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2. Lambchop — Mr. M
The beautiful gentility of Kurt Wagner’s 11th Lambchop album is far too strange to easily slip into Nashville traditions of Americana or alt-country. Wagner’s deep, soft voice finds a singularity somewhere between soul music sincerity and showy glam rock tremble. His band’s sound is complicated towards an incredibly modest end, its many moving pieces having a quiet contest, piling up to hum together just barely below his whisper. There’s a stillness here that seems totally out of step with the busy, buzzy trends of the day. “I don’t know what the fuck they talk about”, might be a disinterested first-line hand wave towards the Twitterverse, or the entire world outside his kitchen window. It takes a few listens to get what the fuck he’s on about, too. But the skewed poetry engages even when its specificity turns surreal. Once acclimated, you can live in these songs quite comfortably, shelf your canned goods in them, warm your hands by their stove.
Key Track: "Buttons"
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