It’s been said that having an inner monologue can help regulate your emotions, nurture self-awareness and build a healthy appreciation of the world and your place in it—all the signs of good living. But the question remains: are you really living if there’s no soundtrack to back things up?
Can you imagine what The Lord of the Rings film trilogy would be like without the expert touch of composer Howard Shore? Perish the thought.
The genre hardly matters. After all, music is art, and art is subjective. What does matter is how it makes you feel—how it inspires your daily living and pushes you to embrace creative self-expression in all the ways that are quintessentially you. That being said, there are quite a few genres out there that are floating across the technological ether. We wouldn’t blame you for not being able to keep up.
Avant-garde pop and progressive heavy metal. ‘90s hip-hop and 00’s pop-punk. Ambient, jazz, classical and everything in between. Even more niche subgenres like shoegaze and Midwest emo.
Each suite of monthly music sees new and returning artists delving into these disparate genres, and September was no exception. In fact, it might just have been the most diverse month of the year so far, full of up-and-coming talents and storied veterans alike.
On one side of the planet, Dabda serves up dancing math rock from Seoul, South Korea; on the other, Showing Teeth screams chugging progressive metal from Nashville, Tennessee. Where Bonobo’s downtempo electronica is fashioned from the expansive architecture of world music, Pokey LaFarge is a true-blue manifestation of the ’60s in the present day, all crooning, folky blues. September was a veritable cornucopia of sonic delight, overflowing with catchy earworms, tear-inducing ballads and uplifting anthems. Eat your hearts out, music lovers—this month, we’re all winners.
Read about all of this and more below, in the September edition of Vogue Singapore’s monthly music roundup.
1 / 8
On by Dabda
Dabda has been one of South Korea’s most arresting musical acts of the last decade. Since their 2016 debut EP, the four-piece has been brewing up a storm of dancy, dreamy math rock. However, while the band’s previous influences were more obvious—next-door neighbour Toe’s drummer, Takashi Kashikura, even lends a hand on their 2021 single ‘Jungle Gym’—Dabda’s newest record, On, signals the loudest, proudest evolution of their sound to-date. Fret not, the carefully arranged chaos of drummer Lee Seunghyeon is still very much present. Frontwoman Kim Jiae’s gossamer vocals continues to send chills down the spine. But the tracks here project a newfound confidence to pioneer uncharted territory. The breakdown in ‘Choo Choo’ tackles sludgy grunge with aplomb, and ‘DDDD’ toys with Afrobeat flair in its bridge. Clearly, Dabda are no longer just math rock—the metamorphosis presented by On is profound, carried out with a wonderful sense of purpose. Even when they take things down a notch on ‘Dear Hope’ and lean on familiar, nostalgic longing, you can’t help but feel it’s been given a new, brighter, more hopeful spin.
Listen to On here.
2 / 8
Rent Money by Pokey LaFarge
Even if you think the blues aren’t for you, give Pokey LaFarge’s newest record a chance. Trust. There are few artists out there infusing old-school, American Midwest cool with new-school, genre-defying sensibilities quite like LaFarge. On Rent Money, those sensibilities take riveting form in a dynamic blend of reggae, country, gospel, swing and more—all of which have been part and parcel of his signature sound for the last sixteen years. The production of ‘My Baby Loves Me’ features wry vocals inflected with just enough static, invoking the best of smoky jazz clubs in days long past; a rollicking, swinging drum beat that’s impossible not to shake your hips to; and plenty of licks of tasteful, twangy guitar. Title track ‘Rent Money’ tackles the blues from a different, but no less winsome angle, with lyrics that are playful, self-aware and grounded in utterly relatable, existential resignation.
Listen to Rent Money here.
3 / 8
A Fate Worse Than Loneliness by Showing Teeth
The age-old pejorative “You punch like a girl” is, as we all know, meaningless. Just look at Showing Teeth’s explosive debut record, A Fate Worse Than Loneliness. Much like her thunderous peers leading progressive metal acts like Spiritbox and Jinjer, the Nashville native sings and screams with the very best of her male counterparts, from Periphery’s Spencer Sotelo to Northlane’s Marcus Bridge. In all honesty, this album, short as it is at seven tracks, is a stunner, through and through. The guitars riff in all their downtuned glory, the drums roar blast beats with gut-churning consistency and Addison’s accomplished vocal work dances between growling shrieks and soaring cleans with an expertise that would have you believe she’s been in the game for decades. While landmine single ‘Labyrinth’ kicks the doors wide open with the frontwoman belting out a hair-raising “Yeah yeah, yeah yeah!”, closing track ‘Paradigm’ is the closest thing to a yearning stadium-rock anthem as it gets on the record. Go on, shed those tears—we’re right there with you.
Listen to A Fate Worse Than Loneliness here.
4 / 8
Happier Now by Movements
In 2017, the post-hardcore outfit Movements won over hearts with their debut record Feel Something—tugging, often tearing, at heartstrings with an uncanny touch. With each subsequent release, the four-piece from California seems to have taken their signature melancholy and infused it with brighter, more energetic doses of upbeat punk- and alt-rock. Happier Now is the culmination of nearly a decade of these efforts. Of course, whether or not the band is actually ‘happier now’ is still up in the air, but the album’s sound and frontman Patrick Miranda’s lyrics seem to hint at some kind of upwards trajectory. On ‘Back in My Ways’, minor chords in the first three minutes of sparse vocals, guitar and bass transform into a sweeping major finale flush with crashing drums. And at the very least, Miranda’s ongoing contemplation of existence in the title track—”Looked for something deep inside; Offerings and honest sacrifice, sacrifice; Alter my life for some cheap acceptance; All for my peace again”—means he’s trying. That’s got to count for something.
Listen to Happier Now here.
5 / 8
Distance in Static
There’s a special place in electronic production circles reserved for those who have put the work in, carved out their own stylistic space and, perhaps most importantly, kept up with the changing times. The English are particularly talented in this regard. Alongside the likes of Burial and Four Tet, DJ and producer Simon Charles Green has demonstrated once again why he belongs in the pantheon of electronica greats. Long before it was trendy to be maximalist with your production, packing it to the gills with blaring distortion and ultra-upbeat tempos, a la Ninajirachi and Underscores (no hate here, though—both artists are incredible), the 50-year-old Green was calling on soundscapes borne from the natural world to fuel his music. His latest release, Distance in Static, takes that approach and runs with it, elevating it at times to a very nearly orchestral status. Steady beats on ‘Cycles’ crescendo to heavenly heights and ‘Fire on the Water’, featuring the ethereal Pakistani singer Arooj Aftab crooning in her native Urdu, is mesmerising as meditative practice.
Listen to Distance in Static here.
6 / 8
Fell Asleep in the Sun by After
After’s new album will make you feel like it’s the mid-2000’s all over again. Remember ‘Fireflies’ by Owl City’? ‘A Thousand Miles’ by Vanessa Carlton? What about ‘Here (In Your Arms)’ by Hellogoodbye? The first twenty seconds of ‘Promise (When You Go)’—the similarity in naming convention here might not be intentional, but it’s definitely welcome—harks to those good old days, full of angsty romance, dreamy innocence and all-too-skinny jeans. But After’s take on trippy pop and poppy rock doesn’t feel dated at all, even if Fell Asleep in the Sun’s cover looks like it was created when dial-up modems were still a thing. If anything, the duo are engaging in a bit of cultural prescience: style, whether in fashion, film or music, is cyclical, after all, and old-school cringe is looking like new-school cool, day by day. That charm is worn proudly on After’s sleeve, seen in the rousing, anthemic chorus of ‘Metal’, the soulful strumming of acoustic guitar on ‘Blind’ and the warbling synths of the closing title track.
Listen to Fell Asleep in the Sun here.
7 / 8
Ball of Light by Chrome Sparks
As Chrome Sparks, Jeremy Malvin made a name for himself with his 2011 debut record, My <3. However, while that caught the attention of electronica aficionados, it was his self-titled 2018 work that cemented his position in the annals of future beats fame. In Ball of Light, Malvin looks to double down on his sound—a mix of bass-heavy synths and emotionally uplifting arrangements—but now he has more than a decade and a half of experience to soften some of his glitchier edges. It’s not caution so much as it is confidence; more self-assured maturity, less dying to please. Opening track ‘Sleeper’ immediately signals the slow, steady growth of age, featuring three minutes of ambient heavyweight Sigur Rós and popular singer-songwriter Khalid building a world of otherworldly sonic cinema. Even ‘Glassrush.606’, which calls back to his heavier days with a noticeably upbeat tempo, is tempered by tons of space in between the club-ready choruses.
Listen to Ball of Light here.
8 / 8
Bread & Butter by Your Old Droog
Your Old Droog hit the scene like a lightning bolt out of the blue in 2014 with a debut EP that boasted so much charisma that online denizens thought the Ukrainian-born American rapper was Nas himself. As praise goes, you really can’t get much higher. Droog’s influences continue to be obvious, but in Bread & Butter’s case, that’s a good thing. The album is one half ode to MF Doom, one half punky upstart Brooklyn kid, daring the world to deny him his spot in the cypher. Each track is an exercise in tightly focused production and cool lyrical swagger. On Flying Lotus and Georgia Anne Muldrow feature ‘I Don’t Care’, Droog is delightfully imperious: “Most cats just mad cuz I don’t chit chat; What type of shit is that? What is this, pre-school? I gotta socialise to be cool?” Earned pride and shallow arrogance are two sides of the same coin, but, thankfully, Droog knows how to dance with the former and look past the latter.
Listen to Bread & Butter here.
