Modern Vampires of the City, by Vampire Weekend. The chamber-pop quartet’s third LP finds the band in a more introspective state than the Afropop-infused bounce of its earlier albums. If the effect is a sometimes sleepier sound, it also results in the group’s most stylistically varied set of songs.
When it’s too nice to nap indoors, I take an old knotted comforter to the back edge of the garden, near tomato leaves I crush for a last whiff of summer. Crickets chorus round me and the combine’s racket turns to a purr the barn cats pick up, settling near my head. It’s then I look up at the cosmos, struck by their petals, mandarin orange against blue sky. The underside shines radiant as monarch wings or the stained glass of sun through tissue paper. Resting by County Road N 400 W, I forget laundry on the line, supper to fix. For hours I’ve been napping. Now I am awake.