There are songs with melodies so disarming it takes me several listens to begin processing what they're about. I get lost amid a bliss that overpowers the consonants and vowels of each sung note. Eventually, though, I do take on the words, and I find something like rapture or wrenching disappointment—the work soars or falls flat depending on the quality of care given the lyrics. Caitlin Rose's second album, The Stand In, out now, is full of songs belonging to the former camp, and "No One to Call" showcases this dynamic brilliantly. The Nashvillian's delicate, sturdy croon and her band's rich accompaniment distract with their own Traveling Wilburys-esque power before the story ambles into view, the intersection of musical and lyrical melancholy a thing to truly behold. Now I've got my little piece of rapture.
"Feline art is really popular right now," says a tattoo artist in Brooklyn.