Alexander DaoustHost
Jana PochopHost
This week, CharlieXCX, Persona, Amy Shark, The Biggest Dick, and Rose Gray, Just Be Bodies.

My work and the work of other smaller artists has always fundamentally been limited by finances.

The sonic palette I've developed lives in the crosshairs of what I find interesting and what I can afford.

Charli XCX, who we're discussing today, has nearly infinite resources at this point when she's making an album, bolstered by, and in conversation with, the runaway success of releases like Brat.

Albums I hear from big artists that have maybe too much money behind them sometimes feel bloated and overproduced.

I think about Christina Aguilera's 2010 album Bionic as a good example of this.

Both albums share a sonic palette borrowed from older Europop and Electronica, both feature powerhouse vocals, albeit in different ways, and yet Fame Monster, from an artist who had a lot to prove at the time, feels infinitely more timeless than Bionic.

When's the last time you listened to Keeps Getting Better? If it were paparazzi, I bet you might have a more concrete answer.

I visited the Guggenheim recently, which was showing the exhibit of an artist named Carol Bove.

Across the entire exhibit, which spanned decades of her career, I counted no more than six materials used, not counting paint or pencil.

Her work is tangled and hard to parse, but it's fundamentally all built from the same stuff, telling stories about materiality, fragility, and gravity.

I think the collection I saw would have meant a good deal less without those very conscious limitations.

Charli XCX is a master at the craft, but my first listen to her new album, Music Fashion Film, had me wondering, Is art less meaningful when there are no boundaries constraining the artist? I don't have an answer quite yet.

This week, CharlieXCX, Persona, Amy Shark, The Biggest Dick, and Rose Gray, Just Be Bodies.

My work and the work of other smaller artists has always fundamentally been limited by finances.

The sonic palette I've developed lives in the crosshairs of what I find interesting and what I can afford.

Charli XCX, who we're discussing today, has nearly infinite resources at this point when she's making an album, bolstered by, and in conversation with, the runaway success of releases like Brat.

Albums I hear from big artists that have maybe too much money behind them sometimes feel bloated and overproduced.

I think about Christina Aguilera's 2010 album Bionic as a good example of this.

Both albums share a sonic palette borrowed from older Europop and Electronica, both feature powerhouse vocals, albeit in different ways, and yet Fame Monster, from an artist who had a lot to prove at the time, feels infinitely more timeless than Bionic.

When's the last time you listened to Keeps Getting Better? If it were paparazzi, I bet you might have a more concrete answer.

I visited the Guggenheim recently, which was showing the exhibit of an artist named Carol Bove.

Across the entire exhibit, which spanned decades of her career, I counted no more than six materials used, not counting paint or pencil.

Her work is tangled and hard to parse, but it's fundamentally all built from the same stuff, telling stories about materiality, fragility, and gravity.

I think the collection I saw would have meant a good deal less without those very conscious limitations.

Charli XCX is a master at the craft, but my first listen to her new album, Music Fashion Film, had me wondering, Is art less meaningful when there are no boundaries constraining the artist? I don't have an answer quite yet.
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