Pickled Priest Mixtape: Our Favorite New Songs of 2024, Volume #5 - "Call It Like We Hear It"
It's time again for another mixtape full of the best songs since the last one. The fact these tapes are getting closer to together indicates we are in full throttle music mode right now. Good shit is sprouting up everywhere. Here, we help make a dent in all that music by picking the cream of the crop (in our humble opinion). Not in order of preference. Read on.
SIDE A
Intro: "Boo Hoo Boogaloo" | Penza Penza
Threatening to become Estonia's answer to Robert Pollard is Misha Panfilov, the now Portugal-based polymath who spends most of his existence doing what's next with total disregard for his past work. This time he's leading Penza Penza, his trippy, hat-wearing, 60s-styled combo, whose primitive new album, as tipped by the title "alto e primitivo", finds him laying down some raw, analog rock and roll live to tape and the results are a total blast, approximating the sound of a house band from some pirate radio dance party.
01 "Chicago" | Japandroids
Sorry, baby
We call it like we see it in Chicago
I've not hidden that Pickled Priest is a Chicago-based operation, so anytime a new "Chicago" song appears on our radar, we get abnormally excited. They don't always pan out, but most of the time they do, defying all statistical probability in the process. Why is that? Because, like New York and L.A., Chicago is just one of those cities that inspires, one of those towns that brings out the absolute best in bands. You want to bring it with a little extra oomph when you play Chicago. I'm not making this up, either. Bands have repeated that sentiment countless times. So, when word arrived that one of our favorite bands of this century, Vancouver's Japandroids, announced the first single, "Chicago," from their new album Fate and Alcohol (which they claim will be their last—say it ain't so), needless to say the Pickled Priest offices went into full froth mode, like a bunch of bulldogs under a hot August sun. After a brief moment of worry, instigated by our naive intern, over the possibility that the song wouldn't live up to its title, one listen proved what we knew all along. That Japandroids would never let Chicago down. And they haven't. We call it as we hear it, and "Chicago" is not only worthy of our city, it takes its place alongside the greatest Chicago songs ever.
02 "Cherries & Cream" | Remi Wolf
Speaking of Chicago songs, here's another one, albeit more subtle in nature. No anthemic chorus, no stirring backdrop of the skyline. Just the irrepressible Remi Wolf telling us about a particularly memorable Halloween night at Chicago's legendary rock club, the Empty Bottle, located in the city's Ukrainian Village neighborhood. The Bottle has been the site of many of my all-time favorite shows thanks to their propensity for booking a steady diet of amazing garage bands over the last twenty-five-plus years. (If we had more time together, I'd gladly buy you a couple beers and regale you with some of my favorite Bottle memories including, but not limited to, my "bachelor party" hosted by the Makers, a frenzied evening with Zen Guerrilla, mayhem with the Oblivians, and a Brian Jonestown Massacre show that descended into chaos.) But I digress. We're not big fans of pop music, not because we don't want to be, but because most of it is mindless, overproduced crap. To grab our attention, you've gotta do something original and/or interesting, just not the same old preening and posturing. Remi Wolf has been consistently one of our favorites over the past years because her pop songs don't sound like anyone else's. She brings with her a flavor as distinct as the person she's kissing on the floor of the Empty Bottle in "Cherries & Cream." I only wish she'd given us one more detail: the band she was there to see when it happened.
*Quick research tells me the headlining band on the night referenced was likely Chicago's Pink Frost who played the Bottle on Halloween in 2023, assuming the song was written shortly after that date.
03 "Roebuck" | Previous Industries
Our third and final Chicago-related song in this opening stretch is "Roebuck" (as in one-time Chicago-based department store giant and tallest building in the world namesake, Sears, Roebuck & Co.) from Previous Industries, a rap collective made up of Chicagoans Open Mike Eagle, Video Dave, and Still Rift. The title of their new album, Service Merchandise, caught my eye immediately because I'm old enough to remember the titular showroom catalog store where you'd fill out an order form, bring it to the counter so someone could notify the stockroom, and then wait for them to shoot it down a steep conveyor belt near the store's exit. Here's your foot massager, now get the fuck out! And you wonder why it went out of business in 2002. For a genre that normally dishes out more contemporary content, you wonder how many in the younger generation will get the reference. Is there an audience for such a song? And that's not all, much of the album is dedicated to similar defunct businesses of yesteryear like Showbiz Pizza, Montgomery Ward, White Hen Pantry, Fotomat, Dominick's, Kay Bee Toys, and my favorite obscurity, Zayre, a store that was Target before there was a Target. Granted, the titles are merely a launching pad for topics of greater depth, but I am still tickled pink that there are rappers out there who are not only old enough (these guys are now in their 40s), but nostalgic enough to bring some of this lost cultural knowledge to a new generation. I really wanted to pick "Fotomat" for this mixtape because I fondly remember our local Fotomat, tucked in a White Castle parking lot, a tiny little one-person shack where you could drop off film and pick up your photos the next day without getting out of your car. What a concept. I remember wondering what the cute Fotomat girl did when she had to use the bathroom. Did she go in a bucket? Or worse yet, have to use the White Castle bathroom? Gross. Talk about your last resort. All this personal history is irrelevant, of course, because I ended up picking "Roebuck" as my favorite song from the record. It's a touching story about a poor family paging through a massive Sears catalog (they were 1,000 pages plus) that they couldn't really afford to buy anything from (at least what the kids wanted to buy). But that didn't mean they couldn't fantasize about owning everything in it. Eventually, the kids grew up and got some real money and finally were able to place some orders of their own. Now, we see one of those kids waiting patiently for his deliveries (no Prime service then) to arrive. A regular ritual that reminds him that times have changed for the better. A great song and Open Mike even works a Sammy Hagar diss into the lyrics for extra credit ("I Iike David Lee Roth and not the other guy"). I sincerely hope there's another installment coming. I have plenty of ideas. Perhaps a joint about Arthur Treacher's Fish & Chips? We can only hope.
04 "Candy Coloured Catastrophe" | Redd Kross
Redd Kross is having a moment with a new acclaimed album, documentary (Born Innocent), and legions of rock critics touting their underrated greatness. It's a good angle for a story, I admit. Like Kurt Cobain, I have not been completely onboard the Redd Kross train along the way (he famously dismissed them as "too happy"). It's not that I didn't like some of their songs, a couple bordering on love, it's just that they were a little too amped-up for my tastes. Cleary, I wasn't alone either. Back in the CD age, used record store racks were absolutely littered with super-cheap Redd Kross albums. You could score one for about a buck with ease. A friend and I used to have a term for albums that were guaranteed to be in any store's used CD dollar bins—that term was "phaseshifter," named after the band's heavily unloaded 1993 album of the same name (as in, "Man, God Fodder by Ned's Atomic Dustbin has become quite the phaseshifter.") That said, every once in a while they crank out an undeniable song and I welcome them with open arms when they arrive. This time it's "Candy Coloured Catastrophe" from their new, self-titled LP. And guess what? There's more where that came from, too. Good for them. But...will the sweetness last longer than a stick of Fruit Stripe gum? We'll see.
05 "Oídos" | Mabe Fratti
You had me at "Guatemalan cellist." I'm not sure exactly why, but my cochleas respond very favorably to the cello's mournful reverberations (see our #5 record of 2023 by Ana Carla Maza for proof). For me, the most important resident in any respectable chamber music ensemble lives on its lower floors, holding down the fort, while other instruments provide the filigree. While Mabe Fratti uses her cello in a less traditional way, pushing it into more experimental areas, there's no escaping the familiar, melancholy moan of her cello. And she can sing, too. Her new record, Sentir Que No Sabes (Feel Like You Don't Know), manages to combine tradition and innovation in beguilingly beautiful ways.
06 "Black Lion Lane" | Emilíana Torrini
"Black Lion Lane" is a great song on its own, but it benefits from having one of those rare videos that actually accentuates your connection to the music. It visually complements the song without ruining the listener's personal interpretation—a nice trick. In the video, we find Iceland's Emilíana Torrini flipping through some vinyl at a local record shop. She's suddenly carried away by a song playing on a crappy little turntable in the corner. Soon, we follow her out of the shop and out into the world, the song still playing on her headphones, and as music can, it brings her the kind of joy that you just can't get elsewhere: "Put your shades on, as I am aglow / I feel like dancing, dancing down the road." The rub, of course, is that it's her song playing all the while, and even though she/we know the euphoric feeling will only last for a few minutes, we want to bottle the feeling forever so we can tap into it whever we need it. Thankfully, this song does just that.
07 "Hi sy'n Canu" | YNYS
YNYS (Welsh for "Island") is from a town in Aberystwyth, Wales, surely the first artist in my collection from that exact location, and "Hi sy'n Canu" ("She Sings") is from the band's latest album Dosbarth Nos ("Night Class"). Whew. That sentence took a decent amount of focus to pump out. What doesn't need translating or a Welsh spell-check app is the mood of this song, which is rich with texture, harmonies, reverb, and a pleasing melody. Their bio claims a range of influences from Big Star to Beach House, which offers immediate intrigue. I'm not sure I would've come up with those on my own, but I'm totally enraptured every time the song comes up in the rotation. A real sleeper of a record, in a good way.
08 "Trouble" | Meshell Ndegeocello
"Trouble" is taken from Meshell's second record of 2024, No More Water: The Gospel of James Baldwin, a musical homage to the influential writer and civil rights activist. I'm nowhere near done with it yet, but after a few listens, it's already sending out year-end list vibes. Ndegeocello is nothing if not aware of her roots and musical/spiritual influences. In 2012, she released a tribute to Nina Simone and earlier this year she released a tribute to Sun Ra, Red Hot and Ra: The Magic City. She seems to be mainlining creativity lately, perhaps encouraged by her recent signing to high-brow jazz curators, Blue Note Records. In her 30 years recording, she's accumulated one of the most impressive, diverse, and rewarding discographies anywhere. That said, No More Water may be her ultimate "white whale" project, some eight years in the making. So far, it's worth the wait, challenging on many levels with inspired collaborations adding depth to many of the compositions. That makes it sound like it could be one of those "challenging" albums, much admired but rarely played. Not this time. I see myself returning to it over and over again, immersing myself in the total experience little by little.
09 "Cake" | Lupe Fiasco
Did you think I was really done with Chicago? Never! Here's the latest from Lupe Fiasco, a Chi-towner responsible for some of my favorite rap songs ever, even if he hasn't delivered the consistency of his debut record from 2006, Food & Liquor, in a minute. His latest, Samurai, finally approaches that high level for me. The title-track is fantastic, but "Cake" is my choice here, mainly because it spits out complicated lines like, "Occupation is populating the conference with conversational astonishment / Consuming the comments and then vomiting up the Vonnegut" with the casual brilliance of someone who knows they're leveling up on the competition. Impressive stuff.
10 "Clams Casino" | Cassandra Jenkins
I don't wanna laugh alone anymore
Cassandra's "Hard Drive," from 2021's acclaimed An Overview on Phenomenal Nature, might have come out three years ago, but it's still fresh in my mind. I can't shake it, nor do I need to. I think "Clams Casino," from this year's My Light, My Destroyer, is going to have a similar impact. It's strangely captivating for a song that simply recounts some random human experiences. I guess the trick is how you weave those moments together. According to Cassandra, the song is connected to her breakout album's aftermath, where she was "touring in her grandmother's Buick" and spending a lot of time alone in hotel rooms, occasionally sharing a laugh with nobody but the wall. Personally, much of my laughter happens when I'm alone and while I'm fine with that, I get her point; the shared experience can be unlike all others. Laughter loves company.
Note: The title dish, which Cassandra attempts to understand with no success in the lyrics of the song (I heard someone order the Clams Casino / I said, "Hey, what's that?" / They said, "I don't know") is generally a clam dish with panko bread crumbs, bacon, shallots, garlic, and white wine. Personally, not interested, but it didn't take me long to research. Pickled Priest's rule of thumb is if you can't explain what you're eating to a bystander you shouldn't be eating it in the first place.
11 "I Don't Need That Anymore" | Pernice Brothers ft. Neko Case
Joe Pernice has one of those warm, sleepy voices that just calms you from the inside out. I've been soothed by his music one minute only to be snoozing the next multiple times. It's not his fault—it's just what he does. On his new album, Who Will You Believe, he returns in fine form with another batch of downcast, mid-tempo gems. The song choice for me was easy, though, because ten times out of ten I'm going to pick the song featuring a Neko Case cameo on it and "I Don't Need That Anymore" ranks among her finest guest contributions ever. I am absolutely in love with this duet. I love when an untested combination of voices turns out to have just the right balance and chemistry.
12 "Scooter Blues" | Johnny Blue Skies
If you've really dug into our early posts, you might remember a series of scooter-themed segments titled "Scooters in Rock & Roll" from a few years ago. (I'll compile and repost them because they were Pulitzer-worthy.) We have never made any attempt to hide our love of scooters and scooter culture even though motorcyclists might scoff in our general direction when we pass, but we get the last laugh by forcing them to return a reluctant peace sign as they pass. Our only regret is that we weren't British teenagers when the Quadrophenia movie was released into theaters back in 1979. Oh well. That said, we take special note of any new scooter-related songs (not many) and here we have one from an unlikely source, the gruff and tough Sturgill Simpson, aka Johnny Blue Skies (huh?). We didn't see that coming, to say the least. While the song is a bit heavy on the cheese, more Kenny Chesney than I'd care to admit, I can allow a little "flip flop" country into my life if it involves an afternoon scooter excursion complete with wind in hair and positive attitude all the way. When I get on my scooter, I immediately transform into a more lighthearted person, free and easy, cheerful and friendly. If I wrote a song about it maybe mine, too, would sound just like as lighthearted and borderline goofy as this one. Passing grade granted on content alone.
13 "Let's Walk" | Madeleine Peyroux
If you're not up for a scooter ride, a walk'll do just fine, thank you. Over the past four years, I've walked the equivalent of two full trips across the United States, Maine to San Diego, and there's something equally liberating about getting in some old fashioned, foot-to-earth exercise—see the world, ignore strangers, listen to music—all at a reasonable pace. Good for the soul. Also good for the soul is Madeleine Peyroux's easy gait on "Let's Walk," taking her jazz-inflected vocal style to church this time and bringing along a willing congregation in the process for support. As her new friends join in harmony, the song rises up to another level, taking on additional levels of meaning along the way for all involved. Suddenly, the message is not so simple. No matter how you interpret it, you might just want to take a little walk yourself by the end of the song.
SIDE B
14 "Goodthing" | Bette Smith
Bette Smith, an R&B singer seemingly plucked out of space and time, is possibly the closest we'll get in the 2000s to the badass soul divas of the 1970s (Tina Turner, Betty Davis, Chaka Khan, et al). That said, she somehow sounds contemporary, too, reminding me of Lisa Kekaula (BellRays), Macy Gray, and even Amy Winehouse at times. She's put out three legitimate rippers in a row, even placing her 2020 record, The Good, The Bad, and the Bette in our Top 25 list that year. And, although Pickled Priest started in 2020, I've been making year-end lists since the 80s. In other words, if she releases a record, she's likely on my list. It's as simple as that, so why should this year be any different? Goodthing has a throwback appearance and sound, but in any decade it's a motherfucker of a soul record, not mining a retro vibe so much as joining forces with those before her, marching side-by-side. I'm going title track on your asses here because it sums her up for me in a tight, funky package right out of the box. But don't stop here—the whole record is loaded with sizzling soul of all flavors and tempos. See you in December, Bette. It's a date.
15 "Amaqatha Amancane" | The Joy
This just might be my favorite 1:38 of 2024 so far. The first time I listened, the moment at the 0:18 mark, where these five young South Africans harmonize together fully for the first time, made me stop everything I was doing to bask in its natural splendor. I've replayed it countless times since. The moment seems so pure, like coming upon a pristine vista during a nature hike, you'll hope to yourself that it will stay this way, untouched by outside forces. The band's self-titled debut album is reportedly all first takes (they've been together since 2018, so that's not entirely surprising), just the boys doing what they do, which is combining their regional culture with soul, gospel, and even doo wop, and the magical moments never stop coming throughout. It's already on my short-list of the year's best records.
16 "The Girl on Death Row" | The Raveonettes
The typical covers album is a series of hits and misses and the Raveonettes' Sing... is no different. Some songs are so in their wheelhouse that they lose impact ("All I Have to Do Is Dream," "Will You Love Me Tomorrow," "Leader of the Pack"). Others just don't cut it (The Doors' "In the End," the Who's "The Kids Are Alright"). Then there are the "nice attempt" cuts ("Venus in Furs," "Shakin' All Over," and a strangely low-energy take on the Cramps' "Goo Goo Muck"). In the end, if you get two or three real winners, I consider it a success. Such is the case here. We get a strong take on Gram Parsons' "Return of the Grievous Angel" and their attempt at the Paris Sisters' "I Love How You Love Me" (where limited knowledge of the original works in their favor) is also pretty cool. My favorite cut on the record, though, is "The Girl on Death Row," a cover of a 1960 cut by Lee Hazelwood (with Duane Eddy on guitar), a song ahead of its time about a (supposedly) wrongfully convicted woman moments away from her execution. Considering the percentage of females to males on death row is historically low (2%, give or take), the subject matter is novel and the Raveonette's creepy shimmer in place of the original's overly melodramatic approach works to their advantage. A mild amusement for sure, but what mixtape doesn't benefit from an offbeat cover now and then?
17 "Exquisite Corpse" | J. Robbins
A prominent presence in D.C. punk in the 90s, Jawbox's music has stood the test of time for me, particularly 1994's For Your Own Special Sweetheart. Their singer and guitarist J. Robbins is one of those post-hardcore lifers, respected and celebrated in certain circles and a pretty reliable recording artist, too. I'm cutting out much of his musical history here, but suffice it to say he's got serious credentials. Robbins spent most of the 2000s doing two things, producing records and taking care of his son Cal (same name as my son), diagnosed with spinal muscular atrophy (SMA) at the age of seven months in 2006. When Cal heartbreakingly passed in 2020, Robbins' next creative steps were unclear and unimportant. His first record since that loss, Basilisk, came out earlier this year and it again proves that he hasn't lost his desire to create muscular and meaningful rock music with an alternative edge. "Exquisite Corpse" (named after a game where each person draws a part of a person's body not knowing what the others have already contributed, usually resulting in an absurd creation when finally revealed) is a compelling alt-rock song in the same tradition of his past work, albeit even more accessible this time. It seems to be making a subtle statement that nobody knows the true makeup of another person, just what they see, assume, or interpret. Often, there's just too much buried deep down to achieve anything more than a surface sketch, something Robbins has clearly learned the hard way in recent years.
18 "Happy to Be" | Beings
Beings is an experimental, I want to call it jazz but it's really not, combo with some lauded collaborators behind it. Most notable are guitarist Steve Gunn and revered drummer and Dirty Three co-founder Jim White. The group is rounded out by Zoh Amba on sax and Shahzad Ismaily on bass (plus), both no slouches in the resume department. It's no surprise to me that all four are New York residents by the sound of the album, which combines urban beauty and urban ugly into one mix. Interruptions from the real world are everywhere—a piano rolling down a stairway, car bumpers untangling after an accident, chaotic traffic sounds, twisting metal from a demolition site, balloon animals being made by a street performer, you name it. It's a pleasing cacophony of orchestrated noise and understated instrumental genius, evidenced by "Happy to Be" a track that brings it all together somehow.
19 "Terres brûlées" | Myriam Gendron
Credit for my introduction to Quebec's Myriam Gendron goes to Jack White and his bizarrely eclectic magazine, Maggot Brain, back in 2021, where they were raving about Myriam's Ma délire - Songs of love, lost & found, claiming it as one of best albums of that year. When I finally found a copy, I snapped it up, and was immediately taken aback by her stunning, spare folk songs, some sung in English, some in French. In my mind, I pictured her tucked in the corner of some hip bistro in Quebec, playing her tunes for the cleaning crew and a couple late-night stragglers nursing a cup of coffee, quickly captivating all within earshot. That same feeling permeates her new album, Mayday, which further refines her songwriting and performing and adds some subtle accompaniment as well (Zoh Amba and Jim White among them, who we just talked about in the Beings entry moments ago!). So here's my recommendation. When you've got some menial tasks to do around the house, put this on. Let it drift into your airspace as you work. There's a magical property in this unadorned music that will accentuate even the most mundane moments of your day, keeping you company as you move about. I was particularly enamored by "Terres brûlées" ("Burnt earth") on first listen, but as Bob Dylan used to sing, there's nothing, really nothing here to turn off.
20 "John Grant" | Linda Thompson ft. John Grant
Very meta, Linda. A song written by Linda Thompson about Michigan singer/songwriter John Grant (who has also released a great album this year) sung by none other than John Grant himself. I can think of no precedents. What's going on, you say? Well, Linda suffers from dysphonia, which affects her ability to sing. Not content to let that be her lot, she wrote some great songs for a new album and enlisted a roster of guests to sing the songs on her behalf. With a clever title, Proxy Music, and a meticulous recreation of Roxy Music's debut album cover (see below), she's pulled off the improbable—a remarkably cohesive record of wonderful performances. Tune in to other tracks featuring, among others, Martha and Rufus Wainwright, the Proclaimers, Ren Harvieu, Eliza Carthy, and Linda's two children with Richard Thompson, Kami and Teddy, but the interesting angle of this track is simply too rich for the Pickled Priest to pass up.
21 "Destejer" | Ibelisse Guardia Ferragutti & Frank Rosaly
Another stellar release from Chicago's ultra-reliable International Anthem label, who continue to deliver one challenging, genre-busting artist after another. I don't quite know what to do with some of these records, as each has its own distinct and unclassifiable sound. There's absolutely no predicting what will come next. Drop the needle and brace yourself. I absolutely love living this way. Husband and wife team, Ibelisse (Bolivia) and Frank (Chicago!), create music that captures "the sounds of their respective ancestral roots in Bolivia, Brazil, and Puerto Rico to create a deeply personal meditation on decolonization and the defiant power of ritual and protest." The part in quotes I stole. If I could come up with that on my own I'd be doing this for a living. All I know, from an amateur experimental music lover, is that the way this album combines disparate elements equates to something totally original. "Destejer" is my favorite moment. I challenge anyone to put what they're doing into words and it really isn't even worthwhile trying. It's a futile exercise.
22 "Starting Monday" | The Rifles
London's Rifles do not blow you out of the water with their music, nor are they doing anything particularly innovative. What they specialize in, however, is writing good pop songs—lots and lots of good pop songs. They make it look effortless, too. The band peaked in 2014 with the absolutely marvelous None the Wiser, then offered a less successful follow up, Big Life, in 2016. After that, nothing but crickets until a solo album by singer Joel Stoker appeared last year, seemingly an indicator that the Rifles had been permanently unloaded. Then, from nowhere, appears a new Rifles record eight years after the last and I'm happy to report that it's damn good return to form! Plenty of gems to pick from, but I love a band that holds some of their best songs until the very end and "Starting Monday" is just such a song, an inspirational tune about turning your life around once and for all. Starting Monday, of course. Uh oh. Not a good sign already.
23 "The Hard Way" | Robert Vincent
In one of the biggest surprises in Pickled Priest history, Liverpool's Robert Vincent came out of nowhere to make our Top 25 Albums list in 2020. Now, he's finally back four years later with Barriers, another stellar LP of heartfelt, Americana-styled songs from across the pond. He continues to beat us at our own game, too. I learned last album to let his songs settle in for a spell before writing about them, but it took one listen to realize "The Hard Way" was something special. After last album's political slant, this one is clearly a more personal affair—you can feel the depths of his heartache whenever he leans on the title's refrain, extending the word "hard" for an agonizing, uncomfortable duration almost like he's stuck and can't find his way beyond it. A riveting vocal performance that will tug your heartstrings.
24 "The Mystery of Man" | Zara McFarlane
If you're going to take on Sarah Vaughan you'd better have the chops to pull it off. That's not a problem for London jazz maven, Zara McFarlane, who someday might be the subject of a tribute album herself. She's that good. "The Mystery of Man" takes on the origin of the species, so I guess Zara feels if she's challenging herself she might as well go all the way. Ambition appreciated.
25 "Living in This World Alone" | Staples Jr. Singers
We'll forgive them for choosing one of the laziest band names ever (surpassed only by Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr.) if they keep coming out with songs as good as this one. This group actually debuted a long, long time ago—1975 to be specific—when they released their one and only album, When Do We Get Paid (five years after the Staples Singers recorded "When Will We Be Paid" no less, doubling down on their shameless trolling of the Staples legacy). Not only that, they were a family band (real surname Brown), just like the original Staples, but with a far more crowded house at ten siblings strong. Despite the co-opting of the Staples' name, style, and substance, that record is now regarded as a lost classic by some, with a recent reissue as proof. Capitalizing on the renewed interest, the group reunited this year to release Searching, their comeback album, almost fifty years after the fact. A risky proposition, but it's a damn fine record in its own right, highlighted by "Living in This World Alone," a gospel-soul number of which Mavis Staples would surely approve. Open up, this is a raid.
26 "Time Makes Fools Of Us All" | Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats
Nathaniel is consistent I'll give him that. He writes reliably great songs that work best in a live setting. I took in a show last summer and his band was tight as a drum, the set a veritable greatest hits album come to life. Pretty impressive. That many of his songs sound the same is perhaps my only criticism and even that doesn't bother me much. When they sound as good as this, I don't really care. They're one of those bar bands that made good for all the right reasons. The final track on their new album, South of Here, is a perfect album closer, where we collectively realize we're all in this together right before we are all released back into society. Perhaps his message will connect, perhaps not, but it never hurts to try.
Outro: "Baptized by Nitro" | Pepe Deluxé
This is how the Pickled Priest baptizes his flock. There's still time to join our congregation even if you hated all the songs on this mixtape. If the Catholic church went this route, they wouldn't be dropping membership as fast as a Planet Fitness in February.
______________________
The homestretch is already upon us. Hide your valuables. Move your turntable to the fallout shelter.
Cheers,
The Priest
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