Against Men is out!
Again! But everywhere this time!
Depending on where you are in the world, you’ll hopefully be receiving this missive on or around April 18, 2025 — the official release day for Popular Music’s mini-album, Against Men.
It feels a little strange to be once again celebrating a record that has by now lived a number of lives — like someone dragging their birthday festivities on too long, beyond the limits of good taste. But this horn won’t toot itself.
So, what’s different this time? Well, for starters, you can actually listen to it. Everywhere. So please do that. And tell your other sad friends about it. Like and subscribe.
Listen on Bandcamp | Listen on Spotify | Listen on Apple Music
On the spectrum from hope to hubris, releasing a record in the year of our lord 2025 falls somewhere between act of faith and minor folly. We’re learning to manage our expectations. But we’re very excited for more people to have the opportunity to hear these songs, and to be able to conveniently add them to a playlist called “Darkwave Nite Vibez,” “Gym Playlist 4,” or “un-alive2025” or whatever.
While we have you, we thought we’d try to justify this email with a few words about the songs, plus introduce you to some of the synth friends who made these songs possible. Prue’s job at Melbourne Electronic Sound Studios means we’re rich in access to analog synths, if very little else.1
Passover
I tend to write in clusters — songs that orbit a shared set of ideas or themes. If Against Men was conceived with a concept, it was “finish these songs, quickly.” If it had a secondary concept, it was “short character studies.”
In the wilderness period between Privilege and Minor Works, I kept getting caught up in the notion that I wasn’t writing songs the way I thought I ought to — the kind that communicate capital-F FEELINGS simply, hopefully, economically. The kinds of songs that sound like they are full of blood. The kinds of songs that make me feel things, basically.
Naturally, I was listening to a lot of Elvis Costello and John Prine. And then, I stumbled onto an interview with Elvis talking about Prine:
I wanted to be John when I was 20. I tried to write like him, I couldn’t. I don’t like people as much as he does.
It was a punchline that felt like permission. I think I’m moved by songs written by people who really like people — probably because I want to be one of them. But I’ve always been better at writing from the perspective of someone with much more ambivalence. Disillusionment is my native tongue, even if I don’t always like what that says about me. And maybe there’s room for both kinds of people.
Anyway, I don’t entirely know what this song means yet.
“Crying”
A song remnant from the “blood & feelings” era, this one is, I think, pretty self-explanatory. Portland’s discerning noses might clock the pear tree nod — IYKYK.
Emily Says
Another song in the formidable “_____ Says” lineage. I may have mentioned this before, but I tend to write words from a phonetic place first — centering the way the words feel and sound coming off of the tongue. The work then becomes trusting whatever it was that made the sound stick in the first place, and retrofitting that feeling into a shape that actually means something. It’s a counterintuitive way to work — like, reverse-engineering ASMR.
I mention this only because I’ve been rolling the phrase “The tenuous touch of feminist men” around on my tongue for the better part of a decade, and I’m glad to finally have it out of there.
There is no Emily and we are all Emily.
Desert Motel #1
This is the beginning of a true story. Of all the songs on this record, I am still not entirely satisfied with how this one turned out. But I needed to finish the story.
Black Shroud
I don’t know what this song means yet. Despite how solipsistic the catalog probably seems, you might be surprised to learn this is the first time I’ve done a proper “one for me.”
I’m especially fond of the vocoder part, and the fake Fripp “guitar” solo at the end.
Providence St.
Those paying too much attention might recognize this song from its previous life under the Comedienne banner. I was never totally satisfied with how that version turned out. This one is essentially a stripped-down remix — new vocal, a few small additions. I am now satisfied.
Jherek and I recorded the string ensemble (Paris Hurley, Lauren Elizabeth Baba, Marta Sophia Honer, Aniela Marie Perry) in Burbank at a studio called the Rattle Room back in 2017, an actual lifetime ago. My own modest attempt at writing myself into “Late Night, Maudlin Street.”
The Last Night of Our Lives
This is, objectively, the best song I have ever written.
Jherek sent me a demo of this song thirteen years ago and I’ve been trying to write words that do it justice ever since. I don’t think he even remembers sending it. I’ve listened to the loop of this chord progression for more hours than probably any other sound in my life and I’m still not tired of it. The song is eight minutes long, and I’ve got at least a dozen more verses scattered across notebooks and Google Docs. I could write to this loop until the day I die and still not run out of words.
Europe & UK Tour Update
Same as before, but now with 100% more Glasgow!
May 9: Ljubljana, SI @ Radio Student Anniversary Festival - Info
May 13: Prague, CZ @ MeetFactory - Tickets
May 14: Jena, DE @ TRAFO - Tickets
May 15: Vienna, AT @ Rhiz - Tickets
May 18: Berlin, DE @ Tennis - Tickets
May 25: Offenbach, DE @ Hafen 2 - Tickets
May 27: Hamburg, DE @ Nachtasyl - Tickets
May 29: Kraków, PL @ Klub RE for Green Zoo Fest - Info
June 1: Leeds, UK @ Wharf Chambers - Tickets
June 6: Margate, UK @ Justine’s - Tickets
June 8: London, UK @ Shacklewell Arms - Tickets
June 11: Glasgow, SCT @ SWG3 Poetry Club - Tickets soon!
I’m not convinced anyone who listens to this music cares about gear, but for the few who do — this part’s for you.