Stopping weddings and quitting jobs is stressful, how about we have a calming cup of tea to unwind…
[Video]
[7.38]
[6]
Ian Mathers: Pleasant, breezy even, and then you look up the lyrics and it’s about heartbroken anhedonia. You got me, Tulus, you sly bastard.
[6]
Lichelle: I’m not always a “the lyrics need to hit for the music to be good” type of person, but this song’s portrayal of emotional emptiness and disconnection, which I read as depression, resonated, as did its depiction of the empty platitudes and advice people offer in good faith during those times. Yes, we can touch grass, feel the sun on our skin, turn off our screens, and read a book to prepare ourselves for the messy contracts we’ll need to be literate for in the face of the upcoming water wars, but sometimes none of that helps. Sometimes you still feel spiritually and emotionally stuck in a seemingly endless void. A warm cup of green tea won’t immediately fix that, but sometimes a small reminder that all isn’t lost is enough.
[8]
Al Varela: What a delightful little song! Tulus’s lovely voice trails over a very particular groove that has a bit of an ’80s flash in the synths and guitar picking, but accents it with nice plush horns and a backing choir that gives the song a more communal feel. I was surprised to learn that this song full of good vibes was actually about being unable to have a good day. Too many things weighing on you at once, never getting that promised joy everyone else gets from everyday pleasures. But by the end of the song he accepts that maybe tomorrow will be better. Which gives this otherwise bleak song a ray of sunshine. I find that even more profound. Accepting that even in the best of days you won’t always be up for it. So long as you keep going and keep trying.
[8]
Nortey Dowuona: Fun fact: Yowie Henry, trombonist on this record, was also trombonist on this other Indonesian gem from the band Barasuara, who also hired trumpeter Ami Parba to work with them on this other gem, recently released with an English title (“Meanwhile”). Both songs are lush, fertile records that feel both vibrant and structured, which leaves you the ease of letting them drift away behind you while being gripping and involving once you step backwards into each. It’s nice to simply feel and intuit music for once, and maybe there are genuine depths that once I learn the Indonesian language I can plumb. As for “Teh Hijau”: it surprisingly slips past the ’80s Synthpop Solitary Cell (greased comfortably by Yoseph Sitompul, who produced a whole album with Tulus’s help) and flutters into your heart, lithe yet bouncy, a winsome, colorful pop song free of the frustrating nostalgic impulses endemic in European (and colonized) pop music. It also helps Tulus’s voice is a beautiful, glittery tenor that leaps from note to note without straining or scratching, mellifluous in every way.
[10]
James M Errington: I do not usually care for middle of the road pop-soul, especially when it’s as unadventurous as this, but after a few listens this sounds like a warm blanket and I’m all in.
[7]
Jel Bugle: This is nice, I’d probably mark it down a few points if it were in English, but here words are not intrusive and all I hear is tuneful singing.
[7]
Kayla Beardslee: Songs for driving on the highway with the windows down really are the same everywhere in the world, and I think that’s beautiful. I’m not giving this more than a [7], though.
[7]