Songs of the Week: Scrawny & Madilyn Mei, Karen Jonas, & Francisco Martin

Welcome to Songs of the Week, a running series with new selections.

Karen Jonas – “Paris Breeze”

Karen Jonas is searching. For what exactly is still unclear. With “Paris Breeze,” an essential from her new LP The Restless, she engages in a Parisian rendezvous that leaves its imprint on her heart and soul. “It grows suffocating here with you near enough to touch me in the bedsheets,” she sings, warmth emanating from her pores. “We’re breathing lavender and jasmine and the dust that’s fallen off of some great painting.” It’s cinematic texture gives flight to Jonas’ celestial-bodied vocal cords, that often feel both weighted to the earth and fluttering through space. Percussion pitter-patters in the background, driving the whole locomotive down the steely train tracks. There’s longing in the melody, almost as sweet as nectar. It’s almost sad in the way Jonas attempts to find something, anything to give her that same charge in life. Any way you cut it, her vocal is mesmerizing.

Scrawny & Madilyn Mei – “Six Legs (Tippy Tappy Toes)”

Sometimes, you just need a song that makes you feel good and gives you that welcome dose of dopamine. “Six Legs (Tippy Tappy Toes)” is electric. An infectious blast of horns decorates a melody you won’t soon forget. Ukulele pricks through the waves of sound, ebbing and flowing from hushed tones to fireworks shooting across the sky. The beat kicks into overdrive, and your heart palpitates in rhythm. “Take it from me, I lost my mind,” laments Scrawny (real name Jesse Dill), his voice curling up on the ends. Madilyn Mei‘s voice counterbalances his, as though ribbon is flapping in a summer breeze. It doesn’t need to be some transcendental piece of music, yet it’s the kind we so desperately need right now. It’ll make you all warm and fuzzy inside.

Francisco Martin – “Passenger Princess”

There’s just something about the window being down and feet upon the dash that sends a certain thrill throughout the body. Mining indie and soul, delicious roots tangled together, Francisco Martin pulls his songwriting into his chest for a more subdued and intimate reflection. “If I pull you in, then you can let your hair down,” Martin whispers between gusts of wind on the highway. The sun beats down on the windshield and only opportunity and freedom stretch ahead as far as the eye can see. “Talking so passively, just want you next to me,” he later confides. With each breath, his words ring hot and seem to fog up the windows despite the air seeming cool on the skin. Martin’s musical adeptness is enough to heat up any space it inhabits, that’s for sure.

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