Why The Weeknd is The Epitome Of 'Modern Popular Music'

It might just be these days of instant – and often fleeting – internet or TV talent quest musical fame means a comparatively slow-building career and reputation might even sneak past you. And seemingly suddenly, some Canadian kid with a funny haircut now turns up on Forbes rich lists, dates supermodels – before dumping them for Selena Gomez - gets arrested, and gets contracts with one of those big sporting goods companies who want to name a pair of sneakers after him. So Abel Tesfaye, aka The Weeknd, is now one of the biggest acts in the world, and he releasing a new tune becomes an event – even worthy of leading off this widely-respected rambling monologue of mine. Oh, you want to know about the music? OK, Secrets (Republic) is smooth, but somehow still a bit edgy “alternative R&B” – yeah, that’s a thing now – occasionally with an almost middle-eastern ring in it to give it another point of difference. Et voila, modern popular music.

If you want something a little more human in scale, but equally worthy of notice, Julia Jacklin makes a more idiosyncratic music. Eastwick (Liberation) has her ruminating on a life and/or relationship that she’s obviously pretty over, with some hint of snark and self-awareness. Out in an oppressive suburbia, there’s some conversational slacker in the tone as she finds solace in blue cocktails (umbrella optional), the pokies and Dancing With The Stars, before a drenching guitar solo toward the end out on the local footy oval adds a little catharsis. Jacklin’s style and songs always seem to leave a few questions hanging, and that’s a talent in itself. 

And sometimes, the audience still craves the familiar. They’ve been together, they’ve been apart, but apparently the world – and their record company – appears to wish they’d just make another Big Jet Plane. Probably thankfully, Angus & Julia Stone don’t entirely bow to that demand, but in its low-key, just sitting at the kitchen table, understated charms, Snow (EMI) has those familiar ingredients their audience would require. Her slightly distracted warble intersects with his slightly weary counterpoint, as they wander through the process of making music that could easily be tracked to a farmhouse in the hinterlands around Byron Bay, where their suburban enthusiasts would happily move to tomorrow if they could.

There’s a different approach in what Gordi offers as another angle of Australian pop music. Mostly electronic, with some brass just off in the distance, there is a stately manner to Heaven I Know (Hey Alfalfa/Jagjaguwar), even the relationship that centres it sinks. The showing of the bones of the song, as the rhythm is counted off repeatedly, could be gimmicky - but does work as another way into it. Conversely, the necessity of the slightly auto-tuned effect as she finds a way to her (and the song’s) resolution could be argued - as that’s increasingly a sound perhaps becoming a little dated.

Some artists have a different kind of respect and legacy. Lee Ranaldo is one guy from the now-probably-defunct (because Thurston couldn’t keep it in his trousers) Sonic Youth, but should also hold a special place in the hearts of all Australians for also being the guy who saw some potential in a little rock and roll combo from Sydney, and took them to America to produce a couple of records called Sound As Ever and Hi-Fi Way. The You Am I’s storied history aside, he’s gone back to making pretty terrific music of his own, illustrated here by Circular (Right As Rain) (Mute). Sweet and fearsomely catchy pop music, with occasional outbreaks of discordance just to make it a little more interesting. Bonuses include the presence of the fresh-from-Twin Peaks Sharon Van Etten as other voice, and Wilco’s Nels Cline as other guitar. What more do you need, people? 

The almost oppressive old-style UK music press hype that once surrounded them has probably and hopefully dissipated a bit, and Wolf Alice can now maybe just be good. Yuk Foo (Dirty Art/Liberator) a nicely-stained just-over-two-minute blast of pissed-offedness, with Ellie showing a middle finger to the world in the finely traditional punk manner, right down to the Johnny Rotten-style broken ‘Whoop!’ in the middle of the first chorus as she brightly announces ‘You bore me to death…’. 

City Calm Down are also channelling something from where the ‘70s seeped into the ‘80s. Blood (I Oh You) has an almost New Romantic rich melodrama to it. Mannered, but not quite pretentious in its delivery, it lulls you before dropping the clutch and sweeping away bigly. We kinda do need pop music like this: Polished (but not overly so…), assured (but not smug…), commercial (but not altogether dumbed down…). It’s a balance often difficult to maintain. Let’s see how they go with maintaining it. 

Relatedly, there can be that strain of slacker-attitude loser pop that takes a helluva effort to sound so offhand. Andre Allen Anjos, in his RAC band guise makes such a creative contradiction sound almost natural in I Still Wanna Know (Counter/Inertia). There’s a slightly scuffed gloss enamel brightness to what is presented, and the nonchalant appearance of a guitar solo that could only be  absolutely the work of Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo is the glace cherry on the top. Sourly sweet as.