The RX is Uproxx Music’s stamp of approval for the best albums, songs, and music stories throughout the year. Inclusion in this category is the highest distinction we can bestow, and signals the most important music being released throughout the year. The RX is the music you need, right now.
Conversations about music tend to focus on intrinsic factors. Are the lyrics good (or at least not noticeably terrible)? Is the melody catchy? Will the beats move my hips? Will the guitar tones cause my head to slam into a brick wall (in a good way)? But a lot of what makes music great or not great is not intrinsic, it’s extrinsic. Am I hearing this while positioned in an environment that is pleasing to me? Has this music aided in the search for laughs, adventures, and/or exciting encounters with attractive people? Does what I’m hearing have associations with the opposite of the aforementioned attributes?
As a lifelong resident of the upper midwest — a region that is frigid and snowbound for seven months, humid and mosquito-ridden for four and a half months, and absolutely perfect for two weeks — I’m a big proponent of seasonal listening. There are just certain albums that belong to particular seasons. The first Bon Iver record, For Emma, Forever Ago, is obviously best appreciated in winter, whereas the collected works of Elliott Smith are reserved for the fall, and OutKast’s Stankonia and Def Leppard’s Hysteria can only be played after Memorial Day.
The Brooklyn-based power-pop quartet Charly Bliss appear to also appreciate seasonal listening theory. In 2017, Charly Bliss released its full-length debut, Guppy, which immediately made them an adored band among two seemingly different but secretly aligned constituencies: 1) Nervous millennials and Gen-Zers who enjoy hearing their profound anxiety shouted back at them in the form of perfectly constructed pop; 2) Aging Gen-Xers who still love late-’90s alt-rock, particularly gooey bubble-grunge deep cuts that appeared on the soundtracks for movies like American Pie and 10 Things I Hate About You.
When critics try to explain the appeal of Charly Bliss, they tend to use the word “sugar” a lot. They also describe the impressive dexterity of Eva Hendricks’ voice, which has the ability to sound immediately exciting in a pleasingly plastic-y sort of way, while also hinting at a deep reservoir of repressed melancholy. Which is to say, she has the perfect voice for zippy, punk-y power pop.
However, the simplest way to convey what is so pleasurable about Charly Bliss is to call them spring music. This is what you want to play the first Saturday of the year when you can drive around with rolled-down windows. It’s what you hear in your head when you can drink a cocktail on a patio once the temperature hits 50 degrees. It sounds like how flip-flops feel on your toes.