Listen: Middle Class Alcoholic by Bruce James

Bruce James is the work of American musician Michael Bartlett. Originally from Washington DC but now in Raleigh, NC, Bartlett began making music as young as 11, after getting a guitar and a copy of (music production software) Cakewalk for his birthday.

Bartlett became the chief sound engineer at the Black Cat venue in DC, but ultimately felt it wasn’t his calling, questioning his own abilities and, ultimately, choosing to move on. In talking to him, Michael is open about his self-doubt, and the fact he wrestles with imposter syndrome.

In Bruce James, Bartlett has a different kind of outlet. Typically, he works alone, with his guitar and equipment, maybe hauled up in a hotel room. And whilst he may struggle with a sense of self-doubt, he states that the one thing he is confident of is his own sound. The uniqueness of Bartlett’s musical voice, means that he doesn’t see his sound as being directly derived from anyone. Based on Middle Class Alcoholic, I’m inclined to agree.

As a song, Middle Class Alcoholic has a textured, slightly folksy aesthetic, but whilst the production techniques are subtle, there is actually a significant amount of purposeful detail here. The song’s first half sits on a crisp drum beat, Bartlett’s initial haunted-sounding vocal gradually joined by processed vocal harmonies and synth melodies. In the song’s second half, the percussion melts into a clattering drum solo, guitar work picking out a beautiful melody as the song reaches its climax. The result is impressive – definitely not derivative, but I find myself pleasantly reminded of Kurt Vile, and The Long Winters.

Talking about the song, Bartlett found himself reflecting on a podcast he once heard, regarding alcoholism:

“(The podcast) defined (a) middle class alcoholic as someone who doesn't drink to excess but drinks every day, and it's harder to NOT have a drink than to have that one beer. Which I felt really defined me for a long time. I still drink, but not every day.”

I’m intrigued by the creativity clearly on display by Bruce James, coupled with his candour and vulnerability, and can’t wait to hear more.

Watch: What’s The Movie by Ayelle

Having previously appeared on BlackPlastic.co.uk back in 2019 with her minimal, crisp R&B Regrets, and then again, a year ago, with her emotive single Get Away, London-based musician Ayelle is back with her latest single.

Taken from her forthcoming release Shadowselflove, What’s The Movie stays true to Ayelle’s trademark style. Emotionally vulnerable lyrics combine with clean lines and stark melodies to create something with a minimal yet dramatic resonance. Restrained melodic touches sit alongside Ayelle’s vocals, underpinned by powerful drum kicks and bass.

Shadowselflove is designed as part one of Ayelle’s debut album, and together with part two, Higherselflove, it forms a concept album exploring “the duality of human experience”. Shadowselflove is designed to be “an invitation to identify and see past our illusions and fears, whilst processing and integrating our shadow aspects from a place of curiosity, acceptance and self-compassion”.

Describing the process of writing Shadowselflove, Ayelle says:

“I wanted to create a safe space for processing difficult emotions, which is what these songs have been for me. I wrote them during a period of my life where I was doing a lot of shadow work and recognizing tender and weary parts of myself, along with limiting beliefs and things that needed to change in my life. I implemented a lot of changes after writing these songs, and the continuation of this healing journey is chronicled in Part 2 of this exploration, set to release next year.”

Check out What’s The Movie below:

Listen: Waiting For Dawn by The Seshen

The Seshen are a Bay Area sextet, focused on creating sounds that blend R&B and indie. The sound here reminds me of the electronic stylings of husband-and-wife duo Sylvan Esso, both in tone and style.

Which is to say, The Seshen are crafting purposeful, distinctive pop music. Vocalist Lalin St. Juste provides an emotive focal point for the instrumentation that surrounds her, here in Waiting For Dawn. Layers of electronic melody combine with low slung bass tones and snappy drums to create a sound that feels stark and clean, whilst benefitting from a slight fuzziness at the edges.

Taken from their forthcoming album, Nowhere, Waiting For Dawn is an exploration of the “restlessness and tumultuous thoughts one experiences while grappling with grief and the aftermath of a significant life transition”. During times of shock and insomnia, sometimes the dawn of a new day is the only salve available. It’s a beautiful, distinctive song and I can’t wait to hear the rest of the record.

Listen: Elevator by Crewless

When asks what music I like, one of my go-to answers has long been “dance music made by rock bands, and rock music made by dance acts”. There is something in that overlap that appeals to me, and perhaps that predisposes me to like Crewless, who claim a very-loose musical backbone of “house music with punk guitars”.

As a group, it appears that Crewless enjoy toying with concepts. They have three vocalists, lending them a hard-to-pin down quality — a diverse palette, a collective energy, and a dynamic interplay. But they also like to create two versions of their songs. It may be that one of these will be more electronic, and dance floor orientated, whilst the other is more laid back.

And that technique is employed here, on Elevator. The “Going Up” version deals in angular guitars, crunchy distortion and loose-but-punchy percussion, a punk-funk aesthetic with a melt-in-the-middle in the chorus. In contrast, the “Going Down” version has a crisper, electronic feel to it, electronic drums providing a cool, polished aesthetic, against which sub-bass and glass-like vocals slide past. Both are special, distinctive, and atmospheric in their own way.

Check both versions of Elevator our, below:

Watch: What Are The Chances by Man Alive

Man Alive is the solo project of Mark Prendergast, of Dublin outfit Kodaline, and his new single is the kind of song that feels instantly recognisable. The opening guitar refrain invokes familiar melodies as Prendergast lays down a wistful, heartbroken vocal.

Rather than shelter in timidity, however, What Are The Chances is full-throated, the chorus arriving in a golden carriage built of piano chords and melodies that ratchet the emotional drama of those gentle guitars. The result is undeniably cinematic, and it would risk being derivative if it wasn’t for two things.

Firstly, through Prendergast’s lyricism. The artist weaves together universally emotive themes, from small details, like visiting the old haunts of a loved one, to the big thematic hook of wanting to start a relationship again, with his promise of being better.

Yet Prendergast contrasts these, almost like an unreliable narrator — the odd disconcerting line hanging over his earnest vocals like a trailing question mark. Chief among them is the admission that, “I know I burned your neighbourhood to the ground”, but there are other details — walking in the rain, smoke in his room, and ultimately the reflection that “I’d probably end up doing the same”. It’s the kind of love song that straddles epic romance, and something quite a bit darker.

The second reason What Are The Chances transcends its form, however, is just how deftly it is constructed. Unwilling to rest on its laurels, the song further ratchets the chorus on its second iteration. In addition to the piano, it introduces dramatic reverb-heavy percussion before giving way to a bridge that has Prendergast’s vocal ad-libbing its way into the sunset.

Describing the song for BlackPlastic.co.uk, Prendergast shares how it is very much rooted in personal experience:

“What Are The Chances is a song about being at fault for a break up happening, for being on the other side of it. There’s no way around it, I let someone down and it’s about that. In the past I’ve written more from the other perspective because that’s where I was at.”

I was a little blown away by What Are The Chances, a song that feels so familiar and yet so memorable all at once.