17 minute read
Cover Story
The songs play on Our favorite New England albums of 2020
ARTICLE BY VICTOR D. INFANTE • PHOTOS BY CHRISTINE PETERSON
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It seems almost unthinkable how little live music there’s been locally since March, how the pandemic has squelched the idea of gathering together with a crowd of strangers, joined only by the love of song. There have been a few outdoors shows, a few valiant attempts to make live music happen, but really, they’ve been more the exception than the rule: In many ways, 2020 has been painfully silent, so quiet all we could here was each other’s anger, fear and suffering.
But New England’s musicians have not been idle, and even if they haven’t been able to play much live, they’ve created a steady torrent of music, often taking advantage of technology to collaborate at a distance, or taking advantage of the quiet to create new work when they otherwise might have been touring or performing. In a year that’s taken so much from all of us, the region’s musicians have stepped up and given us song after song, album after album of work, much of it brilliant. The pandemic emptied the clubs, but the internet kept music alive, and that indeed has been a saving grace in a ridiculously hard year.
These, then, in no particular order, are my favorite albums of 2020 by New England artists. These are the ones that have stayed with me long after the reviews were written, the ones I find myself singing to myself unbidden, the ones which have carried me through these trying times:
From left, musicians Peter Zarkadas, Sarah Levecque, Brandie Blaze, Sapling members Jonathan Cordaro and Amber Tortorelli, Milo of Eye Witness and Rainy Logan of both Sapling and Eye Witness.
This live album by the Boston-based singer-songwriter Prateek is, in many ways, a fresh spin on the country genre. Prateek leans into the music’s bluesy roots, with songs such as “The Gang’s All Gone” and “Diamonds” cutting close against the listener’s bone. Everyone in his songs is flawed and indelibly human, so much so that it’s easy to see one’s self in them. There’s a lot of heartbreak in these songs, but also a lot of empathy, which makes listening to the album a moving experience. Of course, fun covers of Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls” and George Michael’s “Careless Whisper” certainly don’t hurt.
Prateek on Main Street in Worcester.
Rainy Logan and Milo of EyeWitness.
Edrie and Walter Sickert of Walter Sickert & the Army of Broken Toys with daughter Wednesday.
With “Miss Me,” the indie-rock duo of mononymous singer Milo and percussionist Rainy Logan orchestrate an intense deep dive into heartbreak that is at times poignant and painful. Sometimes, that heartbreak is evident on a macro scale. In “Artemis,” Milo sings, “Let us begin with a bitter end images of God in a world of sin,/ Live life in a paranoid crowd, count down the days watch the bombs drop down.” In the same vein, in “Here She Comes,” he sings, “he blames God but she blames us.” All of this is delivered against an intense soundscape, one that’s often so dense that no light escapes. It’s in the micro scale, though – when the apocalypse becomes personal – that the album finds its true power. When Milo sings, “If I could be anything/I would be your everything/Don’t believe anything/That I say,” there’s a wound evident in both the lyrics and the music, and the listener can’t help but respond.
“THE CUTTING HORSE” AND “WAR GOSPEL,” BY WALTER SICKERT & THE ARMY OF BROKEN TOYS
Always one of the wildest and most inventive bands in the region, the Army of Broken Toys offered two wildly divergent albums this year. The first, “The Cutting Horse,” delivers a fever dream narrative of Mary J, the Demoness Gunslinger – an otherworldly force for vengeance in the tradition of Uma Thurman’s Bride from “Kill Bill.” The album’s a mad mix of cowboy songs, rock ‘n’ roll and Lovecraftian insanity. In a lot of ways, “War Gospel” is a pivot from high fantasy to the the sharp slap of the real world. Here, songs such as the title track, “Dino Domina” and “Battle Witches” (featuring very busy Worcester rapper Ghost of the Machine) train Sickert’s psychedelic vision on the real world, with the forces of violence, control and a self-imposed extinction brought into sharp relief against the band’s thick soundscape. When the latter song, which closes the album, comes to the refrain of “burn it down,” singing along is immensely cathartic.
“ROAD MAY RISE,” BY MARK MANDEVILLE & RAIANNE RICHARDS
With this album, local Americana duo Mark Mandeville & Raianne Richards deliver a collection of songs which are both bittersweet and exquisitely beautiful. “There will come a day, there will be a time,” the pair sing in gorgeous harmonies, “In a place you least expected and you’d never thought you’d find ... A graceful frozen moment, for no reason and no rhyme.” The pair are singing about death, and change and ultimately, about moving forward past those things on a road that continually rises to meet you. It’s a staggeringly beautiful album that comes to a breeze-soft conclusion with its lovely title song, one which smolders with the burning embers of regrets. From beginning to end, Mandeville and Richards create and sustain an emotional tapestry that unravels at the end in the most beautiful and satisfying of ways.
If there was any song that captured the sense of hope that held people together this past year better than Jazzmyn RED’s “We Gon Make It,” I don’t know it. Where other people look out at a world that’s filled with violence and despair, the South Shore rapper and singer takes that vital need for change and imbues it with positivity and a sense of unbridled spirit. Throughout the album, RED tears through a culture of violence, racism and misogyny with a sense of defiance that feels both fresh and necessary. What drives the album best is RED’s immense vocal skills, her ability to shift between a smoky slow rap flow and full, luscious R&B singing. There’s a lot going on in this album, and it makes for riveting listening.
From left, musicians Mark Mandeville, Raianne Richards and Jazzmyn Red on Pleasant Street in Worcester.
“SOMETHANG TO FEAR,” BY THE NEGANS
It would be so easy for this to have been a corny novelty album, but despite the “Walking Dead” inspiration, this group of veteran local rockers had enough sense to make it a punk rock album first, a tribute second. The result is a bracing, gleefully manic collection of songs that glisten with a sense of danger and a wickedly malicious sense of humor. (And I say this as someone who has never watched “The Walking Dead.”) From the pugilistic glee in “Die by the Bat” to the metal guitar intro to the surprisingly layered “Lizzie’s Lament” to the sheer slam-pit glee of “Shut This (Expletive) Down,” the album is an absolute delight to listen to … and they even throw in a punky cover of Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues.” What’s not to love?
From left, Pamela Means, I-Shea and Cinamon Blair of Pamela Means and the Reparations at Union Station.
“Fantasizer” is an exercise in lush, dreamy electro-pop, and as such, Freezepop manages to pull off the neat trick of being both moody and danceable at the same time. And really, it’s gorgeous work. “You’re Awesome, It’s Killing Me” balances sweetness and an ineffable sense of impending loss, creating an emotionally rich soundscape. Really, as cool as all the electronica is, a lot of the reason this works so well is Liz Enthusiasm’s luscious-yet-dexterous vocals. She articulates a lot of nuance through tone and phrasing, and it gives songs such as “Ghost Rejoins the Living” and “Step Into the Sunshine!” a startling sense of depth.
“LIVE AT NORTHFIRE,” BY PAMELA MEANS AND THE REPARATIONS
There’s a sense of history that crowns this live album from hard-edged folksinger Pamela Means and her cohorts, a sense that they have managed to capture the energy of the moment in a way that’s both topical and timeless. A song such as “Impeachment Now!” doesn’t feel dated just because President Trump is nearly out the door any more than the song “James Madison” does, and Madison’s been dead since 1836! The songs feel instead like a record of the moment, a reflection of a moment in time that we should remember, no matter how much we’d prefer to forget. History repeats itself, as Means well-illustrates on her song, “Color of the Skin”: “A Black president, I seen that too/Ain’t a damn thing changed from my point of view,” a point made even more grimly with album’s closer, “Hands Up”: “Hands up/don’t shoot/we’re tough/not bulletproof.”
The heavy hitters of Worcester’s pop-punk/hard-core scenes, Four Year Strong remains at the top of their game with an eminently listenable album that both leans into its genre foundations but also remains extremely accessible. “Learn to Love the Lie” bristles with chords that are almost sunny despite their rough undertow, while the vocals are both muscular and melodic. By contrast, the opening guitars on the title track are thick and arresting, clearing the path for an off-kilter assault of vocals. The band changes up tone and pace throughout the album, always keeping the listener off-balance. And perhaps that’s the point: “Brain Pain” is an examination of being out of synch with the world, and songs such as “Seventeen,” “Talking Myself in Circles” and “Crazy Pills” bristle with that sense of disassociation, of banging one’s self literally and metaphorically against walls in order to be truly heard.
From left, Amber Tortorelli, Rainy Logan, and Jonathan Cordaro of Sapling in Kelley Square.
From left, James Rohr, Mike Castellana, Tauras Biskis and Jef Charland of the Blue Ribbons.
On “Thoughts and Prayers,” the Blue Ribbons cover an immense amount of stylistic range, from the blistering garage rocker “Hangman’s Heart” and the honky-tonk-infused “Had Enuff,” to more brooding and delicate songs such as the heartbroken “Fake Navajo Blanket” and the jazz-tinged love song, “Waltz.” Throughout, the question arises of what’s true in a world where everything from politics to love seem to be in question. “I spend all night listening to the same old lies/and at night they become my new lullabies,” sings vocalist James Rohr in “Bread and the Bone.” There are no easy answers to be found on this album, but the questions themselves resonate long after the last song’s ended.
“THE VIOLENT SILENCE,” “IMMINENT EMBERS” AND “IAMNOTINVISIBLE,” BY STEMS
Worcester musician Penelope Alizarin Conley has definitely kept herself busy during the pandemic, releasing four albums under the moniker STEMS. (In the interest of disclosure, the reason one of the albums, “One Daughter Swan,” doesn’t appear here is I’ve not yet listened to it, as it was released after this list was finalized.) Of the year’s first three albums, it’s “IAMNOTINVISIBLE” that makes the biggest impact, the way it captures a fully realized rock sound from what is essentially one person and a home studio. Songs such as “Coffee” and “She’s a Murder” oscillate between moodiness and unshakable melodic hooks, while others, such as “Invisibility,” reach back to a ‘90s alt-rock heaviness where Conley’s vocals cut through the thick musical fog. Eventually, the album winds down to the spare “Till There’s Nothing Left,” a song that smolders with cold rage and colder goodbyes. All three of these albums are about, as this song states, “leaving the wreckage,” but it’s really here where the cost of that becomes clear, the listener left with an ending that feels simultaneously satisfying and pyrrhic.
Penelope Alizarin Conley of STEMS at Union Station
There are few local songs that sum up the feel of 2020 as well as Sapling’s uproarious “Everything Was Better.” The song – an indictment of nostalgia – time travels with hilarious results, expressed in exchanges between vocalists Rainy Logan and Amber Tortorelli. “Let’s go back to 1986 when everything was better,” sings one, with the other echoing, “Everything was better.” Later, through shots at Vladamir Putin, Atilla the Hun and Eddie Vedder, they land in 1957, “when everything was better/ Golden Age Apocalypse/Leaving it to Beaver/ Yeah, leave that (exclamation) to Beaver!/Everything was better.” It’s fun, and it’s pointed, and it’s held together by a vibrant punk rock groove. Indeed, the band’s skills are evident in some of its most outrageous songs, such as the blistering “(Expletive) This Yuppie Barbecue,” where Jon Cordaro’s drums turn a mere 45-second song into an exhilarating thrill ride.
“MOMENTS OF SILVER,” BY SARAH LEVECQUE
Sarah Levecque’s smoky vocals and partner Peter Zarkadas’ grounded electric guitar create a sturdy foundation for this country-tinged blues album. Contemplative moments, such as on the title track, share space with blasts of honkytonk, and the result is a extremely relatable portrait of wistfulness and dissatisfaction that catches imperfect moments and reveals their beauty. By the time the album winds down to its closing numbers – “Rolling Over the Cracks” and “Blues Keep Me Company” – there’s a sense of palpable resignation. “I’ve been tryin’ to outrun the failure,” sings Levecque, “But trouble keeps gaining on me/ So I’m gonna let the blues/Keep me company.” It’s a sad moment, but it seems buoyed by something else, an intangible sense of hope that keeps the blues from transforming into despair.
Big John Short at City Hall. “LATE BLOOMER,” BY BRANDIE BLAZE
The only way to describe this album is straight-up fire. Brandie Blaze is a remarkable rapper, and her talent becomes more apparent the more you listen to her. Straight out of the gate, on “Only 1 Me,” she demonstrates a way of delivering short, tightly wound rhymes that become a sort of rabbit punch, hitting fast and hard. Later, on “Heartbreaker,” which features Boston rapper Red
Shaydez, she demonstrates a way of twisting the ends of each line, giving the lyrics a sort of extra bite. By the time the album ends with “Count It,” featuring
Shaydez and Oompa, Blaze is a sheer force of nature. The whole thing is an amazing demonstration of skill and power, and it’s absolutely captivating.
“ADHD” AND “EVOLUTION,” BY JOYNER LUCAS
Joyner Lucas has been the highest-profile artist to emerge from Worcester in recent music history, and while “ADHD” – his official “debut album,” (not counting earlier mixtapes) – was long anticipated, his recent release of “Evolution” was a surprise. The pair, though, make a pretty good encapsulation of his style. “ADHD” shines with a pop sensibility, songs such as “10 Bands” and “ISIS” radiating with an infectious groove, even as darker songs such as “Devil’s Work” spoke to the artist’s more narrative-driven early work. “Evolution” was interesting because it progressed the themes of “ADHD” by looking backward, returning Lucas to his musical roots. The pair of albums are both immensely listenable, and have cemented Lucas’ presence on the national stage.
Sarah Levecque and Peter Zarkadas at a mural near the Worcester Public Market in Kelley Square.
With “Short Plays Long,” Worcester’s ubiquitous bluesman Big Jon Short takes the listener on a journey from Wormtown to the Mississippi Delta, and back. He localizes classic gems, such as Mississippi Fred McDowell’s “Gravel Road,” where he sings, “Down in seven hills … Show you lots of fun …I come around the corner here/I see that Polar bear.” By the same token, he creates original songs such as “P&W Moan” that feel as though they were discovered off some long lost blues record, found in the back of a collector’s closet. That Short accomplishes this sort of time travel is a testament to his skills,
that he makes it look perfectly natural and effortless is nothing short of remarkable.
Brandie Blaze by the mural at Crompton Collective.
Kris Delmhorst outside the Mercantile Center.
“LONG DAY IN THE MILKY WAY,” BY KRIS DELMHORST
This album by regional folk icon Kris Delmhorst has more layers than an onion. The more you peel away from it, the more you find underneath. It’s a beautiful album, certainly – one need only listen to the songs “Wind’s Gonna Find a Way” and “Golden Crown” to observe that – but moreover, there’s a sort of mystery at the album’s heart, as the persona wrestles with wanderlust and reflections of who she used to be. In “Skyscraper” she sings, “Half of what is here is underneath the ground/ Why believe only what you see?” That’s this album’s truth: There’s more going on than is immediately apparent, and each angle you approach it from reveals something new.
Linnea Herzog of PowerSlut.
Ghost of the Machine and Weapon E.S.P. in an alley off Franklin Street in Worcester.
“HEROES FOR HIRE 3,” BY GHOST OF THE MACHINE AND DJ PROOF; “SAVAGELAND,” BY WEAPON E.S.P, GHOST OF THE MACHINE & RECKONIZE REAL; AND “JUICE HEADZ,” BY GHOST OF THE MACHINE AND WEAPON E.S.P.
No idle hands for Worcester-area rappers Ghost of the Machine and Weapon E.S.P. This pair, together and separately, seemingly drew from a bottomless well of inspiration, turning out three albums – with different constellations of collaborators – that each felt cohesive and distinct from one another. Ghost conjures an array of emotions on the third “Heroes” collaboration, ranging from the narrative groove of “Too High,” featuring local rapper Death Over Simplicity, to the ode to his late mother, “Yesterday.” “Savageland” digs into the trio’s love of comic books, using them as a lens to explore the shadows of urban life, particularly on “Dystopia” and “Dark Alliance.” Finally, “Juice Headz” marries a love of baseball and an antipathy toward white supremacy for bracing results.
“FUN WITH JUNK,” BY POWERSLUT
Ironically, PowerSlut broke up right after this album’s release, even as it became something of a local critical darling. Still, the album – the brainchild of Boston-area musician Dr. Linnea Herzog – is a bracing blast of rock ‘n’ roll, whimsically sex positive without being juvenile, unfalteringly upbeat even when presenting darker portraits of self-destruction, such as the eminently relatable “Please Don’t Kill Me In Your Car.” The excesses of the rock lifestyle is familiar territory, but Herzog and band find ways to make it fresh, such as in “Nostalgia” where she sings, “Rock ‘n’ roll is such a bore/they don’t blow up cars anymore/or take a chainsaw to guitars/It’s just alcoholic white dudes emptying bars.” For a lifelong rock fan, it’s a hard pill to swallow, but Herzog makes it palatable by keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the genre’s future.
Can I make a confession? This album by Boston-area singer-songwriter Anjimile moves me to tears almost every time I listen to it. It resonates with a sense of loss and grief that’s almost palpable, a sense of things changing beyond one’s own control that is painfully familiar. There’s a smoke around the edges of Anjimile’s vocals on songs such as “Baby No More” and “In Your Eyes” that helps the songs settle into the listener’s skin. And like smoke, the songs linger with the listener awhile, sometimes watering their eyes a little. It’s startling how easily the album can get past a listener’s defense through a gentle, subtle tone and exquisitely crafted lyrics, such as on the title track where Anjimile sings, ““By the lemon tree we remember/How your flame was free, every ember/Whining to the skies, ‘Won’t you wake her?’/Cut me down to size, Giver Taker.” It’s a musical moment that’s both heartbreaking and beautiful.
ARTIST SPOTLIGHT
Emmanuel Morinelli
is a Trappist monk at St. Joseph’s Abbey in Spencer. He has been a nature and landscape photographer for over thirty years. More can be seen at his website, www.morinelliphotography.com.
