The summer of 2022 belonged to Kate Bush. Her unlikely but welcome return to the music world has been a meteoric rise with “Running Up That Hill” recently reaching 158 million YouTube views and taking the top spot on Billboard’s music charts. It’s been 44 years since her previous number one hit, “Wuthering Heights,” the longest wait in history. However, these milestones mean little in comparison to the new generation of music listeners discovering Bush’s music for the first time thanks in part to the song’s use in the Netflix show Stranger Things.
Many of the lists that have been made guide readers through her best songs like “Wuthering Heights,” “This Woman’s Work,” and “Babooshka,” well-known singles that have already found their audience. Because of this, Under the Radar looks back at the artist’s best hidden gems—the non-single album tracks that deserve the same recognition. To capture both the vastness and diversity of her discography, one track was chosen from each of her 10 albums. By Alex Nguyen
A definitive ranking of every Star Trek series is an impossible task. Some segments of the fandom will always disagree with the ranking. To be clear, this is my—Steve King’s definitive ranking. I’ve watched every episode of Star Trek more times than I can count. I’ve written one or two things about it, and although sci-fi fantasy fans are a persnickety bunch, I tend to take the Bradley Nowell (of Sublime) approach: “I feel like I’m stoned. I feel like watching Star Trek and eating Chinese food or something.” In other words, lighten up, nerds.
This list will fluctuate as new shows debut and others falter. But this is still Star Trek we’re talking about. It’s all excellent. It just varies in degrees. Future seasons may render some of these rankings irrelevant. But for now, it’s the way I see things and I’m kind of an expert on the subject. Prepare to be enraged or to agree with a very stable genius. By Steve King
For a select few of us who can claim to be bona fide hometown fans of the NFL’s Houston Oilers circa the 1980s into the early ’90s, there is a certain level of gluttony for punishment that goes along with that honor. Added to the indignities of many playoff appearances that never quite panned fully out, the team’s owner, Bud Adams, unceremoniously up and moved the team to Nashville, Tennessee. After a year or two operating as the Tennessee Oilers (up there with the Utah Jazz in terms of city/mascot disconnects), the team’s name changed to the Tennessee Titans with the team’s flagship player, and one of the Houston holdovers, being quarterback Steve McNair.
You may be asking what this has to do with David Berman and his musical projects, Silver Jews and Purple Mountains. But as reclusive as an artist as Berman was, including his 10-year disappearance from making music, Berman was clear in idolizing the Titans and McNair. I first became aware of Berman early on as a fan of Pavement and no doubt purchased Silver Jews’ debut album, Starlite Walker, due to Steven Malkmus’ and Bob Nastanovich’s involvement with the project. Berman’s hangdog tales were laced with pure poetry, an alt-country lean, and a laconic, lo-fi delivery that spoke to listeners in a language they didn’t know they needed to hear.
Over the course of six Silver Jews albums and the unexpected 2019 comeback via his Purple Mountains debut, Berman never disappointed. I didn’t get the opportunity to see Berman perform live, although I had tickets to a Houston show in 2008 that I was unable to travel to due to Hurricane Ike blasting through the area. Amazingly, the show did go on at the last minute at an alternate location. After Berman’s Purple Mountains reemergence, I was pressing my son to go see the planned set at Raleigh’s Hopscotch Festival (Purple Mountains, Orville Peck, Faye Webster, and Jenny Lewis were to all play that day), but Berman took his life a few days before the Purple Mountains tour was to begin.
It was almost too much to fathom that Berman could find his way back through the fog, only to be gone a few months later. Though his loss is certainly more devastating than the relocation of a favorite sports team, being shown another taste of Berman’s talents so soon before he was gone for good did leave a feeling of having been cheated out of something cherished in addition to the grief many of us who love his music felt. He also garnered the message “Nashville (and the world) will always love David Berman” on the Titan’s Jumbotron as a posthumous salute.
Fortunately, we have the legacy of Berman’s music and words, including his parting gift to us just before his passing. Here I pick 14 of my favorite Berman songs. To borrow from the Jews’ “Random Rules,” in order to be “democratic and cool,” I picked two songs apiece from each of the albums and tried to include a taste of the different approaches that Berman brought to the table—from the purely whimsical to the deeply felt. So if your favorites aren’t here, they may have well been nudged out by other songs on the same album or in favor of a different example of Berman’s talents. By Mark Moody
Wilco is an institution. “The American Radiohead.” Bigger than Jesus, etc. They would reasonably be one of the first bands inducted into the indie rock hall of fame, were it to exist. And the iconic artwork of their masterful 2001 release Yankee Hotel Foxtrot—featuring the imposing twin towers of Chicago’s Marina City—is recognized by even the vaguest of acquaintances.
Led by the husky-voiced Jeff Tweedy, and with bassist John Stirratt in the sidecar from day one, the band has released 11 studio albums, including the scruffy alt-country of their post-Uncle Tupelo debut, three collaborations with Billy Bragg, and the shiny drug pop of Summerteeth. Since 2007’s Sky Blue Sky, though, Tweedy and friends have settled into a comfortable groove, tinkering in the Wilco Loft—their accoutrement-filled Chicago HQ—and continuing to release solid though less ambitious work. Their influence on the modern potpourri of indie/alternative/folk pop is pervasive. (Courtney Barnett’s laidback witticisms and Parquet Courts’ anti-Americana are at least partially indebted.)
Wilco recently announced an exclusive series of shows to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. In honor of the album’s birthday, Under the Radar looks back at the band’s catalogue to rank the best of the best. See you on the other side, via Chicago. By Hayden Merrick
It is confounding that so many outlets insist on posting best songs of the year lists in early December (in 2021, December 6 seemed to be a popular date to post such lists, including ones by Pitchfork, Paste, and Rolling Stone, with NME’s list dropping the next day). Not only are there several more weeks left in the year, in which a number of potential great songs could be released, it also takes time to digest all the tracks released in November and earlier in the fall. We’ve obviously taken too much time.
As with our Top 100 Albums of 2021 list, we had other pressing priorities in the fall of 2021 (our 20th Anniversary Issue and Covers of Coversalbum) that delayed deciding on our favorite songs of 2021. As a base we started a nomination process with all of the songs that landed in the main rankings (usually a Top 10) of our Songs of the Week lists in 2021. We then asked our writers for additional nomination suggestions (they had to be original songs first released in 2021, no covers). Once we had the final nomination list, our writers voted. When everything was calculated it added up to 130 songs we particularly liked. While many of the songs are taken from records that landed on our Top 100 Albums of 2021 list, there are also some standalone singles, songs from 2021 full-lengths that didn’t make the albums list, and advance singles from some anticipated 2022 albums. We limited it to no more than three songs per artist, otherwise half of each album from Japanese Breakfast and Wolf Alice (our #1 and #2 albums of the year) would’ve shown up on this list. By Mark Redfern
