Single Saturdays: November 12th, 2022
Single Saturdays is Five Cent Sound’s new weekly roundup, where our staff members share a song that they’ve fallen in love with and make their case for why others should give it a listen.
“I Didn’t Know - Extended” – Skinshape
Grace Chapdelaine
As the rise of indie and alternative music settles to a simmer from its initial boil, much of the alternative community has begun turning their focus on cross-genres: we’ve begun seeing a rise in alternative bands settling comfortably into the neo-psychedelic genre. The style is on a gradual incline to popularity, but it’s put on heavy display within bands that actually have a decent following: levitation room, Babe Rainbow, Allah-Las, The Brian Jonestown Massacre, and Skinshape are among some alternative bands that appear to be embracing neo-psych as their own. Skinshape, specifically, is pushing on a really fascinating, twangy sound that borders on psych-rock with its almost Western guitar slides, exemplified within popular songs like “Summer” and “Don’t Call My Name.” However, my personal favorite song of theirs is “I Didn’t Know - Extended.”
If I were to write a love letter to this song; it would say that it’s one of those rare ones that changed the trajectory of my music taste and got me interested in this neo-psych style. The song progresses slowly but surely, beginning with a slow guitar line and up-paced drum line, embodying the more relaxed possibilities the neo-psych genre lays ground for. The minimal lyrics cannot go without mentioning either, “I didn’t know that you would leave so soon—I’d have tried a little harder to make you smile once more.” There’s a reason the song has very few lyrics, and it’s not because of a lack of competence, but rather a lack of necessity. The enchanting song is mainly instrumental (it’s lovely), finishing with a nearly 2-minute horn interlude, switching to a more orchestral, unique sound that sets this song apart from the Skinshape’s usual genre. Throughout, the psych element holds consistent and with prominence, with “I Didn’t Know - Extended” remaining a thorough example of neo-psychedelic music’s quiet rise to influence.
“Venus In Furs” – The Velvet Underground
Lily Suckow Ziemer
“Venus In Furs” was released in 1967 by the Velvet Underground, but long before it was a song, it was a book. The novel of the same name was published almost a century before in 1870. It is often thought of as the pop-cultural origin of masochism, a word which originated from the writer's name, Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. The song “Venus In Furs” does not just take the title of its predecessor, but also has lyrics strikingly similar to the plot of the novel. The pace is slow and trodding, prominently featuring drums and tambourine. Vocalist Lou Reed sings in a deep, almost monotonous tone, reminiscent of the 19th-century landscape of the story. Verses two and four speak directly to the protagonist of the novel, Severin, as Reed croons, “Severin, Severin, speak so slightly / Severin, down on your bended knee / Taste the whip not given lightly / Taste the whip, now bleed for me.”
The nature of Wanda (the female lead and dominatrix) and Severin’s relationship is largely rooted in sensations. Severin asks Wanda to whip him and treat him like a slave, and never pushes further for sex. These lines illustrate the power dynamic between the couple, with Severin submitting on “bended knee,” and Wanda, whipping so much as to draw blood. This is a foreign relationship to many listeners, but the romantic emphasis the song places on this cruelty is accurate to the aspect of desire present in masochism. Venus in Furs was a provocative story for the time, featuring not only unusual sexual practices, but also but also a dominant woman. When the Velvet Underground reinterpreted this story into song form, it was just as provocative. As time passes, works such as Sacher-Masoch’s lose themselves in the broader public consciousness, but the song brings up the still-taboo practice of masochism in a way that is easily digestable to the masses. “Venus In Furs” is a perfect example of the way some elements of culture will always stay relevant.
“Spiral” – Hello Mary
Quinn Donnelly
Hello Mary, a slick-as-oil, three-piece rock outfit are from the inky depths of NYC’s indie rock scene. Their shimmering blend of chugging guitars, lilting vocal harmonies, and wicked lyricism conjure the ghosts of alt music’s past: grunge and shoegaze. They rock. Like, seriously rock. Composed of guitarist/vocalist Helena Straight, drummer/vocalist Stella Wave and bassist Mikaela Oppenheimer, Hello Mary have been releasing a flurry of songs pulled from their up and coming self titled debut to be released March 2023.
“Spiral,” a single released November 3rd of this year, is a haunting confession of deep, troubled paranoia. Straight– desperate and confused– sings of an uncertain death spiral into insecurity. Her voice breaks into an anxious falsetto backed by Wave’s incredible harmony, “Scaring myself, alright / Is it coincidence? / You’re hanging out all night /While I’m on the other side.” This song is written for those whose relationships are fraught with grief and the painful unknowing. My own life is completely entangled in my fabricated delusion, and I’m comforted to know this is a shared pain. The first and second verses clearly capture this break with reality, “ There’s no evidence except the pictures in my head / And it might not make sense, but what’s the real difference?” and “I get dragged and spiral in, but won’t bring it up / Afraid of what might come out, just tell me where you’ve been.” “Spiral” by Hello Mary is a particularly vulnerable piece of work for the band, the melody as tender as a day-old bruise. The mind is warped by invisible enemies, making everyone a suspect. You want answers, reassurance, and clarity, but fear the rejection and vulnerability that comes with making that known. If you’re looking to feel grounded, this is the song for you. You’re not crazy; Hello Mary has been to that hell and back.
“Anywhere With You” – Maggie Rogers
Annaliese Baker
It was the last weekend of July when I found myself speeding down the Eisenhower Expressway, tears streaming down my face while listening to “Anywhere With You” by Maggie Rogers. I spent the entirety of my adolescence trying to create a moment that encompassed the music that shaped me and the physical places I listened to it; I had been waiting for Maggie Rogers to release another album for four years. On the last Friday in July, her sophomore album Surrender was released into the world. I had made it three songs in before I started crying.
The fourth track on Surrender, “Anywhere With You” is a nearly five minute joyously heartbreaking journey. Rogers creates an experience that feels personal yet relatable for people beginning their adulthood. The lyrics—backed by Del Water Gap and Kid Harpoon’s instrumental composition—reference a doomed relationship that holds a profound love, but doesn’t necessarily specify if it is romantic or platonic. The need to experience this love both immediately and permanently builds as the drums and guitar crescendo while the emotion in Rogers’ voice grows, both in volume and tone. Listening to this song is truly an out-of-body experience; you can feel the gut-wrenching love as it progresses, urging you to run and cry tears of happiness and grief. If you feel like going on a profound emotional journey this Saturday, I highly recommend giving “Anywhere With You” by Maggie Rogers a listen.