Deep Cuts - Angel Olsen, "Chance"

After years of paying her dues in the indie-folk circuit, Angel Olsen blossomed into something else with 2019’s All Mirrors. For her fourth studio album, Olsen garnished her homespun lyrics and yearning vocals with an orchestral soundscape. The front half of the album very much melds these elements together - opener and second single “Lark” still revolves around strummy guitars, the violins only becoming central as the song climaxes. However, by the time you reach album closer (and today’s featured song) “Chance,” any and all rustic features are abandoned for a grandiose arrangement of pianos and strings.

“Chance” starts off by highlighting Angel Olsen’s stunning, aching vocals. “What is it you think I need?” she sings, her voice echoing through the parlor. It’s a callback to “Give It Up,” a track off 2016’s phenomenal MY WOMAN about clinging to a love that is falling apart. “Chance” operates as a sort of sequel, with the narrator no longer willing to fight for the relationship in question. Brilliantly, Olsen chooses to tell this story against a backdrop straight out of an Old Hollywood film. She leans into a boozy, loungy vocal style that suggests both a deep exhaustion and a mysterious allure. When she croons "I know how it all comes back/ I know too well," you can practically smell the cigarette haze looming over the stage in the dimly-lit 1950s Los Angeles jazz club where this performance is surely taking place. 

Halfway through the first verse, as she sings “I’m leaving once again,” the instrumental sparkles to life: drums enter, the strings lift off, and the piano starts climbing the scales. She glamorously lowers her register for the second verse: “I’m walking through the scenes / I’m saying all the lines / I wish I could un-see some things that gave me life.” Olsen is done trying, done rehashing the same arguments, done with even the positive memories that are keeping her around in what is ultimately an unfulfilling relationship.

In the final refrain, Olsen pleads with her soon-to-be-ex-lover to try and be present with her: “Why don’t you say you’re with me now with all your heart?” she sobs. The final minute is an instrumental coda as credits roll on their relationship, and on All Mirrors. Angel Olsen has always had a retro sound, and has always done a fantastic job at conveying how heartbreak feels. But with All Mirrors, and perhaps best of all on “Chance,” she traded the humble, pastoral sounds of her early career for a lush and stunningly beautiful world. Even as she’s further expanded her artistry in the 2020’s, “Chance” very much remains Olsen’s most cinematic and quite possibly most heart-aching moment yet.

Deep Cuts - Nelly Furtado, "Wait For You"

 

Nelly Furtado's Loose was a transformation. Teaming up with renowned producer Timbaland for her third album brought a newfound energy, teleporting her from the coffeehouse to the club. "Promiscuous" had a beat as sexed-up as its lyrics, and "Say It Right" holds up today as one of the 2000's slinkiest, catchiest hits. This album went platinum in the US, three of its songs have over a billion streams on Spotify (the aforementioned two plus "Maneater"), and had a whopping eight singles - and somehow, none of them were the absolutely brilliant "Wait For You." Which makes it the perfect candidate for the latest entry in the Deep Cuts series!

"Wait For You" is written by the same team of Furtado, Timbaland, and Danja that worked together on practically every song on Loose. Despite not being a single, clearly somebody had faith in the song - digital re-releases feature a "Wait For You Interlude" that consists of studio cross-talk between Furtado and Timbaland wherein the former calls the beat "wicked." 

And she's right! "Wait For You" combines hip-hop percussion with Turkish folk music, with most of the song built around a sharp riff played on the bağlama, sampled from Muhlis Akarsu's "Allah Allah Delsem Gesem." I've mentioned before that a good rhythm section can function as a hook on all its own for me, and that's certainly the case here. Timbaland's drum beat here frequently leaves its normal groove and locks into an intense snare-kick drum combo, creating a bunch of mini crescendos throughout the song. Plucky strings add some sass along the way. Furtado rides this beat through both the verse and the chorus, it only relenting near the end when it switches from the drum machine to hand drums.

Lyrically, "Wait For You" is a straightforward tale of dedication to one's love. "I'll wait for you until the heavens fall / I'll wait for you until the end of the world." Dramatic? Sure! Obsessive? Quite possibly - especially since the lyrics don't make clear if this is an existing love or an unrequited one. But Furtado sells the hell out of it. By the time she delivers the earworm-y "'Cause right now feels just like a movie" at the end of the chorus, you're all in.

Because I am truly a freak for drum beats, I probably love this song more than most - but I do still find it fairly astounding that with two-thirds of the main tracklist of Loose receiving the single treatment, "Wait For You" was never one of them. Despite that, it's always one of the first songs from Furtado that I'll jump to.

Deep Cuts - The Blue Nile, "From a Late Night Train"

 

Has a song ever sounded this lonely?

I recently watched Chungking Express for the first time, Wong Kar-Wai's 1994 classic. Ostensibly, the film tells two loosely-connected stories of people falling in love in the aftermath of heartbreak. However, I think this description misses the mark a bit. My takeaway from Chungking Express was not that its four protagonists found deep love connections; rather, I saw it as extremely lonely people choosing to be lonely together. (That may sound paradoxical but hey! It's the emotion the movie left me with.) 

Upon finishing the film, I was compelled to throw on The Blue Nile's seminal 1989 album Hats. I can't quite explain the connection my brain made between the film and this record: perhaps it was the rain slickened concrete streets of Hong Kong on which the film takes place; perhaps it was the lingering mood of the darkly-dreamy score; perhaps it was simply that the title Chungking Express resembles the name of a train and reminded me of the track which this post centers around. I suspect those familiar with both Chungking Express and Hats will be able to draw the same subliminal connection between them as I did.

Hats has had somewhat of a resurgence as of late, becoming a cornerstone example amongst internet music nerd circles of a "sophisti-pop" record should sound like, alongside the ever-beloved Sade. Perhaps more wide-reaching, though, was when Taylor Swift referenced lead single "The Downtown Lights" on her 2024 album The Tortured Poets Department. A co-sign from the world's biggest pop-star was sure to garner extra attention towards what was already the album's most well-known hit.

With Hats, however, I've always had a different favorite track: "From a Late Night Train." The shortest song on the album at four minutes, "From a Late Night Train" strips away much of the lushness found elsewhere on Hats and leaves singer Paul Buchanan nearly alone as a dejected narrator. The song title itself is evocative, conjuring up images of a mostly-empty, slow moving train, with Buchanan sitting solitary in a dim corner, probably half-drunk, talking to nobody in particular. He sings of a relationship fallen by the wayside, accompanied only by looming synth ambience and a few stray instruments. Wilted horns are the city commiserating with Buchanan as he rolls on by; a piano barely manages to stagger through the song. Buchanan's delivery is of a broken man, as he barely mumbles out the song's refrain, "It's over now / I know it's over." He's not up on a pedestal, declaring his heartbreak with big notes and loud emotions. He mostly just seems so fucking tired.

I can see why "The Downtown Lights" is the flagship song off Hats. It's shimmering, it's illustratory, and it's got a magical chorus. It's also where Buchanan's vocals are more audibly expressive, with the way he's almost screaming by the end of the song. And don't get me wrong, I think it's an absolutely phenomenal piece of pop music. But for me, "From a Late Night Train" has the edge. It's one of those songs that delivers profound emotion by being so quiet; the lonely malaise found here may be more subtle, but in many ways I find it more powerful.

In Chungking Express, several songs appear multiple times, famously including "California Dreams" by The Mamas & the Papas and film star Faye Wong's own cover of The Cranberries' smash "Dreams." In the first of the film's two segments, there's a lesser-known reggae song that recurs - Dennis Brown's "Things In Life." The song's chorus seems to be encouraging the film's recently-dumped characters to get over their lovelorn ways: "It's not everyday we're gonna be the same way / There must be a change somehow / There are bad times, and good times too / So have a little faith in what you do." Though of course not included in the film, "From a Late Night Train" seems to include the response of both male protagonists: "But I can't let go." Perhaps that was the latent connection my brain was making after all.

Girl In a Coma - "Smart"

 

Back in the heyday of the MP3, I used to relish every time I found a free song download of merit. As a law-abiding teenager (and with a mom who worked in the music industry), LimeWire was out of the question, so I used to collect the artist-sanctioned free downloads via MTV.com, Stereogum's monthly mixes, and more to help fill up my iPod. I don't remember exactly where I found Girl In a Coma's "Smart," but I do know that it was easily one of my greatest finds.

Girl In a Coma formed in San Antonio and is made up of sisters Nina (vocals/guitar) and Phanie Diaz (drums) along with bassist Jenn Alva. "Smart," released on 2011's Exile & All The Rest, is beautifully lush and driving track that showcases the band at their jangle-pop best. 2011 was pretty much the peak of indie's reverb era, and "Smart" makes great use of the technique; the echoing production allows the song to burst wide open. There is some clear Johnny Marr worship going on with the guitars - expected given the band's name comes from a Smiths song - with interweaving riffs dancing around each other like flower petals in the breeze. The final piece of magic comes from Nina Diaz's voice; breathy and assured, she delivers each line with the delicacy of a whisper without sacrificing any of her volume or power. "Don't you ever start to wonder what it's like to be alone?" she asks in the chorus. Harmonies jump in and out to add yet another layer to an already rich track.

"Smart" is certainly a song of its time, but that does not detract from its playful brilliance. For anyone looking for an unfairly overlooked gem from when indie was at its most optimistic, this is a great landing spot. Girl In a Coma actually reunited recently, and a follow up to Exile & All The Rest is potentially on the horizon. When they tour the American South and West Coast this spring, I'm willing to bet "Smart" is on the setlist.

Follow Girl In a Coma on Instagram here and check out tour dates here.