You Can Go Your Own Way: 5 Songs by Singers Going Solo

This week's songs are from Scott Weiland, Stephen Malkmus, Evan Dando, Julian Casablancas, and Panda Beat ft. Cindy Lee

Two big albums were released last week: Geese’s Getting Killed and Jeff Tweedy’s Twilight Override, the latter of which is big in the physical sense—it’s a triple album. Geese’s new album comes on the heals of front man Cameron Winter’s Heavy Metal earlier this year, which is among my favorites of the year. If you listened to them back to back you might not see one as being all that different from the other, but effectively it’s the amount of guitar, bass, and drums on Getting Killed. Cameron’s voice and stream-of-consciousness singing style dominate both. You could say the same about Tweedy’s new album—while there are some differences, it’s not entirely dissimilar from a Wilco album.

Maybe once upon a time, a solo album from a lead singer was a way for them to stretch out, possibly take things into a more (or may be less) commercial direction, or break out from the presumed confines of being in a group. Sting comes to mind. Justin Timberlake. Don Henley. Beyonce. Phil Collins. Thom Yorke. Lauryn Hill. Stevie Nicks. Ozzy Osbourne. When a behind-the-scenes creative force goes solo, it’s an outlet that feels like a revelation-it’s obvious they’ve been restricted (probably worth another entry, but for the sake of what I’m getting at look no further than George Harrison). But for someone like Tweedy or Cameron Winter, I expect it’s a matter of creative continuity—they have more material than the band as a collaborative unit will manage. Members of Wilco have a number of side projects of their own; Geese has already recorded a follow up to the just-released Getting Killed.

Here are five songs from lead singers going solo.

“I used to feel guilty about my success, but I’m over that now. It’s like, hey, some people cook for a living and some people milk cows. I write songs.” - Scott Weiland

Scott Weiland - “Barbarella”

The cover for Scott Weiland’s 12 Bar Blues, his solo debut, looks like a bop-era Miles Davis, John Coltrane, or Chet Baker album cover, which must be intentional. It may have been an attempt to align himself with the attitude and style of these artists, but the most common thread between them all is drug addiction.

Weiland pulled together songs that became 12 Bar Blues while in and out of rehab. One of those stints was court-ordered, which forced Stone Temple Pilots to cancel a tour in support of 1996’s Tiny Music... Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop. The band had considered replacing Weiland as early as 1994. So, separated from his band and his wife, and dealing with substance abuse issues that would follow him the rest of his life, recorded the album with a mixed bag of musicians, including Peter DiStefano and Martyn LeNoble of Porno for Pyros, jazz pianist Brad Mehldau, and even Sheryl Crow on accordion. A phenomenon we’ve discussed in previous entries, a few of these songs ended up on surprisingly eclectic soundtracks for unmemorable movies (Great Expectations, Tank Girl). “Barbarella” is my favorite among them.

Written with his soon-to-be ex-father-in-law Tony Castaneda, “Barbarella” is very openly a cry for help and understanding from a loved one. It has the distant appeal to someone far away, a like “Space Oddity.” There is a faint drum machine and sharp single chord strum. The chorus comes in big, like crashing waves. He’s pleading to the Jane Fonda character for help.

“Barbarella
Come and save me from my misery
Can’t you see it’s a disease”

In both the quiet and the loud, it’s Weiland voice, vulnerable and desperate, that sells it all. While a relic of the 1990s, it doesn’t sound locked-in-time or dated at all.

“I was just getting to know Chris [Funk] and his situation. He likes all kinds of music but he’s a John Fahey-type guy, he curates a thing at Newport Folk Festival. Anyway, I’m talking to him, and he’s like, ‘I would like to do something like that with you.’ Maybe he heard me absentmindedly playing a banjo or something. So that got it in my mind.” - Stephen Malkmus

Stephen Malkmus - “Xian Man”

Pavement was on my radar as a young “Alternative Rock” fan in the early 90s, but I didn’t really get them until I was in high school and the 10th anniversary reissue of Slanted and Enchanted was released (I highly recommed checking out “Secret Knowledge of the Backroads (John Peel Session)” from the bonus tracks). Pavement fell apart in 2000, but the primary narrative was that Stephen Malkmus was burnt out and isolated from the rest of the band. As the primary songwriter and singer, it’s a departure like that that pretty much put an end to the band. They’ve since reunited for two big victory laps—no official studio albums, mostly playing the hits. Malkmus played sporadically with Silver Jews as well. Much of his output since Pavement first broke up has been with The Jicks as his backing band. He’s also recently released an album with Matt Sweeney (Chavez, Zwan), Jim White (the Dirty Three, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, Bill Callahan), and Emmett Kelly (the Cairo Gang) as The Hard Quartet. Yes, he’s a bit of an alt-rock icon with a pretty varied output over 30+ years. So a few weeks back at a music festival, much to my surprise I ran into him. I told him “Xian Man” rips.

Traditional Techniques, a follow up to 2019’s bedroom techno Groove Denied, is almost the antithesis to its predecessor. Mostly using acoustic instruments—guitars, dobro, bouzouki—all recorded live in full takes, the album is an intentional step out of modern times. He’s working with the aforementioned Matt Sweeney, Chris Funk of the Decemberists (who apparently sparked the idea for the record), and Afhgani-American musician Qais Essar, among others. On “Xian Man,” the “folk” lens drifts into the psychedelia of Grateful Dead, and especially once Sweeney’s electric guitar starts blazing a path through the song, Velvet Underground. It’s got a bit of a drone to it, but also a spark that is both hip, and a little bit sinister. Like a charming person your instincts tell you not to trust.

“If it was going to be loud I was going to call it The Lemonheads and if it was not loud at all, I was going to use my name. But I’ve switched it all round. It doesn’t matter and I don’t really know.” - Evan Dando

Evan Dando - “Hard Drive”

Another 90s alt-rock darling. Another cautionary tale about a buzz band with a front man with serious drug problems. That’s not what this is supposed to be about, but a common enough occurrence in rock & roll to be a cliche. The Lemonheads aren’t a top-of-mind 90s band for most. Their rollicking cover of Simon & Garfunkel’s “Mrs. Robinson” might be on the playlist. But they hold a place in the hearts among those-who-were-there. People who talk about bands like Morphine, Matthew Sweet, or Buffalo Tom have a special place in their hearts for the Lemonheads. These are the same type of older guys at shows that tie their jackets around their waist. Their taste is discerning, but maybe a bit bland. It’s a Shame About Ray remains an excellent power pop album (see: “My Drug Buddy”, “Confetti”).

Given the ever-changing lineup, it’s hard to say exactly when The Lemonheads fell apart, but Dando’s drug use and mental health were at the root of it, even if he was pretty much the band. He enlisted studio wizard Jon Brion for his 2003 solo debut Baby I’m Bored, co-writing many of the songs with the producer. The stand-out track, however, was written by journeyman singer-songwriter Ben Lee, who oddly enough as a teenager wrote a song about Dando called “I Wish I Was Him,” which is an odd thing to do for someone who didn’t seem to want to be themselves.

“Hard Drive,” much like Tweedy’s beautiful lead single “Feel Free,” is a list poem framed to turn the everyday into something quietly profound. Over a warm shuffle, Dando tenderly half-sings about mundane things around him and happening to him. It’s only when he gets to the central question of the chorus that the items on the list amount to one’s life, and to put this as succinctly as possible: as Ferris Bueller put it, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop to look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

This is the face I make when I’m sad
This is the town I’m living in

This is the hard drive
This is the ocean
Have you ever felt yourself in motion?

“The idea is that there’s so much knowledge wasted from generation to generation. I was just summoning that yearning for consolidated wisdom.” - Julian Casablancas

Julian Casablancas - “11th Dimension”

Something I’ve found to be a truism for any Strokes album: if the first single isn’t good, the album will be; but if the lead single is really good, the album will be a dud. “11th Dimension” was the lead single off of Julian Casablancas’ solo debut Phrazes for the Young and I love it. There’s very little separation from the sound of the album and a Strokes album—maybe a little more lean on the synths? “11th Dimension” has a dance-y verse and a big, huge anthemic chorus. Superstar session player/producer Blake Mills delivers the flange-y guitar line. Joy and fireworks aside, the song has a sort-of point of view about life and manners and power—but it’s the loopy, cynical lyrics, served in a deadpan delivery against the sugary backdrop that level-up the fun.

Drop your guard, you don’t have to be smart all of the time
I’ve got a mind full of blanks, I need to go somewhere new fast
And don’t be shy, oh no, at least deliberately
‘Cause no one really cares or wonders why anymore

Released in 2009, it’s almost prescient in how it revels in the nihilism and absurdity that tracks just behind euphoric splendor. A post racial society! Technological Utopia! Casablancas was singing to us from the future, but bringing a fresh dose of reality.

I live on the frozen surface of a fireball
Where cities come together to hate each other in the name of sport

“It’s still really important to me that there’s some sort of meaning in the song, or emotion, or something I’ve thought about that’s very real or meaningful to me, but I like to kind of fictionalize the thing, or mythologize the thing – invent characters in the songs that are me, but also aren’t me. If the thing exists in this place between the audience and myself, then hopefully that means people can kind of find themselves in it a little bit.” - Noah Lennox

Panda Bear ft. Cindy Lee - “Defense”

I’m pretty hot-and-cold about Animal Collective. Their music can be really polished, fun and exciting; it can also sound like sloppy and overcrowded noise. In the ears of the beholder, I suppose. Being hit-or-miss is almost built in to the psychedelic playground they mostly play in. Noah Lennox aka Panda Bear is something of a serial collaborator, even in his solo releases. Members of Animal Collective pop up in a couple of songs on 2025’s Sinister Grift, as do members of Spirit of the Beehive, and Patrick Flagel aka Cindy Lee.

“Defense” is the closing track on a fairly chilled out and loose album. It’s straightforward, plodding march of bass and drums lay a foundation for a halting, and ultimately low-key cathartic and soothing vocal melody. And also that delightful shredding from Cindy Lee that glides over the top of it. The lyrics are something of a plea for help, but it’s the music and melody that are a salve. Maybe that it speaks to a struggle while soothing it at the same time is why the song hits me with a bit of Zen. It’s one of those songs you can hear in any mood and it resets you back to even.

Full playlists of songs featured in 5 Songs:

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