Recommended by Joshua James Amberson
Remambran's songs are worlds where both the existence of a persimmon tree and the absence of a Dairy Queen feel emotionally significant. The long-running project of Los Angeles songwriter Mallory Watje, Remambran albums don't come out often, and they're rarely greeted with reviews or media attention. They're loose around the edges—never big conceptual pieces, just collections of songs—but each is a treasure chest of casual pop. Some people I've played Remambran for have simply heard a voice that’s vaguely reminiscent of early Joanna Newsom, and wrote it off as if it were a dime a dozen. But when I listen, I hear a songwriter with a clarity of vision that doesn't come along every day. Remambran's surface-level ease belies Watje's acrobatics with lyrics: She slips from narrative to koan gracefully, makes poetry of passing revelations, and bestows inanimate objects with a weight they don't often carry in life.
825 N Killingsworth, Portland, OR 97217