Well Played: A Review of Kacey Musgraves’ Deeper Well
When you dive into Kacey Musgraves’ lovely folk-country album, Deeper Well, you’ll likely discover the singer/songwriter secure, but searching. After love (captured on the masterpiece that is 2018’s Golden Hour) and loss (poured out on 2021’s star-crossed) come self-healing, (personal and professional) lessons learned, even a few unanswered questions, all reflected on 14 sonically soothing, acoustic-centered tracks, with Musgraves’ angelic voice at the heart (of the woods).
Here, Musgraves is at her earthiest. Throughout the album, she and her writing team have incorporated references to the natural world and its inhabitants, the seasons and the afterlife: With the opener, “Cardinal,” the scarlet-red bird is seen as a messenger “from the other side” (an expression Musgraves also adds to “Dinner with Friends”). She also asks: “Are you just watching and waiting for spring?” With “Too Good to be True,” Musgraves musters the courage to open herself up to that foreshadowed new beginning (“Summer’s gone, but you’re still here/For both of us, it’s been a year”), yet subsequently on “Moving Out,” cohabitation comes with challenges. She sings metaphorically, “That big tree in the front yard lost a limb,” and uses the season of autumn to signify the decay of that relationship, evidenced by the following track, “Giver/Taker” and its opening line: “Sundown and I’m lonely in this house.”
But it’s the title track, as well as “Sway” that document her quest for centeredness amid all the changes that life can bring “without a warning,” words expressed on “Too Good to be True” and similarly on “Cardinal.” Musgraves never pretends to have it all figured out; in fact, on “The Architect,” she paints a series of scenarios to convey a balance of curiosity and confusion about creation, and life on the planet, leading, once again, to confirm Musgraves’ knack for relatability through lyrical construction. By album’s end, “Nothing to be Scared of” finds her dipping her toes in the relationship waters once again. And if life and love ever get murky again, Musgraves now knows she can always go back to the well.
Photo 1: “Cardinal” music video, directed by Scott Cudmore; Photo 2 and 3: “My Saturn Has Returned” promo for Deeper Well (cinematographer: Mika Matinazad).
From Fosse to Ari: The Origin of Ariana Grande’s “yes, and?” Video
As long as there have been artists, it’s pretty safe to say there have been critics. The relationship between the two is a complicated one, for it’s the artist who, in an act of vulnerability, steps into the arena (often literally) to present the creation, and with that, comes the (welcome or unwelcome, hopefully at least constructive) critique from the sideline.
An artist who recently commented about this relationship is Ariana Grande, via her latest music video for “yes, and?” from her seventh studio album, Eternal Sunshine, which saw the light of day on March 8. The track’s sound evokes classic piano and hi-hat ‘90s dance music, while the video treatment harkens back to a stylish ‘80s music video and even further back to an iconic ‘70s movie musical, so therefore, Ari’s video is an homage to an homage. Let’s put on our dancing shoes and retrace our steps:
One of the best depictions of this artist-critic exchange was featured in Bob Fosse’s 1979 semi-autobiographical musical-drama, All That Jazz. Broadway director and choreographer, Joe Gideon (Roy Scheider essentially portraying Bob Fosse) is burning the candle (and many cigarettes) at both ends, trying to cast and create a new show, plus complete the editing of a film, all while barely co-raising his young daughter, and popping a lot of pills.
The new show that Gideon is working on entitled, NY/LA, a loose reference to Fosse’s very own, Chicago, features a musical number about airline travel called “Take Off With Us” (a cheeky title already filled with foreshadowing). Gideon invites a few suit-wearing financial backers to preview the song and dance, which starts out with the character of a purser (Sandahl Bergman), along with her crew of dancing flight attendants, touting the exceptional service they will bestow up their passengers (“They only live to service you...”). The first half of the performance is bubbly, which garners smiles, even a round of applause midway through from the straight-laced observers, but unbeknownst to them, there’s a second half that suddenly turns steamy (literally), with one of the dancers welcoming all aboard “Airotica,” Gideon’s ode to the “Mile-High Club.”
The studio goes dim, now lit only via a few flashlights, with the dancers peeling off their clothes (the “take off with us” double entendre now realized), and pairing up to perform a sensual, then overtly sexual, albeit artistic, number, much to the confusion and disappointment of the backers, the realization sinking in about the limited monetary and sponsorship potential that the addition of “Airotica” will bring. “There goes the family audience,” the head backer whispers to his colleague. At the end, Gideon asks what they think, only for the head backer to feign acceptance and approval with a nervous smile.
Ten years later, the dancer and choreographer, Paula Abdul used Fosse’s “Take Off With Us” as the basis for her “Cold Hearted” music video, directed by a then relatively unknown, David Fincher. The video starts out with a group of record-company executives arriving at a rehearsal space, seemingly uninterested in what they’re there to preview. One says it’s a “Bob Fosse kind of thing; it’s gonna be really, really hot,” to which another executive nervously replies, “Yeah, but tastefully, it’s tastefully hot.”
The first two verses and choruses find Abdul and her crew dancing much to the toe-tapping approval of the executives, but by the bridge, a couple of the dancers begin lowering the window shades, thus beginning Abdul’s (understandably much tamer) version of “Airotica.”
A couple of the executives are turned off, a couple of them turned on. Similar to Gideon asking his backers, Abdul asks her audience, “Well, what do you think?,” to which a conservative executive reluctantly replies, “It’s very nice.”
In January 2024, Grande released “yes, and?” as a self-empowerment reminder amid a social-media culture of click-and-critique. The video came at a time when Grande, once again, became the subject of chatter surrounding her personal life, specifically her short-lived marriage, and quick subsequent kindling of a new relationship with a co-star from the film adaptation of Wicked. For the Christian Breslauer-directed video for “yes, and?,” which starts similarly to Abdul’s, a group of jaded critics reluctantly arrive at an industrial space, yet ironically can’t seem to talk about anything but Grande and her signature ponytail, with some of the critics even rehashing, and reacting to, internet-sourced gossip.
As these critics enter the space, an elated group exits. The new batch take their seats in front of a series of stone statues, one of which is in the form of Grande with her hands covering her eyes in a see-no-evil posture. As the song’s beat drops in, the statues crumble into piles of rubble. Grande is released to tell her story, with the bridge reserved for commentary to those who deliver just that about her (“Don’t comment on my body/do not reply/your business is yours/and mine is mine”).
Through confident lyrics and cohesive choreography, Grande and her dancers persuade the critics to drop their metaphorical stone exteriors as well. Yet just as this is achieved, she and her dancers within a flash assume their statuesque personas once again, perhaps symbolic of the thick shell needed to navigate the current, all-too-easy, drop-a-comment culture. As the newly elated converts leave, yet another cluster of critics enter, they too soon to be shook.
In summary, the common threads between the three depictions are as follows:
The critics arrive.
Principal female character with a group of dancers.
Principal character dressed in black, and wearing a black hat with brim.
Stripped-down, industrial-looking rehearsal space featuring scaffolding structures.
Principal character on top of the scaffolding structure.
The controlled critics sitting on chairs as the audience, as opposed to the creative artists “in the arena.”
There’s always a moment when the critics are enjoying what is presented to them.
The rehearsal space goes from light to dark for a version of “Airotica.”
When it comes to Ariana Grande’s “yes, and?” video, there’s no place like homage.
Photos 1, 8, 9, 10: Ariana Grande in the music video for “yes, and?,” directed by Christian Breslauer; Photos 2, 3, 4: All That Jazz, directed by Bob Fosse, cinematography by Giuseppe Rotunno; Photos 5, 6, 7: Paula Abdul in the music video for “Cold Hearted,” directed by David Fincher.
The Pop Zeal Project (Track 83): Carole King: “I Feel The Earth Move”
A determined pounding of the piano keys starts Carole King’s “I Feel the Earth Move.” The singer-songwriter-musician had already co-written tracks made famous by The Shirelles (1960’s “Will You Love Me Tomorrow”) and Aretha Franklin (1967’s “[You Make Me Feel Like] A Natural Woman”), but with her second solo release, 1971’s Tapestry, King continued to make her voice—and her piano-playing—heard.
With the Women’s Liberation Movement already in full force in the early ‘70s, King’s material weaved its way into the hearts, minds and spirits of young women in particular, allowing Tapestry to stay on the charts for an astounding six-plus years. On “I Feel,” she freely described, through expert lyrical and musical constructions, the emotional and physical experiences of new love, from a female point of view. The most provocative lyric is toward the end when King describes the ecstatic fever that comes over her when she’s near the person who rocks her world, going vocally high at “I get a hot and cold” then quickly dropping to quietly repeat “all over” four times, like a vocal gyration, until the track ramps up to the chorus once again.
Whether it was The Shirelles’ song, conveying hesitancy—or Aretha’s, expressing certainty—in a relationship, or this smartly crafted track, best believe that when King felt something, you didn’t just hear it, it was damn near palpable.
Album photography: Jim McCrary
Love ‘Em and “Leo” Fast: Holiday Sidewinder’s Ode to the One-Night Stand
In the summer of 2018, Australian pop singer, Holiday Sidewinder released her catchy single, “Leo,” with its refrain including a synthesized rhyming roll call of lovers, everyone from Leo to Rodrigo, Marco to Diego, and a few others. The track could be seen as one woman’s reinterpretation of Prince’s “Little Red Corvette,” the tale now told listing the names of “the jockeys that were there before me,” as His Royal Badness once sang.
“Leo” is certainly intriguing, for it manages to sound like one thing, but say something completely different. Sidewinder’s vocal style suggests coy innocence, while the lyrics point to a woman who doesn’t mince words (“I’ll give you tonight, but I won’t call you tomorrow”), even brazenly forewarning: “Lock up your husbands, and lock up your sons.”
Provocative content aside, and there’s lots of it, “Leo” works on its own as a smartly constructed pop song. The first verse features a bass-synthesizer as the hero instrument, giving it all kinds of ‘80s feels, with Sidewinder’s aforementioned vocal delivery adding a dreamy effect; her character mojito-intoxicated in the nightlife. After the roll-call refrain, the rapid-fire drums give way to the carefree-sounding chorus, the morning walk of (no) shame has never sounded sunnier, thanks, in part, to more melodic vocals, reminiscent of Gwen Stefani’s. And with the start of the second verse, the bass-synthesizer gets replaced by a deep bass-guitar riff, only solidifying its ‘80s new-wave nostalgia. Take a listen, and you too might quickly love it; if not, just move on.
Sounds Like Summer: Five Songs for the New Season
Is it Monday or Tuesday? There have been times recently when it felt like it was going to be an endless spring, but a new season has in fact arrived. Here are five tracks that can help put you in a summer vibe state of mind, no matter what day (or season) it is:
Nothing like George Harrison’s “Here Comes the Sun” to start the season right. The version from the “Beatles Love” show blended Harrison’s signature track with instrumentation from two other Harrison-penned songs: the magnificent meditation, “Within You, Without You,” and “Inner Light,” a 1968 B-Side to “Lady Madonna”:
Belinda Carlisle’s “Mad About You” is all kinds of sunshine. It’s (literally) upbeat (note the double-time bass drum in the chorus), and of course the video: Carlisle busting out signature dance moves; rockin’ the Ray-Bans; channeling ‘60s Ann-Margret in a convertible. Post-guitar-solo, Carlisle’s lower-register vocals rise to the sunny chorus, musically “pushing the night into the daytime”:
“Just get in and close the door” is what the driver encourages in “Stop for Nothing,” by the indie-pop duo, courtship. (lowercase and with a period). Airy electric guitar (one riff evoking ‘60s surf-music reverb) and deep bass lines (particularly the one after the above lyric) capture that carefree feeling of a sunny drive along the coast:
Kick back with Michael Kiwanuka’s “Light,” a soothing, soulful, symphonic track from the singer/songwriter. In the bridge, the sudden slide down the guitar neck, followed by angelic backing vocals is the sound a sunrise would make:
Harry Styles’ “Watermelon Sugar” references “that summer feeling” and a series of signature seasonal items to describe how love—and something more physical as the title suggests—can be intoxicating and addicting. The transition from first chorus into the second verse is brilliant, and how ‘bout this lovely lyric: “Strawberries on a summer evening/Baby, you’re the end of June.” Styles’ vocals also shine on the romantic declaration that is “Adore You,” which includes another nod to the season: “Your wonder under summer skies”: