Listen/Buy: Rough Trade | Amazon | Apple Music | Bandcamp | Spotify | Tidal
5.
Nala Sinephro: Endlessness
Across Endlessness, Nala Sinephro’s second album, her arrangements build and dissipate to reveal the record’s anchoring arpeggio, which itself morphs all of the time, handed off like a baton between synth, piano, and harp. This is a log of liminal moments, blurring the space between orchestral ensemble and bedroom ambient project. Sinephro does not limit herself to being a harpist, synth player, and bandleader—she becomes a collage artist.
Throughout its constant transformations, Endlessness is always compositional. Its base unit is not the droning chord, but instead the articulated phrase—however serene, this is a music of statements, not mere soundscapes. Her fractal melodies channel modern modular noodlers as much as classic jazz solos. Still, Sinephro carves out a habitat for each of her players, many of whom are based in the South London improvisational scene, which sets the LP’s ceaseless ideas to a human pace. Both dreamy and deliberate, expansive and focused, this collection’s ten tracks unfold as if to point toward the very meaning of the word endlessness: We see the impossibility of this concept, but Sinephro makes us feel as though it’s in reach. –Daniel Felsenthal
Listen/Buy: Rough Trade | Amazon | Apple Music | Bandcamp | Spotify | Tidal
4.
MJ Lenderman: Manning Fireworks
Manning Fireworks proceeds like a greatest hits collection. Every line is a short story. Its jokes are profound, its wisdom ridiculous, its irreverence wide-eyed and irresistible. It is a record so instantly elemental, you feel compelled to sing every guitar riff, to rip every melody, to quote lyrics like “goin’ on vacation brings the worst out of everyone” as mantras. On his fourth solo album, MJ Lenderman, the tragicomic Southern rocker of the moment, channels heroes like David Berman and the Band but fills his pithy songs with time-stamping specifics (Guitar Hero, an all-seeing smartwatch, the “houseboat docked at the Himbo Dome” that deserves a dedication plaque in 2024’s collective imaginary) that make his persona self-effacing and modern. The lost protagonists of Lenderman’s windows-down country-fried bangers often sound like vexed middle-aged divorcées who may or may not ever get their shit together and yet stir empathy; “manning fireworks” ultimately feels like an allegory for boyish wonder that just might slow the unstoppable crawl from baby to jerk. That playful awe is aglow in the gorgeous dissonance of a fiddle, the lonesome grace of a clarinet, a Sonic Youth-worshiping noise-drone excursion on a song that says “Don’t move to New York City,” no less! Beguiling, funny, exuberant and true—sometimes the alchemy is just right for a modern classic. –Jenn Pelly
