3 Songs... about 23

It was only recently, while listening to Baby Queen's new-ish track '23' that I realised how many recent songs there are about the experience of being 23.

Overcoats appear to have begun this trend back in 2017 with their debut album Young, which featured the track '23', a poignant tale of early marriage, bucket lists gone sour and the rueing of wasted opportunities amidst the dawning knowledge that the marriage is failing. 

Leeds band Lucky Iris, meanwhile, released their own snapshot of early 20s life earlier this year, when they released their own song, also titled '23'. While it's not technically about hitting the age 23 so much as arriving at the year 2023, it taps into similar feelings about early twenties life. The track hasn't received as much attention as recent tracks 'Blowing Kisses', 'Maybe I'm too much' and its hyper pop re-work 'Maybe you are not enough', but it's still worth a listen. In comparison to the Overcoats track, in which our heroine has ticked off every one of her goals and has still failed to find happiness and satisfaction, Lucky Iris' Maeve instead finds herself musing that she always thought she'd have life figured out by the time she reached 2023: That she'd be "so old now" and have a decent job, a house, stuff... but it hasn't happened yet. The peculiar extended adolescence of the early twentysomething is what has happened instead and she's not sure how she feels about that. 

This state of peculiarly extended adolescence is not so much baffled about as celebrated by Baby Queen in her own recent track, also called '23', which is something of a hymn to hedonism. That mad spontaneous thing you were thinking of doing? That late night drinking spree on a weeknight? You might as well go off and do it, she says, lighten up - you're 23, this is what it's like, it's what expected of you. 

While each of the three tracks have been written by women in their twenties in a six year period, they all have very different perspectives on the early twenties life moment, and what they all suggest is a sense of a generation in flux. There's a real sense of insecurity and doubt that comes across, even in the Baby Queen song (although perhaps not as obviously as in earlier track 'We Can Be Anything') and perhaps it's no accident that these songs are coming out when they are. A few generations ago, it might have been 18 that was the pivotal moment. Now, it's 23. 

Songs of the year, Number 11: Lucky Iris - [i'm not good at writing] love songs

A particularly irresistible ear worm courtesy of the Leeds synth pop duo, who describe themselves on their Facebook profile as making "Passive aggressive pop bops for the faint hearted". They also have a good line in charmingly self depreciating tweets.

'[I'm not good at writing] love songs' maintains the bands refreshingly candid lyrics but marries them to a strong hook and memorable chorus, guaranteeing that the resulting track will be stuck in your head for days. 

"How does one go through so much pain? Cos I'm not used to it" singer Maeve tentatively asks, adding later "Give me a break, I think I need it. I'm hard enough on myself - I don't need any feedback".

If Portland's electro dream pop band Wild Ones were still going, I'd be fantasising about a joint tour. As it is, Lucky Iris are slowly but surely building up their repertoire and their following and I look forward to whatever they decide to do next.

Lucky Iris - [i'm not good at writing] love songs

The Leeds duo returned earlier this year with this slyly catchy slice of elegant, understated synth pop and it's a real ear worm. Sophisticated in sound, cautiously self depreciating in lyric, it has all the hallmarks of a classic. 

Song of the year, number 10: Lucky Iris - Coffee Shop

Leeds synth pop duo Lucky Iris released 'Coffee Shop' back in October. It's a wistful nod to the once commonplace experience of people watching in coffee shops, possibly in-between working, while questioning your own life and decisions. Beautifully evocative. 

Thank God It's Bandcamp Friday!

The pandemic has laid bare the extent to which artists have become dependent on touring and merchandise deals for income. It's also assisted in highlighting the pitiful royalties artists receive from streaming. It was perhaps with this in mind that the "online record store and community" Bandcamp, which provides streaming, downloading and physical sales services direct from artists to fans, decided to launch Bandcamp Friday in March 2020.

As they say on their website, every sale on Bandcamp generates "an average of 82% of the money" for the artist in question. Which compares very favourably to streaming services, and to the average royalty payment received via record companies for physical sales of music. With Bandcamp Fridays, the idea was to have one day of the month where Bandcamp would waive their "revenue share" of sales on the site, meaning "an average of 93% of the money" would go to artists on sales made on Bandcamp Friday.

Originally only intended as a short term aid to help musicians during the pandemic, Bandcamp extended the scheme a number of times during 2020 and, in August, announced that they would be continuing Bandcamp Fridays until the end of 2021.

Today is Bandcamp Friday, and it's very reassuring for me to know that by buying downloads on Bandcamp today I will be directly contributing in a meaningful way to the incomes of artists. What's also nice is that the availability on Bandcamp of tracks I wish to buy has increased over the past year, meaning I can buy a wider range of music from a greater number of artists than I could in 2020.

For those of you in the UK, it's worth bearing in mind that Bandcamp Friday runs from midnight to midnight, Pacific Time, and that the UK is 7 hours ahead of the US (I've allowed for the clocks going back at the end of October in this calculation) but, even if you do miscalculate by a couple of hours, the artists you buy from will still see a good return on the sale.

Today I intend to purchase downloads by Lydmor (two tracks in her case), Jacknife Lee, Blue Hawaii, Jess Williamson, Cults, Molchat Doma, Noga Erez and Lucky Iris. 

Photo by FPVmat A on Unsplash

Songs of the year, number 15: Lucky Iris - Get Ready with Me

Earlier this year, I made a playlist called Her which was inspired by a number of songs that had (mainly) been released throughout 2018, 2019 and 2020 that I felt were embodying the spirit of #MeToo in song. 'Get Ready with Me' was one of the songs I included in that playlist. 

If Robyn's 'Dancing on my own' is the definitive sad banger, 'Get Ready with Me' has a claim to the title of 'best song about gender politics you can dance to'. It has the feel of Sophie Ellis Bextor at her sophisticated post disco slinky best, but its quiet sense of assertiveness and observational lyrics put it more in the same lyrical camp as Gaptooth's 'Ladykillers'. There's an effortless ease about the piece that means it carries itself lightly while not being light in subject, and that's an incredibly difficult feat to pull off. They haven't quite hit these heights again yet, but I live in hope that they will again.