Those of you who’ve been with us from the beginning know of our deep love for Jens Lekman. I was infatuated with his “Black Cab” single for most of 2004 (my post has since disappeared but the song kicked off this vintage podcast). Then Lisa broke down everything that’s right about Jens with his 2007 album, Night Falls Over Kortedala. Now it’s 2017, Jens is 36 years old, and he’s in many ways the same Jens – an open book of a songwriter who can take you deep into his heartache without trafficking in self-indulgence. What’s changed is his production repertoire. Once relying on minimal accompaniment to seal the intimate feel of his songs, his latest, Life Will See You Now, moves his heartbreak and introspection to the dancefloor in a way that’s both absurd and earnest at once.
The opening track, “Know Your Mission”, recounts his encounter with a Mormon missionary in 1997. It starts with spare piano and Jens’ familiar sing-speaking, then breaks into a ridiculous party beat only to return to form by the end. “How We Met, the Long Version” brings Jens’ habit of hyperbole to a Soul Train-worthy crescendo. He tells a condensed history of the earth that culminates in a fateful kiss in the backyard. Why the sudden passion for calypso, samba, and disco? I’m not sure, but I’m going to chalk it up to maturity. Jens has become more comfortable stepping outside of himself with his lyrics. And he’s willing to let his hair down (so to speak) to remind us his songs are, after all, just words set to music.
[We have Life Will See You Now on limited edition orange vinyl – in the 3hive Co-op Shop, while supplies last.]
This, people, is the post I have been waiting for. It’s no secret that I love me some Swedes and even less of a secret that I adore what shall heretofore be referred to as “The Gothenburg Sound.” (see: 
As a parting gift for the last week at my job, my coworker Lisa sent me some music recommendations—and when Lisa sends recs, I tend to listen because her mad skillz at free-MP3-mining far surpass my own. Frida Hyvönen was on that list, though with the caveat that the record was released nearly a year ago in Frida’s native Sweden (it’s spankin’ new on Secretly Canadian in the U.S.), so for you Northern European seekers, this may be old news. But for the rest of us, it’s a refreshingly enigmatic gust of cool air. Hyvönen is a sort of Scandinavian Joni Mitchell, a post-feminist proto-poet with the voice of an angel and the outlook of Kierkegaard. The track here is short and bittersweet. The rest of the album multifaceted and addictive. Take Lisa’s advice and pick it up.
There was a time (before MP3s or listening stations) when I’d buy records based solely on the name of the band. Don’t laugh, it’s how I ended up discovering Echo and the Bunnymen and Siouxsie and the Banshees before they became ’80s household names. It’s the name that drew me to I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness which, with their shadowy, elastic heartbreakers, could have been shelved alsongside Bunnymen and Banshees back in the day. Only they’re of this decade and from Austin, Texas (with ties to 
There is a God! And he’s not just talking to