Throughout my life, the month of May has always signified endings.
For me, the conclusion of school years, goodbyes to friends and the final frosts before next winter are synonymous with the season. With those endings comes the opportunity to welcome summer and its potential for new experiences and memories.
Here are some albums I’ve discovered this May that have been instrumental in getting me into that summer mindset.
Last month I took the time to appreciate what is widely considered one of the most influential R&B albums of the Y2K era: Aaliyah’s 2001 self-titled record. Defined by record producer Timbaland’s syncopated production and Aaliyah’s undeniable star power, this album feels like a perfect musical snapshot of the genre’s sound and attitude at the turn of the millennium.
I’ve always been aware of Aaliyah’s talent and legacy, but I’d never listened to the entire album beyond its biggest hits. Revisiting “More Than a Woman,” “Rock The Boat” and “Try Again” reminded me that those tracks are truly enduring cornerstones of R&B whose sonic influences are still heard throughout the genre today. In terms of new discoveries, I really enjoyed the varied, expansive production on “I Refuse” and the calm, restrained vocal delivery of “Loose Rap (feat. Static Major).”
As Aaliyah’s life was unexpectedly cut short, I found it extremely moving that much of the album’s lyrical content felt empowered and defiant. Her soft but commanding vocals convey a sense of confidence and self-assuredness that made the record even more appealing to me. Listening to this record fully immersed me in both Aaliyah’s musical talent and her lasting, unshakeable influence on R&B.
A new MUNA album was exactly what I needed right before summer, and what I got was their fourth studio album, “Dancing On The Wall,” released May 8.
The Associated Press described this album as “electric and urgent,” and I agree with that. Its production gives the music that feeling of almost palpable electricity, while its lyrical content speaks to feelings of political anxiety and exhaustion that has become a natural effect of the world’s current state. Many of the songs explore feelings of dating woes, unabashed queerness and existential anxiety, all filtered through MUNA’s signature upbeat synth-pop sound.
“Big Stick” is a track loaded with strong political imagery, using its title metaphor to represent oppressive power. The lyrics reference starving children, influencer culture and media control, comparing the oppressive governmental influence to the sway public figures hold over their audiences.
Another standout is “Why Do I Get a Good Feeling,” which explores the self-destructive experience of being drawn back to someone who has hurt you before. The song is undeniably catchy and, to me, serves as one of the album’s best examples of pairing euphoric pop production with an undercurrent of frenetic anxiety and dread.
“Stage Girl (Not a Dream Anymore)” by Eli
I’ve written about Eli before, mostly to praise her debut album “Stage Girl,” which blends 90s and Y2K R&B-pop influences with modern reflections on her experience as a trans woman. On May 22, she released the album’s deluxe version, which includes eight additional songs interspersed throughout.
“F**k the DJ” is a playful, Y2K-reminiscent track with an irresistibly catchy earworm chorus about crushing on the DJ during a night out. This song highlights many of the artistic qualities I think make Eli such an exciting artist: her willingness to embrace humor, camp and sexuality in her songs and commitment to maintaining a strong melodic and lyrical core.
The new tracks also deepen many of the themes that made the standard version so compelling such as visibility, performance and survival through the lens of trans womanhood, which are explored tenderly in “Beyond the Bend.” This track features a continuation of the melody from “Sunny,” expanding the lyrical content of its precursor by elaborating on what it feels like to be a closeted trans woman experiencing intense suffocation and religious shame.
I thought this song was such a beautiful exploration of what it can feel like not only to perform femininity but also to do so as a trans woman, which is eloquently expressed in the song’s closing lyrics: “I am not afraid, cause girls like me don’t get to be / Cause when the show is over, there’s still a stage beneath my feet.” This isn’t an experience I’ve often heard articulated through the medium of pop music, and I think Eli is doing so in such a unique and creative way.
