Islands in the Stream: 4/1/25

"Reflection," Queen Daxene
There's a shambolic Velvets vibe to this song, with a bit of a jangle-pop twist added for garnish and some sunny harmonies splashed on top to help the medicine go down. The whole thing sounds like it was recorded in an afternoon for $150 and the cost of a pizza, and sometimes, that's really all you need.

"I Wish I Could Say I Was Sorry," Chris Church
Listening to "I Wish I Could Say I Was Sorry" makes me feel like I'm listening to some sort of weird mashup of R.E.M. and the Church, with the ringing guitars and New Southern yearning of the former and the webby, gauzy sonic drama of the latter. This isn't anything I ever knew I wanted to hear before I actually heard it.

"Lemonade City," Hank Sullivant
I'm going to be honest with you: At this point, I don't recall why I added this song to the list of tracks to be covered in this post, and I'm also not sure I even like it — there's a fine line between "ingratiatingly simple lo-fi pop" and "song that thinks it's cuter than it really is," and I can't decide which side of that line "Lemonade City" falls on. On the other hand, it's reasonably catchy, and I do dig the spacey contrast between the acoustic guitars and soaring synths. If you hate this one, I won't fight you on it.

"Don't Care," Laughing
If Moldy Peaches cared enough to worry about things like studio engineering, they'd probably come across — on their very best days — something like Laughing. These guys are from Montreal, but "Don't Care" still sounds like it was recorded with love in a one-bedroom Brooklyn apartment on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

"Fragile," Pop Filter
Here's another gunky little gem that sounds like it could have been cut on a four-track recorder at any point between 1986 and yesterday. Pop Filter is apparently an "indie collective" based out of Australia, but the feelings evoked by "Fragile" know no borders — if you've ever been handed a demo by some local garage band and heard one or two things that unexpectedly knocked you out, you know what I'm getting at.

"Leave a Light On," Sug Daniels
I guess there's always something a little corny about songs that exhort the listener to leave their metaphorical windows open — especially if there are saxes involved — but given the buzzing ambient horror of life in the United States right now, I also think there's a lot to be said for art that acknowledges how much easier it is to shut down and appeals to the better angels of our nature anyway.

"Painted Man," Murphy
As Ray LaMontagne's accountant would probably be more than happy to tell you, guys with acoustic guitars and soulful voices never really go out of style. I'm not sure Murphy evokes "bucolic era" Van Morrison as successfully as LaMontagne, but given the way Van has curdled into an impossibly bitter old anti-Semite and anti-vaxxer, that may not be such a bad thing after all. (When I went to get a YouTube link for this song, I discovered that Murphy was an American Idol contestant, which makes me question everything I just wrote, but it really shouldn't.)

"Big Old Sky," Drew Martin
It's got harmonicas and some acoustic hollerin', so if you've developed an allergy to stomp 'n' holler in the years since acts like the Lumineers and Mumford & Sons turned all those words into musical profanity, you might be tempted to dismiss Drew Martin's "Big Old Sky" out of hand. If you can see your way past unfair comparisons, however, I think you might really like this track; it's got the loose, relaxed feel and sun-kissed sonics you'd expect from a song with this title.

"All Led by Love," Osteoleuco
At this point in time, I must admit I am not entirely on board with any song that even accidentally sounds like it might be sampling Michelle Obama's infamous "they go low, we go high" speech. I know that isn't what's actually happening here, but that's about all I know, and that confusion is honestly a big part of why I'm sort of entranced by "All Led by Love." Osteoleuco is a self-described "unit" comprised of a pair of Japanese musicians whose bio reads as follows: "We want to live a free and fun life. Also like to give shape to the ideas that come to us. How about you guys?" I mean, when you put it like that, who can argue?

"Books and Bones," Corey Travis
This track is fairly basic, as a composition as well as a recording, but there's something about the gutsy-yet-fragile way Corey Travis gets his message across that leaves me feeling like I'm listening to an artist who understands his tools rather than a case of limitations rudely defining style. "Books and Bones" is also slightly Matthew Ryan-adjacent, which is always a massive draw for me.