Beyoncé, Homecoming Parkwood/Columbia, 2019
Here's a smattering of what Mercury editorial staffers are listening to lately...
Jenni Moore, Music Editor
Beyoncé, Homecoming: The Live Album: Ever since Queen Bey dropped her 40-song live album last month, I’ve had a hard time convincing myself to listen to much else. It’s nearly two hours of ultra-Black excellence, perfectly curated and leaving no stone unturned. Homecoming is exceedingly enjoyable from front to back. Beyoncé's giving us everything from Destiny’s Child cuts (“Say My Name,” “Soldier”) to early-’00s hits (“Crazy in Love,” "Baby Boy"); and iconic feminist bops (“Diva,” “Flawless,” and “Run the World”) to more obscure rap tracks (“Top Off,” and “I Been On”). On the slow and heart-wrenching track “I Care,” it becomes really apparent: The live-recorded Coachella concert is perhaps the best vocal of Yoncé’s 20-year career, with the queen hitting her peak physically as well. And after seeing Beyoncé’s epic, corresponding concert documentary, listening to the album evokes all the powerful visuals and choreography from Beychella. It’s only one month old, but this album is already a classic. And an additional undeserved a blessing: Bey's put the live album up on Spotify and Apple Music.
Erik Henriksen, Executive Editor
Mountain Goats, In League with Dragons:
I’ve been a fan of the Mountain Goats and John Darnielle for... uh, a while, so I’m still listening to the relatively new “dragon noir” In League with Dragons, the only album I can think of that’s gotten all cross-promotional synergistic with Dungeons & Dragons. (This is all very on-brand for me, for better or worse.)
Etta James, Live from San Francisco Private Music 1994
Etta James, Live from San Francisco:
I keep coming back to Etta James’ Live from San Francisco, taken from a small club show she performed in 1981 at the second, short-lived incarnation of the Boarding House. And I can’t believe I’m writing this, but her cover of “Take It to the Limit”—a song originally done by the godforsaken Eagles, for crying out loud—is nothing short of astonishing. When people start throwing around the phrase “greatest singer of all time,” it’s usually Aretha who gets anointed, but some days it’s clear that Etta deserves the mantle.
Alex Zielinski, News Editor
PODCAST STUFF!: I've been digging on the new-ish NPR podcast Throughline, which uses fascinating, often forgotten moments in history to help explain current events—including the history of Mexico-US border wars and the very important moment in history when Vladimir Putin's nickname was "the Moth." I'm also spending a lot of time listening to old Chicano Batman albums.
Madhouse, 16 Paisley Park/Warner Bros. 1987
Bobby Roberts, Calendar Editor
Prince’s Madhouse, 16:
Did you know Prince had his own jazz fusion project? It was called Madhouse, and it was pretty fuckin' weird most of the time. It very often sounded a LOT like all the wankiest bits of his extended singles—or the entirety of The Black Album, which I just copped on vinyl at Music Millennium, and yes I know it's 99.99% probably a bootleg but I don't care—thrown in a dryer with some of his high heels and set to high heat. But every now and again, you'd open the door and something goddamned amazing would fall out. ANYWAY, the first track of Madhouse's second album, 16 (none of the songs had titles, just numbers), is just wild as hell for the first 90 seconds, and out of fuckin’ NOWHERE, one of the single baddest grooves the man ever dreamed up begins, and it's never not amazing to hear. And if you're a fan of golden-age hip-hop, you have probably heard it and you just didn't know it: Digital Underground built one of their best songs, "Hip-Hop Doll," around it.
Suzette Smith, Arts Editor
Vampire Weekend, Father of the Bride:
If everyone had liked the new Vampire Weekend record it would have ruined it for me—so thanks, ya’ll. I’m content as hell to be clandestinely enjoying Father of the Bride with its hat tip to Haruomi Hosono on “2021” and its outstandingly creepy “Unbearably White,” which is like if Ruben Östlund’s Force Majure became a song. This week I was FURTHER VINDICATED by Joe Caramanica’s assertion on the NYT Popcast that “Vampire Weekend is a punk band” and that making chill, coy, and incendiary songs is the punkest thing you can do right now.
Robert Ham, Copy Chief
Plague Vendor By Night:
When oh when will the world wake up to the greatness that is Plague Vendor? The shorthand for this goth-leaning punk band is if Nick Cave's old outfit The Birthday Party came of musical age in sunny California rather than the gray skies of Berlin and London. The confrontational attitude and agitated rock assault are there, but fueled by good weed and good humor instead of bad heroin and worse attitudes. Their musical evolution has been slow but on their forthcoming album By Night (out June 7), the quartet adds subtle electronic elements to the mix, and measured pacing that's more marathon than 40-yard dash.
