, for these three are arguably the best. The former's mechanical build turns into a gorgeous symphony of glitchy distress, while 'Violent Sun' instantly turns dour tendencies into something hopeful and inspirited. It's classic uptempo Indie Rock - a la The Killers or Future Islands - but effective as a powerful closer nonetheless. So, in spite of self-inflicted creative wounds, RE-ANIMATOR still manages to be an enjoyable, albeit textbook, experience for those wishing to relive a not-so distant past.
C
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Word for the wise and the weary: If you're coming into Flesh Of The World with Origin Of My Depression in your rearview mirror, Uboa's brief 2020 EP could almost be considered accessible. To those who aren't; prepare yourselves. Uboa exists in a world ravaged by demons, decimated by hatred. Hatred of the self and all those around. Here, Uboa takes her acrimony out on God. While the lyrics are undoubtedly honest and personal, it's hard not to snicker at their novice inculcation. "I hate you God / Leave me the fuck alone" she hollers on 'God, Unbounded,' before rectifying such animosity with multiple utterances of "please forgive me." It's predictable language from a misanthropist, and one that takes a slight step back from Origin Of My Depression's more heavy-handed, unsettling, dire lyrics.
But let's be honest; production, and more importantly the impact of said production, is Uboa's calling card. Her music is meant to terrify with gargantuan set pieces intent on startling those lulled in by quite relapses. While Flesh Of The World entertains all her facets, it's handled in a linear fashion that curtails any such surprises. 'Exsanguination' begins with modest, stifling Drone techniques, layering synthesizers over a flailing Uboa. Calm, yet uneasy. The screams aren't heard until 'Inside / Outside,' carrying over to 'God, Unbounded,' before whimpering off to the glum, grief-stricken title track. It's paced with precision, not reaction. Arranged artistically, not emotionally. Darkwave takes precedent over the more impactful Death Industrial, as synthesizers courtesy of Horror Synth monopolize the background like a siren wailing incessantly next to one's ear. Yes, to those who haven't experienced Origin Of My Depression, this is seen as accessible.
C-
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