Detroit’s Local Artist Community Responds to Quarantine

Curtis Roach Photo Credit: Myron Watkins

It’s been a week since the “Shelter in Place” mandate was issued by Michigan governor Gretchen Whitmer, but many Detroiters have been self-quarantined for much longer. Most businesses have closed their doors, thousands are out of jobs, and you’re likely to see more plastic bags blowing in the wind than actual people on your daily walk. Put simply, shit is getting dark. But, the incredibly thin silver lining to all of this is the output from Detroit’s creative community. Whether it’s pre-planned new releases, quarantine-inspired songs, live streams or covers that are helping them cope, these songs offer a temporary solace from the ‘rona blues.

If you are working from home and have a little extra to spare, don’t forget to support these and other musicians via Bandcamp or by buying merch, as many have lost income due to venue closures/not being able to tour! There are also many artist coalitions you can donate to that will spread the love to those in need – NPR has a great list of those here.

“Just Wait Till Next Year” (John Maus cover) – Primer

Electronic producer and songwriter Primer (Alyssa Midcalf) shares her own haunting rendition of John Maus’s “Just Wait Till Next Year.” Midcalf’s melodramatic vocal style is a perfect match for Maus’s twisted lyrics, which seem more righteously delivered by a female voice anyway. Midcalf’s synth-driven production style adds a lush urgency to the track that feels especially pertinent to the times.

“The song is the most honest and vulnerable song about longing and the frustration and aggravation that comes with it that I’ve heard. It resonated with me, but I also felt I would be able to do it justice. And making music is the only thing I’ve been doing to cope with the reality of being in a global pandemic.” – Alyssa Midcalf

“Bored in the house” – Curtis Roach

Detroit-based hip hop artist Curtis Roach accidentally created a viral TikTok that perfectly sums up what most of us are feeling right now. The sound from the original TikTok has been used by a myriad of celebrities – Tyga, Keke Palmer, Chance the Rapper and more – and has even developed to a full-on Curtis Roach x Tyga compilation. Roach’s sunny personality and inherent sensibility for beat and melody make him a magnetic internet personality, and someone to reference when you need a little cheering up.

“How ‘Bored in the house’ came about… I really made that out of pure boredom. There’s nothing more, nothing less. I make funny tik toks all the time and this was one of those times where I was just bored and didn’t know what to do. I come up with melodies all the time. I’m an artist first off, so it’s natural to me. If I’m going for a walk, I might sing a little melody about me going for a walk, or when I’m brushing my teeth, I might write a melody about that, so it’s like, super natural to me. I made it like a week and half before we were all on lockdown going into quarantine. I didn’t know that all of this was going to happen, this is all new to me like it’s new to everyone else, so the reaction, like everybody using the sound and celebrities posting it…it’s just like tremendous, it’s super incredible it’s crazy, it’s kind of overwhelming. I’m just appreciating the blessings from everything coming from this.” – Curtis Roach

“Beyond” – Anya Baghina

Beloved Detroit songwriter and frontwoman of the band Soviet Girls, Anya Baghina shares a song from her eponymous solo project. The recording is as haunting and distant as the song’s muse. Baghina’s intrinsic talent for detailing ordinary heartbreaks in crystal clear metaphor truly hits from unexpected angles. Ultimately, it’s a song for reflecting, wallowing, moving on.

“Recorded live to a 4 track tape recorder, ‘Beyond’ embodies the desperation of finding the answer in fading relationships. A liberating yet conflicting moment when you realize that something or someone doesn’t hold the same meaning anymore. As our reality is being disrupted and redefined by the pandemic, the things that we value are changing. Maybe just temporarily, but hopefully for the long run too. This song identifies with the feelings of loss through acknowledgment and reflection. Something we can all relate to at this time, unfortunately, because of the shared trauma we are experiencing.” – Anya Baghina

“Steal My Sunshine” (Len cover) – Ben Collins

Minihorse frontman and songwriter Ben Collins blessed our Instagram feeds with a subtle and sweet version of Len’s “Steal My Sunshine.” The stripped-down performance is a departure from Minihorse’s lush garage-rock layers and showcases Collins’ calming vocals.

“There were a few songs I used to sing at karaoke with my old bandmates, and ‘Steal My Sunshine’ was something that Leah Diehl (Lightning Love) and I attempted once or twice. It’s an amazing song, but also lyrically dense and nonsensical which I love. I had a bunch of cover requests come in over Instagram, and some were really amazing songs, but as a pathologically lazy jerk, I went for the one I already knew. And with the looper, I’m able to sing my own backups, which is fitting during this lonely apocalypse!” – Ben Collins

“The Ice Creams” – The Ice Creams

Multi-disciplinary artist Emily Roll joined forces with their partner, Fred Thomas, to compose and record an entire punk EP in all of ninety minutes. It’s grungy, ironic, creepy, and, at times, hilarious. I love it.

“So, Emily and I have worked on a bunch of different creative pursuits together over the years, playing together in Tyvek, doing performance pieces, etc, and since a lot of stuff is on hold right now for everyone’s musical output, we just decided to jam in the studio space I work at last Sunday night. A pressure/frustration/anxiety release. We didn’t start playing with any musical concept outside of long ago coming up with ‘The Ice Creams’ as a sick name for a potential future band. We jammed and recorded for about an hour and a half, not really improvising or writing songs, but some weird trance-like version that incorporated both. If we hit on an idea we liked, we’d try it a few times. We recorded the entire session and later pulled out the most realized takes. Emily played synth and sang, I played a floor tom and a snare drum. We posted a few videos on our Instagrams that night and several unrelated people told me it reminded them of the soundtrack from a movie from 1980 called Liquid Sky. We will probably jam again and hopefully play a show or two whenever shows begin again.” – Fred Thomas

“Existence” by Carmel Liburdi

Folk-pop songstress Carmel Liburdi shared her original song “Existence,” a soothing and reassuring tune about harnessing your true self and focusing on gratitude. Liburdi’s charming and sweet demeanor is a perfect match for this uplifting song that sprinkles a little hope into the void. She sang the song for a series called Lullabies for Detroit,”  a Facebook group dedicated to spreading peace and wisdom in the community.

“When I wrote that song I was feeling sentimental about the people and experiences I’ve had in my life and, as cheesy as it may sound, how grateful I am for all of it. It’s such a personal and meaningful song to me, I felt it would be good for Lullabies From Detroit because of that intimate feel. I really want/wanted to offer a sense of comfort and capture the feeling of the ups and downs of life and how we can transcend the tough times. There is so much uncertainty, loneliness, and anxiety in a time of isolation like this, it felt good to connect—even virtually—and share those personal feelings, as a way to tell people I see them, I hear them, I care, and that we’re all connected in our shared human experience.” – Carmel Liburdi

“6-Step Program” – Mathew Daher

Nothing is more welcomed right now than a chance to give your mind a break from the madness. Detroit-based experimental multi-instrumentalist created this truly hypnotizing sonic and visual experience to do exactly that. Entitled “6-Step Program,” the film welcomes the viewer into a mindful meditation exercise. Possibly enjoyed even more if you burn one before watching.

6-Step Program from Matthew Daher on Vimeo.

“‘6-Step Program” is a meditation both about and born of pandemic-induced isolation, uncertainty, and channeling restless energy.

Amidst this social distancing, it feels like ways of social and physical connecting that we’ve taken for granted have become objects of fantasy and longing. I’ve been really curious about what kinds of fantasies of physical togetherness and touch people are having right now. I’ve also been thinking a lot about people in addiction/recovery communities for whom orders to isolate bring up particular challenges to the refuge they take in the community.

This track is built off of raw drum audio that I phone-recorded on a whim as I was blowing off some steam at the drum kit the other day. The grooves mused me into a couple late nights down an electronic rabbit hole. They drew out these layers and textures colored by the surreality and sense of uncertainty that has been unfolding, as well as the digital outpourings of pain, tenderness, and care between people navigating this crisis.” – Matthew Daher

“When the World Ends” – Jack Oats

Justin Erion, aka Jack Oats, channels angst, worry and existential dread on this original song. Erion’s emotive delivery encompasses a universal feeling of anxiety as he says the things we’re all thinking.

“For the first time in many of our lives, we are faced with a sense of impending doom. We’ve learned the history, we’ve heard about the devastation of our ancestors, and now sadly it’s our turn. Some of us have prepared mentally and situationally, some of us are falling apart in disbelief at the collapse of our normalities. Life feels on pause, as we await to continue to grow. Who knows… maybe this is the end of the world. And who knows which world will come to be next.”  – Jack Oats

PLAYING DETROIT: A Springtime Playlist

There is an undeniable shift in self when the clocks return to their forward position and warmer days begin to outnumber the cold ones. Spring, though different depending on your geographic specifics, happens under the same sky at just about the same time. Perhaps you’re like me and mending a broken heart after the end of what can only be described as a cruel internal winter, looking forward to dusting off, stretching out and starting over. But whatever version of spring suits you best, let these emotionally selected tracks from Detroit’s vast pool of feelings-feelers guide you through the waves of change.

Zoos of Berlin: “North Star on the Hill”

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The Bowie-esque closing track on Zoos of Berlin’s groundbreaking return from hiatus, last year’s Instant Evening, swirls like winter’s final snow against new growth on your favorite neighborhood tree. “North Star on the Hill” encapsulates hesitance and imbalance but with a fragility suited for this polarized change in season.

Anna Ash: “Player” 

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Yeah, okay. It’s no secret that I can’t get enough of Michigan native and songstress/sorceress Anna Ash’s 2016 release Floodlights. Her Lucinda Williams-esque warble and her completely unique vocal warmth could melt the most stubborn frost from the windshield of your equally stubborn ’89 Cutlass. “Player” is timeless and sun-soaked (why do I feel like it could be on the Erin Brockovich soundtrack or, like, Ally McBeal?) but what makes it a great addition to this seasonal transition is her ability to meld vulnerability with hair-flipping  “I-told-you-so” vibes.

Minihorse: “Drink You Dry” 

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I’m not the biggest Minihorse fan. Or maybe it was a timing thing when they dropped their fuzzy, lo-fi EP Big Lack last year. But hey. I sort of get it now. “Drink You Dry” is laced with memories of riding around in your girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend’s best friend’s backseat while you may or may not be day-drunk, trying not to get dizzy watching the blur of houses and trees from the lap of someone you met once. It’s an afternoon. It’s boredom. It’s quietly and politely reckless. And in a lot of ways, it’s Spring.

Saturday Looks Good to Me: “No Good With Secrets” 

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There’s something so nervous and sweet about this 2005 release from one of our most beloved indie pop acts Saturday Looks Good to Me. Led by the incomparable Fred Thomas, “No Good With Secrets” embodies an innocence and aimlessness that tugs on our teenage heartstrings but 12 years later makes space for our adult selves as we still carry those bashfully brazen tendencies to drive by someone’s house (even if they can’t come out to play.)

Deadbeat Beat: “When the Sun Soaks in” 

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Maybe I’m getting a little too literal, but there is something perfectly riotous and manic about Deadbeat Beat’s “When the Sun Soaks In.”  It elicits that moment you realize you don’t need a jacket to leave the house and how the sight of your own bare arms turns you on. A fusion of a 1960’s beach party and a 90’s make-out session, this track is equal to smelling salts or pheromones for our shared and stagnant winter coma.

JR JR: “Gone” 

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The truth is, I’ve spent more time over the past two years trying to convince myself that I like JrJr than I have actually spent liking JrJr. The verdict? I don’t get the hype or the Warner Brothers continuous record deal. This song, however, is insufferably Spring and is so infectious that you may as well make an appointment with a licensed physician or psychiatrist because even when the song ends the whistling will go on and on and on…and on. I’m sure you’re wondering why a respected music journalist with what some would say exquisite taste would include something that makes her so despairingly nauseous on a playlist about Spring. The answer is simple. “Gone” is carefully crafted to make you feel invincible. It’s a look back, a look forward and ultimately it’s about leaving what is truly gone in the dust to never be found again. This will be the last time I ever listen to this song willingly. But maybe for you, the right person in the right moment, you’ll see “the light through the trees.”[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

PLAYING DETROIT: The Final Days of 800beloved

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Most things begin, but all things must end. No one knows this better than Milford-based sonic artist and former undertaker, Sean Lynch: founding dreamer of the eternally unearthed post-punk, Macabre rock formation, 800beloved. Lynch has spent the last decade conjuring romantic hauntings taken from real life, sleep life, and the afterlife, turning them into a body of music that is unabashedly nuanced with a rawness that would perturb anyone less than willing to face living ghosts the way he has. A cryptic career that produced three full-length records, all of which speak to a perpetually kinetic dance between atmospheres following a trajectory that was as driven by numerology as it was by words and sounds, comes full circle next month when 800beloved silences themselves by means of a self-induced funeral. Eight years after their debut release, Bouquet, Lynch is ready to move on. This isn’t a throwing in of the metaphorical towel or a waving of a white flag, rather a perfect and poetically suited demise for a band that was, in a lot of ways, born to die. Here lies 800beloved; the band you missed (and the band I will miss.)

“I’m not interested in entertaining some immortal non-aging version of ourselves,” Lynch says. “I don’t want to be talking about the bipolarities of life and death anymore, not in that context. I’m done with that. I feel that if there were ever a way to take a Teen Vogue magazine and burn it and bury it…we were that and we did it; that strange combination of two things that should never meet.”

This timely death is almost a year to the day that 800beloved surprise released their third and final album, Some Kind of Distortion; a shimmering display of nostalgia and present tense veiled by their signature allusions of dreamscapes and tortured surrealism. “I’m not going to spell it out to a disinterested audience.” Lynch says. “We’ve never been as elusive as we’ve been made to feel. In any camp, we have always felt like a black sheep.” Lynch, of course, is referring to the bands umbrellaed reputation and whispered notoriety both in the local scene and the dream-pop/shoe gaze/post-punk formula at large. You can’t find the band on Spotify and you will never see them solicit for gig slots or editorial recognition. Hell, you’d probably mistaken their name in conversation for a phone number because, well, yeah, it is.

Torn between wanting to be heard and trying not to be found, 800 dug a grave all their own, filling it with symbolic talismans and deeply personal confessionary relics that speak to only those who are listening. From the eery reincarnation of the coffin featured on their debut album art work featured, now open and empty, as the promotional/emotional imagery for their farewell to the symbiotic marriage of numbers and private timelines all the way to poster fonts, live-performance projections and the names of colors used; none of which feel like a contrived stretch for meaning, more so a peephole into the inner workings of someone who is as intricately woven as these artfully shrouded pieces of postscript. “To our credit, everything we have done has been with the utmost thoughtfulness and we want our funeral to be done the same way. If we wanted a Hot Topic funeral we would have just gone to the mall.”

Having spent most of his life painting the faces of the dearly departed, consoling the families of transcending loved ones and writing the words that would immortalize the legacies of the expired, I ask Lynch if he anticipates going through the strangely unique motions of a real live death this time as the corpse, the coroner and the afflicted surviver. “I was restringing my guitar when we opened up for Modern English a couple months ago and I was thinking that this is the last set of strings I’m going to play with this band. I know that sounds minimal but to me the strings, the guitars, the amps, the pedals…I have such a relationship to everything.” Lynch explains.”I have to remind myself that at the end of the day this is going to matter the most to me even though I am comfortably numb to it now. But there have been countless things tapping at my window telling me that this is it. And I know it is.”

The final line-up includes Anastasiya Metesheva on bass, Ben Collins on drums and Lynch on vocals, guitar and production. Metesheva, an artist and radiant expressionist, has been an integral part of 800 since 2007. Collins, though having only joined in ’13, is no stranger to collaboration and brought life to Lynch’s compositions. There has been a revolving door of talent throughout the years, but this particular assembly is colorful and vibrant in all the ways 800 has come to embody. “If someone is looking for tabloid surrounding 800beloved they won’t find it. We don’t do that. The band members live three virtually very separate lives outside of this project. Stacy is painting and working to help support her family, Ben is in three other bands and has a career and I’m barely scraping by,” Lynch admits. “I just want to try to get one last hurrah while surmising any bit of sacredness that I can indulge in.”

The funeral, as Lynch described, is not a play on kitsch or satirical irony, as he of all people understands the weight of tagging something as a funeral. The remaining trio will bid farewell by performing Some Kind of Distortion in it’s entirety along with some undisclosed surprises.

So, yes. We are invited to celebrate life, art and a body of work that surpasses both rather than reading a half-hearted Facebook post about why a band has decided to “break-up.” The spectacle of theatrics surrounding a band throwing the first handful of dirt on their own grave is grandiose but not without substance. 800beloved will tread on territory they have spent a decade mapping out and although infrequently traveled, has left a passageway in their wake. “Something I wanted to bring out in this experience is that there are very fine lines between sex and death. And that fragility is not a new revelation but there is a certain liveliness that comes from experiencing a close proximity to death and a sexual experience being close to recreating or feeling as good as being reborn.” Lynch explains. “But what I really hope people take away from our funeral is the shock that a band can depart elegantly. Oh and that it’s also going to be fucking loud.”

800beloved goes silent on August 13th, 2016 at Detroit’s Marble Bar, admission is $8. Read 800beloved’s obituary here.

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PLAYING DETROIT: Minihorse “More Time”

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If you were craving some imitation Pavement-esque languid LoFi rock, look no further than Ypsilanti-based Minihorse, who released their drowsy EP More Time earlier this month. Comprised of lead vocalist and guitarist Ben Collins, Christian Anderson on bass and John Fossum on drums, Minihorse is noticeably affected, pleasantly dehydrated college indie; nothing swells or lends catharsis, but instead encourages driving aimlessly around the same few square miles with a broken tape deck that you had installed in your new 2016 hybrid. The single, “FYEA” is a callused late-summer-of-1994 track that radiates a trippy teenage petulance worthy of a hangover. It’s catchy, yes, but hard to remember. The closing track, “Under My Head” is the most complete thought on the EP, with Jon Brion vibes paired with a whispered deprecation that sneakily depresses you with the lyrics: “The things I could be/if I could get out of bed.”  More Time, at the very least, is consistent. Not meant to serve as some grand feeling-prodder, Minihorse found their sweet spot even if it does feels like buying expensive jeans with manufactured stains and holes; fashionably wearable with questionable authenticity. Having said that, I like More Time. I get it. It feels lightly stoned, slightly tipsy, peppered with a hazy self-indulgence that makes you wonder where you’ve heard this before even if you’ve never heard it before.

Check out the tripped out video for “FYEA” here:

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