Thomas's Music Blog

When I first found this album in 2017, it immediately rocketed towards the top of my favorite albums list and has remained in my top three for the better part of a decade. The palpable angst steady throughout resonated so strongly with me, especially since the themes of the album–religious difficulties, self worth questioning, heartbreak, anxiety, and more–were all things that I struggled with myself. Throw these lyrical themes on top of some incredible rock arrangements, and you’ve got this zero-skip EP.

The writing in this EP is what stands out as particularly special. If you were to take the lyrics and print them onto paper, they could easily be published as a collection of avant garde poetry. The entire project has a weight behind it, and it’s clear that the intense emotions of breakups, religious angst, frustration, and insecurity were poured into it. At the same time, many of the lyrics taken out of context could border on nonsensical, resulting in this juxtaposing feeling of incredible depth and total meaninglessness at the same time, which works so perfectly for the theme and vibe of this album. I believe that the best thought-provoking writing allows the listener to assign their own meaning or interpretation to the lyrics without also fully losing the artist’s original intent, and this album is a masterful example of that.

I also absolutely adore the musicality of this project. Lincoln’s singing range is enjoyable without being the focus of the album, which actually works in its favor, as it opens the door to singing along without too much exertion. The instrumentation is a garage rock vibe, consisting primarily of crunchy guitar accented with either piano or strings, all over especially heavy drums that really burst through to the forefront. There is also a brilliant element of disorder throughout: if you listen closely you can hear occasional drum stutter steps or guitar screeches that sound borderline accidental, but work so well in the overall composition that they are almost certainly fully intended.

This album should not be listened to shuffled. I often find myself treating this EP like one long 16-minute song with five parts (hitting play and listening through the entire thing) rather than an album of individual songs, but every track holds up 100% on its own as well.

After nearly a decade of listening to this album, I’ve learned to be more comfortable with the uncomfortable emotions that this album clearly derives from, but I have not lost an ounce of my appreciation for it. In fact, my love of it has only grown: sometimes I like to reflect back on and appreciate the struggles of young adulthood, and other times to use the songs as an outlet to channel these and other emotions when they do arise – they’ve grown more manageable, but not left my life entirely, after all.

Trigger Warning: references to sexual assault

In art, particularly music, there is a never-ending debate about separating a piece of art from its artist. The discussion often surrounds whether it is valuable, necessary, or even possible, and generally occurs when debating the moral implications of listening to a great piece of music that was created by a not-so-great human being. Before diving further into this review, I want to make two things immediately and abundantly clear: 1. Kesha is not an aforementioned “not-so-great human being”, and in fact seems to be quite a wonderful person, and 2. the album discussed below can be enjoyed separated from the artist’s perspective and experience, and listening to it with this lens is still a 10/10 experience; however, I believe knowing the backstory behind the writing and creation of this project elevates it to an elite album status, and should be openly acknowledged as to not dismiss or minimize the lived experience of Kesha and other victims of sexual violence.

For any reader unaware, Kesha (note: not Ke$ha as she was known in the mid to late 2000s) was signed to Kemosabe Records in the mid-2000s, a record label created by a producer known as Dr. Luke. They worked together for about a decade, but in 2014 Kesha began a legal battle to get out of her contract, citing sexual, physical, and emotional abuse by Luke. This legal battle lasted nearly a decade (as of 2023, Kesha was fortunately able to disassociate with Kemosabe Records) but in the context of this album, she was at a difficult turning point in the case: about one year before Rainbow’s release, the legal case was dismissed on the basis that the the statute of limitations for rape had run out – a gross and unjust failing of the legal system.

This difficult context is an important baseline for listening to the album, as keeping this in mind peels back an extra layer of what otherwise could be just an incredible musical project. This album carries motifs of cautious optimism and healing all throughout, as a majority of songs speak in some way to self or female empowerment, and a healthy portion of whimsy sprinkled throughout helps remind the world that while Kesha’s spirit might be beaten down, it will not be broken. The whole album feels like Kesha writing two separate love letters: one addressed to womanhood, self-love, and visibility, specifically with the writing and lyrics, and the other addressed to creativity and musical expression with the songs and instrumentals. I recognize the oxymoronic nature of saying that there is a cohesive variety across the songs’ vibes, but this is the best way to describe it: the songs flow from rock guitar numbers, to piano ballads, to cowgirl country/folk, to upbeat pop, to masterfully blended combinations of any of the previously listed genres. Prior to this album, Kesha was primarily restricted to club-pop radio hits, so getting to hear her supremely talented vocals on this album is an absolute treat.

This album is an emotional and musical roller coaster in the best way even at the surface level, but within the greater context of both Kesha’s personal battle and the political landscape of the US at the time of release, the compelling sentiment and musical brilliance only grows – this is truly Kesha at her best. Whether for the emotional depth, the enjoyment of great music, or a healthy mix of both, I absolutely believe everyone should give this album a listen.

I've noticed that I gravitate towards particular music choices primarily for one of two reasons: either I find something about it to be artistic, resonant, or powerful... or it's just plain fun. My favorite songs often either fill me with an immense appreciation or make me jam out in my car while I drive, and when a song strikes both of those chords, I've found something truly special.

So what happens when not just a song, but a whole album, strikes both of those chords? Simple: you have Vulfpeck's The Beautiful Game.

The two-minute oboe opening sets a deceptive scene: the melancholy solo, albeit beautiful, feels a bit out of place the second we hit the opening beats of the second track, and we snap into the theme of the album. For the remainder of its 35-minute run, the record is non-stop funk stretched to every possible corner. Every track on this album is inarguably funky, but alongside this main motif we can describe every song with a complementary adjective. These additional adjectives are unique to every track: mellow, rocking, nasty (in an "ooooo baby!" kind of funk way, not in an inappropriate way), sweet, fun, groovy, silly, and soulful are all words I would use to describe this track list -- bonus points if you give the album a listen and can figure out which songs inspired each adjective I just listed.

The soundscape of this album is breathtaking. Gorgeous synths, tangible bass, and some of the best drumming I've heard in a while lay the foundation, with each song also bringing in a few extra stems to tickle your brain, such as piano, trumpet, or guitar. The music itself is enough, but I MUST mention the absolute treat of guest vocals, included but not limited to the immensely talented Theo Katzman and Antwaun Stanley. This perfect, no-skip album is non-stop fun, and the talent and artistry demonstrated cover-to-cover is palpable. These musicians are all clearly the masters of their respective instruments, and they gel together in a way that is truly something special.

Sometimes in life, a piece of art speaks to you in a way that resonates so strongly you carry that art with you for the rest of your life. For me, musically, At Night, Alone. had this impact on me. I can still remember exactly where I was when I first heard this album: 2019, University of Wisconsin-Madison, the Kleene math library in the Van Vleck building. I was on the second floor, overlooking the bookshelves, about to lock in and study hard to prepare for an exam. I opened Spotify (not sponsored) on my phone to find some background music, and–being in a nostalgic mood–remembered the artist Mike Posner from early-2010s radio. I looked him up and saw that he had several albums to choose from. I’m not sure what drew me to At Night, Alone. specifically, but I clicked into it and pressed play.

I was greeted by an intro track, which was his voice telling me to listen to this album at night and alone, of which I was only doing 50% correctly. Then the first real song started, and I realized that the popular club pop song I Took a Pill in Ibiza I had heard so many times on the radio was actually a remix of this soulful acoustic opener. That song, followed by the next, and then the next, hooked me in, and I sat there for the full 38 minutes staring straight ahead, focusing entirely on the songs I was hearing – I didn’t even open my notebook.

Despite mixed reviews on the internet, something about this album spoke to me so strongly, and this connection has only grown. The sounds themselves are enjoyable – Posner has a great singing voice with decent range, and the production quality overall is well done. The variety on the album keeps it engaging and fresh, and it’s clear that the artistic vision was not constrained to fit any sort of pre-defined template. Posner isn’t afraid to push the envelope when it comes to genre, such as including the a cappella gospel number Only God Knows or featuring hints of country rock in Jade.

The introspective writing sits well with me because it feels like it comes from a very genuine place. The themes of the album include breakups, heartbreak, religion, self-discovery, and loss, and the writing finds itself just below being predictable or cliché – at times it can see the line, but I don’t believe it ever crosses it. I also recognize that I am biased when discussing this project, as many of the lyrics resonated with me in a way I won’t get into here. While it’s unlikely that everyone who listens will fall head over heels in love with this album like I did, I think it can be a genuinely enjoyable listen for anyone with an open mind and appreciation for musical variety.

When girly-pop juggernauts like Taylor Swift and Sabrina Carpenter are both releasing albums in 2025, you might think that most other artists are simply competing for the pop album bronze medal. This year, however, you would be sorely mistaken – not only did Mikayla's HOT POT! project take the gold for my favorite pop album of the year, I am also dubbing it my number one favorite album of 2025, period.

If I had to describe this album with one word, it would be "addicting." I almost struggle to put down into words the feelings that listening to this album evokes. The chord progressions and melodies are so catchy that I struggle to believe they have never been used in other songs by other artists before, yet this entire album has such a unique sound and quality to it. A lot of songs have this scale climbing-and-descending motif which contributes to a very bubbly and infectious sound (listen to piano in the sky for a perfect example of what I mean), and clear catchy drum lines only add to this further.

The songs have this sweet quality to them that is simultaneously complemented by an almost haunting tone (this is probably where a music theorist would describe the difference between major and minor keys, but I am just a guy who likes music, not a music theorist). Mikayla's voice is also wonderful, and the overall dynamism of her vocal performances makes them just as engaging as the other layers of any given song. I am describing a lot of juxtaposing vibes, which when done poorly can make a song or album sound messy or off, but never once does it feel like a component of a song is fighting for control. Normally a song stuck in my head is annoying and frustrating, but every song on this album is a treat; when a chorus from this album gets stuck in my head unprompted, I find myself welcoming the opportunity to go back and give HOT POT! another listen.

This past month, we were blessed with Ashnikko's latest release Smoochies. This album is pure, unfiltered Ash: self-expression through shameless hypersexuality and crude lyrics set mostly over heart-pounding, grinding beats… and it's fantastic. However, it is certainly not an entry album – if someone has not listened to her previous work or is not a fan already, the album's intensity could be a bit of a turn-off.

This is what inspired me to revisit Ashnikko's second full album WEEDKILLER and see if my initial enjoyment of it aged well. I loved this album upon release, and even after a few years of on-and-off listening, I can confirm it holds up. Listening to Smoochies was a normal album runthrough for me, with several songs that really stood out as my favorites and others being backburner songs to revisit. WEEDKILLER is the opposite experience in the best direction: a tight, 33 minute run of 13 songs that are back-to-back unskippable.

Colorful dystopian/apocalyptic imagery appears throughout the album, but this unique song landscape does not take away from the deeper nuances covered throughout. Feminist messaging, LGBT experience, and an overall air of self-expression and freedom are pumped into the album flawlessly to bring every song to the next level – you can listen when you're in the mood for something fun and catchy, or you can listen when you're in the mood to think and chill. The techno beats are catchy and rich without being overwhelming, and the songs maintain a perfect balance between cohesion and enough variety to keep you hooked track after track. In my opinion, this is an album that is best listened to not shuffled to appreciate the pacing and to experience the album's emotional growth, which concludes with the capstone song Dying Star (featuring Ethel Cain).

Overall, I strongly recommend this album, and while I think certain audiences will resonate more strongly with its sound and messages, I genuinely believe that with an open mind any listener could thoroughly enjoy the experience.