Issue 26: Where Is My Mind?
Reviewing Gia Margaret's new album and a collaboration from Fred Again.. and Brian Eno
Welcome back to Band Practice where I listen to as much new music as I can cram inside my headphones (I know it doesn’t work that way) and share my favorite finds with you. Since the last issue, I listened to 22 new releases including the nine hour long album from Mac DeMarco—which was actually a very pleasant listening experience and makes for excellent, chill background music. One gorgeous album, Romantic Piano from Gia Margret, particularly stood out among the bunch and is my pick of the week. I’m also coming back to an album I listened to a month ago, that continues to be on my mind: Secret Life from Fred Again.. and Brian Eno. Both albums, perhaps coincidentally, are ambient-ish. If you’re not familiar with the genre, these are two excellent, accessible entry points. They also both feel personal, and I’ll share why.
But first, a housekeeping note about reader recommendations. Thank you to those of you who have shared album recommendations so far! If you’re interested in your album being featured in an upcoming issue, make sure to check for replies to your Substack comment so I can get in touch with you. But the best way to send me a recommendation is to reply to this email (or any future one) directly, so I have a good way to get back to you. Keep ‘em coming!
Intro
One of the challenges of this endeavor to listen to so many albums and write about them is mindset. If I’m not in the right headspace to listen to an album, it is hard for me to absorb and appreciate it. And if I’m in a funk when I go to write, I get stuck. This past month has been difficult for those reasons. I have been dealing with a lot of grief that I am still trying to process. My grandpa, whom I loved dearly, passed away last month. And my elderly dog—to add to his existing list of health conditions—recently lost his eyesight, which has been a huge adjustment in our household. It has all been a bit overwhelming and I’ve been coping by taking a lot of naps and watching old seasons of RuPaul’s Drag Race (highly recommend both).
In feeling so emotionally drained, most of the albums I listened to this month were not what I needed in the moment. There were some fabulous finds—like Janelle Monáe’s The Age of Pleasure, which I may come back to in a future issue—but it was hard to fully enjoy them. But the thing about music is that there is always room for what you do need to find you. The two albums featured in this issue found me and brought me comfort. They have been doulas of grief, if you will—helping me move through my feelings toward peace.
If you’re also dealing with grief or difficult emotions, I hope these albums will bring some peace and comfort to you, too. I think they will be soothing no matter what state you’re in, but if it’s just not your jam right now, that’s ok. I have new singles from the 22 diverse albums that I just added to my newsletter playlist for you to peruse and enjoy. You can find it at the end of this issue. I also have an upbeat and carefree summer playlist coming soon for some sunny day escapism.
Pick of the week
Romantic Piano — Gia Margaret
Alternative/Ambient [Released 5/26/23]
It is easy to take the small, seemingly insignificant things in life for granted. The crescendo of a sunrise, the crunch of gravel beneath your feet on a morning walk, a cicada singing in the stillness of the evening—we can’t always feel their importance. In Romantic Piano, Gia Margaret shows reverence for these moments—capturing and preserving them in melody as if placing them inside a snow globe.
I discovered Margaret—Chicago singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and producer—from the Herb Sundays newsletter. Its guests share personalized playlists and hers is one of my favorites to date. Like her playlist, her self-dubbed “sleep rock” evokes, aptly, a profound sense of calm. But, lest you worry, it is not at all snoozy. I found myself attentively listening to each note in awe of how much emotion it conjured.
Margaret’s music is startlingly simplistic—her main medium is piano over field recordings, with the occasional electronic hum, synthesizer, or acoustic guitar in the mix. The whole album feels improvised—naturally flowing from thought to sound wave. In “A Stretch,” her fingers roll up and down the keys as a couple of saxophones seem to appear from the ether. What feels so casually composed has the impact of a whole symphony of sound. Though the album is mostly instrumental, she provides one exception with “City Song,” where she lends her voice to sing about loss—the thump of a kick drum giving her words weight.
The most affecting moment on the album is “2017.” Light, skipping piano is accompanied by the sounds of children playing—or perhaps it’s the other way around. Loops of recorded sound and an uptempo beat give it texture as a distorted voice talks about finding space for change. In this one song, she manages to take the joyfulness of youth and distill it into gratitude for the present.
When life feels so overwhelmingly complicated, simplicity feels like a gift. I feel grateful for this album for providing a few minutes of respite from my thoughts, and reminding me to appreciate the small wonders of life every time I put it on.
Tracks on repeat: A Stretch, City Song, 2017
Also available on Apple Music, bandcamp
Also worth a listen
Secret Life — Fred again.. & Brian Eno
Electronic/Ambient [Released 5/5/23]
Fred Gibson—known as “Fred again..”—is one of my favorite DJs I’ve come across. He always looks like he’s in a deep flow and full of life when he’s creating (for evidence, see his brilliant Tiny Desk Concert). In 2021-2022, the British producer, singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist released his Actual Life trilogy of electronic albums, produced during the first two years of the pandemic.1 He made them as a way of dealing with grief and moving through its stages, capturing snapshots of his life at the time.2 Secret Life—his collaboration with legendary producer, musician, and pioneer of ambient music, Brian Eno (who is also responsible for this sound)—was produced in parallel to these albums, covering the same subject matter from a slightly different, more intimate lens.
Eno—longtime mentor and friend of Gibson’s—is the perfect person to come alongside him in this chapter of the project with his expertise in crafting evocative music. It is clear that he helped Gibson tap into something deeper than what was present on the Actual Life albums. Together, they wring emotion from simple orchestrations, hazy vocals, and electronic whirrings and hums. The result is so visceral and beautiful it is almost painful at times.
In “I Saw You,” a few sparse notes on the piano seem to crack open Gibson’s mind, letting his ruminations on loss spill out. “I can’t shake this…you were real…please be okay,” he sings. In “Cmon,” jerky vocals and and electric throbs flutter like a stomach full of butterflies, holding on to anxiety and longing for release. “Chest” feels like an attempt to let go as the body does everything in its power to resist. Tension builds with nudging keys and synths, occasionally stumbling as if they, too, are struggling to reach acceptance.
The album’s last track, “Come On Home” impacted me the most. I first listened to this album the day my grandpa passed away and the song encapsulated a peace that I needed. The plunks of piano felt like tears I was trying to shed but couldn’t. Its chorus, “come on home, you don’t have to be alone,” felt like a hand reaching out from the afterlife welcoming my grandpa home.
Like Margaret’s, this album has also been gift and—though I knew I’d be in good hands with Gibson and Eno—I was still surprised by how much it moved me. Their ability to capture the fullness of grief has helped me process my own. I am glad it came to me in the exact moment I needed it.
Tracks on repeat: I Saw You, Cmon, Come On Home
Also available on Apple Music, bandcamp
Thanks for reading! Next up this month is a special issue with my ~picante~ summer playlist. Subscribe below to get it delivered straight to your inbox. You won’t want to miss it!
The playlist!
Want even more good music?? I’m keeping a running playlist of my favorite song from every new album I listen to this year. It’s ordered chronologically by date listened and I’ll update it with every issue. It’s getting long, so you’ll need to scroll to the end get to the most recent albums. The latest batch starts with the song “Reflexion” from Sufjan Stevens, Timo Andres, and Conor Hanick’s collaborative classical album. Some highlights on the list are “Cop Caller” from Greg Mendez that feels like an Elliott Smith dupe, and “Light Moves Around You” from mmeadows which has some goosebump-inducing things going on vocally (big thanks to reader Libby for recommending their album).
Albums of 2023 - Apple Music playlist
Albums of 2023 - Spotify playlist
I love hearing what you have to say! If you have feelings about this issue, questions for me, album recommendations, or any other thoughts, send them my way by hitting that comment button or replying to this email.
With your feet on the air and your head on the ground…
My favorite is the third iteration in the series.
Source: Apple Music