oh my giddy aunt. this september has been excellent, not just for collecting chestnuts and watching rain push yellow leaves off tree branches from a top-floor library window, but also for piling new songs into playlists to get through winter.
phoebe bridgers‘s brilliant debut album stranger in the alps paints ghosts on people and sinks hooks into sad words, flinging them across a pale blue sky as bait for clouds. particularly lovely winter company are “funeral” (every time she sings “and that’s just how i feel”, a cinnamon bun could die of sadness), “would you rather” (with conor oberst on the other side of the tin can telephone), and the mark kozelek cover “you missed my heart”.
cat stevens/yusuf‘s the laughing apple makes references to songs from the olden days such as “if you want to sing out” in “you can do (whatever)!” and contains a jagged, beautiful new version of his 1960s “blackness of the night”. this is yusuf like i remember cat stevens. especially lovely with plum crumble: “grandsons”, “mighty peace”, and “i’m so sleepy”.
vasas flora och fauna‘s veneziansk afton is more dancable than their debut släkt med lotta svärd but still cheerfully delivers finnlandswedish lost-in-the-neighborhood observations with lines such as “we buy your old things”, “must one have a name, i’d rather not be called anything”. preferred dusk stroll soundtrack: “vi köper era gamla saker”, “egnahemshus”, and “min förtvivlan”.
and, although it’s technically not out until november, you can already order jeff hilson‘s latanoprost variations, which, with kite-string poems about moth art garfunkel’s head of troubled hair, finding a robert plant, unsolicited music recommendations, full stops and eye drops, is another hibernation treat.