I’ve bought only two albums newly released this year. I knew about them both before release, and they’re both second albums.
‘So what?’ you may well be asking.
Well, by this point in the year I would have expected to buy at least one debut from an artist I’d never even heard of at the start of the year. I’d have expected to have been wowed by someone who’d previously shown promise but stepped up their game with a new release. I’d have expected someone I’d forgotten all about to have made an unexpectedly good comeback. An established artist in their prime with their best work yet. But no. None of this has happened. Take a look at my last four record purchases for example: a compilation, two reissues from Leftfield and a second hand EP from 2016. At some point in the not too distant future I’m going to have to suggest an album to include in the PB Mercury prize list. And I’m going to be stumped. It’s a real worry.
It’s not just me. There’s consensus among the PBs that 2023 so far has been bad. And it’s an excuse we’ll stand by to account for the relative dearth of reviews on the site so far this year.
So we must ask why? Why has 2023 been so bad, so far? Have we reached some sort of creative and cultural watershed moment? Like when britpop ended and UK garage and nu metal filled the gap before the indie rock/post punk revival happened. A movement which in turn met its demise as it turned to landfill and eventually gave way to the 2010s, a decade where apparently Frank Ocean made one of the best albums.
Now, like Kazimir Malevich’s ‘Black Square’ and ‘White on White’ were the natural and logical artistic conclusion to the concept of Suprematism, a super concentrated form of abstract art, Wet Leg’s Wet Leg, was the natural conclusion to whatever as yet unamed wave of music we’ve been riding high on since we started this site back in 2019. And that’s the most favourable comparison I’ll ever make of Wet Leg. In less pretentious terms, we jumped the shark, not just musically, but as a nation. Wet Leg are this decade’s equivalent of The Pigeon Detectives or Embrace.
Britpop had Diana’s death, 00s indie rock/post punk revival had the financial crash, and the current wave had the events of 2022. Humanitarian crises in Yemen and elsewhere, war in Ukraine, Iran went nuts, Charles became king, Liz Truss was the worst PM of all time, and yes, we heard a band repeat the words chaise longue over and over. It was a moment.
Thankfully, there is a positive side to all this. With every death a rebirth and so on. Something new, and youthful, and exciting, and revolutionary, and quite possibly able to transcend current bullshit modern obsessions like the so-called culture wars, is on the way. I take the idea of any of the great pop cultural scenes being entirely organic with a handful of salt – there’s always been a degree of artifice and journalistic intervention. Who’s to say how, and indeed if, such a thing as a ‘scene’ could happen in the streaming age. But believe me, it’s coming. We’re going to have to wait and see what exactly it is – none of us is cool or young enough to have a finger on the pulse, a squashed insect on the windscreen of the bandwagon, or a zeit on the geist to be able to tell you. But it’s coming.
What will we make of it? Keep on reading, and if we’re still here in 2024, and someone releases some new music worth listening to, we’ll be sure to tell you.
Words by James Spearing
Picky Bastards 