A Look at Janelle Monáe's Metropolis Suite, Part 4: Electric Lady (Part 1)

Finally.

We picked off last in 2010, in a series of posts reviewing Janelle Monáe's ambitious sci-fi concept cycle Metropolis, from her debut 2007 EP The Chase to 2010's The ArchAndroid (which contained the second and third suites in the cycle). Then Monáe released no new work for three years, barring the occasional guest voice on a Big Boi, fun., or Estelle number. She was supposedly at Wondaland Studios working on two albums, which she claimed last year would be released according to her "soul clock."

And now one of those albums, The Electric Lady, is finally here. Can she possibly live up to increased expectations as a sophomore artist? Does Lady build or expand upon the Metropolis mythos in addition to providing a solid listening experience? Did the artist capture this reviewer's heart once more? Spoiler alert: heck yes. I've listened to the album a half-dozen times now, and, while it's too early to compare this to The ArchAndroid, I already feel this album improves on the first's relistenable qualities (even if there are more skits this time around). It is a pleasure to be transported back to this world, and I will keep coming back to this record for a long, long time. My endorsement should be sufficient, but if you want more detail from a preeminent amateur Monáeologist, read on...*

1. Suite IV (Electric Overture)
The latest suite opens with now-customary orchestral pomp, except this time there's a more interesting rhythmic core. A "Peter Gunn"/Link Wray-type guitar line deeply rattles its way around increasingly sumptuous and bouncy string arrangements. The vocals, which arrive later, are filmic and set a scene, laying the melodic groundwork for what is to come. It's better (and shorter) than Ms. Monáe's previous suite openers, perhaps enough so that even my esteemed colleague will give it a shot.

2. Givin' Em What They Love (Feat. Prince)
That's definitely Prince on guitar at the beginning, his strums as unmistakable as his increasingly wizened reed of a voice. The Purple One, who pioneered so many potent genre-crosses in his own time, is a natural denizen of Metropolis. The percussion here is tribal and builds slowly, sort of like "The Cross." Prince's work is so good in part because he matches Monáe's vocal line at the exact same pitch--not often we hear him sing that high these days. The song builds to an ecstatic organ and guitar build, with Monáe's voice soaring as Prince's provides spiritual backing vox and trademark ripping (of the axe sort). The strings come back at the end. As in the previous suites, these recurring string arrangements will provide much of the connective tissue between songs.

3. Q.U.E.E.N. (Feat. Erykah Badu)
The album's first single, released on the Internet a few months back, did not light my fire at first. The video was certainly interesting, and introduced the less (literally) buttoned-up, more sexually liberated Monáe of 2013. I grew to like it more after several more listens. The keyboards are very Minneapolis, as indebted to the Time as they are to Prince, but sounded frenetic and unfocused until I paid careful attention a few dozen more times. There's a lot else going on here, not least is Erykah Badu's smoky vocal interlude toward the end of the piece. Then Monáe spits conscious rhymes, in a manner that went out of fashion years ago ("While you're sellin' dope/we'll be sellin' hope"), for what will be the first of several verses on record.

4. Electric Lady (Feat. Solange)
Holy smokes, is this one incredible song. Compared to either "Q.U.E.E.N." or "Dance Apocalyptic," this should be the single. Solange Knowles, the third R&B standard-bearer in a row, is yet another colorful addition to the album's psychedelic palette. If Ms. Knowles made music as energetic and bouncy as this all the time, I would buy copies of her records by the dozens. There's a hint of '90s R&B girl group to the song--think the best and most anthemic TLC or En Vogue. It has that sort of bounce and flavor, as well as requisite drum drops (nothing cooler than when drums drop out and bass keeps going) and chorus of melismatic backing vocals toward the end. Monáe raps again, describing general feminist good times. Solange's role, for the most part, is unobtrusive--Monáe is still the star. So hard not to get caught up in the spirit here. This is ultimate "blast your speakers and dance around your bedroom" music.

5. Good Morning Midnight 
One thing that differentiates The Electric Lady from The ArchAndroid is the presence of track-long skits. And like many concept albums past, the framing device of this album is a radio station DJ who fields calls from eccentric listeners (most likely played by various Wondaland collaborators). DJ Crash Crash, "robotic hypnotic psychotic DJ," is broadcasting shout-outs from his listeners. One of them betrays serious prejudice against the robot race, which the DJ dismisses out of hand. Monáe's playful handling of racial prejudice (as displaced through the prism of futuristic robots) is what sticks out most here. There was a lot of that on the last album, but here it is even more overt.

6. PrimeTime (Feat. Miguel)
Borrowing the backing vocals from the Pixies' "Where Is My Mind"...why not? It makes a great deal of sense in the presence of Miguel, who borrows from rock, punk, and classic psychedelia for his sumptuous R&B in a manner not unlike Monáe (or, obviously, Prince). "PrimeTime" is the album's first proper ballad, but it does not cause the album to lag at all...in fact, this may be the most staggering song yet. It goes beyond mere babymaking music. Over a slow dance groove, Monáe sings a melody so pure and simple it seems ripped out of the Great American Songbook. This album shows how good she is at singing at high registers without being showy or obtrusive. Miguel matches her in the second verse, his syllables more playful, and yet aching. The song is lush, it's romantic, and there is not a single songwriting error to be found here. Props also to returning guitarist Kellindo Parker, nephew of Maceo, who contributes some great, Prince-like guitar work at the end.

7. We Were Rock & Roll
Seven songs in and the album is yet to slow down. A loose and limber groove propels this track into classic anguished soul territory (I was reminded a bit of one of my musical heroes, Gil Scott-Heron). The song isn't exactly a tribute to rock music, but it has fiery guitar at points, and the subject matter is certainly stereotypical (we are young, on the run, no one understands us, etc.). The song is girded by a descending guitar figure and a syncopated hi-hat rhythm not too far from James Brown at his simplest, along with some hand claps and organ stabs, but otherwise keeps it pretty simple. Monáe's voice is once again the focal point of our attentions, which really pays off when a choir of backing vocals joins up with her to sing "it's alright." Kellindo Parker throws out some more excellent guitar parts here.

8. The Chrome Shoppe
DJ Crash Crash returns and announces something called the "Cyberfreak Festival." Some robotic sorority girls promise a "bouncing electro-booty contest" which is a good description for this album's sound. Then they announce the next song and single, "Dance Apocalyptic." I have a historically low threshold when it comes to rap skits but these brief snippets do have Monáe's authorial eccentricity stamped all over them, which to me overcomes their non-musical, marking-time aspects.

9. Dance Apocalyptic
Like "Q.U.E.E.N.," I was not taken by second single "Dance Apocalyptic" at first. The parallels to "Tightrope" were obvious, and this version sounded like the earlier song's brief uke part extended to a punk-ska BPM that never really took off anywhere different or unexpected. The groove here still isn't my favorite, but I've warmed to the message, Monáe's vocals, and most importantly, the song's amazingly upbeat vibe. Elsewhere, though, the song is a bit too sugary and retro, and again, it doesn't go to those magical unexpected places where genre is smashed into millions of irrelevant bits. On one level it is still a great listen, and far from a slog, but at another level it is Janelle-by-numbers. As far as nonsense refrains go, "Smash, smash/bang, bang/don't stop/galang-alang-alang" is merely okay.

10. Look Into My Eyes
Side 4 of Metropolis comes to a close, and after a nine-song sprint, this is the cooling session. Bits of the melody from the opening suite appear again, wedded to stately flamenco guitar and a lush tango atmosphere. The effect is again very, very romantic, to an almost narcotic degree. Monáe's collaborators, Deep Cotton, have gotten even better at arranging strings this time around. If there is any song this resembles, it is Archandroid's "BaBopByeYa" (splashed with a bit of "Sir Greendown") but while that song was lengthy and almost punishing at times, the airy "Look Into My Eyes" leaves as quickly as it appears. This song and many others on the first side really illustrate how much more of an individual sound Monáe has developed in the last three years--there are moments here when you can tell, even if she was not singing, that this is a Monáe-type jazz progression or modulation. Her songwriting tricks, rather than sounding borrowed or transmuted from the best of Prince, Stevie, and Michael, are starting to sound simply like Janelle. Although not entirely, as we will see in the next suite.

It occurs to me that I have yet to discuss much of the album's storyline (narrative in concept albums has always been a big blind spot for me). Tune in next time as I delve more deeply into the plight of Cyndi Mayweather with the ruminative, equally staggering fifth suite.

PREVIOUSLY IN METROPOLIS:

Suite I (The Chase)

Suite II

Suite III

*no star rating needed**
**no explanation needed for lack of star rating

Vicious Lies Beatdown

On Tuesday, OutKast's Big Boi released his second solo album, Vicious Lies and Dangerous Rumors. (We both loved his first) To mark the occasion, Rockaliser's writers went through the album track-by-track, sorting the vicious lies from the dangerous rumors:

1. Ascending
AM: "If ya'll don't know me by now, ya'll ain't gon never know me," Big Boi intones on the moody intro, whose shimmering acoustic guitar we'll hear again. It's an interesting opening statement for an album of left turns. 3.5/5

NS: Big Boi's latest kicks off with some rich acoustic picking, pretty swirling background vocals, and a few drags of the snare. It's not unpleasant, but it's hardly a "Feel Me (Intro)." This production will return later in the record, to better effect. 2/5

2. The Thickets feat. Sleepy Brown

AM: A solid Organized Noise beat twinkles and pulses, thick with bass and trapped-out drums. Big extolls his own greatness throughout. Not one of his 10 greatest verses or anything, but as he spits about being "truly one of the the baddest motherfuckers to ever do it" he's proving his point as he makes it. Not sure where these thickets are, but I'd chill there. 4/5

NS: A Big Boi album without a single Organized Noize production would be a very sad thing. Luckily, Sleepy Brown is on deck to croon his way through the cracks of this slow, deep bass rumbler. Big's verses showcase the rapper at his jumpiest and most unpredictable. After more than 20 years, ON's production style is still so thick and concrete, you can glide over the eddies of smooth grooves. 4/5

3. Apple Of My Eye 

AM: Longtime collaborator David "Mr. DJ" Sheats is on the boards here, building things around a guitar that sounds like it was transported to Stankonia from a Peter, Bjorn & John song. Jake Troth, an uncredited songwritery guy, provides the hook--a little jarring at first, but it works. Give it a couple listens--Big is lithe on the mic, and Mr. DJ sprinkles his magic throughout, especially in the last minute. 4.5/5

NS: OutKast's third member Mr. DJ takes the production reins here, turning up the speed slightly yet reining back the tension on VLADR's first immediate masterpiece. "Apple" begins with Morricone-esque harmonics between keyboard and wooze guitar, and snaps to attention with a behind-the-beat guitar shuffle not too removed from Big's previous "Tambourine." The horns at the end seal the deal. 5/5

4. Objectum Sexuality feat. Phantogram
AM: One of three Phantogram collaborations on VLADR, which might have you wondering: did Sir Lucious Left Foot lose a bet with Phantogram's manager? Sarah Barthel's voice is a ghostly presence in Big Boi's world, but her hooks are a good fit for the darker, slower productions. The beat, Phantogram's, is pretty cool, like what an Earthtone III production might sound like if you sent it through fiber optic cables on the ocean floor. 4/5

NS: The first of what will be several bleak, slower songs, "Objectum" has a bizarre, stop-start structure and even weirder sound effects, but Big Boi finds a lyrical way through the electro clatter and weird violin samples. I'm not necessarily sold on Phantogram's chorus, but I dig the way it builds after the bridge. 4/5

5. In The A feat. T.I. & Ludacris 

AM: Twisting a line from Sir Lucious Left Foot's "Shutterbugg" into its hook, this slow-motion banger with its martial horn is a sort-of sequel to that album's "Patton." I'm pleasantly surprised by Ludacris' verse, but Tip's presence--he's OK, not at his best--brings to mind this year's "Sorry" (featuring André 3000, dearly missed here) and "Big Beast," both better songs than this. Not that "A" won't sound great blaring from your car speakers. 4/5

NS: The sample is a prominent swipe from "Shutterbugg," but the strutting, triumphalist monster beat is closer etymologically to Sir Lucious' "General Patton." All three Atlanta emcees prove themselves up to the challenge of honoring the tone of this gnarly head nodder, and demonstrate sickening amounts of hubris in the process, but it is Ludacris' swerving, dive-bombing style that is most ideally and hilariously suited to the track's killer rhythms. 5/5

6. She Hates Me feat. KiD CuDi

AM: The spacious, mid-tempo beat doesn't give Daddy Fat Sacks a lot to chew on, though he's got a lot on his mind, and he yawns this one out. One of the limpest beats to ever feature Big Boi. It doesn't help that the subject matter skirts close to "Ms. Jackson" territory, without that joint's electric charge. I could have done without Kid Cudi. 2.5/5

NS: In another proud OutKast tradition, "She Hates Me" is VLADR's first emotionally overwhelming number. Kid Cudi deserves credit for the hook, a romantic lament that turns hostile halfway through. Big Boi's skills here are as impressive here as ever--he's more controlled than usual, but the way he lags slightly behind the beat and enunciates the end of each phrase is fantastic. 5/5

7. CPU feat. Phantogram
AM: I'm not a big fan of that last joint, but the sequencing in the middle of the album is pretty great--the song with the hook "it's you that's on my computer screen/cuz it's you that's on my mind" follows the relationship problems one. That might sound porn-y, but that's not what "CPU" aims for. Not that Big doesn't get lurid on this album--he does, plenty, before and after this--but Phantogram program the chilly "CPU." Love the guitar at the end. 4/5

NS: Phantogram returns, just in time for the album to dip into full tilt "sad dance music." At first this nu-technology anthem doesn't seem best suited for Big Boi's talents, and indeed as far as those things go, I prefer Andre 3000's verse on 1998's "Synthesizer." But when the beat picks up, there's no denying its spacey yet subterranean propulsiveness. 3.5/5

8. Thom Pettie feat. Little Dragon & Killer Mike

AM: A wobbly, almost dubby street cut. Big takes the first verse, switching up his flow several times. Little Dragon have the middle third, and send the song deep into blunt-rolling territory. Batting third, Killer Mike is amazing, his verse as good as anything he spit on this year's R.A.P. Music. Maybe the best verse on the entire album. 4.5/5

NS: The first of two songs that mention the youngest Wilbury, "Thom Pettie"'s highlight is Killer Mike's killer verse, which delves into sexual particulars in a manner that R.A.P. Music never really got to. This is another song with a weird start-stop structure, but Yukimi Nagano's voice and cleanly distorted guitar solos ably fill in some of the blanks. 4/5

9. Mama Told Me feat. Kelly Rowland
AM: The Flush--they of Big's "Royal Flush" and "Be Still" by Janelle Monae (where is she?)--run a funky, vocoder-laden Sir Lucious beat through a translucent purple Gameboy Color. Which is fine, really good actually--the drums sound like Prince programmed them--though I wish it hit a little harder. 4/5

NS: When this video with Little Dragon first came out, I wondered if "Mama Told Me" was destined to be the next "Hey Ya"-level superhit. Guess not, but this song feels like such a single, if that makes any sense. Deviating from previous rap odes to mothers ("Dear Mama," "Hey Mama"), which were basically apologies, Big exults in the pride of fulfilling his mama's long-held expectations, as bubbly synths chirp in, as if in affirmation. 5/5

10. Lines feat. A$AP Rocky & Phantogram

AM: A cool Organized Noise beat--it sounds like they took the album's street single, and sliced up the keys and vocal lines into tiny little strips. Never thought I'd see A$AP Rocky on a Big Boi album, but he does himself proud. Big appears for less than a minute on his own 3:30 cut. He sounds pretty good, doesn't give himself nearly enough time to get going. 4/5

NS: Harlem rapper (and personal favorite) A$AP Rocky slots effortlessly into the VLADR aesthetic, throwing in a few vocal southernisms while retaining his distinctly New York identity via blisteringly quirky versage. Phantogram's chorus (them again!) is a slight momentum killer--this is yet another stop-start arrangement--but Rocky and Big complement each other so naturally, the rest is acceptable noise. 4.5/5

11. Shoes For Running feat. B.o.B. & Wavves

AM: Confusing collaborations with rock musicians are a part of hip-hop's very fabric. Big has more than a few on this album, which the material mostly justifies. But this is where I draw the line. B.o.B. prattles on about nothing, Wavves whines out a mall-punk hook, and then and a chorus of children imitate Wavves (really). It's a shame, because Big's first verse is great. 2/5

NS: I have no idea what Wavves' chorus is about--running away from death?--and B.o.B.'s verse doesn't do much besides pass time. But the kids chorus turns out to be a genius effect, and the song's chugging guitar and whistled vocals combine to overcome the sum of parts elsewhere. Ultimately, the evolving groove and Big's verse are what makes this track work. 3.5/5

12. Raspberries feat. Mouche & Scar

AM: Easily the weirdest thing here, the drone-soul of "Raspberries" is built around a two-chord keyboard oscillation that wouldn't sound out of place on a Sterolab album. Mouche, Scar and Big weave their voices together, and we're treated to Antwan Patton's loverman warble. Pshyched out, and cooler than a polar bear's toenail. 4.5/5

NS: VLADR's pace slows considerably on this track, and stays at a similar level for the rest of the record. On "Raspberries," Big Boi sings more than he raps, in a call-and-response arrangement with either Mouche or Scar (I have no idea which). The song is again about sexual conquest, but the tone is dire and downbeat, as if Big is losing interest in repeating such stories. 3/5

13. Tremendous Damage feat. Bosko
AM: The penultimate track's a reflective ballad, a bit like SLLF:TSOCD's "The Train, Pt. 2." I like the verses, but this could use the Southern flourishes of "Train." Bosko's chorus borders on dull, and the beat doesn't get exciting until the last minute. Like so many of these songs, what it needs is more Big Boi, and a little more funk. 3/5

NS: The piano melody is amateur stuff, and it never really develops, and yet somehow the song affects. Part of it is the ruminative nature of Big's words, especially in the section where he discusses his deceased father, the first "Dusty Chico" who served in Vietnam. Even when the song is gentle, there's a hard-edged tinge to Big's subject matter--it's a song about growing up and gaining perspective, and it takes a lot of musical chances to make some interesting points. 4/5

14. Descending feat. Little Dragon

AM: "Tremendous Damage" morphs into "Descending" smoothly, and all of a sudden we're back to the guitar waves of the intro. Yukimi Nagano's wail and Big Boi's warble float in the song's ether, getting heavy. Here's a weird, regretful, almost new agey cut that keeps both feet planted in OutKast's universe. No small feat. 4.5/5

NS: As promised, the creamy acoustic arpeggios of "Ascending" have returned, adorned with ghostly spiritual soundscapes courtesy of Little Dragon. Big Boi once again returns to the subject of his father, even going so far as to croon desperately "My daddy's gone," in what is likely the album's darkest moment. "Descending" is an austere track, but it builds into something refined and stately, a radical inversion of the casual boast song. It would only work as an ender on an album of this caliber. 4.5/5


Nathan's average score was 4.1, Aaron's was 3.8. Expect another OutKast-related Beatdown in this space in the near future. If you're feeling nostalgic, check out our Beatdown of Big Boi's first solo album.

Sweet Jane On The Radio

These days, traditional American music--the blues, gospel, jazz--has nearly disappeared from guitar rock. A couple of creaky, cranky foreigners are the last guys standing. Spiritualized's Jason Pierce and Nick Cave are united by their original vision for the music that inspired rock and roll in the first place. Like Cave, Pierce bends blues and gospel idioms to his thematic interests. That Pierce goes by J Spaceman should give you some indication of what his treatment of these genres sounds like--spaced-out meditations on love, loss and drug use.

Spaceman's music--going back to his first band, Spacemen 3--has been consistently brilliant since the mid-80's. I may have been in a minority, but I thought his last album, 2008's Songs In A&E, was that year's best release (although Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds' fearsome Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! is a damn fine album itself). So of course I was excited that Pierce released an album this April. Was I right to be? Here's a track-by-track breakdown:

1. "Huh? (Intro)"

This brief intro eases listeners into Sweet Heart Sweet Light. Recalls the Harmony sketches on Songs in A&E, but the swelling strings make for a fuller sound. 

2. "Hey Jane"
Kicking off with one chord shot, the nine minute "Hey Jane" is classic Spiritualized: an immersive, lengthy jam that rushes forward, picking up instrumentation as it goes. The key line references the Velvets: Pierce has never been shy about his debts to the VU, here fitting the sweetness of "Sweet Jane" into "Sister Ray"'s mold. The breakdown around 2:50 doesn't entirely work, but it gives "Hey Jane" a second chance to build itself up, this time starting with a bass line and keyboard drone that sounds beamed in from The Perfect Prescription. The lead guitar is another wonder--unhurriedly climbing and falling against the rhythm, and inserted into the song with clinical precision. It's a reminder that this band (whose lineup has been relatively stable for a decade now) and its backup singers are a mighty unit. 5/5

3. "Little Girl"
Buoyed by a Wall of Strings, "Little Girl" brings to mind the lush style of 2001's Let It Come Down. Not that Songs in A&E was particularly raw, but this is on the baroque end of the spectrum. Most tellingly, the raggedness that crept into Pierce's voice on the last album has been banished. But his affectless vocals make a fine counterpoint to the swirling pop here, with its lovely little dance before the chorus. Bonus points for the melodic guitar solo, indebted to George Harrison, another of rock's spiritual hedonists. 4.5/5

4. "Get What You Deserve"
"Get What You Deserve" is driven by a two-chord drone. It sounds like something Spaceman would have done a quarter century ago with Spacemen 3, but it's played far faster here than that band ever would have done it. The vocal doesn't deliver any venom--the lyrics and delivery are weak points. At seven minutes it's longer than the material really justifies. But the keyboard, backwards noises and searching strings create a pleasant enough headspace. 3.5/5

5. "Too Late"
A piano ballad, basically, whose sweeping chorus is framed by verses about motherly wisdom. The transition from one to the other is abrupt at first, but sounds more and more natural. The lyrics are again a weak point, but the Pierce sells the vocal, which helps "Too Late" fall on the right side of the line between sweet and sentimental. 4/5

6. "Headin' for the Top Now"
The thunderstorming guitar is an abrasive palate cleanser after the last three tunes. No attempt is really made to corral it into tunefulness, and "Headin' for the Top Now" is a better and more ominous song for that. Another long tune, at over eight minutes, it hammers away at its groove until it sounds like a mantra. The vocals (and bass) are buried here, but I'm intrigued by the addition of the backing vocals at the end. The song grinds to a halt just as the female vox establish themselves--I wish Pierce would have seen how high they could take his groove, rather than letting them stomp it out. 4/5

7. "Freedom"

J Spacemen doesn't have a voice for country, but as "Freedom" attests, he can write it. That makes sense--country's themes aren't so far removed from the blues lyrics that Pierce endlessly reconfigures. Spiritualized's twang is narcoleptic, naturally, on this C&W kiss off. "Freedom" is an album track--I can assure you this will not be the next single--but the gentleness of the goodbye is special. The grandeur's in the simplicity. 3.5/5

8. "I Am What I Am"

I've never been a fan of "Cop Shoot Cop," the Dr. John-featuring album closer on Ladies And Gentlemen. So I was not especially excited by the appearance of a second Spiritualized song co-written with the Night Tripper (Pierce seems like more of a day tripper, as these things go). But this barroom stomp has an evil glint--it sounds a bit like the sky looks, all green or yellow or purple, before a tornado hits. The skronky horns are the fetid frosting on this dirty blues. 4.5/5

9. "Mary"
"Mary" follows naturally from "I Am What I Am"--a Stonesy snarl on which even the string section glares. Halfway through the song, Pierce does some rare adlibs, and stops singing. The band takes over, and their deliberate lurch is almost blues-rock--it's space blues played straight. This is a band that has always interpreted American gospel and blues, but "I Am What I Am" and "Mary" find them cutting records closer to that source material than ever before. 4/5

10. "Life Is a Problem"

There is a thin line between spiritual longing and chemical dependency in Spiritualized--a blurring together of spiritual and recreational ecstasy. This song's narrator pines for Christ to alter his psychology. The lyric doesn't quite work--lines like "Jesus please be my aeroplane" abound--but the string-driven track is nearly innocent enough to pull it off. One to give to Daniel Johnston? 3/5

11. "So Long You Pretty Thing"
You can feel it coming on before it happens, at 4:15, but the lift off that "So Long You Pretty Thing" achieves outpaces nearly anything in Spiritualized's catalog. Horns arrive from nowhere, clearing space for Pierce's archetypal riff to cut through in a no-bullshit moment of clarity. The celestial rock and roll of "So Long You Pretty Thing"'s final section is a revelation, a rare moment of affirmation in the Spiritualized catalog. It's an answer to the song's first two movements--one of them a duet between Pierce and his eleven year-old daughter--which pose loneliness as the deepest of all spiritual longings. The second movement finds a weary Pierce looking for help from above, and some unexpected banjo.

The first two parts of this song would be lovely by themselves, but it's the transition to that churning riff, gospel choir, and proud horns--it's like sailing forward inside a sunbeam. The lyrics here don't particularly answer the dilemma Pierce sets out. But the music does, as it ascends up and up, higher with each iteration, responding to Pierce's dilemma with its body-seizing catharsis. This is a song whose power and danger stem from its empathy--for its reveal that the guy hiding behind his sunglasses is an optimist. 5/5